Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Loki was frozen in place. All intelligent thought had fled, replaced by incoherent screaming, echoing inside his skull. Because previously, he hadn't quite understood his mother's alarm. Now he most certainly did.

It was halfway across the arena in what felt like an instant, huge feet and bounding strides eating up the distance, kicking up gravel after each thud. Every step shook the ground and Loki's knees trembled - from his own cowardice or the shaking floor, there was no way of knowing.

And then Loki was looking up into unnaturally green eyes, the same colour as its skin. Teeth bared, muscles bunching and fingers curled over handles in a way that suggested grasping and rending and tearing and-

He leapt back as one of those hands swung, a weapon moving too quick to identify as it made for his head. To decapitate him or cleave his skull. Loki felt frozen, the certainty that there was no way he would get out of this alive weighed heavily on him, sucking all the meaning from any attempt to halt the inevitable.

But he could almost see the disappointed look on his mother's incorporeal face.

And Loki spun out of the way. He dodged the swing, blade not even touching the flaring leathers that swirled dramatically about him. His younger self had chosen armour for more impact, less practicality, but he was comforted by the familiar feeling of fabric dragging through the air.

Another attempt, this time slow enough that he could make out the hammer instead of just a blur, coming down at him from above. He stumbled away, just in time and felt the ground shake from impact, gravel spraying up to patter against his face and battle leathers. If that had hit, his spine would have crumpled. He swallowed thickly.

The Hulk roared, stooped over and its huge teeth flashed in Loki's face as spittle flew. It was so loud, so close and he swayed back, hand reaching up involuntarily to protect his ears from the onrush of sound. It screamed about him and when it stopped, there was a new ringing, wormed into his head and sat there, screeching away.

More attacks, the only warning a blur of green and silver and Loki felt the air puffing against his skin each time, blades far too close to biting into his skin. Then there was a wall at his back, he bumped into it, another swing nearly took his head from his shoulders. Collapsed to the side in a desperate effort to avoid the next one, ducking under the axe by millimetres and it dragged through his shorn hair.

Loki scrambled upright. He had to get out of there, cornered against the wall. Another swing and when it bit into the gravel, he sprinted forwards, arms pumping. Past the Hulk, under the bridge of where hammer-wielding arm met its shoulder and onward. He felt more than heard or saw the huge body twist and axe come after him, biting into air right behind his torso. And Loki ran, heard the thumping feet behind him, his opponent's too-loud roar, but he was faster. Longer legs a blur beneath him, he reached the centre of the arena in seconds, spun around.

The Hulk was walking forward, slowly, with a more calculating look upon its face.

The Prince slowly breathed in, then out. He calmed, racing heart attempting a more even pace. Hands found his knives, drew them. Curved blades glinted under the floodlights' glare. Around them, the crowd chattered and screamed and roared.

And then the reprieve was over. Huge legs ate up the ground between them and Loki sank into a ready stance, feet shoulder width apart and arms up, weapons in hand.

Swipe aimed towards his feet as the Hulk came within range, its entire body twisting with the force of it. Loki lightly jumped over it, then ran forwards. The creature's right shoulder was flung forwards, all the momentum of the attack had twisted it off-balance and now left its side exposed. He slid in, both daggers held out to the side as he ran, raking across the skin from the naval to where ribcage met spine. It did not wound, simply slid across, metal squealing and bending from the pressure he exerted.

Once past the Hulk, Loki continued, then turned back, glanced at his knives. They were curled, now. Ends trying to touch hilts and he dropped them after a moment of shock.

The Hulk was glowering at him, some metres away, swinging its hammer and axe, roaring. Though more wary. On its side, there was a small mark - tiny. But that meant it could be hurt. What could be hurt, could be killed and Loki allowed himself a sharp smile.

This time, he was the one to charge.

A swing, diagonally downwards to split his chest in two. He twisted and it sped past, wind puffing on his face and he ran on. The next was leapt over and then he was at the Hulk's feet.

