The Voice Inside (and Hollow Eyes)
Note: This short story takes place right before Loki speaks with Tony Stark at Stark Tower, in which Thanos is 'possessing' Loki. There are multiple approaches you can take as to the extent of Thanos's control over Loki. In my story, I show it as Thanos heightening Loki's already chaotic emotions and madness, manipulating his thoughts, turning what was a lost prince striving for approval into a blood-thirsty monster driven by vengeance. Loki already had the emotions that could lead to that. He's bitter, betrayed and on the edge of madness. Add in Loki's own ego and mischievous ways and lies, and you get the Loki seen in the 'Avengers'. Loki partially agrees with Thanos and the plan, and probably intended to try and play him for his own benefit, but Thanos had other ideas. The story is a battle of wills, a mental battle between Loki in Thanos. Loki knows Thanos will 'spike' him, you could say, again, but he still tries to maintain somewhat control, focusing his energy on controlling himself/Thanos from lashing out in complete anger. He's not trying to stop Thanos from possessing him, but somewhat 'contain' him. Loki's thoughts are fragmented and very rapid (this takes place in only a few minutes), which I think one's thoughts would be during possession. (That was a terrible explanation. I tried.) Anyway, this is the first thing I've published (after a friend requested I did), so I hope you like it!
He stared doggedly at his own reflection, gasping at the haggard, sickly figure it had become, that he had become. Sweat gathered on his brow, as Loki clutched the edge of the cold metal sink, his knuckles white. He could not look way, away from those eyes that were not his.
Loki hadn't noticed the change at first. He had grown more and more agitated, restless. Sleep escaped him. Nightmares plagued him. Then, the whispers had started.
The blue that had replaced his green was not like Thor's, so bright, so alive. These were cold, empty, and faded. Dead. Lifeless.
He slammed his fist into the mirror and a web of cracks branched out around his clenched fist. Loki felt himself begin to shake and he gripped the sink even tighter, like his last line to sanity. He was angry. He was angry and he was afraid.
Weak.
The word cut into his mind, filling him with hate, with bitterness, with madness. Loki cradled his head in pain, fervently whispering spells, any spells, to get him out. He had to get him out.
You mock the Midgardians, Thanos hissed inside him, When it is you who is weak. I promised you your war, and I have delivered. My army is ready, but your performance has been…disappointing.
The green essence of magic fizzled out in his hands as Loki stumbled back against the wall, panting from the effort. He was tired, so tired, the magic all but drained from him.
"I do not understand. Everything has gone according to pl—"
You fool! Thanos roared, the force of his voice causing Loki to cry out. How you relished the power, the control, so much that you handed the entire plan over to that woman! If it hadn't been for me, you would still be trapped in that glass cage!
"But nothing has come of it! They still didn't—"
Loki gasped and crumpled to his knees, clawing at his throat, squeezing his eyes shut as if to block out the horrible visions that flooded his mind. A dark sound echoed throughout Loki's head, a sound that haunted his every effort to escape the prison of his own dreams. Thanos was laughing.
Your Silvertongue will do you no good here. You cannot escape what is already part of you. And I am very much a part of you.
"Get out of my head!" Loki croaked, grabbing at the sink's rim for support. "Get out of my head!" he repeated, his voice stronger the second time as it rose to a scream. "Get out get out get out!"
Thanos only laughed harder, the sound locked inside Loki's mind and sending him into a frenzy. He knew what that voice could do. He could never forget. He still had the scars.
He started to choke again as if invisible hands were tightening around his throat. Loki threw himself against the wall again and again, against the floor, the sink, slamming his head at them. He was numb to the pain, driven to a point beyond sanity, beyond reason, beyond control.
Then, the panic subsided. The pain was gone. His mind was silent. He wasn't there. Ignoring the throbbing in his temple, Loki pulled himself up to the mirror, not daring to hope, unable to hope.
They were green. Both eyes were green. He was Loki. He was truly Loki, Loki of Asgard, the Enchanter, the Sorcerer, a god, a son of Odin—
Not anymore.
Everything came rushing back in with that thought, slamming into him, constricting him. He was a puppet, the son of no one. He was dead. He belonged to Thanos. They would all die by him, he would die by him. He would never get out, he was dead. His mind had reached a breaking point, clouding his reason, overriding his thoughts. Loki grappled for control. He had to focus, hold on to something, anything, a memory, a dream, something strong, otherwise he would be taken completely. Those few bright moments left untarnished were now all but smoke, blurred and faded, twisted and scarred and too faint for him to see.
Much to his displeasure, it was Thor he turned to. Not as he was now, but when they were children, when Thor always had time for his little brother. Loki hated Thor with his every being, hated him for always winning, for being the favorite, for abandoning him, for breaking him. He hated him because he had loved him so much.
Probably too much.
He knew better now. Loki had learned to never trust, to guard himself. He had vowed to never let them in again. He would be stronger.
