A/N: I advise everyone to listen to this song, I think it is absolutely perfect for this chapter :)
Also, happy birthday to meeeee, happy birthday to meeeee ;)
Chapter 8. The Punishment
This one had it coming, this one found a vein
This one was an accident, but never gave me pain
This one was my father's, and this one you can't see
This one had me scared to death
But I guess I should be glad I'm not dead
~"Made of Scars", Stone Sour
The next few weeks were horrible. Natasha found that she missed Loki, which only made her angry at herself.
He was her target, her mark, yet she often caught herself thinking about him, wondering where he was and what kind of mission was so important that he couldn't see her. And every time, she berated herself for acting like some love-struck schoolgirl with a crush.
'Love is for children' she kept reminding herself, but somewhere deep inside, Natasha knew that she was starting to believe less and less in her mantra.
Not only that, but Clint was still being rather awkward around her, and she often had the urge to smack him upside the head and tell him to get over it, but she doubted that would help the situation.
To top it all off, Natasha had managed to catch a stomach bug from some ungodly place (her bet was on her last mission to India), and the swirling, gnawing pit in her stomach made her want to hurl everything back up as soon as she had put food in her mouth.
Those two weeks without Loki were horrible for Natasha, but not nearly as horrible as it was for her lover, thousands of light-years away...
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Two Weeks Earlier
Loki heard footsteps echoing down the corridor to his cell.
Today was the day.
His brother's stern face appeared behind the bars of his cell door. Thor looked unhappy, to say the least. His brows were knitted together and he almost looked like he was pouting.
It wouldn't have surprised Loki, his brother always was the childish one. And yet for some reason, everyone adored him anyway. Go figure.
Thor unlocked the door and it swung open with a loud clang. He stood before his adopted brother and used the same key to unlock the shackles binding his wrists. He let them fall to the floor.
Loki could see in his brother's face that he was dying to speak, to say something. He opened his mouth but Loki placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and shook his head, silencing him.
He didn't want to hear it. Everything Thor had to say was already written all over his face.
His sky blue eyes shone with pity, sadness, grief, regret and a hint of anger and disappointment.
Loki didn't want to hear any of it.
Instead, he walked past his brother and down the corridor, away from his dull, grey prison.
Thor quickly caught up to him and grasped his shoulder in his large hand. Loki let himself be steered. He would never admit it, but the familiar warm touch was as comforting to him as it was to Thor.
The siblings were flanked by royal guards as they entered the great, open Throne room. Thor was hustled to the side as the two guards grasped Loki by the arms and marched him towards his "father".
The entire hall was filled with people. It looked like the whole of Asgard had turned up to see Loki humiliated.
He sneered at them, and gave a satisfied smirk when the closest ones stepped back in fear.
Loki and the guards stopped in front of the few stairs which led to the altar where Odin's throne sat. The All Father was not the only one on the altar though. A long, ornate table had been placed in front of them, and at it sat eight elderly Asgardians, four on each side of his father's throne.
The High Council.
His mother, Frigga, stood at Odin's side, her hand curled around his high-backed chair. Her face looked stern but it was her eyes that gave her away. They were filled with sorrow and pain, she looked on the verge of tears.
Thor had made his own way up through the crowd and now joined his mother, standing on the opposite side of his father. His hand also came to rest upon the throne.
Loki smiled at the irony of it all.
There they were, looking like the perfect family portrait, all grasping what he could never touch – the throne. And here he was, bowed at their feet, in his rightful place.
A fitting position for a monster such as he.
Anger swelled up in his chest and Loki had to fight to control his expression. He was thankfully distracted from his rage when the Councilman to Odin's right stood and unraveled the scroll in his hands. He cleared his throat and the hall suddenly became deathly quiet.
"LOKI LAUFEYSON," his voice reverberated around the walls like a death sentence.
'So, he has told the world of my true heritage then.' Loki thought bitterly, and it struck him like a blade of ice to the heart.
"SECOND SON OF ODIN, THE GREAT ALL FATHER, YOU ARE HEREBY SENTENCED TO ASGARDIAN JUSTICE FOR THE ATROCIOUS CRIMES COMMITTED ON THE MORTAL PLANET OF MIDGARD. YOUR CRIMES INCLUDE, BUT ARE NOT LIMITED TO: THE MURDER OF EIGHTY NINE MORTALS, THE DESTRUCTION OF AN ENTIRE CITY,"
"It was only the downtown area." Loki muttered to no one in particular.
"AND VIOLATION OF ASGARDIAN LAW 5739, SUB SECTION 23B - THE PROTECTION OF MIDGARD."
