TW: some gore.


Chapter 3

"You should eat more," Athadana called from the kitchen one day, as the Lie-smith avoided dinner once again, this had been a normal occurrence, making dinner for two, eating one portion alone, and them leaving the second portion for the Prince to eat later. He never finished it, there was always some in the trash the next day.

You are not my mother. She saw him sign from the sunroom. She sighed and took out two more pieces of bread to make Loki a sandwich with. The strange thing about the threads around his mouth was that he could open it only to eat and drink. The food passed right through them and they didn't rip his skin while he ate, as if there was some strange magic cast upon the threads to separate food from speech, still no sounds came out. Sometimes Athadana wondered if Loki was putting on an act, and that he actually could speak, but she brushed these thoughts away realizing that he had no reason to fool her.

Athadana finished the sandwich and set it on a plate on the counter, knowing that Loki would eat at least some of it later that night, before he went upstairs to bed. She often heard him shuffling around in the middle of the night, as if he was pacing, or in pain. Many times she wanted to go into his room and soothe him, for she could not stand worried people, it was in her nature to help others, but she knew that if she interfered, he would lash out. Such a basket-case.

She went into the living room and sat at the piano, running her fingers over the keys lightly, but never pressing down, as if she was afraid that it would hurt the ivory to be touched. She often felt herself doing this after Athadana had learned about how ivory was made in one of the books that she had read in the library. It was rather horrifying, she had thought, and vowed not to play the piano that sat in the room, only to caress it, as if the keys were still the tusks of a large friendly creature who she would not hurt. The Lie-smith, on the other hand, often sat down at the piano and played a s tune. It seemed to always be a sad song, and some reminded her of Yggdrasil and his kindness and his power and before she had realized it, she cried, the tears rushing down her face in great torrents and silent sobs arising from her lips. She never let the prince see her cry, she vowed not to, for she did not want the man to see her as weak.

As the days became shorter, and Athadana found herself bundled up in sweaters more often, life became monotonous. The sorceress longed for conversation, and the sound of a voice other than her own. It had been easier in the warmer weather for her to venture out and engage strangers in conversation about the most casual of things, but now, she wished she was come with Yggdrasil's own warmth. She was restless, and eager to end her punishment and fear of using magic.

It was mid-November when Athadana walked down the stairs in the evening to make dinner as she always did. There was a small market down the street where she bought her ingredients to make the foods she had learned about from the books in the parlor. The woman who worked there knew her as Anya, and the two often engaged in friendly chatter, as the woman was the only one who Athadana, or, Anya, frequently saw. Of course the conversation was half a lie on Atha's part, it wasn't like she could just tell the woman that she was from another world. On this night she had already dressed in her nightgown, which brushed its edges lightly on the floor as she padded down the hall. She heard a grunt from the kitchen and walked faster towards the noise.

The Silvertongue Prince was leaning on the counter with one hand, clenching it with all his might, while the other hand was at his throat, as if he was trying to stop an invisible force from choking him.

"Good Gods!" Athadana gasped and rushed towards him, her nightgown fluttering like a cape behind her. She touched his arm delicately and was nearly thrown backwards by the immense dark magic radiating off of his skin. She closed her eyes and muttered spells under her breath, not knowing what spell could counter the attack. It hurt like Hel. After several minutes of the princes strangled cries and Athadana's mutterings, Loki took a deep breath in. The choking seemed to have stopped,if only for a moment. Athadana slid to the floor in relief, resting her head against the cupboards and Loki leaned over the sink, coughing air violently.

She looked up at him as he took deep, loud breaths over the sink, and saw the damage he had done to his own neck, though they would heal faster than a normal person's wounds, she would still need to prevent them from becoming infected. His nails, too, had been broken by the immense force of his grip on the counter. What a mess.

The sorceress stood with a grunt and began to walk down the hall to retrieve medical supplies for the bruises in the man's neck. "I'll be right back for those," she gestured at his neck. The supplies were in the downstairs washroom, she remembered putting them there after using them the first time. She checked her back in the mirror, the mark had grown much larger. Athadana winced.

After carrying the medical supplies into the kitchen, Atha turned back again, this time to get a rag to apply salve with. Loki was glaring at her. She sighed.

"You really must stop provoking your father, he'll just become more unhappy with you," she mumbled in his general direction. She heard Loki's head snap up in what she assumed to be shock and Athadana smirked in victory.

And yet he was behind her in seconds, she could feel his hot breath at her neck. Even without his powers and injured, Loki was still silent and fast. He took hold of her shoulder and turned her around with a strength that she had never felt first hand. The bruises and scratches on his neck had disappeared.

Suddenly Athadana was terrified. She knew how ruthless Loki could be, but she had never seen him lash out like this. She swallowed and held her breath. She had been at the receiving end of extreme anger before, but this was different, this was another prisoner, he was unpredictable.

