He awoke the next morning sore and disoriented, unsure how much of the previous night's events had been a bad dream. As he always did, Loki ran his fingers lightly over his stitched mouth to confirm that this particular nightmare was still part of his reality. Then he looked around the room for any sign of the eerie-eyed Jotunn girl. He didn't see her anywhere, and thought with relief that she must have been part of the dreams that had plagued him in his sleep. Even his idiot brother would never do something as stupid and offensive as actually bringing one of those creatures into the palace.
He turned his head and the first thing he saw was the metal water jug sitting on his bedside table, gleaming in the morning light. It dawned on Loki just how thirsty he was; he reached for it instinctively, fumbling with the glass beside it and pouring himself some water. He sat still for a moment, staring into his marred reflection before opening the table's lower drawer and retrieving a long, narrow reed. He stuck one end in the water and ran the other over his aching lips until he found the only place where the threads were sewn far apart enough to allow him to push a thin object through. It hurt, but Loki was desperate for water and he sighed in relief when he was finally able to use the reed to draw some into his mouth. At least he could do this much for himself. Loki hated having to rely on others, which he had to do for almost everything since being imprisoned here. It stung his pride, and it created a frightening sense that he could be dropped at any time and left in the dust to rot.
Loki finished drawing water from the glass and reclined against his pillows, trying to think through the day ahead. He had nothing to do, nowhere to go, no books to read. Thor might come visit him later, a thought which created in Loki a complex mixture of irritation, shame, and hope. Having his brother around was trying for many reasons, but being left alone with his own thoughts wasn't any better. At least Thor talked to him and was patient with his laborious efforts to communicate through writing or gesture. Over the past six months, Loki had gradually realized that his punishment wasn't just about being silenced; it was also in having no one left who wanted to listen to him. He didn't have any companions in Asgard; he was well aware that the unruly group of warriors who frequented the palace were really Thor's friends, and they merely put up with Loki's occasional presence for his brother's sake. Still, his royal status had always given him a certain sway over the court, and his silver tongue enabled him to convince, deceive, and manipulate anyone he came into contact with. Loki enjoyed doing these things very much, so he had never been bored or….lonely. Not exactly. Not like he was now, with no one to talk to and no intrigues of power and politics to amuse himself with.
Loki shifted as he tried to rise from the bed, and found that his left leg didn't want to move. Flipping back the covers, he observed a thick manacle attached to his ankle, securing him to the bedpost via a short chain. How the hell had that gotten there? Loki frowned and rubbed his head as he tried to sort out nightmare from memory. In his dream about the Jotunn girl, he thought he had ended up chained to the bed after he'd thrown an inkwell at her….but Thor had been there, and Thor had released him….except for….
You will not harm or threaten this woman. In the morning, if you are calm, you may go free. Loki's green eyes widened as the voice of his brother echoed in his mind. He pulled at his shackled leg and twisted his body to peer around the room, searching for anything else that seemed out of place. In the corner by the door, he spotted the shattered remains of the black inkwell that had been on his desk. A sudden, deep chill settled over his body.
It can't be true. Loki struggled to sit up and eyed the water jug, which he definitely did not remember being there last night. His attention was caught by a glimmer from the other side of the jug; moving it aside, he blinked in surprise at the sight of a small, silver key. Grabbing it, he jammed it into the lock on his manacle and was even more surprised when it clicked open obligingly. Finally free to move, Loki scrambled from his bed and staggered upright, staring wildly around the room. This couldn't be happening to him. If that nightmare was in fact reality, then that meant…. Gritting his teeth, he seized a heavy candelabra from his dresser and strode furiously into the adjoining room.
An hour later, he had gone through every nook and cranny of his chambers without finding any sign of another presence. Finally his weakened body rebelled and he was forced to sit and rest in the alcove of his drawing room. Loki closed his eyes and ran his fingers wearily over the painful stitches on his mouth. Was the isolation starting to make him lose his grip on reality? He could swear there was no one here, yet in his mind he recalled so clearly the flood of rage which had overcome him upon seeing that bluish face. He even remembered the ridges under her eyes and her wild mop of snowy hair. Loki bowed his head and rested his face in his hands as his mind worked furiously. Maybe Thor was right. Maybe he really was becoming irreversibly sick.
