A/N: Here you are, a slightly longer chapter than usual.
Loki can feel the chill around him, seeping into his bones. Into his very being. His body begins to shake uncontrollably, from the cold or from fear – Loki isn't sure which.
The only light in the room comes from a tiny crack in the wall, far above his head. It's just a ray of sunlight – hitting the stone floor right in the middle – leaving everything around it engulfed in darkness. Loki can barely make out his hands which are right in front of his face, all bloody and covered with scrapes, bruises and cuts.
He shifts slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. A grave mistake. Instantly pain shoots up his spine and into every possible part of his body, leaving Loki frozen mid-move for fear of bringing more pain upon himself. He's been left here for what must be a week now, barely getting any food. Not that he wants more anyway, but his body is getting weaker and weaker.
Sometimes guards would come down and get him, bring him Upstairs. Although a prisoner, his skills were still valued and occasionally he'd be released from his cell to complete what was required of him. More often than not Loki would return beat up and bloody accompanied by a few sprains, maybe some broken bones and barely standing. Thrown into his cell over and over again, spitting insults and curses at the guards, his last and only feeble attempt to rebel.
Of course Loki knows all his efforts are pointless. He will rot in his cell day after day and month after month until he dies or is no longer needed. In which case he will be killed anyway, as there was no reason to keep him alive – a dangerous criminal who is no longer able to "help" the King of Asgard, or the healers or the Committee. There is no escape and no way to end his suffering, should he want to.
Slowly the tiny ray of light begins to ebb away, the darkness consuming the room once again. A pleading whimper escapes Loki in a desperate attempt to get the light to return, for the darkness holds only evil and more suffering. Instinctively Loki curls in on himself, bringing his knees closer and wrapping his arms around them. His body feels like it's burning alive, but Loki ignores the pain and tries to make himself disappear. He can hear footsteps approaching him somewhere close and he tenses his body waiting for what's to come next. Whether they're real or brought into existence by his imagination Loki isn't sure, but no matter which they are, they never bring anything but excruciating pain and torment.
The first voice comes from the right. A quiet whisper, barely audible, yet as loud as an explosion in the empty cell. The second comes from the right, louder but speaking kind words. Loki whimpers, knowing that this is only the beginning.
Please. Help me.
A child's voice, coming from the corner.
I'm sorry. Please don't leave me here. Help me. Please.
The pleading ones are the worst; Loki can't bear to listen to them. Another child is crying beside him and the god almost reaches out his hand, but then –
Monster. Worthless and useless runt.
A deep voice, full of disgust and hatred growls into Loki's ear, making him whimper once more. The god hears a sob to his right, a moan to his left. The child in the corner is moaning now, beginning for help. And the first two voices are back, circling around Loki, taunting him, mocking him. He can hear taunts and jabs from every direction and from every voice, reminding him of how worthless and useless he is. Reminding him of the monster and rejected runt that has been cast out and locked down here.
Suddenly a scream echoes through the dungeon, terrifying Loki. It's desperate and scared, making Loki's heart hammer in his chest. He brings his knees closer, burying his head lower in hopes of making the scream disappear.
It's his own. A desperate cry for help or maybe a way to block out the other voices which haunt him every day and night – even Loki himself isn't sure. Screaming and pleading voices, crying and whimpering, suffering. Sometimes they come from all around, whispers flitting and circling Loki, sometimes they are his own.
Out of nowhere there is a sharp stab of pain in Loki's shoulder and a quiet whimper escapes him. Shocked by the pain, he clutches his shoulder tightly, despite his body hurting from the movement. Loki desperately whips his head back and forth, trying to make out anything in the darkness surrounding him. Nothing but his own pain and the darkness greet the god.
Loki can feel panic begin to rise, and he struggles to push it down, bury it deep inside. His body tense, he waits for the next wave of pain to come. Keeping his body rigid and still is hard – his muscles are still sore from all the previous abuse – but he dares not move, knowing the pain will be even greater if he's not prepared for it. Seconds later another stab of pain in his shoulder follows the previous one and Loki winces, this time keeping quiet.
