Hiya, guys! This is my first frostiron fanfiction, so PLEASE be nice. I appreciate it! I know the first chapter's pretty short, but the other ones are gonna be longer, I assure you. Sorry if any of it's a bit OOC in advance. It's not very easy, speaking from the perspective of Loki all the time. But that's the way I started writing it, so I guess I have to follow through. XD
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, just the ideas behind the story.
I struggled to stand on my own two feet, grasping the nearest furniture item I could find to steady myself. I had the strongest desire to feel rage at what had been done to me, yet all I could feel was terror. My hand reached up to slide through my hair, which was now far past its usual state of growth. I would focus on the aching wounds that wracked my body with every breath at another time. The first order of business was to find out where, exactly, I had landed. With what I could make out with the blur covering my vision, I realized that my surroundings rung somewhat familiar to me. I couldn't quite place it in my memory, and the terror made way for a slight amount of frustration.
That was more like it.
I grimaced and forced myself away from what felt to be a table and stumbled my way through the odd room. It must have belonged to a Midgardian. Asgardian's had no such need for any of what my fingertips had brushed over. My head snapped up, and my wearied eyes widened to where the chilled air itched their surfaces. There was a blur of a man standing before me, his chest aglow with a kind of glorious blue power. My knees had finally decided to betray me, and I collided against the large pane of glass beside me.
I prayed to the filthy Odin himself that it wouldn't break, for fear of it being a window through which I would shoot forth into my imminent death. Thankfully, fate had granted me this one kindness, and I simply slid to the floor, leaning my pitiful, powerless body against the large wall of glass. The blur came closer, and an internal battle set forth within my battered head. My arms reached out in front of me, unsure of whether to beg the being to come to my aid, or to shield myself in what defensive gesture I had left within me.
"Loki?" its voice questioned as a hand gripped my shoulder.
Fear and pain gripped at my chest with such force, I was certain I'd suffocate. My tongue was a dead, useless weight in my mouth, and I could do nothing more than hang my head, awaiting whatever other torture was about to be bestowed on me. I had not a single ally in all the nine realms, save for my mother, who I was certain had disowned me just as Odin had in my sentencing. Suddenly, I longed for her presence, even if she'd meet me with scorn. I'd endured far too much to wish for anything more than to be beside the one person who'd believed in me, through imbecilic actions and all.
As the blue energy came closer, my lips tried to pull apart to beg it to stop. They immediately ceased this and pressed into a thin line as pain shot through the skin of my face. My shaking hands felt for what had restricted my movements, and skin met thick cable, sewn intricately to keep my mouth sealed.
I felt my body quiver pathetically, thankful that I was saved from begging, no matter how morbid the reason. A god did not beg to a mortal, and I was certain that I undoubtedly would have. But what kind of mortal had such intimidating magic pulsating through its chest? This thought had crossed my mind in a faded heap of words as my body slumped forward. I felt the arms of the odd, blue magic-wielding Midgardian encircle me as my vision gave out to very welcoming black.
When I'd awoken, it was a very slow, painful process. My senses grasped awareness before my eyes had even opened. I felt complete dread clench within my stomach as I realized that death had yet to take me. There had been an obnoxious, continuous snipping noise a mere inch from my face, and it forced a dull ringing to pound through my ears. I finally obtained the courage needed to open my eyes, and they were met with the white-hot sting from the lights overhead. I blinked heavily and welcomed the unexpected moisture that had begun to collect in a protective blur, blanketing my vision from such harsh impact.
As my eyes shifted to stare straight ahead, I was met with a sight I would have happily gone without.
The familiar blurred figure from before, though more of a man than a blur at this time, was crouched before me, his face strained in focus. An odd Midgardian tool was clutched tightly in his hand, and he was making quick work at snapping it against my mouth.
Oh, yes. I'd almost forgotten.
As his face came into focus, I jerked my head back, crying out in pain as my lip had been nearly ripped in two. My reflexes had apparently disregarded the Midgardian device that was clamped tightly against an unbroken stitch of cable. The sharp sensation had caught me off guard, and my mouth pulled apart in agony, prying my lips from each other whether they were fastened or not. My hands flew to my mouth and I let out a sharp hiss, feeling the wetness of my own blood seep through my trembling fingers.
"Oh shit! Hey, I wasn't finished with those yet." I heard the man say as I glared at him through watery eyes. His tone hinted towards being pulled out of his own little world at my actions. What a luxury that must have been. To enter a reality created by himself at his own leisure. Not at all created to escape the endless torture and darkness met each day when awakened. The disgust had nearly been enough to render me ill.
His eyes became frantic as he reached beside himself and retrieved a cloth, tearing my hands away from my self-mutilation and shoving it in their place. It quickly seeped scarlet with fresh blood.
"Just hold that there, Frosty. I didn't expect you to wake up that fast. Thought it'd take at least another hour. How're you feeling?" he asked as he carefully pulled away a bit of the cloth to pick away at the shards of cable protruding from my lips. I had prepared the words to say before feeling him press the bloodied cloth harder.
"Don't answer that." he ordered. My eyes narrowed further. Was he aware of who he'd been dealing with? Regardless of the stubborn irritation his demands had caused me, I crossed my arms over my chest and sat in silence as he worked at the stitching.
As if the infernal snipping hadn't been enough of a nuisance on my throbbing head, an obnoxious static that could have been considered music, had it not been the frequency of a buzzing, Midgardian insect, was blasting from odd contraptions settled in the man's ears. I was fairly certain that I was not supposed to hear it, which made the situation all the more infuriating. All I wished for was to bandage the torn skin and sit alone in silence, which was not an option for this man. He simply would not keep his mouth shut.
"So Pointbreak doesn't have the kind of heart to have at his little brother like this, so this has to be someone else's little arts and craft project, I'm guessing." he rambled in a mutter with another snip. This seemed to be his way of maintaining composure.
I knew this man, and I was sure that the moment he'd tended to my injuries, he would have me taken back to Asgard. I forced my chest to lessen its tension as I'd made myself accept this. Perhaps I would at last die and free myself of my misery. At this point, his voice was far more grating than the sharp sting of cloth against my mangled flesh. I soon realized that the annoyance had been slowly taking my mind off the agony, and I could almost begin to recognize a small amount of gratitude.
"How'd you even get here anyway? No, wait. Don't answer that, either. I'm just talking for the sake of talking. You're gonna have to explain all of this eventually, anyway. It can wait until I've fixed you up." he continued as he snipped and picked away the last stitch.
By the Norns...I would pay this man any amount of currency he desired if he ceased his babbling.
I slapped his hand away and watched his eyes widen in shock. I was immediately sorry for using such effort to conjure the strength to do so as my shoulder surged with pain. I doubled over and snatched up the cloth, pressing it back against my mouth.
"Stark." I spat into the cloth, adding a brighter red to the drying blood. My speech had been restricted as my lips were numb and throbbing, unwilling to cooperate with any words I wished to form. The bitterness swelling in my lungs had mixed with a constant, ever-growing panic, and I had been struggling to maintain my defenses. This alone made my words carry far more meaning as a mere Midgardian had finally seen me for what I was: afraid.
"Kill me." I hissed.
If you like the story so far, please favorite and review! It fuels my urge to write more! Pretty please! I'll have the new chapter up soon!