I wrote this one-shot for a friend of mine. The character pairing is probably a bit odd to most of you. It is Loki Laufeyson (Marvel version) and Marth Lowell from Fire Emblem. This story is centered on Loki but Marth does make an appearance. No slash. Merry (late) Christmas! Hope you enjoy!
"No, Loki." Those were the only two words that remained in my head; everything else had been long since forgotten. Those words and darkness. Darkness flooded through me. Time had faded to nothing, everything slurred together in silence, I couldn't even hear my own screams. I was cold, which wasn't supposed to be possible, and yet there I was, freezing. And the worst part was that I deserved it, I knew I deserved it, being the monster I am. I deserved worse, if there was worse. I didn't know anymore, I didn't know anything any more.
I was found by someone, or something, it was always too dark to see what they looked like. All I ever saw was their bright, demonic eyes.
Though they tortured me, I preferred being there to falling through space. At least I could feel things there, even if the feelings were mostly pain.
The time with my captors somewhat fell into a routine. Food was brought; only scraps. I ate it. And they came shortly after with the whip.
They beat me until I vomited the scraps back up, until my throat was raw from screaming. The skin of my back was almost entirely gone. They only stopped when they hit my spine, no longer skin-covered. I couldn't move afterward, I just lay, collapsed on the floor, bleeding, shaking, sobbing.
The physical pain wasn't even the worst part; it was the things they said that really hurt
You're father never loved you; he only wanted to use you.
Thor was always better than you.
You never deserved that family.
None of them loved you; you were nothing but a burden.
You were never a worthy son.
They repeated these things over and over, until they permanently rang in my head, and I believed them. Those were the things that broke me, that drove me over the edge, spiraling into insanity.
They used my insanity to their advantage; they twisted my sadness into rage, my despair into hatred. They took all the things I had missed; all the things I had loved, and made me despise them.
Things became hazy; I no longer had control over my own mind. All I could do was watch in horror at the destruction I caused.
At times I could almost gain control, get myself to stop, but only for a few moments.
Like on top of Stark Tower when Thor was trying to reason with me, even after what I'd done. I tried to reach out. To apologize. But the anger took over again.
After my meeting with the hulk most of my anger was gone, the Chitauri had lost their hold on me.
I wasn't allowed to talk to Thor, having the metal bindings put over my mouth immediately after surrendering, restricting me from talking. I needed to apologize, to do something. But S.H.E.I.L.D. was persistent on keeping me away from him, believing I would try to deceive him again.
Things slowed down once Thor brought me back to Asgard. I received my punishment wordlessly, to spend eternity rotting away in a prison cell. It wasn't small; I had room to walk around, not that I ever did.
There weren't any other criminals that I could see from my cell, only a long, torch-lit corridor with guards stationed at each end. The only time people ever spoke to me was when Thor disobeyed Odin to come and see me. He would sit on the other side on the magic barrier forbidding entrance to my cell and talk.
He would talk for hours, about everything from what he and the Warriors Three ate for lunch to the political problems of the kingdom. I would never respond, I wouldn't even let any expression show on my face. But I enjoyed it, hearing him talk about the place I used to call home. And I think he knew that.
But as time went on, he came less and less. As though he was forgetting about me, in fact everyone seemed to be forgetting about me. The guards were only there on special occasions, the torches were only lit half of the time, and meals came less frequently.
So most of my time was spent curled up in the dark, alone. Nightmares ruined any hope I had for getting sleep. My fingernails became caked with blood from digging them into my scalp, trying to pull the visions out of my head. I wasn't eating anymore, if food was even being brought for me.
The first time I saw the blue figure was before I even knew it was a figure, while I was cowering before an impossibly large thunder god who was yelling profanities at me. Right when he raised his hand to hit me there was a flash of blue light and his image vanished.
I sat with wide eyes, cheeks soaked with tears as I always did after a hallucination, but this time there was something different. The hair on the back of my neck was raised, I could sense the familiar feeling of magic, and not the simple magic that kept me locked up here. This magic was much more powerful, sending a tingling feeling through my entire body. They never ended like that, the hallucinations. I always blacked out from fear for at least a few moments.
