Trying my attempt at a FrostIron after falling in love with the pairing thanks to LaLopez1981 (I mean that in a totally nice way, La!). Warning that updates will take time, as I am a full time student, and (unfortunately) that takes precedence.
Many thanks to my gorgeous friend, Lirio, for putting up with my self-esteem issues when it comes to my writing, and for lending a helping hand both in editing and in writing. Love you, Bee 3
Falling, that was all he could remember. From the moment he let go of Gungnir and fell into the abyss below the Bifröst, a block of sorts had been placed upon his mind. No matter how hard he tried to remember, he just couldn't.
As he looked up from his place within the rocky enclave, Loki sought out any form of light available to him, to be able to illuminate the dark world he now found himself caught in. Is this even a world? Loki thought to himself, his hand pressed to the closest outcrop of rock, fingers dragging over the rough surface.
A noise nearby caught his attention, and as Loki turned to see what the disturbance was, he felt the sting of something across his cheek. Something cold, scaly, and with nails that raked across his pale skin. He felt as the blood bloomed upon his face, before slowly trickling down; not too much, but the distinct stench of rust was invading Loki's senses, his hand automatically coming up to cover the new wound.
"You will learn to obey us with time, Æsir," a voice from behind him spoke, cold and gravelly, much like his surroundings. Loki couldn't help the almost crazed laugh that slipped from his lips as he turned to the creature – for that was the only word he could think of to describe the being now in front of him – his hand dropping from his face and clenching into a fist.
"You have been wrongly informed, reptile," the fallen-god spoke, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. "For I am no Æsir, but am in fact of Jötunn birth."
The creature didn't even feign shock; he just let out a throaty laugh of his own, before raising his hand once more.
This time, however, Loki ducked out of the way, his eyes narrowing at the scaly creature before him. "Let it be known that I am also a Prince of Asgard, and expect to be treated as such."
"The meagre politics of such an insignificant realm as Asgard do not apply here, Prince. You are now in the territory of the Chitauri, and shall therefore abide by the rules of our leader."
"Who, pray tell, is this leader?" Loki tilted his head to the side as he looked over the creature, taking in the webbed hands, scaly skin, and deformed facial structure. He had never seen such a creature in his time, and Norns knew that he had explored many, if not all, of the nine realms, with Thor and The Warriors Three.
The Chitauri before him gave a razor-sharp grin, tongue flickering out of its mouth as it looked Loki over. "In time, you will find out. Until then, Jötunn, have care with where you tread. You never know where you may fall next."
Before Loki had any chance to question the reptilian on what exactly was meant by the words "take care", he found himself alone, the chill of the unknown place settling deep into his bones as he once more tried to seek out a light source. The visit of the being left him with more unanswered questions; the most prevalent of which, 'had I met these beings before today?'.
A deep sigh left the raven's lips as he slumped back against the cliff face, drawing his knees to his chest as he tried, in vain, to gain back any amount of body heat he could potentially gain. Never before had he wished so much to be in the presence of his brother; for his brother would be able to warm him, both physically and emotionally, and be able to comfort him while in such an alien place.
The harsh pressure against his lower back roused Loki from his semi-conscious state, and a sharp yelp burst from his lips as it increased. He felt his bones shifting beneath the weight, cracking and weakening as the force increased, his whole body on the precipice of shutting down, as a raspy voice caught his attention.
"You are in luck today, Jötunn, for our leader has requested an audience with you."
Loki couldn't help the wince that appeared on his face as the weight was lifted off him, nor could he help the further yelp that left his lips as he was roughly manhandled to his feet. Pain radiated down his spine, causing shivers to appear over his body, as his arms were jerked behind his back, held tightly by a rough, scaly hand.
He was marched away from what he had fondly come to know of as his cliff, towards an area of the craggy rock face that Loki had yet to explore. When they arrived, he was quickly forced to his knees, and Loki quickly started looking around for whomever it was that had apparently summoned him.
Time seemed to pass slowly as he waited on his knees; Loki already had no sense of the passage of time within this "realm", and all this waiting only served to disorient him further. All he knew is that there were slight mutterings around him, confusing him.
What seemed like hours, though was probably mere minutes, later, Loki was tugged harshly back to his feet, where he was swiftly backhanded, the sound of low chuckles filling his ears as more of the reptilians made their presence known.
"It appears you have "lucked out" this time, Jötunn."
Loki wanted to respond, but the pain in his back, and now his cheek, were too strong. One of the Chitauri gave another backhand to the God, and with the added pain, Loki felt his consciousness slide back into the welcoming darkness.
There were strange noises coming from around Loki, and he fought, almost desperately so, to see what they were, or at least where they were coming from. But his eyes were too heavy to be able to open, to be able to see past the red and black splotchy vision that painted the inside of his eyelids.
Pain engulfed Loki's whole body, from head to toe, spreading through his veins like wildfire, the burn making his body twitch and shudder every few moments. He held back a whimper that wanted to fall from chapped lips; he did not wish to appear weak before... whoever it was that was currently standing over his damaged body. His back burned as something hard came down across the small of his back, causing it to arch and a cry to be torn from his lips.
I am a God; I am not supposed to show weakness like this, Loki thought, almost darkly. But the fall from the Bifröst and into the dark void… it took everything away from me; my strength, my magic, my ability to use my trickery.
Here Loki was, a God of Asgard, chained to a rocky crevice, being beaten and whipped by mutated creatures, not of any realm that he had visited, all for information that he could not give, all to serve some apparent higher being - higher than a God of Asgard - in its will to take over something.
This was a being that none had met, yet his name was feared through the ranks of warriors holding the raven captive. Perhaps soon he would meet this Thanos, and then he could be on his way back to recovering enough magical ability to find a way back to Asgard; to his home.