Dashed in, new blades in hand and was at the beast's back in effortless moments. It started to lumber round, taken off guard by his sudden boldness and speed. Loki dug his knives in, at the small of its back, where the kidneys should have been, felt skin give and, with a triumphant smirk, plunged them in, to the hilt. Arms came around, clumsily reaching for him and he ducked away, sliding one blade out with a gush of green which spouted onto his hand, coating him to the elbow. The sickening stench of blood followed it and then one hand found him, grabbed him.

Loki gasped as it closed, ribs starting to crack from the pressure. Knife dropped from his fingers and the other remained lodged in the Hulk's back. Then he was hanging in front of the beast. Fingers trying to crumple him, crack open his torso to expose the organs inside. He kicked and struggled, then a snapping pain and air shot out of him and he leant forward, coughing. Something had gone wrong, then something else broke and there was cold, salty liquid in his mouth, on his tongue.

Frigga had been right, this was suicide.

Another cough. Loki stared, uncomprehending, at the splotch of purple which splashed onto the green fingers holding him.

Then the Hulk switched its grip on him, grasped him by the legs, huge hands covering from his ankles to his shins, bones groaning in protest. He dangled upside down for a moment, then was being flung about. Down. Towards the gravel ground.

Loki remembered all too well how much that had hurt, last time. It had not broken bones, but he had not been stripped of his magic on Midgard. It had the potential to kill him, now.

Considered letting the floor rush up, cave in his skull and end it. Then his brother and mother and Asgard flitted into his mind's eye, momentarily. But it was enough of a reminder. He struggled, twisting and yelling. Took the first hit in the shoulder, felt his collarbone give way and a shard of bone protruded from his skin. Reached down with his remaining workable hand and pulled out a long hunting blade from his boot, wickedly curved and sharp, spine bending unnaturally to reach it.

Momentum as he was hurled up from the floor and, at the top of the swing, he twisted in the Hulk's grip and stretched, stretched. Until he was being brought down again and he was close enough. The knife dug into the beast's scalp, biting deep into its forehead, just beneath the helmet rim and then ripped down with the force of its own swing. Knees twisted at an odd angle and near to breaking point from how fast he was thrown, his body wrenched in two different directions as Loki held desperately onto the knife.

With a scream of pain, the Hulk yanked at its opponent and he had to let go of the blade, else risk snapping his knees and then Loki was flying. He tumbled through the air, smashed into a wall. More ribs cracked and he didn't have the breath for anything but a whimper.

The Hulk was moving closer, and panic from before came back full force, crushing his chest and sending pangs through the broken bones littering his torso.

It didn't stop and Loki tried to stand, gasping and his body filled with shards of ice, stabbing deep each time he moved and cool liquid dribbled down his chin.

If he had his seiðr, he could have healed it, just enough to continue fighting. Actually, he would not have gotten this injured in the first place. Perhaps if Odin cared, he would reinstate it. Only for a bit, to let him escape death. He wanted to hope for it, for his family to still care. And despite his carefully maintained lack of hope, it still stung that his magic drained away when he reached for it.

Loki braced himself against the wall, set his face in a snarl to not give away how much he hurt.

He was fucking terrified.

And something responded.

Ice. For the first time in his long life, Loki was glad to see it.

Crystals formed on his arms, neck, chest, wrapped around his ribs to stop them jostling and the next breath lacked the glass dust he had been breathing previously. Then it swept across gravel, swirling and marbled with hues of silver and black and green and red. Ended just before the Hulk's feet. Shot up.

Ice climbed upon itself, flying colours within it flaring upwards, grew brighter, looked like someone had entrapped the aurora borealis within clear, frozen blue. And a wall appeared, grew taller. It reached up and up, until Loki could no longer see the Hulk behind it.

Inside his body, bones twisted and were set back in their rightful place. The shard of white sticking out from his clavicle was sucked back under and the steady flow of purple from multiple cuts and grazes tapered off.

Loki stared at the wall and felt nothing. No wonder or acceptance and too shocked for horror. On the other side, a fist smashed into it. A small crack formed, deep in the ice, visible only as a solid white line, blurred at the edges.

So weak.