After that most of the hallucinations were distant, like I was looking at them through a piece of glass, distorting them. And the blue figure continued to appear, but now it was simply a shadow in the corner of my cell. Or a warm breath on the back of my neck, a presence I passed off as my imagination.
I was suspended from the ceiling, only toes touching the ground, straining my arms painfully. A Chitauri soldier stood in front of me. In it's talon-like grip the monster held a glowing metal rod. Slowly it's arm raised, the searing heat neared my skin. It thrust the metal forward into my chest-
I screamed as my eyes shot open, waking up from the nightmare. I was shaking violently, sweat soaking the back of my worn shirt.
Once my eyes had adjusted I discovered there was a dull glow coming from the corridor, one of the torches had been lit. Next I noticed the small figure seated in front of me, pain shot up my spine as I jerked back, hitting the wall.
"W-what are you doing in h-here?!" My voice was a hoarse whisper, having not drunken water in longer than I could remember. The figure's tone was gentle as he spoke.
"I am not here to hurt you, Loki." He reached up to remove the hood that shrouded his face, revealing royal blue hair.
"H-how do y-you know my name?! Wh-who are you?" Multiple questions left my lips as I panicked.
"My name is Marth." He said, ignoring the first question. He lightly ran his fingers across my trembling hand, examining the cuts and bruises. I wanted to pull away, but his touch so comforting and…familiar.
"I-I don't know wh-who you are…" My shaking slowly resided.
"I didn't expect you to." Marth said calmly, though I thought I could see disappointment behind the concern in his azure eyes.
He lifted something from the cold, stone floor beside him and handed it to me. It was a small cup, filled with water. I took small sips, savoring the unfamiliar feeling of quenched thrist.
"H-how did you get in here?" He waved a hand at my question.
"The barrier is made to keep people in, not out. So getting in was simple."
"What about getting o-out?" I asked nervously, still unsure why he was even here. He gave a small smile.
"That part is a bit harder. I've read up on the spell Odin used to make the barrier, using your magic I believe I can get us out." I cast my eyes downward, ashamed.
"I-I'm afraid you're mistaken. My magic was… t-taken from me." I turned my hands over, looking at my palms. I tried to gather enough energy just provide a green light through the room. Nothing. Pathetic.
Before I could react Marth gently grabbed my hands, the room lit up with a green hue. But it wasn't just green, blue tendrils blended through the light.
My eyes shot upward, staring at him. He smiled and pulled his hands away. The room returned to darkness in exception of the small torch in the hallway.
"Your magic can't be taken away, you're far to powerful for that. Odin has just made you to weak to use it." Marth was looking at me with glazed eyes, like he was in a dream.
"H-how do you know so much about me?" He looked over to the wall; there were tears at the corners of his eyes. He wiped them away quickly.
"I-…I've heard a lot about you. So I decided to see if I could help you." I knew he was lying, but dropped the subject seeing that he had just explained how he could save me from this prison cell, from the nightmares and hallucination, from myself.
"How long have you been h-here? In my cell, l mean." He shrugged his shoulders slightly.
"A few weeks I believe. It's hard to keep track of time in here. I'm sorry for not revealing myself sooner. I was unsure how you would react." He gave me an apologetic look.
We sat in an oddly comfortable silence for a short while before Marth started to get up.
"Can you stand?" He asked quietly, I attempted standing up, only to fall back down painfully. He put an arm around my waist, easily lifting me up off of my knees. Once I was standing we began to move toward the front of my cell, me limping and leaning against him heavily.
I was trembling with excitement and fear; finally I got to leave the dark cell I'd been forced into. I could try to move on. I could discover who this Marth person really was, and why he helped me.
"Are you ready?" He asked with a serious face, I gave a small, frightened nod. Marth turned to me, grabbing my hands. He closed his eyes and began to whisper quietly. Within moments I felt a burst of energy surge through me and grinned.
I was out of my cell.
I was away from all the things that haunted me.
I was free.