The old, bearded man paused for a moment and glanced to Odin. The All Father gave a curt nod, signalling the man to continue.
"THE HIGH COUNCIL OF ASGARD HAS DECIDED YOUR PUNISHMENT, LOKI LAUFEYSON. THOU ART TO BE SENTENCED IMMEDIATELY TO ONE HUNDRED LASHES WITH THE WHIP OF ETERNAL JUSTICE."
As soon as the Councilman let the scroll snap shut, a hushed murmur broke out in the hall. It grew louder as Odin ordered the guards to take him to the courtyard and chain him to Yggdrasil, the Sacred World Tree.
Loki exhaled slowly through his nose and allowed himself to be carted away. His punishment was necessary if he was to instigate his plan.
'Damn,' he thought, as the guards dragged him backward and the crowd parted to allow his passage. 'This is definitely going to leave a mark.'
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Thor struggled to watch as his beloved brother was chained to the Tree and stripped bare to the waist.
Thor recalled he and Loki as children, running circles around that tree, and the rest of the courtyard, taking turns to chase each other.
He also remembered sitting with his brother under the shade of that tree as their tutor taught them all about Yggdrasil, the tree which connected all worlds and through which all power and life energy flowed.
The memories caused such a devastating sadness to sweep through Thor that it made his knees weak and he feared he may actually collapse.
As the first crack of the whip sliced through the air and silenced the murmuring crowd, his mother turned to him and buried her face in his shoulder, not able to watch any more pain be inflicted on her son.
On the seventh crack of the whip, Thor also turned his head away, the sight before him causing too much pain for him to bear any more.
A single drop of wetness dripped off the Crown Prince's nose and disappeared into his mother's hair.
The entire time, Loki made not a sound.
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It was two weeks before Loki was strong enough to summon the magic to open the portal to Midgard.
Like all immortals, Loki was not easily injured, and when he was, he healed quickly. But the Whip of Eternal Justice was imbued with ancient magic, it was created to punish Asgardians who committed terrible wrongs.
Loki had heard stories in his youth that the pain of the punishment had drove gods mad. And indeed it was painful, but Loki had endured worse for far less, both at the hands of his own father and of others who thought him weak. But the Whip was old magic, and though Loki was familiar with pain, the Councilmen had to force feed him the Apple of Immortality at 50 lashes just to keep him from dying.
Thor had visited him every day since, bringing him more Apples in attempts to speed his recovery.
Loki accepted the first one but had refused the rest ever since. He did not want his brother's help with this, he wanted to embrace the pain – it was what he deserved.
Frigga also came to see him every day to change his bandages, as she was the only one that Loki would even let near him.
He still loved his mother in spite of everything. She was the only one that had ever treated him and Thor as equals. For that, she was the only one he respected in this realm full of hollow gods.
Today, however, the broken God of Mischief did not wish to speak to either his mother or his brother. So, in the early hours of the morning, Loki summoned a doppelganger to take his place and opened the portal between two realms.
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It was night on Earth, and Natasha was pulling off her boots and crawling into bed when she heard a familiar crackling from her mirror and a moment later Loki stumbled through the reflective glass.
Her face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. Natasha scolded herself silently and tried to look nonchalant.
"Oh, you're back. I..." but her voice trailed off when she noticed that there was something wrong with Loki.
His skin was normally pale, but now he looked plain sickly, he looked bonier than normal too, as if he hadn't eaten in the past weeks, and he held himself stiffly in a strange manner.
The smile slowly slid off her face and her expression became one of dread.
"What's wrong?" she inquired immediately.
Loki tried to smile at her, but it came out as more of a grimace.
"Nothing, little spider. Do not concern yourself."
But Natasha was having none of that.
She got up from her bed and strode over to him, but he took a step back into the shadows of her bedroom. She cocked her head to the side curiously, then took another step forward and reached out her hand to stroke his cheek. He flinched at the movement and retreated further into the shadows.
His actions reminded her of a wild, frightened animal.
"Loki..." she said slowly, confused and concerned. "What happened?" She emphasised each word.
Loki inhaled deeply and attempted to draw himself up to his full height. He strode over to her glass-wall window casually and stared out at the full moon that brightened the night sky and bathed the New York skyline.
He spoke without facing her. "My trial took place earlier this week for the crimes I committed here in your realm. I faced Asgardian justice and was punished accordingly." He spoke as calmly as if he was talking about the weather.
Loki glanced back at Natasha. A frown creased her brow and her plump lips were pressed tightly together in concern.
