A/N - Sorry about the long time before the update…i had so many things going on this weekend. Here it is. Before you read, I must warn you, there is torture in this chapter. This is where it gets its pg-13 rating. I've never really written torture or angsty stuff before, so forgive me. I was going to make this longer, but I got too tired.
"I didn't know you were a healer," said Loki wryly, allowing a touch of irony to escape through. Bruce Banner, the Hulk, the destroyer of cities, was a doctor. Bruce looked up at him, unruffled. "I didn't know you would take an arrow for someone you've never met before today," he countered calmly.
Loki didn't want to elaborate on his selfish reasons on saving Virginia Potts, so he just shrugged.
He was in a healing room, painted a pale yellow in color, and Banner was tending to his injury. In reality, it was Loki who was doing most of the healing. The All-Father had not removed his magic—he had merely suppressed it. Yet not all of it was bound, a little bit was free in his body.
It wasn't enough to do anything of importance. He could cast illusions that could only last for a handful of seconds, and do light healing on himself. If the All-Father was aware of it, Loki did not know, but he wasn't arguing.
But there was a slight illusion that Loki had cast before he slipped into unconsciousness, not anything big. Just a little glamor to touch up his face, so Loki didn't have to hide the pain flashing across his face. It hadn't been a big deal, instinctive, because after every injury he had obtained Loki had too much pride to let his real emotions play across his face.
"I'm going to let you rest for a little while," said Banner finally. "Thankfully, your bones and muscles seem to be stronger than most, so you'll mend." Loki nodded his head in acknowledgment as he lay back on the pillows. Banner flashed him an unreadable look, before nodding slightly to himself and slipping out the door.
Loki didn't really need rest, he knew. His magic was already working to mend his wound, not as quickly as if he'd had all his energy with him, but it was working good enough. He was just about to see if Jarvis was in the room when the door opened and Anthony Stark hesitantly stepped in.
Ah, thought Loki in amusement. Here comes the thanks.
Stark glanced at him as he walked in, closing the door behind him as he uncomfortably shifted from foot to foot. "So," he began weakly in an attempt to start a conversation, "You're getting better, now?" Loki watched him carefully. "Your Bruce Banner has been treating me well," he replied quietly.
"Um, good," said Stark awkwardly. "Yes, that's—that's very good." Loki didn't answer, but his eyes did not leave Stark's. "Was there a purpose in coming here?" inquired Loki bluntly. "Or did you come here just to attempt to make a conversation?"
Stark blinked. "Right," he said, getting to the point. "I don't like it, but I guess I have to thank you, Loki. If it hadn't been for you, Pepper would've been dead right now." Loki resisted the urge to smile at the blow to Stark's mountainous ego. "I ever-so-graciously accept your thanks."
Stark nodded, fidgeting aimlessly as the awkwardness began to settle again. "I'll get going now," he said, and quickly he darted out of the room.
—
Don't sleep, don't sleep…
Those were the hollow words that echoed numbly and meaninglessly around Loki's mind repetitively as he began to nod. He hadn't gone to sleep for who knows how long, to keep himself of revisiting those old nightmares that haunted him, a shadow that trailed him no longer how hard he tried to shake it.
Loki immediately scorned himself. He, Loki, was being scared by a few childish nightmares. He could face them, if he stopped acting like a child.
Leaning back on his pillows, he closed his eyes as sleep blessedly washed over him. But it wasn't long before old memories were stirred.
"Does Asgard's king require anything else?"
Loki was too weak to speak, so he didn't waste breath replying. Instead, he focused on merely breathing, concentrating on inhaling and exhaling slowly as he tried to ignore the pain everywhere.
His wrists were bound securely at his sides, but they served no purpose, for there was no way that Loki could walk, let alone escape. He leaned his head against the pillar behind him, bracing himself for the next drop of snake venom.
It came slowly, dropping onto his shoulder where a raw, bloody wound lay open. Loki would've screamed, if he had any breath left to. His bloody fingernails aimlessly scratched the ground pain was sharp, flaring and burning as Loki hissed, biting his lip so hard that his mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood.
In the beginning it had been better. The great serpent had dripped his poison on him, and when the first drop fell, Loki screamed like he'd never screamed before, writhing as he cursed Thanos and the Chitauri in all the languages he could think of. His magic had worked instantly, knitting the wound together until all that remained was a light scar that would've disappeared in time. But the snake wasn't done. The next drop fell only moments later, and it went on and on, until the snake went to rest at night.
