A/N: There's a bit of Thor-bashing here, but take it with a grain of salt; Loki's having a hard time.

Also, obviously, TORTURE WARNING. The last one.

Loki gargled. Help. Now he wasn't warm or floating in the least. Thor shouted and jumped from his seat again… and as Loki looked to him in panic, he was forced back down by several Drones and a binding rod. No help from that quarter. Odin hadn't moved. Loki stared down at his chest, at the blade, protruding from his fucking body, where he'd been stabbed, and he felt it but he was still too shocked for it to hurt much…

Then Big Drone pulled the blade out, and he started to suffocate.

He couldn't breathe. He was sucking with all the strength that remained to him, but it was not working, he was dying, he sucked and sucked and got no air.

"Loki. Loki." All of a sudden it was like a weight had been lifted from off his chest; he filled with sweet blessed air, and he summoned up the huge amount of energy necessary to bend his neck and see what was happening.

Big Drone was pressing something over the wound, some sort of bandage, sealing off the hole. Now he was able to inhale and hold it. "Loki: answer truthfully if you want to keep breathing. Is that clear?"

He nodded, slamming down on panic.

Drone Three stepped up. "Do you keep a candle lit at night, or do you sleep in full dark?"

"Full dark," he answered at once, gratefully. An easy one. But the talking hurt.

"You may whisper. Do you comb your own hair, or it the job of servants or lovers to comb it for you?"

"No… neither."

"Elaborate."

"It needs no comb. I've spelled it."

"Does it need cutting?"

"No. Unless I choose."

"Good, all right. It's the Allfather's turn now." He beckoned for Odin, and then moved around to the foot of the rack. "And remember: if you answer with silence or with lies, then that dressing will come off your chest." And then, as if any further threat were necessary, the Drone poked Loki's foot to make it twitch, which lit his whole leg up with fresh pains – his muscles, his knee, his hip. The tension he was under was impossible.

"Loki." Odin's voice. He closed his eyes, but still could feel the Allfather's gaze on him.

"… Listening."

He was braced up for something terrible, but all Odin did was ask, mildly: "Has your brother been good to you, these last few days?"

"Yes. Helped me, worried for me. Sacrificed for me. He's been sweet." Of course he would want to know about Thor above all else.

Perhaps Odin heard something darker in his voice. "But your anger remains."

His eyes snapped open and he spoke with force. "Thor shat on me our entire childhood; do you really expect me to forgive all that because he held my hand for a couple of days and gave me a backrub?"

Odin made a short gesture, and the torch hissed to life.

"In other words yes, yes my anger remains," he amended quickly.

"How much anger? Would you have killed him?"

"Would I-? Of course not!" he snarled. "Why does everybody ask me that?"

"You attacked him."

"It wasn't going to kill him. For the love of… You know Thor is never going to fall in combat!" He had to calm down; vehemence was physically painful.

"Then, why? What did you want?"

Loki closed his eyes, remembering it. The hot rage, digging deeper and deeper for insults to make Thor-… "I wanted to fight." To fight and fight until all that remained, was the fight. He'd wanted to fight until he could forget what caused the fight, and just… fight.

"Though you knew you would lose." Odin sounded only politely curious. "Did you want to lose? To have Thor beat you senseless, as when you were children and that was the only way he knew to silence you?"

"And he was good at it, wasn't he," Loki hissed, vicious. "Did you know he once cracked four of my ribs, cracked my ribs, with his bare hands, and I had to put them back together myself because we were worried he would get into trouble if anybody found out."

"And why did he do that?"

(Because Loki had written a very unflattering song about Thor and a donkey, and found a singer greedy enough to take his money and sing it in public. And then taunted him about it, cruelly. But Thor had deserved it!) "How should I know why?" he snarled, still full of righteous anger. "I was eight!"

"Loki…" The Allfather sighed deeply and reached out towards his chest. "You were ten, as you know perfectly well. And you still remember the words of that awful song."

"No- no!" he barked in panic, but it was too late; Odin had peeled up the covering from his chest wound, and suddenly his breaths could not sustain him.

"Please." He was gaping like a fish. Wheezing. Panicking. "Father no…"

"Let me know when you are ready to tell the truth."

"Please – please, I'm ready, please. I can't-…"

"… Breathe. Yes, we know. You can't breathe. But you may breathe once you answer me. How old were you when Thor broke your ribs?"

"Ten. He was eleven. Father…"

"Calm down and you'll last a few minutes longer. How did you feel? Angry?"

He could still remember the shock of the thought that this was it. It had hurt to draw breath. Rather like now, actually. "No. Afraid at first. We thought I was dying. Afterwards... I felt stupid. Should have stopped him. My fault." He huffed what would have been a laugh. "The anger came later."

"At him?"