"What kind of punishment?" She demanded.
He smiled at her, the kind of smile an adult gives an orphaned child when they ask where their parents are. It was foreboding.
He didn't answer her, but went back to staring out the window.
Slowly, she inched closer to him, stretching out her hand to place on his shoulder reassuringly. As soon as she made contact he hissed audibly, and suddenly she was knocked on her ass on the floor.
Natasha propped herself up on her elbows, too bewildered to even stand.
"What the fuck was that?" She demanded.
Then she noticed he was hunched over, his beautiful face contorted with pain. Quickly she stood and went to his side.
"Your back?" Her hand ghosted over his hunched form, never touching.
"They hurt you." It was more of a statement than a question.
"Loki, show me." She reached for the clips on his vest but froze when he let out an animalistic growl, his green eyes shone wildly in the darkness.
"Loki, please..." she begged.
He paused for a moment, his breathing laboured. He pushed past her to seat himself on her bed.
As she stood before him she thought he looked so very fragile, his head bowed and his hands lay defeated in his lap. Not at all the man who had broke her down with well-crafted words almost six months ago.
She sat next to him carefully and her hands again reached for his vest. He winced and sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, but allowed her to undress him.
When Natasha removed the last layer of clothing, she literally gasped in horror.
"Bozhe moĭ" she breathed as the blood-caked bandages fell away.
Thin, crimson lines gouged Loki's back, criss-crossing almost every inch of it. The skin around the wounds was pink and puckered. It looked as though his back was riddled with long craters, a confluence of deep ravines where the rivers that flowed were of his own blood.
Loki remained frozen in place, as if afraid that a single movement would cause the punishment and pain to continue.
Natasha had seen, and even treated, many horrific wounds before, but for some reason, the sight before her made the contents of her stomach heave and churn and she suddenly felt very ill.
Natasha rushed to the bathroom, took a few deep breaths to steady herself and settle her stomach, then grabbed the first aid kit from the medicine cabinet and hurried back.
Loki eyed the large red cross on the kit in her hand and told her; "Your mortal ointments won't work on this wound. The Whip has magic that prevents me from healing."
She opened the box anyway and began rummaging through its contents.
"So, a whip huh?" she said quietly as she gently applied an antiseptic cream to his back. She injected a shot of morphine into an undamaged part of his shoulder and used butterfly clips to pin the edges of his wounds together.
Loki gritted his teeth against the pain. "The Whip of Eternal Justice." He ground out, "Its magic forces me to heal at a much slower rate than usual."
She began wrapping a clean bandage around his torso. As she finished, she let her fingers trail over his shoulder and down his arm, gently mapping each bulging, wiry muscle.
He had rarely ever allowed her to touch him before, and never like this. He usually tied or pinned her hands somehow during their lovemaking, or pulled away when she reached out to him, and it pained her to imagine what had caused his haphephobia.
His old scars were also visible, which meant either he did not have the magic or the energy to cover them up.
She traced over the lines on the palm of his hand, until his fingers curled around her own.
She looked up and fell into those deep seas of green.
She gave in to her urge to kiss him.
Outside, the heavens opened up and sheets of rain poured down. The two lovers were too focused on each other to hear the steady pounding of water droplets against the window pane.
For the first time, he was the vulnerable, fragile one, and she was in control, she was on top. Every one of her actions was controlled and calculated, so as not to hurt him. Every brush of fingertips, every roll of her hips, and every caress of her lips against his was filled with a gentle loving that Natasha had never before experienced with anyone, not even Clint.
As the rain halted for a brief intermission, Loki found himself talking.
Her touch trailed over the contours of his abs and brushed over the more recent scars that punctured the dip between each rib.
"That is the bite of a frightening monster that is found on the moon Titan. It is a worm like creature with a mouth the length of its body, and rows of teeth that could pierce the good Captain's shield."
Natasha tried to picture the beast he described, frowning, she glanced up to see that Loki's expression was stormy and far away.
She reached up and traced over the scars that marred his lips. He gazed down at her and smiled beneath her touch, drawn from his haunting memories.
"That is the reason why you should never bargain with dwarfs." He chuckled and she smiled with him. "They had my mouth sewn shut for my trickery, but it was worth it, for that is how Thor's hammer came to be."
He frowned, looking thoughtful for a moment, before asking, "You can no longer see the ones on my back, can you?"
She hesitated for a moment before shaking her head, not wanting to frighten him off by breaking her silence.
"It is an ancient form of Asgardian punishment, painful but not deadly." He continued. "However, I believe this method made its way to your realm in ancient times and was used for execution. I believe your people named it the Blood Eagle."