The next day was filled with screams, pain and agony as well, except Loki's magic wasn't working as fast. By the end of the long, timeless week, Loki's magic could no longer work so fast. When the night fell, his magic would heal him completely.
In a month's time, Loki's magic couldn't heal fully at the nighttime. So the next morning, burning, poisonous venom spilled onto open, bleeding wounds. It didn't flare up and die away, either. It was consistent and painful, each burn reminding Loki it was there.
He'd screamed in the beginning, until venom spilled into his mouth and Loki could only look around with wild green eyes, filmed over with pure agony.
It had went on for who knows how long, years, decades, centuries? Loki had screamed for help, every scrap of dignity deserting him as he screamed for Thor, for Frigga, for Odin. But no one came, and all he had was the filthy murmuring of the Chitauri, mocking and cruel.
But Thanos had the Chitauri bring Loki before him, and Loki went, to weak to resist. Not that he wanted to resist, anyway. Anything but sitting under that cursed serpent.
Thanos had sat before him, leering. Loki could barely stand, and the Chitauri had to drag him along. "So," Thanos mused mockingly. "This is Loki, the Prince of Asgard. I'd expected more than this."
What did you expect then, you brute, thought Loki, after torturing me for god knows how long?
Thanos' lips quirked upwards, as if he knew what Loki was thinking. "I have a proposition for you, little prince," said Thanos. "Something to get you out of here. For good. You just have to do one, little favor for me, unless, of course, you do not wish to leave our hospitality."
Loki was done. He could only imagine what horrors Thanos and the Chitauri could come up with for him. "I'll do it," Loki rasped, voice hoarse from not speaking for so long. Just screams. Thanos' lips stretched into a cruel smile.
"There's something I need," said Thanos. "A Tesseract. On Midgard." Loki would've nodded, if he could. "I need you to command my army."
Loki opened his mouth to assure Thanos he would, of course he would. But Thanos needed more.
The trickster's eyes widened at the pressure in his mind. "No," Loki pleaded, knowing what was coming. This was worse, ten times worse than what he'd been through. Thanos was entering his mind, and Loki could only imagine the tortures one could conduct in another's mind.
Thanos just smiled again. "Ready, my little prince?" Loki was not aware that he was crying, he never cried. "No, I swear, please!" begged Loki. But it was to no avail.
With full force, Thanos slammed into Loki's mind.
Green eyes opening, Loki screamed.
—
"What the bloody hell is that?"
Thor gripped Mjolnir tightly, glancing over at Tony Stark. He looked tired, blinking blearily. All the Avengers were there, and Clint already had an arrow notched. Steve looked slightly embarrassed, cheeks reddened as he averted his eyes from the low neckline of Natasha's tank top, displaying a generous portion of her cleavage. Bruce looked as calm and placid as ever.
"I know not," admitted Thor, unable to stamp out the unusual twinge of recognition. Natasha was frowning, but her eyes looked vaguely amused at Steve's embarrassment. "Surely it's not a person," she said. "It sounds like an animal. God, what is that? That sound is forever going to haunt me."
"As much as your neckline is going to haunt Steve," added Clint.
Steve chose to ignore that. "Jarvis, what is that sound?"
"I believe that is Loki, sir," replied Jarvis. Tony blinked. "What?" he interjected. "Jarvis, bring up the security cams for Loki's bedroom."
Jarvis did so, and Thor caught his breath. "Fuck," muttered Clint as he stared at the screen.
Loki was writhing on the sheets, screaming wildly as his fingers dug into his hair. Thor felt his heart twist. "Loki!" he cried. Steve looked dazed. "Thor, does your brother usually do this?"
Thor felt gratified when Steve said, 'your brother,' but he answered the question. "He has nightmares," Thor replied, "But none like this, I'm sure. He's never acted this way before." Bruce sighed wearily. "What do we do then, guys?" he asked, looking over at Steve.
Steve was watching Thor, who was staring numbly at the screen. "Thor," he said cautiously, "can you, can you handle your brother? I don't think we can do much now."
"Yes, yes," muttered Thor incoherently, mind racing. What could make Loki, his calm, dignified brother, scream like that?
Whatever it was, Thor was about to find out.
—
