Shake It Out
Regrets collect like old friends
Here to relive your darkest moments
Movement of my mouth has been completely cut off by the muzzle. In the beginning it had been infuriating because of my magic being restricted but after we'd travelled back to Asgard and I'd been thrown into the dark dungeons it became even more annoying.
I couldn't move my jaw at all, my lips were chapped and tired of being wrapped around the metal piece that went in my mouth and how tight the muzzle was. When my jaw is aching so bad that I can't do anything but curl up in a ball, I muse about the idea of maybe pleading.
Just a little begging couldn't hurt, could it? It would end up helping me in the end. If I wasn't in such intense pain, maybe I could figure a way out of this cage they'd locked me in. They'd locked me away like an animal, like I was some mere Jotun they'd caught as a war-prize, not a powerful sorcerer, not the strongest god of all the realms. If it weren't for my desperation, hunger eating away at my ribs, pain snapping at my lips and jaw, I would never even consider begging...
I was nearly about to call for them, scream until either my throat gave out or they heard me, when I realized there would be no way to beg with the muzzle on. The realization crushed my soul.
The Asgardians had taken my armor, leaving me in nothing but my pants and my indignity. I didn't know how long I'd been down here but the gnawing at my stomach and the weariness of my body told me that it had been far too long. My mind, losing strength in the darkness of the cage, spun up images of Thor feasting with the Asgardians, of sleeping in his nice warm bed, of cursing my very name. Those were in the first days, when my ribs did not poke through my skin, when my head did not swim with pain, when I could force myself to stand. The hallucinations became worse, more personalized.
Monster, you're a monster, Loki. Thor's face, no matter what, is always clear, and the disappointment in his once-warm blue eyes causes more pains to wrack through my chest than any physical ailment. All those Midgardians, they were innocent! Children were killed, Loki! I try to defend myself but the muzzle keeps my mouth tightly shut. I scream for him in my mind, crying that they're just midgardians, that I didn't deserve this for midgardians. I didn't mean to kill them, I shout into the darkness of my mind, I just wanted to rule them. You're not a king, Loki. The All-Father always knew that, no matter what you do, you'll always be a Jotun, a monster, an animal, not a king.
In my mind I see myself piercing that SHIELD agent who had gotten in my way. I see myself controlling "Hawkeye"as he was called on Midgard. My cage is empty of life but full of my regrets, playing around me like a film. Somewhere in the distance, I feel tears spill from my eyes, I feel the burning of hours of crying, I feel the pain of starvation. But here in the darkness all I feel is regret.
I can see no way, I can see no way
And all of the ghouls come out to play
The day I think that I might finally perish, a light comes from what seems far in the distance. The door is open! I feel the stirrings of excitement build but they are weak, I am weak. My eyes aren't accustomed to seeing and for a moment I'm blinded. I cry out but the sound is muzzled effectively and it rings out only in my mind. A shadow moves in front of the light and squint to look at it. Slowly, as if the figure is shuffling forward hesitantly, it becomes a more definite shape, an Asgardian shape made of brawn and power. I know that I should be afraid, worried, nervous, anything at all really but my mind is as blank as the minds of Midgardians.
"Get up, Jotun." The small part of me that had still hoped it was Thor, finally come to save me, is crushed with the sound of Fandral's voice. I don't move, not for lack of trying though. If I could I would have been up and as far away from him as possible, possibly trying to disappear into the walls of the cage. But it feels as if my body is encased in concrete, or the special metal that made Mjolnir. Suddenly Fandral is lifting me, and I'm on my feet for a moment before I'm thrown into the metal bars of what I had thought was walls.
I cry out into my muzzle, pain stripping across my shoulder as it connects sharply with the bar. I collapse to the floor, clutching my shoulder and tears burning my eyes. "Poor little Jotun, are you hurt?" Fandral's fingers stroke the tears dripping down my cheeks and I'm too tired to shove him away. His voice is patronizing and humiliating. I want to curse him into oblivion, until he's tiny little Asgardian pieces floating around in the air. But I can't, even if the muzzle was off I don't think I have the energy for sorcery.
"You've been a very bad little Frost Giant haven't you, Loki?" He sneers my name into my ear, his hot breath sending shudders of disgust down my spine. It's ironic that while he calls me a Jotun, he also calls me Loki. Two very different creatures, existing in one weak, pathetic shell. "Destroying the bifrost, trying to rule Asgard, killing all those humans." As if I haven't gone over each and every one of my actions a million times, he recites them to me, still far too close for comfort but too strong to even attempt to move. Suddenly my air is cut off, my nose being held closed and the muzzle blocking my other airways. I use all my energy struggling, grabbing at his hand and desperately trying to pull him off. My lungs are screaming, pleading, crying for air, for the slightest bit of stale air the cage has to offer.
