So, here's another little ficlet I've created. This basically is my idea of what happened to Loki between Thor and Avengers. I always thought Loki seemed a bit bipolar during Avengers, jumping back and forth enough to give me mental whiplash. Also, Loki's first appearance in the movie confused me. He seemed tired, starved, and he tripped a couple types for no apparent reason. The more I thought about it, the more he seemed to be suffering from heat exhaustion. I mean, think about it: he has sunken-in eyes, extreme sweating, pale skin, fatigue and dizziness. But then, how do you torture a Frost Giant if not with heat? Anyway, enough of my rambling. Here it is.

Song of the Chapter: Lost ~ Within Temptation

The lyrics just match up well.


Time had no meaning. Pain had become as constant as air and reality had lost its meaning. Loki couldn't say how he had come to the miserable little planet, if it could be called that. He remembered hanging off the Bifrost, his pleading to Odin, and Odin's rejected. He could remember every detail of when he let go of Gungnir, could see Thor's face as his grip loosened. Everything beyond that was a blur.

He was on his knees, head hanging in defeat, as he hands were drawn above his head by iron manacles hanging from the ceiling. He was stripped down to only his trousers, blood drying in little streams across his skin. If he had been given anything more than watered down broth and a stale slice of bread, he might be sick. His body would shudder under the spasms of pain as his body protested to the torment, but nothing more.

Whoever held him captive knew what he was, his tortures were specifically crafted for him. While Loki did not react to the cold, the same could not be said for heat. It was always exceptionally hot within the stone room, burning his naturally low body temperature. It was too much. The hot irons, the burning coals, the occasional waterboarding, the starvation, the whips; it all drove him to the brink of insanity.

When the door slid open, he automatically flinched away from the light. Light meant pain, meant someone coming for him. He attempted to turn his head away as the person reached for him, willing them to go away. Instead of unlatching the shackles from his arms, thin fingers gently caressed his face.

"Loki?"

He stiffened at the familiar voice, knowing it wasn't possible. He looked up to see the familiar warmth of Freyja's bright blue eyes. Her lips were parted in surprise, hair disheveled as if she had been fighting.

"Freyja?"

"It's alright," she said, embracing him carefully. "I've come for you."

"No," he said as she began to break the chains with magic. "You are dead. This is not real."

"No, Loki. I never died. I've come for you, but you must believe me. Come. We don't have much time."

She broke the final chain, pulling him up as he fell forward.

"Can you walk?" she demanded.

He nodded, attempting to walk without her support. She sighed, wrapping an arm around him to help.

"I am so sorry," she whispered as they walked across the room. "I never thought Thanos would find you?"

"This was not your fault," he said hoarsely.

"Do not attempt to speak," she said softly. "We must get out, and then we can discuss this. I never meant for this to happen. I am truly sorry."

"Such sentiment," a deep voice chuckled.

Both looked up in horror as Thanos suddenly appeared in the doorway before them. Before Freyja or Loki could act, he rushed forward and drove a knife through her heart. Loki fell to his knees as she crumpled forward. He cradled her head as he watched her eyes go blank. Thanos grinned over them, but Loki paid no mind. He gazed at her shocked face as the white coils of her aura dissipated – white?

Brushing back the hair from her face, he looked for the slight indention on the curve of her ear, the one thing that marked her appearance as a spell. This Freyja did not have it. Loki suddenly began to laugh, a slightly sardonic laugh that rang through the room.

"You think me a fool, Thanos?" he demanded, using the name the false Freyja had said. "Do you truly believe I cannot tell the difference between my lost love and this copy?"

A thick, purple-skinned hand clamped around his neck, cutting off his laughter, "Then let us see just how much more you can take, false or not."


And so it was. There were no more physical torments. Loki could not tell how many days passed, but each one brought a new series of illusions to haunt him. He watched Thanos kill copies of Freyja slowly, prying every scream he could from whatever poor souls he was using. Then, it was Thor killing Freyja. No, it was Odin. He watched as the false Freyja fought several others, always dying at their hands.

