WARNING: Yup, there's torture...
I have no clue why I like writing it so much - I suppose it really is a great way to bring characters together... Ehehehe...
I'm a rather sporadic writer and extremely forgetful too, so if you actually like this then feel free to prod me - I'm hoping posting stuff on here will guilt me into actually finishing stories on paper, rather than just in my head...
Welp, enjoy as best as you can!
He snatched in a ragged breath and adjusted his grip on the chains above him, hands already bloodied and sore. Blood spiralled down his back. He heard the distinct tip-tap of her stepping back, then closed his eyes and tightened his grip. The whip connected with a dull roaring in his ears, and he barely stifled a scream as he felt the barbs catch and tear at his skin, before ripping away. He hated the barbs, and she knew it. Oh, the pain. It was everything and nothing, all at once. Rinse and repeat, he thought to himself. Check his grip, listen for her stepping back. Tip-tap. Tighten grip – he mustn't let go. Supress the scream – at least there was no barb this time. Just one thing to be grateful for in this endless hell. No. Hell would be a blessing compared to this place. His vision was fading, thoughts becoming muddy. A hand slick with blood slid down the chains just an inch and he snarled in the effort to hold himself up. He couldn't see. Wind his hand in the chain, left hand, done. Tip, tap. He wasn't ready. Other hand, quickly. Not quickly enough. Crack. Couldn't hold in a strangled cry of pain, his arm jerking instinctively. He couldn't let go. The other man that was kneeling, blindfolded, on a narrow ledge behind him, bare back turned to the lip of the stone chasm Loki was dangling above, had not yet felt the whip as he had. And despite himself, Loki could not endure the thought of yet another person being broken here. Should he let go, he would slip into the chasm, her foul magic catching him that he might not die as the other one had, and the whip would collide not with him, but the mortal he was trying to protect. He scrambled to hold onto the chain, but despair managed to slip through the muteness surrounding his emotions as it slipped through his fingertips. He dropped an arm's length, swinging to the side, and howled weakly as his left hand twisted and cracked – still tangled in the chain. He couldn't… Think… Anymore… He made a few weak attempts to grab the other chain, but consciousness was quickly slipping away from him. "Twenty-six, nice!" he heard her cry, voice rapt with delight and admiration as he slipped away slowly. Too slowly. He heard the crack of the whip and Tony Stark screamed, unused to so much pain. And then for a time he heard a blissful silence and felt or saw nothing more.
He woke in his – their – cell, and immediately his mouth was filled with a bitter taste. He pulled himself up on his good arm, glancing down at his left hand. She had healed it – somewhat. Usable, but painful. Incredibly so – as was the rest of him. A bare shadow, no doubt, of who Stark expected to see. He looked around himself and saw Stark, still blindfolded, sitting with knees tucked up in the corner. His mouth tightened and he crawled stiffly over to him, gently reaching out and touching his shoulder. Stark flinched, and Loki followed suit, terrified in an irrational fashion that he had hurt Tony, that somehow, he was to be blamed for all of this. He probably was the root of it, too, in so many ways. He swallowed dryly then reached out again and pulled Stark away from the wall, trying to see his back. Stark glared in his general direction. "Who the hell are you?" he asked, voice slightly hoarse. He pulled away from Loki's touch, banging his shoulder against the wall. Loki blinked a few times then stood, reached out, and untied Stark's blindfold. He blinked and looked around, gaze alighting on Loki. "You," he snarled and stood up. "What have you done? Was destroying New York not enough? You gotta punish us for stopping you? You…" He trailed off, eyes narrowing, and looked at Loki more carefully, then at the cell bars… Impenetrable, of course. "You… Turn around."
Loki looked down with slight distaste, then obeyed Stark and turned. The back of his shirt was in tatters, revealing his horribly scarred back. He tensed as he felt a finger run down his barely healed wounds, and the deeper, uglier scars from his time here. Barely containing the urge to flinch, to cower in a corner, hide his wounds. He did not want to be an object of pity – he turned back around and glared at Stark, still not saying anything. Stark just gaped at him for some time, before finally opening his mouth. "Why… Why would you stop her from… From…" He gestured helplessly to his back, which had four red and cracked stripes across it that would definitely scar. Because he hadn't had the strength to hold on for just four lashes longer. Loki crossed his arms tightly, ignoring the twinge of pain.
Tony looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer he didn't think Loki could refuse him. Especially not in the state the god looked to be in. "Because, Stark, what has been done to me should not be done to anyone." A small pause, and something akin to humour briefly danced in his eyes. Perhaps slightly forced humour, Tony thought, but it looked like the god needed it to be there. "Not even you," he added. Tony blinked. "Ow…" he muttered, in humour acting overly sullen, as if the joke – it was a joke, judging by the slight weary lift of Loki's lips – had physically hurt. Loki's lips twitched a little wider, though the smile remained weary and almost out of place. Suddenly, Tony wondered just how long it had been since Loki had smiled – a genuine smile. He was supposed to be a psychopath, but now he just looked… Lost. Broken. As human as a god could get, he supposed. It wasn't right. He should be smiling and sarcastic, outside the cell and not inside. It was impossible to hate or want to kill… This. A broken shadow of a god.