"Foolish girl," Loki seethed in a voice that was not his own. Athadana shivered as the twine around his mouth stretched, creating bloody slits. This anger was most certainly his, but the voice, the voice was one dreaded to her. Thanos. "I have no father. I am alone and always have been. You would never understand this with your simple mind. I am a king. The rightful king. And I have no need for your pity."

Athadana but her lip to keep herself from crying. With a jolt she was shoved against the hallway wall, and she groaned at the force of the impact. Loki's hand was at her throat, choking her as he was being choked moments ago. She whimpered. This was not Loki.

"I have felt pain that you could never imagine and I have had power that you could never perceive. Do not mock me when you are the lowly being that you are!" Loki's nails closed around her neck and she could feel them draw blood. She inhaled then choked, as his hand was blocking her airway. "No one needs to understand my ways, so do not try to do so now."

Athadana' head ached with lack of oxygen. "Well then..." She choked out. "Here we stand, fatherless." Loki dropped her and growled. She sunk to the floor as he stormed up the stairs and a few stray tears trickled down her cheeks. "Good Gods indeed." With her head hanging and her neck throbbing, she fainted.

xJBLDx

Loki

From the moment that he had walked toward Athadana after her silly comment, he knew that he was doing something wrong. He was angry, but he was not violently angry at her, no, he was angry at himself. For the gods' sakes why was he so weak? His hands were clenched at his sides and he stalked towards the woman as she turned away from him. Before he knew it, the Lie-smith stood behind her, towering over her, his hands on her neck.

His mind repelled the urge to kill her yet his body disagreed with his thoughts. What is this? He was not in control, though he supposed that he had never been in control in the first place. He had always been controlled, always ordered. This thought made him even angrier. Yes, this was the first time in his life where he do whatever the Hel he wanted. He sneered through his thread.

He felt the pain in his bruised neck melt away as he grabbed Athadana by the shoulder and turned her, violently to face him. Had he meant to to that?

"Foolish girl," Loki seethed. He shocked himself and nearly cried out in pain, but he couldn't. The threads that bound his mouth shut were not stopping him from speaking. It hurt. Good Gods it hurt. "I have no father. I am alone and always have been. You would never understand this with your simple mind. I am a king. The rightful king. And I have no need for your pity." His eyes widened maniacally as he wrapped his hands around the girl's neck and slammed her against the wall. He could kill her. Why was he thinking like this? He could slaughter her here and then escape the confines of this petty prison.

"I have felt pain that you could never imagine and I have had power that you could never perceive. Do not mock me when you are the lowly being that you are!" The Lie-smith closed his hands around her neck, digging his nails in. He wanted to see her bleed. Or, was it really him? "No one understands my ways, so do not try to do so now."

The girl looked to be in great pain. "Well then..." She choked out. "Here we stand, fatherless." Suddenly he felt his grip slacken. The prince dropped the girl to the floor and growled. What the Hel am I doing? He couldn't watch her for a moment longer, and so he ran.

The stairs were steeper than when he last remembered them, and at the top of them he felt out of breath. Something was clawing at his chest, a monster seemed to be inside of him. He staggered down the hallway and fell into his room, forgetting to turn on the lights. The lost prince dragged himself to the mirror that hung on his wall and stood, leaning on his bed for support.

His eyes were fiercer, somehow. The green took up more room and his pupils were barely visible. The area around his mouth was ghastly. The gold threads were now brown with already dried blood and the cuts that speaking had given him were still seeping red. It tasted like dirty salt water. Loki's breathing was hard and he lurched forwards as the thing that was inside him crawled up his throat. He coughed only to find blood on his hand. There was actually something inside of him.

It was scratching and clawing as it tried to get out of him and Loki shot up unsteadily, trying to make his way towards the bathroom. He stumbled forwards and hit the mirror with a smash as it shattered on the floor. He fell in pain, cradling his hand which now had glass sticking out of it. The Lie-smith's breathing became slow and labored as the world around him began to spin for the second time that day. He tried to swallow but choked violently instead.

He bent over towards the broken glass on the ground and blood splattered the shards. And then he stopped. And then there was something crawling on the ground near his blood stained face. And then he opened his eyes.

It was small, about the size of a mouse, but it was black with red eyes and razor claws that it had used to crawl out of Loki's throat. It bared its teeth and then spoke, in the voice that he had used to hurt Athadana with.

"I have not yet shown you my true strength, Would-be King. But I have shown others. You have failed me, and I will show you no mercy."

"Thanos," Loki whispered weakly, his throat throbbing along with his hand and mouth and head. I should have known. He was never really in control in the first place. He had hurt her. He had hurt himself. The thing blinked at him, like it was mocking his pain and he took up a shard and stabbed it over and over again, until he felt weak with rage. The prince dug his nails into his non-injured hand to keep himself from screaming through his raw throat.

He had never been in control.