He lets go and air rushes through my nostrils and slowly to my lungs. I suck in gallons of air, my body even more exhausted than before and the muzzle even more frustrating than before. He laughs, right in my ear, condescending and snide because he knows how much power he has over me right now. He could hold my nose shut and I'd die, there would be nothing that Loki the sorceror, or Loki the god, of Loki the Frost Giant, could do about it.
"I'm not going to kill you, Loki, that would be too easy, too quick. I want to enjoy you, I want to watch you suffer and burn from the inside out before you die. We all do, Thor, the All-Father, the other Asgardians. Frigga is the only one who wants us to be merciful, but she'll come around when she realizes what a monster you are." Fandral whispers these words to me, but they seem no quieter than if he had shouted them at me. They resonate in my mind. Is it true? Does Thor want me to suffer too? Even during all of my bad deeds and darkest moments, I'd never truly imagined losing Thor.
"Are you pure, Loki?" I sucked in a quick breath through my nose in surprise. Pure? Men weren't capable of being pure, at least not according to all the teachers and lessons I had sat through as a young man. Women were pure if they hadn't been penetrated by a man, they were pure if they'd never seen a man under his armor. Women were beautiful, delicate things to be worshipped but when they indulged in sexual acts before marriage, they would become impure. Pure, because of gender, was not a status that Loki was capable of, at least not as the single gender Asgardian. As a Frost Giant, he was both sexes, but most likely uncapable of carrying Frost Giant young because of his size. But why would Fandral ask such a ridiculous question?
"You are, aren't you? Perfect little Loki, the son of the King, always protected, sheltered, always hidden under either his brother or his mother's wing. You've probably never even taken your armor off near someone other than Thor." With those unsettling words Fandral ran a hand down my unclothed chest, sending another disgusted shudder through my tired body. I wanted to move, to try to crawl away with the little energy I had left but couldn't force my body to move. "You're probably tight, tighter than any woman. Should I take the muzzle off so I can hear your screams? I doubt you've got enough energy to do magic." Fear sped down my spine. Tight, screams, muzzle off? What was he talking about? Panic rose in my chest, I hyperventilated through my nose, and desperately willed my body to move but it wouldn't.
"You might be wondering what exactly I'm talking about." I'm sure that I didn't want to know. "I, a true Asgardian, am going to be the first person to take you down a pedestal and make sure you feel your punishment." I jumped and shivered when Fandral pressed a suggestive kiss to my cheek. "I'm going to fuck you, and it's going to hurt, you'll bleed, you'll cry, and your screams will be so loud they'll come out of the muzzle."
Lights turned on and I was blinded, sharp pain ratcheting through my brain at the sudden brightness. Eyes scrunched tight I heard the words that would hurt more than any other. "Oh I forgot to mention, everyone who wants to, gets to watch. Even Thor and the All-Father get to watch the disgusting monster Jotun be punished."
And every demon wants his pound of flesh
But I like to keep some things to myself
I like to keep my issues drawn
I don't give him the satisfaction of looking around, but when he's suddenly lifting me and tossing me like a ball I do happen to catch a look. There really are Asgardians here, ready and waiting to watch a horrific show of my pain. I don't see Thor but I refuse to look. They're all waiting, for their turn, to see me be raped. These people that I grew up with, who carry so many morals, so many ethics. Suddenly there are hands on my pants, and I close my eyes. I won't watch him, I won't react, I won't give them the satisfaction. That's the reason they're here. They want to have some sort of justice, they want to see me punished because I did something they never could. They want to see me punished because I'm an outsider.
They want to hear my screams, they want to rip off the muzzle and make me bleed from every hole in my body. They want to make me impure.
Fandral rips open the laces, exposing me to all the people of Asgard. I hear them far away, muttering and cursing.
Some of them are cheering Fandral on.
It's always darkest before the dawn
He doesn't touch me anymore than necessary, as if him touching me would arouse me in some way. He could get on his knees and suck me dry and I would not react in the slightest. It's actually a blessing that he doesn't touch me. Every time his skin brushes by mine, let alone touches, I want to die a little bit more. Then he is thrusting into me, slowly to not break his new toy just yet, and I truly want to die.
I tried to pull away, to detract from the situation but then I hear a laugh. They are laughing at me. It starts as one small chuckle, maybe even a cough, but it grows from there. Suddenly it's as if they are at a feast, not a raping, and that me being ripped in two is somehow funny.
