Loki could shed no more tears. His heart of course still ached for his family, but he was determined to help them escape from the clutches of the enemy. If he could redeem himself in some way, it would be on that accord.

Masked men rushed in his cell, but Loki wasn't even phased.

"Do what you want with me." He moaned, knowing they would keep him alive. He deserved as much pain as they could offer him. Pulling him up forcefully to drag him into another room, Loki could only wonder what they would do next. After the birth of his son, he had been thrown in the leeches tank multiple times to be drained of his blood. If only he could erase the diseased images from his mind.

He was dragged through a metal door and locked in. The place was dark, reminding him of leeches and all of the other torture again; he began to feel nervous. Pacing the room to hear a hissing sound, he breathed in deep. The air smelled funny, making his eyes dilate and head spin. He stopped his pacing and stood still, standing there in darkness, heartbeat quickening and blood pressure rising. Something was there, watching, and it wanted him. It was calling for him, and he was filled with fear.

Darkness surrounded Loki, and he wanted to claw at it, but there was no escape. He just felt it. Whatever it was, it wanted him. But he couldn't see. There was no escape.

His heartbeat sped up till he could barely breathe and he collapsed on his knees in fear. Claustrophobia began to overwhelm him. His head throbbed, his body trembled. He could feel something, or someone, watching. Watching him and his every movement, just waiting to lunge out and strike.

Loki tried to call out, to ask who was there, but his voice felt too hoarse. Nothing would come out. Not a single sound. Panic rose higher than before. He reached for the ground, feeling hard cement. At least there was that. He gasped for air that seemed to be running out. What was happening? Where was he? Why was it so dark?

Whispers grazed his ears.

"Wake up, little Laufeyson. Wake up..."

But he could not. This felt too real, it couldn't be a dream.

There was more continuous darkness. Nothing to see, just a black void. Loki didn't know where he was, if it was even a place. He waited for distinct sounds, and he heard one at last after minutes went by. It was the sound of breeze, then footsteps. The overwhelming sound of voices rose, and only got louder from there.

Finally, light flooded Loki's eyes, keeping him from opening them due to the shocking sensation. A roaring truck horn came from behind him. He immediately bolted out of the way, realizing he was standing in the middle of a street. After arriving on the sidewalk safely, he admired the tall buildings surrounding him. That's when the thought struck him. He was back in New York City! Looking down and noticing he was wearing an all-black tuxedo, he furrowed his brows, running his hand through his hair. Was he supposed to be somewhere?

In confusion, he slowly walked down the side of the street, maneuvering through the thick crowds. The city was especially busy. No one he recognized was in sight. He didn't even know how to get back to the Avengers' base. As he walked, the people had their heads down and eyes trained on the ground, as if unaware of their surroundings.

Suddenly, a man in a black hoodie ran straight into him, although purposely. Nothing separated him from the other passing strangers, except that this person was looking right at him. It was strange. His face should have been visible, but Loki only found infinite darkness. Carefully stepping around the man, who shifted his gaze with Loki's movements, his heart began pounding. An inexplicable fear spread through his body, making his muscles tighten and breaths quicken.

A force stopped him from moving any farther. A grip on his arm.

A blue hand.

Shifting his eyes back onto where the hooded figure stood, he saw a small Frost Giant. Himself. And it was horrifying. The red eyes stared straight through him, seeing every fear. Every insecurity. The frozen, blue hand of the frost giant gripped his arm tightly, and Loki's own arm started to turn into the icy deep shade. With a start, Loki ripped the hand off of his arm and ran. He ran until it felt like his heart couldn't beat any faster and longer than that. His legs wanted to give out, but he was still being followed. Bitter wind began to blow on his face as dark clouds rolled in. The whistling of the wind almost sounded like ghostly whispers, telling him to not look back.

He turned down an alley, not knowing that the end was blocked by a building. A dead end. His hands gently hit the concrete wall, almost hoping that it wasn't real. The only hope he had left was to fight, but he knew that deep down he didn't have the strength to confront himself. The pain he buried deep within him was too guarded, too hard to reach.