Pain radiated down Loki's back as something, something completely unknown to him, worked its way down his spine, tearing into his pale flesh. He clenched his eyes tight as he felt the blood trickle down his back, the heat of it reminding the God that while he may be living in his own personal Hel, he was most certainly still alive.
It was no hallucination, nor any spell cast upon his body; this was reality, and with each pass of what Loki could only think were the claws that made up the tips of the Chitauri's fingers, he had no further thoughts.
But that was a lie. Loki did in fact have other thoughts; those being silently prayed to the Norns, for them to be able to hear his silent pleas, to allow his body to pass into the next life, be it Hel, or Valhalla. Hel seemed more likely at this point, seeing as Loki was the cause of many Jötunn deaths, one of which was his own father's. Anything would be better than this torture I was being put through, day in and day out, for the Chitauri to attain information I did not have knowledge of.
The punishments were getting worse, and it truly did make him wish that he had not made the mistake in letting go of Gungnir, before falling from the Rainbow Bridge. The darkness between worlds was haunted by these creatures, wanting nothing more than to take over some innocent realm.
There was talk, Loki had heard, that he was to play the role of their next pawn. At this point, he was very seriously considering going along with it, if it meant moving away from the continuous torture; the destruction of his body, mind, and mostly, his will to continue living.
The things they had brought upon him truly did have Loki wishing for death. But the God held on, if only for the thought of Thor - his brother - or someone on the other side of the torture, someone to be there for him; to take the pain and the horrendous memories away.
The raking of claws suddenly stopped, and Loki could hear the pain-bringers speaking in their native tongue. One word that he had managed to distinguish was "Other" – it seemed as if the Chitauri in charge finally wanted to speak with the broken God.
Loki knew of what they spoke, of what was coming; they would wish for him to travel to Midgard to recover a treasure they believe was stolen from their possession. The guards in this place, even though they are not of the trickster's native language, gave far too much information away. Loki decided, as he lay bound and broken, that he would play along, and make The Other believe he wanted to help. This journey to Midgard could be my escape, my way back to Asgard. My way back to life
The time had come. The Other had summoned the broken trickster to stand before him; not that Loki could stand, for the welts and the scars that were still leaking blood had rendered him unable to move.
Loki's body was a heap before the Chitauri leader, his mind returning to that darkness that the sheer sight of the disfigured, reptilian face brought on. Flashes of what this particular Chitauri had caused ran through his abused mind; the pain, the suffering, the emotional turmoil. The feeling of being ripped apart each time he came to "visit", only to heal just enough, without the aid of Idunn's apples, to be torn, battered and bruised the next time he came.
The God's head tilted back, smirk plastered across his lips, as he spoke slowly, tone filled with all the venom he could possibly muster in his diminishing state, "What is it you brought me here for, you vile creature?"
Loki had agreed to help them; to help The Other and the Chitauri in their quest to not only attain the Tesseract from Midgard, but to also help them gain control of the realm.
Little did the reptilians know that the trickster's tongue of silver was behind those binding words, and that he had his own plans; to gain access to Midgard, then escape their clutches at the first moment possible, before calling for Heimdall's, or even Thor's, help.
Something didn't feel right. Loki could feel the pain radiating from his body, as if it were heat. It was too much; his head was more than a muddled mess. The Chitauri had surrounded him, and were once more speaking in their native tongue, discussing something.
There was something wrong, but Loki couldn't quite put a finger on it. He reached out a hand, expecting to be able to do something, anything. But it was shaking far too much.
There was a small puddle nearby; the trickster hated to think what made up said puddle, but as he caught his reflection, he knew that something was truly wrong. The familiar green eyes that normally greeted him in a reflective surface had been replaced with shining blue, bright as a beacon. What is this magic that has taken over me?
Loki knew that the Chitauri were to blame...but to figure out what had happened, would be too much, for he had almost no energy left within his now frail body. He couldn't dwell on the thoughts any longer, though, as the throbbing in his head, the confusion, it all intensified, and he soon fell back to the ground, eyes closed in pain.
As he stood before the congregation of Chitauri warriors, Loki wondered how he had managed to recover enough to be able to stand. He shook his head slightly as he was handed something; a weighty golden staff that emanated a strange, blue glow from the tip. What is this magic?
He turned his head to face the reptilian beings, bright blue eyes flicking from one figure to the next, until they settled upon the slightly taller, slightly more grotesque form of The Other.
"What is this that you have handed to me? What is it you expect me to do?" Loki's fingers tighten, almost turning white, around the golden shaft, an eerie sensation falling over his whole body, encompassing me. The magic that had bound to his soul was now binding the trickster to this weapon.
But Loki didn't want to be bound to it; he wanted freedom. He wanted to get away from here, back to Thor, back to Asgard and the safety of the home the AllFather provided, even if he were not the raven's true father.
Loki wanted to return to what was, to not be in the present. His fingers only served to clench tighter around the solid metal staff, his eyes squeezing tightly shut as a voice in the very back of his mind muttered, "Anywhere but here; anywhere but here."
It was as if the Norns had answered the silent question, for Loki soon felt himself swept up in a large gust of air - from where though, he did not know. All he knew is that they were in the middle of what seemed like a branch of Yggdrasill, where no element should be able to reach. Perhaps it was a trick of the Chitauri, perhaps a figment of his now warped imagination.
As Loki opened his eyes, he found himself staff-less and in a new location completely, where the sun's rays hit his back, where the wind whipped at his hair and back; where he felt as if the cloud of magic that had overtaken his mind had been lifted.
Loki managed to pick out a few thoughts that made sense as he stood in what appeared to be an open meadow; where was I? How did I get here? No, more importantly... how would I go about returning to Asgard?