Chapter 6 : Parasites.

You damned imbecile !

Loki's eyes snaps open. He doesn't remember having closed them. His vigilance is getting dangerously low. He should start to find that quite alarming now, but the truth is Loki stopped to feel concerned by his condition and his situation some minutes after his powers were definitively sealed. Honestly, can things get worse for him now ?

I hope you are happy with yourself ! You spoiled everything ! But why I'm so surprised, tell me ? You always spoil everything ! You dimwitted incapable !

Yes. Obviously, they can.

Loki sighs loudly and leans a little more against the wall where Thor installed him, earlier. He didn't move from it since. That was what… some hours ago ? Or was it some days ago? He has no idea. He didn't pay attention to the torches for quite a moment now and lost track of time. And he doesn't really care.

But he does know that since Vaslof's disastrous intervention, the Voice had stayed deliciously silent. So silent that Loki actually thought it was gone. Finally. He had welcome the silence and the calmness (things that ceased to exist for him long time ago and now seen as luxuries) as a sweet balm, more powerful and efficient than all those Eir could ever design (and that said with all due respect for the Healing Dragon).

For the first time for what seemed ages, Loki had been able to clear his mind. And the sensation had been oddly soothing. It had chased away the last spasms from his body (consequences of his previous ''superficial convulsions'') and dissipated the last remains of panicked terror his almost loss of consciousness (and all it brought about) had caused.

But obviously, the time for rest was over and the Voice was back. As usual.

Loki flexes the muscles of his jaw. They are cramped, stiffened by the extended wearing of the accursed muzzle. Some time ago, he would never have believed one could have cramps there. Now, he knows it is possible, even if he still finds the very idea utterly stupid.

"Well, well…"

He winces when he hears the sound of his own voice. He hadn't been able to really speak for so long that he had forgotten its very sound, or the feeling of vocal cords vibrating in his throat. However, Loki is sure that his voice doesn't sound that hoarse and scratchy usually, and that speaking is not supposed to be that painful.

Nevertheless, being able to speak again is heartwarming. He knows that he will probably never be able to conjure spells again, but it's like Loki regained some of his humanity the moment words were given back to him. Now, he feels a little more like someone and a little less like something. So, it's worthy to tear his throat apart with every word. Yes. It's worthy.

There is blood running down his chin. His over dried lips just split. He only said two words. Pitiful. Loki quickly licks his lips to wet them a little, just in order to minimize the damages for what will come. Because Loki is no fool and Loki knows very well that all conversations with the Voice tend to drag on, even if he doesn't reply. So he might as well reply. And, who knows ? Maybe now that he can speak again, he will be able to get the upper hand ?

"So you're back, heh ? Pff… I thought you were finally gone… Too bad…"

Everything could have been so easy ! So close! We were so close of freedom! It was at your fingertips ! All you had to do was seize it ! But no ! No of course ! It would have be too easy for a deluded lunatic like you, wouldn't it ?!

Since the first day when he heard it, it's the first time the Voice sounds so angry. No. Rectification. It's not angry. No, it's quite simply ragging mad. And at him, on top of that. Its whispers are now shrilly hisses that reverberate on Loki's skull and awaken a splitting headache barely forgotten.

That filthy bastard.

"Worry not. I didn't miss you either." Loki answers while wiping the blood away from his chin. His eyes fall on the little phial Thor left him. Eir's medicine. He had totally forgotten about it.

How much time now ?! How much time do you think such opportunity will make to present itself again ?! I will tell you ! Forever ! Literally ! I'm beginning to think that you like it, your blasted cell ! You do enjoy being locked down in here, don't you ?!

Loki doesn't quite believe what he hears. He is being admonished. Like a little child. By a Voice, created from scratch by his own mind. He did know that speaking with the Voice was a stupid thing to do to begin with. But now, he is starting to grasp all the absurdity of the whole situation. But whatever. After what he's been through, doing another couple of stupid things won't kill him, will it ? And, by the way, how dare it ? How something that doesn't even exist can dare talk down to him and accuse him of wanting to stay imprisoned, he, the Master of Chaos ?!