Turning around, preparing himself to fight the fight he had always wished to avoid, Loki held up his hands in tight fists. A long shadow stretched down the alley, increasing the growing tension in Loki's body. With sweaty, shaking fingers, he stretched out his hands and clenched them into fists again. There was no way out. This would be the end.

The Jötun approached, staring him down. At the sight, Loki stopped breathing for a moment, too afraid to move. Soon, his pursuer was almost close enough to make out the details in his eyes. Loki wished to take a step back, and he did, although his back was against the wall a moment before. A sudden feeling of falling fell over him as he ran out of ground. His hands gripped the edge of a bridge. The Bifrost bridge. Eyes involuntarily watering, his vision was blurry as he looked up, seeing this monster's blue face peer down at him. Leaning toward Loki, close enough to feel his uneven breath, the Jötun sneered,

"I feed off of your fear, so keep running. You can't ever escape your true self."

The grip was released, and Loki fell. Everything moved in slow motion, slow enough for him to see a smile on the blue face above. Around him, he saw stars and space, the exact same place he fell many years ago. His fall from the rainbow bridge. When he had disappointed everyone. Merely days before he discovered true pain.

Feeling the sensation of his stomach drop as he fell, he watched as his body became enveloped in a black hole. No, he could not be reliving this. Going back to Thanos was the last thing he needed. Squeezing his eyes shut and preparing himself for the worst, the rush in him instantly left. Opening his eyes, he discovered that he was no longer falling, but merely standing in a large, dark room that seemed quite battered. It was familiar, like a memory long pushed away. He was in the SHIELD facility, where Thanos had brought him through to Midgard.

In front of him was the Tesseract inside a machine, just as it was before he stole it. Looking up, he could see the portal he had gone through as well. The only missing element was his opposition, Fury and the others. Not knowing what else to do, Loki approached the cube. He could make a portal... if that was even an option. This whole situation was mind-numbing. How did he even get here?

"Isn't it beautiful?" His own voice came from behind the Tesseract, and Loki knew it was his Jötun self.

After a moment of silence, Loki began,

"Why are we here?" The Jötun let out a chuckle, enjoying the torment he was causing.

"It's where you first let it all begin."

Moving around the machine, the wicked frost giant appeared. Loki stood his ground, despite being terrified of what his evil side was capable of, as that's what he assumed the man in front of him was.

"I don't understand... What are you doing, and what do you want?!"

Throwing his hands behind him as he questioned the Jötun, Loki hid the fear threatening to paralyze him.

"Look around you, Loki. Here you stand on Midgardian soil. The inhabitants of this world... so pitiful to look upon and know they exist. Didn't you once have the mindset to destroy them all? To rid this universe of their sorrowful lives?" These thoughts were intrusive, compulsive. He wouldn't let them inside of his mind, it felt wrong.

"I... I was different then."

Stepping closer, invitingly, the Jötun suggested, "You can still accomplish what you started."

In response, Loki took a step backwards, his hands out in disagreement, "I am no longer the foolish man I once was! Please don't do this. You can't kill an entire race."

"Why not?" This statement was followed by a silence, each Loki staring into the eyes of the other, letting the words sink in.

"Can you live with yourself if you knew that you were guilty of genocide?" The question was genuine. Loki was entirely unsure if his dark side would even hesitate to kill others.

Laughing at this question, the Jötun teased, "Ah, Thanos was right to discard you. You're weak! And all of this because you claim to have a change of heart. If you really were strong, you would have denied the control of Thanos, and continued in your own ways! You could have killed Thor, then. Jötunheim would have been destroyed, and you would be true heir to the throne! You would have been the worthy son. Thor's equal, if not more. And yet I ask this again. Why not? Why not kill the Midgardians? Because you are weak and primitive. And I... have come to dominate you."

His eloquent speech did nothing to tempt Loki, who only nervously stepped towards himself, scolding,

"I will not let you kill them or anyone! And you will not dominate me."

Now standing close enough to hear a quiet whisper, the Jötun growled, "What happened on Midgard that turned you so soft?! Don't tell me it was that woman!" A second of silence passed as Loki's eyes widened. These were the words he once spat at Thor, "Oh, it was! Well maybe, when we're finished, I'll pay her a visit myself!"