The opening and closing of the door to his chambers startled Loki from his despondent musings. He hadn't heard Thor's resounding footsteps, and no one but his brother and the guards ever entered here. Warily, Loki stood and approached the doorway to the entrance hall. Before he could react, a bluish figure breezed past him and entered the kitchens. The figure set a small sack on the counter with a thump! and turned to look out the window. Her face in profile looked even stranger than it had last night. Azure skin and pure white hair. Faint markings on her shoulders and back, and long, tapered fingers. A monstrous form. Loki clenched his fist around the candelabra's base and stepped into the room.
The Jotunn girl turned and her grey eyes widened as she spotted the metal implement sailing toward her head. She ducked underneath its arc and rolled over the counter, landing nimbly on the other side. Loki swung the candelabra again and it crashed against the table as she backed away and ran, but not in the direction he wanted. Instead of fleeing out the door, she darted deeper into his chambers and vanished into the sitting room. With a stifled curse, Loki stumbled after her, determined to rid himself of this creature before his idiot brother could interfere. He didn't care whether she took her leave through the door or the window – he simply wanted her gone before the court found out about her. Even if by some miracle he was pardoned and allowed to return to his former life, the people of Asgard would hold this against him forever.
The sitting room was empty and Loki charged into the drawing room just in time to see a mane of white hair whip around the corner. He followed its path and found himself back in his main bedchamber, squaring off against the Jotunn girl who had taken refuge on the other side of the room. He threw a glass at her and it shattered against the wall as she ducked behind his dresser. Striding across the room, Loki kicked the dresser over and managed to strike her in the back with the candelabra as she scrambled out from underneath the furniture. She hit the floor face-first, evaded another swipe, and rolled under his bed faster than he could move to stop her. Loki slammed the candelabra against the headboard, hoping to scare her out, and when that didn't work he attempted to shove his bed aside, but found he didn't have the strength. Infuriated, he was about to try again when a clattering behind him announced the arrival of the guards through the main door. They didn't bother trying to reason with him, having seen him fly into a destructive rage many times before. One of them grabbed him and shoved him facedown onto the mattress while the other re-attached the shackles to his ankles and secured them to the bedposts. Loki shrieked furiously and managed to throw the guard off long enough to slam the candelabra into his partner's metal-plated chest. The burly man tossed his weapon aside and threw the full force of his weight against Loki's arm. Something snapped out of place, and the god of mischief howled in agony as the guard secured his other arm to the headboard and backed away with a satisfied smile on his face. "What's the matter, my lord? Are you hurt?"
His partner chuckled and Loki groaned as his vision swam in and out. He tried to move his injured arm and realized his shoulder was projecting out at an odd angle. Whimpering, he pulled weakly against his chains, desperate to do something to ease the pain. The first guard bent so he was looming over Loki. "Why don't you tell us where it hurts, my lord? We can't help you if we don't know where to start." His casual tone and innocent expression belied the malicious glint in his eyes. Loki glared and strained at his stitches, muffled curses trapped behind his lips. The guard raised and lowered his shoulders. "Can't say I understand what any of that means, my lord. We'll be off now; if you need us, just call." Loki cried out in panic as the chuckling pair moved toward the doorway. The guard waved mockingly and then Loki found himself alone again, splayed out face-down on his bed and choking on the need to scream in agony.
He tried shifting his body to alleviate the pressure on his arm, but pulling against the chains only made it worse. Loki moaned and pressed his forehead into the pillow, unable to restrain the flood of pained tears that clouded his vision. How long were they going to leave him like this? If past experience was any indication, he knew it might be days before they bothered to call a healer from the infirmary. It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts Loki shuddered and turned his eyes toward the silent doorway. For once, he longed to hear his brother's thunderous footsteps on the flagon floors, but there was only silence.
Well, not quite. A faint rustling reminded him that he was not alone in the room after all. Moving cautiously, Loki turned his head and started to see the slate-grey eyes of the Jotunn girl peering at him from beyond the edge of the mattress. The familiar sense of vulnerability resurfaced as he flinched away from that side of the bed. This was just what he needed, another brutish savage come to torment him. When was this hell going to end?