"No. Not his fault. He told me – and this was… possibly the only time… Thor has ever impressed me with his intellect." He took a moment to gather himself. "He told me I fight with words and I never pull my punches. Said it wasn't fair he should be expected to pull his." He rested again. "He was right. And still sorry. But the stairs weren't his fault. Nor landing on top. We made up. The anger was for the rest of you. You forgave him unjustly. Always. Father… I need…"

"Yes – almost. The other day: did you mean to goad Thor into beating you into submission, or did you try to win that fight? Think."

He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe.

"Loki? Your fight with Thor."

The fight. He remembered the fight.

"Were you trying to win?"

"Yes," he whispered, wasting as little air as possible. "Trying to win." He remembered flying at his brother, slamming into him, the rage… reveling in the power of Odin's staff, and concentrating so hard to control it. "Carefully," he clarified, remembering.

Odin grew still. "You were not aiming to kill."

Notice how Laufey is in pieces and Thor is not. That was too much to say, but Loki saved up enough breath to get out a few words that mattered: "No. But Thor was."

An anguished cry from up on the dais, and Loki turned to see Thor struggling against the magic that bound him. The sight was marvelously cheering; clearly, suffering was transferrable. He wondered what else he could say… but he was getting lightheaded. "Now," he gasped. "Or he may get his wish."

"Loki!" Thor almost wailed. "Father, enough!"

Odin sighed and replaced the patch, and waited for Loki's head to clear. "So you held back deliberately," he pressed after a time. "Why?"

Loki shook his head frantically. I don't know had never been considered an acceptable answer in this room and he could not cope with having his air taken away again. But… he didn't know.

"Loki?" Odin's hand hovered over his chest. "Answer me."

He tried to think. He could remember all-consuming rage. Remember the desire to blast at Thor so hard the ground would shake. He could also remember not using the staff to obliterate… but he could not remember any reason why. There was no reason.

"Loki?"

"Don't, please don't," he pleaded at last, hysterical. If he didn't answer, Odin would kill him. If he lied Odin would kill him. But if he told the truth, Odin would kill him for sure.

"Why did you restrain yourself?" His fingers found the edge of the patch. "The truth, Loki. Now."

He gave up, in desperation, and just admitted what was probably going to get him killed. "There was no reason! I didn't plan to restrain myself, I didn't think of it, it wasn't part of a plan. I'm sorry, please I'm so sorry. I meant to fight with all I had, please, don't, please forgive me I shouldn't have and I'll never ever raise my hand to my brother again please. Father please don't, I can't, please…"

He had used the last of his air to plead with, and was crying too hard to take in more.

Odin moved his hand. "All right, Loki. Stop. Hush."

"No," he whimpered as soon as he could.

"Hush." Odin shook his head. "Don't apologize. I believe you, and that is exactly what I needed to know." Loki didn't follow. "It was not calculation that stayed your hand, but love," Odin explained. "It's what I had hoped. In the grip of even the most powerful rage, in possession of fantastic power, you would keep your brother safe. You did. Well done." Loki still didn't grasp the full meaning, until Odin beckoned for Drones and added: "It's over. Nobody will hurt you again."

Letting his chest hitch was a horrible mistake but Loki couldn't stop sobbing.

Of course, if he was expecting an immediate end to his nightmare, Loki was disappointed. As soon as the Allfather pronounced it over Thor was released and tried to run to him, but was prevented. Odin stood in his path and snapped at him about care and patience, and let the Drones explain that the rack had to be unwound slowly or could cause further harm.

It seemed to take forever; Loki kept hoping to faint but did not manage. He did black out when the Drones guided his shoulders back into their sockets, but he woke up again soon after when someone's sharp hot burst of magic was laid down over his chest, pulling closed his stab wound.

"Don't do it, Loki," Odin warned, when he started to draw forth more of the power. "I'll restore you what is yours once we are home. Not here. I'll explain later." As soon as the hole was closed Odin sent the sorcerer away, leaving everything else still unhealed.

Next his chains were removed, and even though he could breathe now and his limbs were all arranged properly, he made no attempts to rise.

Thor was standing over him, constantly doing things that hurt: touching wrists that were chafed raw, crying salt onto a chest covered in open poison-wounds, stroking hair that was attached, however distantly, to a spine that had suffered grave insult. Finally Loki had to shoo him away.

Odin took his place, and was even worse – he ran fingers over the ugly puffy area around Loki's shoulder, which made him convulse in pain. "This is swelling already – how long until bruising is visible?"

Big Drone looked him over, assessing his skin tone, the marks he had already. "Not long. You'll see it darken soon, and by tonight he'll be a horror-show."

Odin stepped away. "Then he may leave tonight. Make him comfortable until then – but without magic, and without clearing up any marks."