Tears streak down my face of their own accord but I will not open my eyes, I will not, I will not. I can not see his face. I can not see their faces.
I can not see Thor's face.
I can not hear laughter and know that it is directed at me and my pain.
I can not face the fact that I am on my back, naked in a cage with Fandral half-way inside of me.
Though I will deny it at all costs, I will go to my grave swearing it's not true, the shrivelled, honest part of me knows that they have achieved their goal. I am not a man. I am not a god. I am not even human. I am a toy, for Fandral to rip into two and pass onto the next playmate. I am an entertaining punishment that many of these men will forget about in the next decade or so.
It burns and every thrust he bestows upon me tears me apart a little bit more. I can feel the blood he promised trickling down my buttocks and to the floor. Drip. drip. drip. I hear it loud and clear, with their boisterous celebration behind it muffled by my need for sanity, or insanity. I focus on it, drip, drip, drip.
I hate him. I hate them all. I hate Asgard. I hate Odin. I hate Laufey for letting me disappear under his watch and ending up here. I hate Frigga for not stopping this. I hate...I hate myself. I hate the very floor I'm laying on, I hate the metal bars around me. I utterly loathe the muzzle wrapped around my mouth. I pray for death before realizing that I am the god here, and if I can't do anything, then what other god would.
And I've been a fool and I've been blind
I can never leave the past behind
I can see no way, I can see no way
Fandral finishes with a silent moan, pulling out of me and adding new liquid to the mixture dripping down my buttocks. Drip drip drip drip drip. I feel numb, like the pain can't touch me here. I hear the cage open and footsteps. Raunchy shouts of congratulations to Fandral, angry serves-you-right comments to me, laughter. They celebrate Fandral's ability to destroy me.
I lay on the floor, numb, bleeding, and waiting. For I have no ability to move, I can not plead for mercy, I have no saviour.
Another man comes inside me.
Another man takes me in a different position but all the same, his seed drips from me.
Another, another, another. I lose track of them, but I never lose track of the dripping. The increase in speed lets me know that I have been desecrated even more, that another has taken me, that I have been violated once more. Another man, another man, another. They come fast but only a few seem concerned with my non-responsiveness and take a bit longer. But all the same, the men come and I drip.
I'm always dragging that horse around
And our love is pastured such a mournful sound
Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground
So I like to keep my issues drawn
I think of Thor during the last few men, and how disappointed he would be in me. How angry he would be at me for not fighting them off, for not being stronger. I think of his smile, of his strong arms, of the love he promised would be eternal whether brotherly or not, eternal. I think of my misdeeds, and how I wish I could go back and change them all. I think of how the Midgardians would react to my punishment, if they would pleased or outraged. Would they join in the crowd? Would they stand up for my honor?
My tears have long stopped.
But it's always darkest before the dawn
Finally, the last man seems to approach, I can no longer hear the crowd. I wonder if they are silent or if they are gone. My eyes itch to open to find out but I refuse. There are footsteps, obviously it is not over yet. "Loki." One word and all the pain I've swallowed down for the last few eternities of pain come spilling out in a scream that surely sounds through the muzzle. Thor's voice whispers my name to me, in this cage, in this hell the Asgardians have created. Thor, who had once thought I was beautiful, who called me his brother and his lover, who was pure and a man, was standing above me, ready for his turn.
I only imagine that if he didn't think I deserved this before, that seeing me like I am now, weak and pitiful, surely made him agree. Thor, I whisper in reply, but the words only sound in my mind. He can not hear me, probably doesn't want to. I use the little bit of energy I have to spread my legs in offering. That is all I'm good for now, and all his men have had their turn, why should Thor not?
I am done with my graceless heart
So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart
Cause I like to keep my issues drawn
"Loki, what have we become?" Thor seems intent on conversing but surely he must know it will be one-sided. Even if I could speak, what would I say to the brother, the lover, who was to join in on my punishment? What have we become, I muse, I've become trash, used and pathetic. You've become my worst enemy, and yet my only ally. I know that you will end this. You will do your duty, you will fuck me into the ground until the drip drip dripping is racing down my thighs, then you will leave. You will go to the throne that Father has bestowed upon you, and you will order for them to kill me at once. Punishment has been made, now mercy is to be given. Asgardians are merciful people, and always execute their prisoners after punishments. I've always known that clause in Asgardian law, I just never knew what punishment was, and how no death could every fix the damage done.