Lunging forward, Loki clenched his fists, ready to tackle the Jötun with a single blow. This being of evil would not hurt Jennica, no matter how much he threatened. In a flash, the Jötun teleported behind Loki, kicking him over. Loki groaned and quickly stood up. This was the evil side of him, which meant he knew every move and how to counter it. Loki would have to be witty without his magic. It all came down to combat and stamina. All the fighting brought unpleasant memories to Loki of the lives he had taken. It clouded his thinking and judgement during the fight.

The Jötun kicked Loki hard in the stomach. He crouched down and groaned. His body couldn't move fast enough. Lunging on top of him, the evil one grabbed Loki's throat. He squeezed. He squeezed tight until Loki could barely breath.

"You... will never... become stronger than me..." Loki gasped, his eyes burning and tearing up. If the evil one prevailed, his family and all the world could be in jeopardy. He did not want to take that chance.

"Oh Loki..." The Jötun teased with a laugh. Leaning down to Loki's ear, he whispered, "I am you."

In a glimmer of green and gold light, the Jötun vanished from Loki's grasp. Laughter echoed from down a nearby hallway, freezing him temporarily in his tracks. Taking a few cautious steps towards the hallway, he prepared himself for the worst of what was to come.

Dimly lit hallways surrounded him, giving multiple ways of which he could take. He turned a few corners before letting frustration take over. He stopped walking, squeezing his eyes shut, knowing this all had to be a dream... or some form of trickery.

"Loki, help me!" A loud bloodcurdling screech met Loki's ears. His eyes instantly snapped open. His breath grew labored. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and burned in his lungs. His green eyes darted from the left then to the right. This wasn't the Avengers' base.

The hallways surrounded him, giving multiple ways he could take. The scream sounded again. He knew that voice. He had heard it many times. It was Jennica's. Something was wrong. He began to hastily sprint down a hallway, his feet sliding as he made sharp turns. The screams would fade then get louder, depending on which direction he took. Some lights flickered around him, and the smell of mildew smacked his nostrils.

"Loki, help me, please!" The screams continued, bringing him to an increased panic. He had to get to her. He had to save her from this terror.

"Jennica, where are you?!" He finally managed to shout, although his voice felt surprisingly hoarse. She shouted back, only in fading screams, bringing Loki's fists to clench. Running again, he noticed the hallways grew more narrow with each turn he took. His surroundings darkened as the lights disappeared.

With short, panting breaths, he came up to a scratched metal door. He heard rustling behind it, and then Jennica's screams. She was on the other side. He pushed at the door with all his might to get it open, but to no avail. His breathing grew heavier and faster as he fought to get it open. Finally, he resigned into using his body weight to push it. Surprising shots of pain ran through him as he did so. After taking a minute to catch his hitching breath, an eerie and desolate feeling crawled beneath his skin, making him feel helpless and alone. With rage mixed with despair, he placed his palm onto the door, and it opened as if someone from the other side had unlocked it for him.

Running through the opening, he found himself in a nearly pitch black room. A strong unpleasant odor assaulted him, causing him to grimace. He heard no sounds, no screaming, no rustling. Just the sound of his own footsteps as he made his way further into the room. He dared not call out and bring attention to himself if someone was truly there, but his thoughts were discarded as the scream could be heard again.

He turned around sharply, now seeing Jennica sitting alone in the open. The lights had brightened enough that he could, although barely, make out her figure. He rushed toward her, quickly kneeling down to hold her in his arms.

"Loki... you're scaring me..." She whispered these words that cut him to his core.

"I'm so... so sorry. I'm so sorry that I hurt you and scared you. I don't mean to... all I want is to prove myself to you." His voice was frantic and panicked. Fearing that Jennica could be taken from him at any moment, he tried to tell her everything he truly felt. "I love you... I love you so much. All I want is you! If I have you, my life will be perfect." Jennica smiled sadly and held Loki's cheek in her hand. After a moment, she pulled him into an embrace and whispered into his ear with a voice that was not her own,

"If you try to take her, I will take her, and your bloodline, back. They will suck the blood from your veins. Your skin will boil. Reality will become a nightmare. The pain will take your mind in its hands and crush it until you are nothing but a ghost of what used to be. And death... will be only slightly out of your longing reach."