The last few he watched were of himself. They would embrace, kiss, whisper to each other. In the end, the false version of himself would kill her. It was always the same, she was either suffocated or stabbed, but he found the last were the worst. The look of betrayal that would cross the false-Freyja's face tore at his heart no matter how many times he told himself it was not true.

The second to last did not involve death, but drove Loki to fury. It was of a false Thor and Freyja. Thor asked her what she felt for Loki, to which she replied that it didn't matter. They kissed, caressed and entwined themselves with the other. She said that she always loved Thor, and he smiled in return. Loki laughed bitterly at the show, forcing down the envy and anger that threatened to smother him.

The final one was the cruelest, though. It was of himself and Freyja. They were kissing, but it was not the same as the illusion of her and Thor. It was a slow kiss, simply the two enjoying the company. The false Loki's skin slowly turned blue, his eyes transforming to the Jotun red they truly were.

"This does not trouble you?" the false-him asked.

She brushed the back of her fingers across his face, "No. I would have you any way you are."

He smiled, "Good."

She gasped as a knife slid skillfully between her ribs, knees buckling. The false Loki held her, bringing her close so that his lips brushed against her ear.

"This is what becomes of you when you love a monster," he hissed.

"A monster," Loki repeated, flinching away from the vision.

He could still hear the false-Loki's chuckles through his closed eyes, the look of devastation on Freyja's face burned into the back of his eyelids. A tear slid down his face against will. It burned more than the others, as it was true.

The door slid open and when he opened his eyes, only Thanos remained in the room.

"I ask once more," the Titan said. "Will you or will you not fight for this cause? No other Realm will have you, but I offer a chance at acceptance. Conquer Midgard, and the mortals will fear you, they will revere you, they will worship you."

Loki hesitated, thinking the words through.

"Think, Jotun. You could remold the world to your creating. Banish all that you loathe and build all that you dream. You could transform it into all you have ever wanted. All I ask in return is the human power source, the Tesseract."

"I…accept your most gracious offer."

Thanos grinned, "I knew you would see my argument. In the end, you will always kneel, always yield to me."

Loki recoiled slightly as the Titan approached, removing the shackles. He stood on shaky legs, fatigued from the lack of food and overheating. Thanos did not wait for him, leaving Loki to stumble after him and try not to fall into unconsciousness. They walked down the barren hall, turning into another room. In it, a single pedestal holding an ornate gold and silver scepter with blue gem between the blades. Much to his surprise, it was the same shade of unnatural blue as Freyja's and Thanos's eyes. He almost thought he had seen something similar to it before, but could not remember.

"Your task is simple, Prince," Thanos said, picking up the scepter. "You will lead the army I provide you with into battle against the mortals. You will force them into submission and take the throne."

"What of their freedom?" he asked, remembering that it was Freyja's most treasured possession.

"Freedom," he scoffed. "There is no such thing. We are all prisoners of fate, forced into its will. Freedom is life's great lie."

He held out the scepter to Loki, "Will you drown in attempt to fight fate, or will you submit to its will?"

With only a second's hesitation, Loki's fingers closed around the scepter. A gasp fell from his lips as something unknown filled his mind. He saw worlds, stars, glyphs, a myriad of information, beliefs, and theories that he had never known. He saw ways the Jotun frostbite could heal, how travel between realms was not the limit but rather alternate dimensions, he saw the possibility of true peace. The more he saw, the less he struggled against the presence in his mind.

Thanos smiled as the Prince's eyes turned from green to the unnatural blue of the Tesseract, satisfied in his work. Loki turned his gaze from the scepter in his hand to Thanos, no longer thinking of what could go wrong. In his mind, he saw a perfect kingdom, one he would create from the ashes of Midgard.

"When do I start?"