The girl scooted her body out from under the bed and stood up, eyeing him suspiciously, as though this might all be a ruse to throw her off her guard. Loki wished he was capable of faking this much pain. He tried again to move his arm and whimpered as his shoulder blade throbbed like it was splitting from his body. He had dislocated his shoulder once before, when he was a child and Thor had challenged him to a tree-climbing contest. Of course Loki fell, and he remembered the pain was like nothing he'd ever felt before. Thor carried him to the infirmary and stayed guiltily at his side throughout the frightening process of setting his arm back in its socket. Loki remembered it had taken two healers, one on either side of him, and copious amounts of tonic for pain. Even so, the day hadn't been all bad. Frigga had rushed to his side as soon as she heard, and even Odin left the affairs of court to come see him. For the first time, Loki had his whole family's attention and affection directed at him. It was enough to help him forgive Thor for being a witless oaf and causing the whole thing in the first place.
Loki struggled to stay in that memory, or any other for that matter – anything to avoid coming back to the present where he was injured and alone and likely about to be killed by some Jotunn savage Thor had dragged in from the frost. His green eyes found her grey ones and they stared at each other for a long time before she turned and walked away toward the kitchens. Loki sighed and tried to focus on something else apart from the pain in his body. What day was it, and what was Frigga doing now? Was she in her gardens, her chambers, or maybe presiding over court with Odin? What about Thor? Was he still abed after a night of carousing with his friends at the tavern, or was he maybe planning for his next hunting trip in the mountains? Loki closed his eyes, feeling them burn with unshed tears. That life seemed a distant memory, like something he had read in a book about someone else. They were all so far away from him now. So far away, and he was falling. Even if he reached out, the vast abyss between them only grew wider.
A nearby clattering sound startled his eyes open, and Loki found himself staring up into the expressionless face of the Jotunn girl, who had just placed a tray onto the bedside table. Loki could not see what was on it, but he flinched as the girl climbed onto the mattress beside him and drew a small knife from the pocket of her tunic. She grabbed his wrist and he gave a muffled cry and tried in vain to push her away. The girl placed the knife under the cuff of his shirtsleeve. She sliced through it with ease and moved the knife up the tear, elongating it past his elbow, his shoulder, his neck. Loki didn't dare struggle as he felt the metal brush his skin, wondering frantically what she was going to do to him. Finally she stopped cutting and peeled the fabric of his shirt from his arm and shoulder, leaving the bare flesh exposed. Loki turned his head enough to see the grotesque way his shoulder blade stuck out, and whimpered as the Jotunn girl placed her frigid hand over it. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see his skin turn that awful color, and focused on his breathing. In and out. In and out. He felt the pain begin to lessen as his shoulder grew numb from the cold.
After a few minutes, the girl removed her hand and Loki grunted in surprise as he felt two thin, cold arms wrap around his waist and haul him upright as far as the chains would allow. He shook his head and struggled to push her away with his good arm, but the girl was undeterred. She swatted his hand aside and propped him up with his head and chest supported in her lap, meanwhile carefully rearranging each of his limbs in some kind of coordinated pattern. Loki moaned in pain and finally gave up struggling, realizing he couldn't do anything to stop whatever her plan was. His breath came in ragged, shallow gasps. Where in all the seven hells was Thor when he needed him?
Then the girl leaned down, her white hair spilling over his face as he tried in vain to turn his head enough to look at her. He could feel her frosty breath on the back of his neck, followed by a voice as low and dark as the coldest winter night. "Relax, my prince. This will hurt much less if your muscles aren't tense."
What will hurt? What are you doing?! Loki tried to demand, only managing to emit a muffled groan. His body shuddered in fear and the girl pressed her hand down onto his dislocated shoulder. He suddenly understood, with a swoop of dizzy nausea, what she was going to do. "Relax," she insisted, and Loki whimpered, clawing pitifully at the bedspread. "Relax." She pushed forcefully on his arm and he finally gave in, allowing his body to go limp against her. He felt her lift his arm and slowly ease it down toward his side. There was an audible 'pop', and then his vision fled and the world went with it.