The darkness had come for him anyway. Thanos, both his rescuer and torturer, had come. He had given Loki a purpose, a way on, a way out. He'd promised him power, and in exchange he had burned Loki's very heart out, tortured him until he was like him, until he had welcomed death. But he had denied that, too.
Now he was back for more. There was only one thing left for Loki to give. There was only one last thing he could do.
They would all have to die.
You will do it. Thanos's voice slithered across the room like fingers on a chalkboard. His words seemed to curl slightly with an unmistakable smile. Loki cringed. He could feel the weight, the raw power, of Thanos's spell pulling him in, pulsating from the enchanted spear. It was propped against the opposite wall; Loki had put as much distance between it and himself as Thanos had allowed. It had begun to glow again, the sickly blue light casting ghostly shadows across his pale face. Thanos's voice resonated from the light, dark and commanding.
You will do it because you want to.
Loki scrambled for words, his final defense, but he felt as if his tongue had turned to lead. Maybe he did want that.
But not for Thor.
"I. Can't," Loki gasped, turning away from the spear. "You're lying. I can tell. You just want in."
Thanos laughed darkly. Who are you to talk against lies? You're a thief. You're a murderer. You're a liar. You've killed and so have I. You're just like me.
Loki gripped the sink again, sweat pouring down his back. His bottom lip trembled. Those hollow blue eyes blinked numbly back at him. "No. I was a king. Everything I did was to protect As—"
Oh, don't pretend, Thanos snarled. I know what you've done; I've been in your mind. I've seen how you cut them down, how you betrayed them without even a blink of the eye. You stepped over them as they begged for mercy. And you like it. Because power feels good. But that's what we want. It means you're almost there.
"I'm not a monster." The words took every last ounce of Loki's strength. He channeled into them his rage, all of the fear and the madness that had consumed him.
Thanos sneered. Are you?
Loki leapt back from the sink as cold enveloped him. His fingers burned. He stared down at his open hands in horror. They were turning blue. When he looked up to the mirror, it was blood-red eyes that greeted him.
A terrible curse, Thanos said as if he were examining an insect that had the misfortune to find itself on the bottom of his boot. Son to no one, the wayward prince: everything he touches brings only ruin and death.
Loki's eyes widened and he was thrown backwards as a vision raced through his head. It was a day he remembered well, only a century or so before he'd learned the truth. Thor and he were hiding in the cliffs, tracking a rogue lord and a large amount of gold. For once, it was Loki, being the more sure-footed of the two, who led the way. They had only just begun a particularly narrow leg when the inevitable happened and Thor slipped. This time though when Loki reached out to him, to steady him, his skin was blue. Thor stared at Loki in fear, in disbelief, in betrayal, but before Loki could even register what he had done it was too late. Loki watched in mute horror as his brother fell to his knees before him, writhing with pain as the cold seeped into his veins. Loki tried to stop it with spells, with charms, but Thor only cringed and cursed at his touch.
You're a monster.
The real world swirled back into focus, bringing with it the fear and the darkness and the guilt. He'd killed them. He'd already doomed them all. Loki crumpled to his knees, rocking back and forth, too weak to fight, to run. Blood. Everywhere blood. Blood on his hands. He scrubbed at them as if possessed. He had to get it off. The blood, the blue, he had to get it off. His thoughts had become muddled and chaotic as their two minds joined.
He didn't do it. He was Loki. He was Loki of Asgard. He was Loki. He was—
"No one." And neither could say who had spoken first.
Loki had scratched so hard at his hands that his nails had dug into his skin, tearing at the flesh. Blood, his own blood, dripped onto the tiled floor. It splattered Loki's thoughts, skewing them, coating everything with crimson. They had to die. They would die. He wanted them to die.
"Yes, yes." It was Loki that spoke, but Thanos's words, laced with spells and lies and heavy with raw power, that came out. And Loki was afraid.
"You don't need them. They must never be forgiven. They must pay. They will. You will have your war, and your realm."
Loki rose to his feet, his expression clouded, but determined.
"The iron man approaches even now. Go. We have work to do."
The god of mischief wrapped his fingers around the spear, hefting it almost reverently in a mixture of awe and terror. He felt the familiar tingling sensation run up his arm, felt the power of their combined magic race through him. The blue light cast wicked shadows across his face, accenting his sharp features. A mischievous smile played on his lips. It felt good.
He turned sharply on his heels and blasted open the metal door, stepping out into the airy apartment of Stark Tower. There he was, just outside the Tower, touching down with less than his usual grace. Loki's grip on the spear tightened as he stalked forward to meet the man of iron. Deep in his mind a voice, rich with power, whispered rapidly. They had work to do.
"Please tell me you're here to plead with my humanity…" they sneered.
But there was a third voice, compressed even further down into his subconscious. His name was Loki, and he wanted out.
Fin.