"Loki."
The last thing Loki sees is the face of Tony Stark with a wicked grin spread across his face. It's time for the next punishment.
Loki's eyes open to see Tony's face in front of his own and a hand clutching his shoulder.
"Don't!..." Startled from his nightmare Loki yells out what he's so used to yelling in his dreams. Automatically his hands rise in defense, ready to strike, but as realization sinks in and the fear in his mind fades, he lowers them.
"...Don't touch me." Tony let's go of Loki's shoulder and sits back, studying the god.
"You didn't wake up when JARVIS called you." Tony pauses, giving Loki a chance to speak. He doesn't. "When I came you were thrashing in your bed. Looked like you were in a lot of pain or suffering or both. I figured it'd be better to wake you up." At Loki's mocking huff Tony shrugs, a slight look of pity crossing his face.
"I know what nightmares are like. I've had my share of them. I'd rather be woken up than suffer through them."
"What makes you think I prefer the same."
"Nothing I guess. But I know that anyone would want their nightmares to end. And that includes you. So I woke you up. Didn't mean to scare you though."
Loki scowls at the man sitting on his bed, cursing himself for showing such weakness. It is none of Tony's business, and he sure as hell isn't supposed to know about Loki's nightmares. The constant haunting dreams that left the god breathless and sweating in the middle of the night.
Tony shrugs off the scowl and shoots Loki a smile instead. He places a pile of clothes on the bedside table for Loki to change into. The god had been wearing the same Asgardian drab since he was dropped off by Thor, and it didn't look to be in the best and cleanest condition.
"Change into those. Don't give me that face, they're clean and in much better condition than yours. Come to breakfast when you're done." With that Tony leaves Loki alone in the room staring at the small pile of clothes. For five minutes Loki sits in his bed glaring at the pile of clothes, contemplating whether he should take them or ignore them. Ignoring seemed like the better option. But at the same time Tony has a point. It's been a few days since Loki had a change of clothes and he definitely doesn't want to end up walking around and smelling like the royal stables.
Yet a part of Loki is reluctant to let go of his Asgardian clothes. He's pretty sure Tony will let him keep his clothes in his room, but it just wouldn't be the same as wearing them and constantly having them on him. Although yes, dirty and not in the best condition, his Asgardian outfit is still his and it reminds him of home. Not Asgard or the palace – no that isn't home. He despises Asgard after everything that's been done to him there, but the clothes themselves aren't really Asgardian either.
Before leaving Loki was allowed to choose what he would wear, and he chose one of his favourite outfits from his closet. Made by the elves of Alfheim, it was of the finest and highest quality, yet simple and elegant at the same time. The outfit reminded him of his home, the different realms he'd been to, the reality he created for himself. It was one of the last physical things he could hold onto of his previous life...his previous self.
Sighing, Loki takes the pile of clothes and heads for the bathroom. His rational side won over his sentimental side. Sentiment...it is truly a wicked and merciless thing.
Loki takes his time in the shower, enjoying the warm spray of water on his back and the misty air around him. He isn't sure if Tony would approve of waiting on him for so long, but JARVIS doesn't say anything and Tony doesn't come banging on the door and storming into his room, so Loki enjoys his shower, mentally washing away last night's dream.
To Loki's surprise the clothes actually look rather good on him. Used to wearing Asgardian outfits, full of frills and belts and buckles, Loki wasn't expecting to look good in simple and completely different Midgardian clothes. The black jeans fit almost perfectly, hanging a bit too low on the hips for his liking. The shirt has some strange logo in the middle which Loki has no idea the meaning of. It's dark green in colour, making Loki form a small smile.
A/N: It was a pleasure to write this chapter, as I got to explore some of Loki's feeling and memories of his life back in Asgard. It is sad though, and I feel terrible for Loki, but there's a tiny bit of happiness in this chapter for me. Can you see it too?
Reviews always keep me writing and wanting to give you more.