The deep, grating voice spit the words at Loki, who was too afraid to move. It was a familiar voice, one that caused him to shake violently, but his mind held him back from the memory. Whoever it was that was speaking to him let go of Loki. Jennica, instead, was lying on the floor beside him, unconscious and bloodied. In front of him was a man with red eyes and a familiar but menacing blue face. Loki fell backwards in shock as he saw the Jötun's face. Although the voice was not his, the Jötun was all too knowing of what Loki had heard. Loki watched as his Jötun-self formed a dagger of ice in his hand and lunged at him, stabbing him through the heart.

His vision was blurry, white spots swimming through his eyes. The ice lodged in his chest froze it inside and out, but it was strangely warm. There was no pain, only shock. Looking down at his hands, through his failing vision and the dim lights, he could see his hands turning blue. He was becoming the monster, the one tormenting him. Down the hallway, seemingly far away, Jennica's screams continued, but he could barely hear them. His strength was failing, but he had to continue. For Jennica. The ice melted inside of him as he ran towards the screams. Despite being impaled, he moved swiftly and painlessly, as the water mixed with his blood dripped down his shirt.

The hallways winded endlessly. A right turn. A left turn. He could hear footsteps and Jennica's cries, but he never seemed to reach them fast enough. The air couldn't reach his lungs, he was gasping for air and barely held himself up. His strength was failing.

Suddenly, he turned a corner to see a dead end. The Jötun had disappeared. Jennica was gone. On the wall across from him was a full length mirror. Limping towards this mirror that seemed out of place in the dark, musty hallway, he examined his reflection. Red eyes looked back at him, filled with tears. His blue hand met with the hand in his reflection. The surface of the mirror was freezing, but it wasn't solid. The glass rippled like water, as if he could fall through it, and that's what he did.

His foot broke through the surface and landed onto wood flooring. Once his whole body had entered what seemed like another world, he found himself in his room from the Avenger's base, but it appeared much larger than he remembered. In the center of the room stood the Jötun right in front of Jennica who was on her knees in tears, begging for him to stop.

Loki watched himself in horror as he picked Jennica up by her neck with one hand and stabbed her with the other.

Not Jennica. It could not be her. She was too strong, and he wouldn't let her be killed. Somehow, the air was thick and time slowed itself, keeping Loki from her lifeless body, slowly falling to the ground as the Jötun ran away.

He killed her, the Loki he used to be.

His beloved's blood, everywhere.

He was dizzy, so dizzy.

With all of his willpower, Loki focused his energy on reaching Jennica. She was so close. Loki's mind escaped him; he screamed in rage, all of his emotions unleashed.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Life is fleeting and dangerous.

These thoughts didn't heal his shattered heart. The only person who at first believed him, seeing him for who he really was. Never judging or angry. The perfect woman. His hands found his way into his knotted black hair. From the first time they spoke peacefully, Loki began to wonder if he believed in true love, and before he fell in love with her, he didn't know. True love was merely an idea or an exaggerated emotion. She tore down his walls like no one else, made him feel completely new emotions. Now true love was real, but also gone.

With these thoughts circulating in his head, Loki finally fell down next to Jennica, his legs giving out on him. He was bleeding profusely, but he needed to hold her... one last time. Her body, once so full of life, was still and quiet.

"Goodbye, my love." Loki whispered these words into her ear before giving her a kiss on her forehead.

His vision was blurry, his head was spinning, his side exploded in pain. None of that seemed to matter as he looked down in his arms where Jennica laid. She was dead, the stab wound in her stomach. Burning tears fell down his face relentlessly. It hurt. Not his own deadly wound, but the pain in his heart.

Suddenly, everything disappeared around him, and he spun around in confusion. The blurring pain and anxiety circled him, suffocating him. Loki screamed and reached upwards to the void, feeling as though he would drown if he didn't. Sinking to his knees again, the weight of gravity pushing him down to the ground, Loki wept until his chest might have burst.