She had heard of it, an old Viking torture where they severed the ribs from the spine and spread them out from the incision made in the victim's back, creating the allusion of bloodied wings. She tried to calm the sick feeling in her stomach that arose as an image of Loki undergoing that torture flashed through her mind.
"My father," – he spat the word, "punished me for trading the goddess Idunn to a giant. Thor had lost his hammer on Jotunheim and I convinced the giant to return it in exchange for Idunn's hand in marriage. Of course, I got her back, I never planned to leave her there." Loki grimaced slightly at the memory.
Her fingers trailed down his side, feeling the four long, jagged scars on his hip. She looked back up at him, questioning.
He answered without her asking. "A bilgesnipe; huge scaly creatures with sharp antlers and claws poisoned with a venom that burns and festers the skin. Father thought I should be more like Thor." The words were bitter on his tongue.
"When we not yet 900 years old, Odin sent us both into the Enchanted Forest for 'survival training', as he put it. Thor was trying to woo a young maiden we had met whilst crossing the Mountains of Asgard and sent me off to collect firewood. I was attacked, that's how I got this one as well." He pointed to the jagged line on his shoulder.
He remembered the fear, the first time he realised that he was alone, that no one would save him, that he had to rely only on himself. And he remembered the grim satisfaction he felt at the expression of shock and horror and awe on Thor's face when he dumped the beast's bloodied corpse at his feet.
Natasha reached up to run her fingers through his silky black hair, reveling in the feel of it before her touch grazed over the jagged scar across his hairline. Loki's eyebrows furrowed, trying to find the words.
"My own doing, that one, before I had learned how to properly wield a blade."
Confused, she raised one eyebrow, questioning. He seemed to know exactly what she was asking, "It was not a punishment. Black hair is most unusual amongst the Aesir you see."
A dull pain settled in her chest at his melancholy smile, and intensified as her attentions fell to the myriad of thin pale scars that ran from wrist to elbow up the soft inside flesh of his forearm.
She didn't have to ask what caused them, she already knew.
The blonde hair and blue eyes of her first childhood friend surged to the front of her mind. The tips of her golden curls dyed red as she stared at the ceiling, unseeing. The bloodied razor lay inches from her fingertips. After all, the only escape from the Red Room at that point was death.
She rested her head against his chest and Loki wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer and allowing her to snuggle into him.
She hesitated before turning her attention to the last scar. She ran her palm over it, and Loki frowned down at her.
"That" he chose his words carefully "was another punishment from my father." Loki paused for a moment and Natasha waited patiently for him to continue.
"I was tied down and a poisonous snake was fastened above me. Its venom dripped steadily and burned skin and bone alike, like acid. I would regenerate only for the poison to eat through to my heart again. An exhausting state of being."
Loki appeared so lost in thought that Natasha didn't dare ask what he was being punished for. He looked far too saddened for her to continue prodding at the memory.
Instead she pressed a kiss to his jugular and, snuggling deeper under the covers, tucked her head under his chin. Under the hand that lay upon his chest she could feel the steady beating of his heart, its rhythmic palpitations slowly lulling her into a dreamless sleep.
When Loki was sure she was in the deepest sleep, he detangled himself from Natasha's limbs and carefully redressed.
He gazed at the peaceful figure beneath the covers for a moment, her skin milky white in the moonlight. A frown marred his sculpted features as a strange feeling crept into his chest, like a band tightening around his heart as he looked upon her.
What was this feeling?
A sense of déjà vu tugged at his memory but he refused bring it into focus.
Yes, he had felt this feeling before, but that was a long time ago, and since then, he has rid himself of all cumbersome feelings – of sentiment.
A memory stirred.
'Is this love?'
'Love is for children.'
Whether or not love was for children, adults, or all humans alike, Loki had no idea. He did, however, know one thing for certain.
Love was not for monsters.
He gently pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Sleep well." He whispered, before stepping back into the shadows and disappearing into the night.
A/N: Quick note on ageing: In Thor 2, Loki stated that the Asgardian life expectancy is around 5000 years. In the beginning of the first Thor, Odin found baby Loki during the war against the Frost Giants, stated to have happened 965 AD. Using my amazing math skills and comparing this with the average human life expectancy, I've deduced that a 900 year old Asgardian is physically equivalent to a 15 year old human, and that Loki's age to date is approximately 1050. Mentally, however, is a whole other ball game…
Bozhe moĭ is the Russian equivalent of 'oh my god'
haphephobia = fear of being touched