"They're gone Loki, you can open your eyes." I kept my eyes tightly shut but when something moist and soft touched my buttocks and thighs, cleaning me, they snapped open of their own accord. Thor, soon-to-be King of Asgard, real son of the All-Father, was cleaning the blood and cum from my skin. Most of it had dried already and he kind of had to scrub at the skin but he did it in silence, determined and intent. I studied his face dazily, pain surfacing from underneath my shield. Was he cleaning because I was done? I would be locked back in the darkness until someone came to bring me to my execution. Or was he cleaning because he didn't want to fuck something dirty and messy and used like I was. Either way I appreciated being rid of the men's seed marring my skin.
"I'm sorry, Loki." I stared at the ceiling, wishing for the darkness. Wishing to be left alone to die. I didn't want his apologies, they wouldn't fix me or the situation. I didn't want him to clean me, I'd rather have the mess die with me. I didn't want him to act like he cared when he'd sat and watched me be used by all of Asgard. I didn't want his fake concern. I wanted to tell him all these things and lifted my hand to the muzzle, letting it rest there after the exertion. Out of my peripherals I seen Thor follow my hand to the muzzle, and knew he would understand. "I can't take the muzzle off, Loki, I wish I could but only the All-Father has the ability to."
But...there are so many things my silver tongue has yet to say. I need to curse and rant, I need to let the screams bottling up in me bellow through Asgard, I need to cry and actually sob. I need to breathe. I need to apologize, to take back all my deeds. I need to tell my brother that no matter the past, the present, or the future, I will spend all of my eternity loving him.
It's always darkest before the dawn
"I want to fix this, Loki but I don't know how. I swear to you, I tried to stop them. I pleaded with Father for any other punishment, anything but this."
You can't fix this, Thor. All your golden son charisma and good intentions aren't useful here. I want to speak to him, to tell him that he needs to fuck me. That I will not die with some nameless, faceless man having been the last person inside of me. If I was going to die used, I was going to be used by Thor.
And given half the chance would I take any of it back
It's a fine romance but its left me so undone
"Father thinks I am raping you, I pleaded him to give us privacy, that I would not have all of Asgard watch as I violate my brother. I know I should let you go, hold your nose closed and let you move on into the afterlife. Mother says that the afterlife is beautiful, and that even the mischievous like you live happily and peacefully for all eternity. Mother says that we'll be together there one day and pain won't touch you anymore. She says that Frost Giants and Asgardians are no different there. She says that there can be no regrets, no mistakes there." Thor rambles on and on.
She's wrong. There can no be such a place, for I will regret my actions of years past until the very day my soul ceases to exist.
Do it, Thor, end me. Do it, I want to tell him, just end this once and for all.
Thor's hand strokes my hair, not my body, and the touch is so familiar and unfamiliar that it brings stinging tears to my eyes.
I hate him for this, and I love him for this.
"I will kill them all for you, Loki. I will drop them in Jotunheim without clothes or weapons and watch them suffer like you have. I will beat them until they bleed, I will kill their families in front of them. Every one of them that touched you will pay for what he's done. I will avenge you, Loki, I will. I can't save you but I will make sure that they will always regret what they've done tonight." The energy was seeping out of me, less and less will in my body. My heart felt like it was flying and my veins ached with the rushing of blood. I continued to bleed out of my buttocks and Thor continued to clean me. I looked at him and felt my heart swell. We connected eyes and I hoped to any deity out there that would answer, that wasn't Asgardian, that Thor would understand how much I loved him, and how much I wished I was stronger.
"Close your eyes, Loki. You're tired. You should rest..." Thor closed my eyelids for me as my heart rate sped up to make up for the lack of blood in my body. My head felt swollen with blood and I reached for Thor's hand. I didn't have the energy to clasp onto him but the warmth of his hand around mine made it better. I laid back and imagined the Afterlife. Maybe Frigga was right. Maybe there is a place like the one she described, where I'm not dirty and used, where me and Thor can be together, where I'm not a Jotun. A place where I'm just Loki, and the pain ceases to exist.
It's always darkest before the dawn
Thor's hand was still in mine when my eyes would no longer open, when my heart slowed to crawl after thumping hysterically. I felt the pain, of dying, of punishment, of being unable to tell him of my love, but Thor's hand in mine made it easier to let go, to move on. I felt lighter, and lighter, as if I was floating and the only thing anchoring me was Thor. Then the muzzle was lifted and I sucked in one of the last breathes of my life. "I love you..." My last breathe, my last words, before my heart collapsed in exhaustion, my veins and arteries slowed, and Thor's hand disappears.
And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't
So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road
And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope
It's a shot in the dark and right at my throat
Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me
Looking for heaven, found the devil in me
Well what the hell I'm gonna let it happen to me