"Our food will be here soon, Stark. Do not expect it to compare to your usual fare." He sighed, all traces of a smile gone, then all but collapsed into a sitting position, leaning against the wall. He let out a small groan and rested his head back against the wall. Barely moments later his breathing deepened somewhat, and Stark guessed he was asleep. This had to be one of the strangest encounters of his life. He sat next to Loki, not touching him. He'd gotten himself into this mess trying to find – and preferably kill – Loki, but this was… Not what he had expected. An awful thought had occurred to him – that Loki hadn't attacked New York of his own free will. Though perhaps he had just wound up here by accident, and he was still a murderer of his own free will. A murderer wouldn't have stood between you and the whip, his traitorous mind muttered. He groaned softly and buried his head in his hands, ignoring the aching of his back. He'd just have to ask Loki… Though how trustworthy he was, Tony didn't know. After all, he had been blindfolded.
The food literally just appeared in front of them, just like that. Tony jumped, then gently shook Loki to wake him. He raised his head wearily, and looked around, before stretching out a long, thin, incredibly scarred hand and snagging a slice of what looked like bread infected with some kind of poisonous fungal substance. Disgusting. Loki ate only a few bites, chewing slowly, before setting it back down on the plate. He watched as Loki raised the back of his hand to his mouth and swallowed dryly a few times, before apparently deciding he wasn't going to hurl and settling back into his former position. Tony eyed the bread-thing as if it was an exceptionally unattractive employee. Then, deciding he was ravenous, he took a cautious bite. It tasted like… Bread. Slightly stale, not very well-made bread, but it wasn't disgusting. He looked at Loki again, and at Loki's slice of bread. "Have it…" Loki murmured, watching Stark through slit eyes. Stark's brow furrowed and he said something, but Loki wasn't listening any more as the dizzying exhaustion washed through him. His body was trying to heal itself, but his Alf Seidr, his magic, wasn't there anymore and there was just too much to heal any way. He drifted through a murky, heavy fog and Stark's shaking did nothing to rouse him from it, not until the sharp, clean, tip-tap of her boots cut through the gloom and he was on his feet within moments. He walked to the bars, waiting.
Oriax. How he despised her, her and the pain she represented. Her whips, her daggers, her hot irons. Her foul poisons. Yet he could still look her in the eye with barely a tremor. She stared back, a cruel smile licking up her face. Without a word, she reached through the bars, right through the iron bars, and pulled Loki out of the cell. He didn't even have the strength to resist, but he was glad that she hadn't taken Stark too. Often, she was busy doing whatever alien demonesses did, and only have time for a quick play with one victim. Said victim usually being him. Perhaps Stark would be able to try find an escape from this place – he was a genius.
Stark was indeed trying to find an escape. As soon as he saw Loki being pulled through solid metal, he reached to the bars and tried pushing his hand through, but nothing happened. He sat and thought about the portal he had accidentally created and how he might reverse it to get back to stark tower. He looked around himself. Nothing, nothing, nothing and… Oh, nothing. He cursed under his breath, thinking. He'd need to be able to create something out of nothing – but he was mortal. He simply couldn't do it. So, he sat and pondered, paced and thought, but he could see no way out of a cell protected by magic, especially not with a practically dying god. Though he still wasn't sure if it all wasn't just some elaborate illusion – he still hadn't actually seen Loki tortured. Though he'd felt the scars and… He didn't know what to think. He was Tony Stark, for heavens sake, yet it had taken every single ounce of him not to shudder or quake or show any other emotion when he'd seen it. Worse, he was terrified that that was going to happen to him, too. And imagining the pain… Not a good pastime. He'd rather the scars were illusions than real things.
Despite his doubts he was up on his feet and had caught Loki the instant he was flung into the cell. His breathing was rapid, his pupils incredibly dilated. There was blood in the corner of his mouth and his left leg was a bloody mess, a hunk of twisted muscled and bone splinters. This couldn't be an illusion, not the warm blood, not the stink of the it and the stink of the pain in his nostrils, coating his mouth in a coppery taste. He laid Loki gently down, stumbled away from him, then was violently sick in the corner. "Oh, don't fret…" purred a voice from outside. It was the woman again – presumably the one who had tortured him. Them. "He's been through worse, you know…" She smiled at him brightly, though her green-black eyes remained cold. When she disappeared, Tony retched again but his stomach was empty. He curled up next to Loki, putting a hand on his neck to check his pulse. When he found it, beating erratically but still beating, he closed his eyes and just lay there, tears sliding silently down his cheeks for Loki's sake.