"Papa, why are you crying?" This innocent voice echoed around Loki, making him look up to see a small toddler standing in front of him. The boy's short, black hair stuck up in all different directions, and his little green eyes reflected tears of sympathy. In those eyes, Loki saw himself. Without another word, the boy wrapped his arms around Loki, filling him with a warmth he had never experienced before. "Don't cry. We are strong when we're together."

Loki trembled, trying to hold down his sobs, but he couldn't. They forced their way through his lips. His wails rung out loud, filling the room with the sound of his sorrow. The room seemed to warp and spin, but he hung onto the boy with all of the love and agony he had left. Loki fell forward onto the ground as the boy vanished, which left him feeling empty.

"You have pushed your limits, Loki." His own, menacing voice reached his ears, "After all of the destruction you caused, the anger and evil still in your heart, you believe that you can start a family? Look at me!" The voice said these words with a monstrous scream. Shifting his gaze from his own blood-covered hands, Loki looked at his Jötun-self once again. The horrifying pleasure in those red eyes pierced his remaining sanity. He was broken. "Your precious family will never be what you desire. Each decision you make is controlled by the darkness within you. You are an evil man, how could you ever think you would be a good husband or father? There is nothing you can do to change it. Your destiny was decided long ago!" The blue figure spit at Loki's feet, "Give up."

He continued lying on the hard ground, looking up to see himself. A terrifying sight to see himself sneering and laughing at him.

"You really wish to be a good father? A good husband? Then let's see, shall we?" These words were shouted like a maniac. This was a part of Loki. He wasn't the man he wished he was. The room spun around, causing Loki to roll onto the wall and the ceiling while the Jötun stayed grounded on what used to be the floor. The dizziness and confusion made him sick, but he held down whatever he had in his stomach. His chest burst with pain, but he kept his eyes open.

A shining bright light came from above, and the room filled with the light, except that it wasn't a room anymore. Rubbing his eyes to adjust to the brightness, Loki felt grass on his bare arms. Slowly standing up, he examined his surroundings, looking for his evil self. The first thing he saw was a graveyard. A graveyard that stretched in every direction, never seeming to end.

Right in front of him were two small gravestones sitting snugly in the ground. The names on the gravestones were Jennica Adams and Eiyden Adams. His heart broke in half. He really was a terrible man.

"Notice how they have Jennica's last name," the evil voice hissed in his mind. Loki looked around himself but could see nobody. "They left you." The voice continued, "And now they are gone. Because of you. It was all you!"

Loki shook his head slowly as his lower lip quivered.

"No..." He mumbled as his face twisted in pain and despair, "N-No please... no no no no NO!" His cries grew louder with each word, until his legs gave way and he collapsed on the dirt in front of where his family lay buried. His hands were balled up into fists as he hid his face behind them. He was so sad. So angry. So hurt. What had he done?

The sound of soft footsteps interrupted his thoughts. Loki looked up to see a young boy, maybe six or seven years old. Tears streamed down his face steadily and silently. His nose was bright red from the cold, which fogged their breath in the air.

Gazing up straight through Loki's eyes, the boy blurted, "Why weren't you there? Why didn't you save us, Father?!"

As he was kneeling in front of the boy, he apologized with the little strength he had left, "I'm sorry..." Blood spread all over the boy's shoulders from Loki's hands. He looked down, seeing the wound right over his heart. His clothes were completely soaked in red. "Forgive me."

Loki couldn't even make eye contact anymore, staring at the discolored grass. "It was all my fault... all my fault... all my fault." Despite his tight grip on the boy, his son, he slipped through Loki's fingers, falling to the ground. There was no blood, but his mental wounds stopped his heartbeat. Above his son, to Loki's dread, was the Jötun himself. Getting down on his knees, the Jötun grabbed Loki by the jaw and snarled,

"It's over." Loki's eyes rolled back into his head, feeling the Jötun take over his body. Evil manifesting inside of him, becoming his very essence.

...

Loki's body jerked back into reality, the air smelling cleaner than before.

"No! It can't end like this!" He yelled into the empty room, "That's not who I am!" Tears ran down his cheeks. He was completely broken. The strange taste in his mouth made him believe that he was drugged, but it felt too real. His love was dying in his arms, his son died in front of him, and the evil overcame him. It was too plausible. His happiness, his world, was coming to an end.