Drones buzzed around him, covering him up, turning on lights against the dungeon gloom, giving him ivy. He had no energy to do anything but watch.

"Why?" Thor wanted to know. "Why must he go home looking three-quarters a corpse?"

Loki began to titter. After everything Thor had witnessed, this was when he chose to ask why?

"How can you laugh?" Thor demanded.

A Drone answered – Drone Two, who Loki hadn't seen in days. When had he arrived? "Because that IV is morphine."

Loki was still giggling. He meant to ask what morphine was, but instead he pointed out: "You've been put on cleanup crew," and then he was suddenly diving into sleep, too rapidly to say anything else.

When Loki awoke, Odin was gone.

He felt less mad, but no healthier: when he tried to sit up, all he managed to do was hurt himself.

"Shh, all is well, Loki. Once you awaken we are leaving."

He turned his head and saw Thor. "Help me up," he rasped, almost a whisper. Thor looked doubtful. He did not want to explain the way resting on the rack made his skin crawl, though, so he just added: "I have lain here long enough."

"Of course. As soon as you feel able, we will go."

When Thor pushed his blanket away and eased him to a sitting position, he began to whimper. Something hurt. He was miserable.

"Where?" Thor said.

Everywhere. But before he could answer, footsteps on his other side scared him and then there was a Drone, Drone Two again, brandishing a binding rod. Instantly his blood pounded in his ears and he began to struggle – weakly.

"Do not fight. This will help." It folded his arms over his chest, one at a time, and sealed them there. That took some of the awful weight off his shoulders, and he stopped making noise. The Drone pressed the rod into his hand and closed his fingers around it. "Here – that is the release."

So he would be taking the binding rod home with him. What an interesting toy. Loki found himself wondering: what was it made of? Did it need a power source? Could it be operated by magic? Could it bind people to each other, or only one person to himself?

"Loki?" Thor touched him on the arm, and he winced. "Are you ready?"

He was cold now, now that his blankets were gone. "Where's..." It came out just a hoarse whisper. He shook his head, cleared his throat and tried again. "Where's my shirt?" He shivered, which hurt everywhere but... duller than before. He suspected he had the ivy to thank for that; it was gone but some of its fog remained.

Thor shook his head. "Father asked me to return you shirtless. Bruised and unbathed. He didn't say why." He frowned. "If he wants you paraded around in shame and weakness, I'll have no part in it. Tell me what you want me to do."

Loki smiled at him, fondly. Who was kneeling before whom again? Although, to be fair, he did outrank his brother; he was the king of the frost-giants and Thor still only and ever a prince. Odin wasn't going anywhere. (Without help, that is. A thought Loki set aside firmly, at least for now.)

"Loki? What do you want me to do?"

He tried to pull himself together and plan. "I want you to bring me home, and parade me around as Father ordered," he answered.

"You don't deserve-"

"It's best - this may sap everyone's desire for revenge a bit. The last thing I want is people coming to court clamoring to have me punished." He resolutely did not look down at himself. "I think just now I look punished enough already. Nobody will suggest anything more gruesome than this."

Thor swallowed. "It is indeed gruesome," he offered at last.

"I can fix it all once I get my power back," he assured, even though he had no idea whether that was the case. He made a face. "Um. But in the meantime I don't think I should walk. Or can."

"Of course, of course." Thor hovered. "I will take care, but when I pick you up it will still probably hurt."

"I imagine I can handle it."

It did, and he could.

TBC.

A quick word on Odin: I think I don't have as much hate for him as some of you guys. I do think it's pretty messed-up that he does things to his children like sewing their mouths closed or leaving them to have their eyes eaten away by snake venom for eternity (in legends), banishing them by physically throwing them off a multi-world cliff (in the movie), or sending them away to be tortured (this story). On the other hand, there actually is an other hand. Thor and his friends, including Loki, routinely leap into battles just for funsies and come home all fucked up. Thor actually enjoys getting punched in the face by a giant hard enough to throw him through the air. We saw Fandral get fully run though by an ice spike, and everybody took it in stride, and within a couple of scenes he was completely fine. Odin in legends carved out his own eye, and in the movie seems to have lost it fighting and carried on business as usual to the point of deciding that this was a fine time to negotiate a peace treaty and adopt a new kid, all while blood was still oozing out of his empty socket. Basically, I get the impression that they are differently calibrated than we are with respect to what kinds of things it's okay to do to your body. Not that I would minimize how much Loki's experiences here sucked for him - he endured everything alone and scared and without whatever magical resilience Asgard people apparently usually possess. I'm just saying it's entirely possible Odin didn't consider this as unreasonably barbaric as we do. Which makes him somewhat less culpable, in my view.

All that said, though, Loki has been totally messed up and you don't have to worry about a daddy-i-wuv-you ending from me.