The woman was back the next morning – Tony assumed it was the next morning - and this time she was coming for Stark. She reached out to him before a dry, rasping voice gasped out, "Wait…" The woman looked at Loki curiously. "You… You like it when I can't… Can't… Struggle in the…" he appeared to pass out, eyes fluttering closed. The woman sighed. "Very well, he has a point." She raised a hand and Loki half-rose into the air. Tony could see his wounds knitting closed. As soon as Loki gained consciousness – still in the air – he let out a hiss of pain and Tony could only assume the healing was a painful process. When the woman dropped him, he fell to the floor then stood up, albeit shakily. "Thank you, Oriax…" he muttered, somehow managing to sound sarcastic. The woman's – Oriax's? – upper lip wrinkled slightly in an amused smirk and she pulled him roughly out of the cell. Loki had given him her name.
They were left alone for a few days after that day. Oriax liked her victims to be in well enough shape to scream, Loki said. Besides, they weren't the only ones here in what he called Thanos' hellhole. And this Thanos had sent Loki, using the mind stone to reshape his mind, with the threat of returning him to Oriax. A threat he'd completed, stealing him from the Asgardian dungeons. He'd gained a good sense of time by counting the seconds. He told Stark about the pain and how he tried to cope with it. He didn't talk much otherwise, weak as he was.
Days bled into a week, and then another. Loki stood between Stark and Oriax many times more, but nevertheless Stark gained his own collection of scars. Nothing like Loki's. He recalled clearly the first time he'd seen Loki tortured, strapped to an iron slab. Oriax had whispered to him. He'd heard – "What was it she told you, Loki? Do you remember what she taught you? Do you? Go on…" Face twisted with pain, Loki turned to Stark. "Lesson one… Is observation."
And then, a few days ago, he had been alone with Oriax and Loki couldn't do anything to stop it. He was barely conscious when he was thrown into the cell, but he heard Oriax tell Loki, "Remember what she taught you next, Loki?"
Loki had nodded, and Stark could have sworn he's seen a tear shimmering on his cheek. "Lesson two… Is pain."
And then now, and Loki had pleaded with Oriax to spare him. A mistake – Oriax noted his desperation, and she's chained Loki, forcing him to watch as she tortured Stark – by far the most pain he'd ever, ever felt, so much he couldn't even fall unconscious. He hadn't thought it was possible, but now a hazy layer of pain seemed to separate him from the welcoming blackness. So slumped on a rocky shelf, he watched Loki. Oriax seemed full of pent-up excitement. "What's the last one, Loki? What's the last one she taught you, hmmm?"
And now Loki looked something Stark hadn't seen him openly look yet. Afraid. "…No…" A whisper, a plea. Oriax grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up so her lips were at Loki's ear. "What… Did… She… Say?" she hissed loudly. Loki flinched, then turned to Stark, a single tear shining on his cheek. "Le… Lesson three is… Watching someone break." Stark would have inhaled sharply had he the strength to do so, but he could do little more than just watch and listen. And wish he didn't have to watch as Oriax piled everything she had on Loki, red-hot iron pebbles that made him cry out, barbed whips, poisoned daggers. Stark was forced to watch it all, and more. It was too much, Loki could never heal from this. He would… Break.
Oriax's smile was predatory as she drew her scarlet-tipped nails down his chest, drawing blood that welled up slowly then faster. She stepped back and watched. Loki's eyes widened and the scream he let out turned into an animalistic howl as whatever poison it was washed through him. His back arched, and he strained against his bonds, before tossing himself side to side frantically, still screaming. Oriax laughed and for a moment, Loki stopped screaming, gasping for breath, eyes locked onto Stark. "It's coming!" Hummed Oriax, and Loki's next scream was like nothing he'd ever heard before. Then silence.
And then Loki raised his head and his eyes were green, piercing green, and the shackles fell from him, as did the blood and the grime. His face was filled with fury as he stood from the slab. Oriax's face was frozen in a half laugh as Loki conjured up two giant, green, glowing whips seemingly made of pure energy and Oriax's head waved goodbye to Oriax's body. She crumpled. Loki looked at Stark, face impassive yet angry, and gestured. The pain immediately began to lessen, and Stark was suddenly standing next to Loki. He waved a hand and a portal appeared… Right into Stark tower. Where Fury and all the avengers – bar Thor, Tony noticed, happened to be. Staring right at them, faces frozen in shock. Loki pulled Stark through and the portal collapsed, leaving them… Home. Stark gaped, and so did the other avengers. He looked at himself and Loki, noting they were dressed in clothes miraculously clean and untorn, even though he could see red stains beginning to creep through Loki's shirt. The pain began to streak back as the healing petered off, and the world started to go cloudy around him.
Loki, the amazing, beautiful creature, stumbled suddenly, hand on his chest right over the largest growing stains of red, green eyes abruptly fading back to blue. Stark caught him as he lost consciousness and lowered him slightly too quickly to the floor, then promptly followed his example and collapsed over him.