Even drawing involuntarily upon his heritage would not save him. He loathed it and, when its use was forced upon him, this degradation didn't even do anything but delay the inevitable for mere seconds. Loki started to laugh, a mean and low snarl of a sound, but was interrupted by a cough, bones in his chest not as painful as before, but the brace about his ribs had melted away. Every movement once again sent shockwaves of pain through him. Loki leant more against the wall.

Another thud and the crack spiderwebbed outwards, spiraling until it reached the surface facing him. A tap would send it tumbling to the floor and the Hulk smashed its foot through the destroyed blockade, sending splinters flying and blocks tumbling.

In the stands, the crowd roared with the beast, screaming for death. Started up a chant calling for which methods they would prefer and Loki tried to focus on that to distract from how the floor had disappeared beneath his feet. How his stomach no longer had a bottom. How his heart was thudding a tempo into the inside of his skull, trying to worm its way out of his mouth.

The Hulk stormed closer, dropping its weapons as it went, to end him with its own hands.

Loki reached into the folds of his armour, fished out the throwing knives and flung them. His aim was off from how his arm trembled and the ones which struck simply bounced off. The crowd laughed.

And it was upon him, hands out to grab him and suddenly Loki's eyes were nearly closing as the last of his strength fled him, was sucked out of him and suddenly, searing heat against his face. Somewhere above him, the beast was stumbling backwards, one arm mangled and crumpled, as if from some massive blow.

But it did not stop, simply grew more angry.

Hands reached out and down. This time he barely had the strength to lift his head and stared into the Hulk's face and spat, the gob mixed with purple. It barely reached the beast's neck, but Loki made a point to plaster his most terrifying grin on, hoping the blood staining his chin made it even more so, instead of just pathetic.

It clutched him by the neck and started to squeeze. Vertebrae popped and began to crack and Loki gagged on the scream that wanted to come out, then escaped only as a gurgle. He reached up, patted weakly at the forearm holding him up. Reached towards the face and shoved at the chin, desperation and lack of oxygen making his thoughts fuzzy.

Pain in his hand and it shot back, away and purple was gouting from the end somewhere. He couldn't see, his vision was blurry. The crowd's cheers faded out.

But he heard a bang. Above him.

Another one.

The crackling of shattered glass.

Loki wondered what was causing that racket through his haze. It was disturbing him from the arduous task of dying. How disrespectful.

Thor would do something like that, annoying, idiotic oaf that he was. And Loki smiled, holding the image of his brother in his mind.

But then he wasn't dying.

Air, sweet air. Filled his lungs and the moment it hit them, he was gasping, coughing and gasping again. Desperately pulling it in, pushing it out, chest heaving causing the broken ribs to scream in protest, but it was dulled by how good it felt to not have a crushed trachea.

Where had he fallen?

Where was the Hulk?

Loki tried to sit up, but couldn't move beneath his neck. Only turn his head, which he promptly did.

To see the beast fighting someone else. Someone else cloaked in red and silver and with a golden mane of hair flowing about his head.

Loki stared, mouth held slightly open and then turned up at the edges. Frost appeared on his cheeks and he laughed, soft but happy.

Thor was alive!

Thor was alive and everything faded out of focus but that figure, cape swirling and hair twisting because he was moving and fighting and fighting meant alive. Not dead, decaying, void of everything that made him Loki's brother.

He was saying something, hands up and trying to talk to the Hulk, who just snorted at everything he said, roared, ran forward and attacked. Favouring his left arm and half blind, but still with force behind the punches.

Blue eyes didn't turn towards Loki, to check if he was alright. He lay, seemingly forgotten next to the wall. Not even the crowd or that blasted commentator noticed him.

"Thor…" Loki whispered.

His throat was sore and aching and he coughed again when the name left his lips. But it was too quiet and he barely heard it.

"Thor," Loki said.

Louder. But the Asgardian was knocking aside one of the Hulk's fists, yelling angrily.

"Brother," Loki shouted, but it came out as a dry rasp.

And the image of Thor's caped back was the last thing he saw as darkness closed in.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

AN: Heya! Happy holidays :) look at me being all extra and uploading on Christmas xD Anyway. After this, we return to the usual schedule of uploading once per fortnight on Sunday evening (UK time). To everyone who has favourited, followed, reviewed and even just read; ya'll make my day :D