"Oh, because you would had handle things better than me, of course. You would have brought down three Great Sorcerers, eight soldiers of the Elite Guard, all-armed and with their weapons ready to behead you. You would have easily passed that big oaf of Thor who would have unleashed Mjölnir's power at your first move. All that with your powers inhibited and a muzzle preventing you to conjure the lesser spell with what was left of your magic." Loki growls.

He lets escape a dry laugh that tear his throat apart. He ignores the pain and goes on. It is so good to let the sarcasm and the venom soak his words again. So good. He doesn't want to stop now.

"Sure ! Easy thing ! You are right, I really don't know how I could mess things up that much and couldn't manage to escape. Oh, but you'll show me next time, won't you ? So I could do better ?"

As he is speaking, Loki tries to remove the phial's cork. It wouldn't be a problem for him usually, but now his movements are clumsy because of his rising anger (and because of a disabled hand, with twisted bones and torn-down muscles). When the cork finally yield (thanks to a very angry gesture), half of the bottle spills on the floor. Loki swears. Since when ointments are liquid, seriously ?!

All ruined ! Just because you panicked ! Like a child separated from his mother for the very first time ! Pathetic !

Loki winces in disgust and pain when he drinks the remains of the phial (that turned to be a potion in the end. This makes him wonder if Eir has become even more sadistic than he remembers, because she couldn't have predicted that Thor was going to put his muzzle off. That, or Thor doesn't know how to read, because on the phial's label, it's really written 'potion', and not 'ointment' as he presented it. Both solutions are possible, and none of them would surprise him.)

The sensation of liquid running down his dry throat is more than unpleasant. As for the taste… Well, Eir never was able to design a sweet-tasting remedy (or, more likely, Eir never wanted to). Why, in Hel's name, this one would have been different ? Loki shivers. Good. That usually means that Eir's potion is working.

Will you dare pretend that you are Thor's equal now ?! Will you dare pretend you are no coward ?! You stupid chicken !

His hand tense on the flask until it explodes. The glass shards slash his skin, tearing countless cuts on it. Loki doesn't even acknowledge them.

"I am not a coward !" he growls in reply. "And what's your problem anyway ? Why are you so furious ? Why do you care ? Because the last time I checked, you weren't the one caged in a filthy rat hole, chained to that bloody artifact that continuously steals my vital energy away ! Or are you ?"

Oh no, you're right ! I'm just condemned to live in the tiny head of a psychopathic, cowardly and useless idiot ! Believe me, it's far worse ! Hands down ! If only chatting with you was somewhat interesting. But no ! Not even that ! What kind of karma is that !? It's like trying to speak with Freki : you can never tell if it's stupid or just putting an act to fool you ! Now, that's a downfall ! I would cry if I could !

Ah, so that's the way it wants to go… Loki feels the anger swelling in his insides explode. How dare it ?!

"If you find my company that unpleasant, then please, go away ! It's not like I would try to hold you back ! Besides, who would care if you'd leave ? No one ! Because you doesn't even exist ! You're just some useless hallucination that my mind created to entertain me ! Nothing more ! You are not real !"

Not real ? Not real ?! And you think you are ? Real ? Ah ! Don't make me laugh ! I'm far more real than you will ever be !

Loki laughs again. His voice breaks a little more, but it doesn't matter.

"You are raving ! You are even crazier than me ! When I will escape from here, I'll ask Amora to help me exorcise you. And I will be done with you !"

Now it's the Voice that bursts out laughing. Loki whimpers in pain and brings a shaking hand to his temple. Thanks to Eir's potion, some of his injuries are already slowly sewing up. But the migraine is turning into strong and steady waves of nausea. White spots appear on the side of his vision and start dancing, faster and faster, in a dazzling ballet. Soon, the walls surrounding him twist, trying to join them. Loki shut his eyes tight and tries to focus on his breath, but the ragging hisses of the Voice doesn't let him the time to do so.

Ah ah ah ! My poor friend ! You're the only raving fool here ! You speak of escaping now ? When you didn't even dared to move when the door of your cage was wide open ? When you were only surrounded by impotent wrinklies and terrorized soldiers ? When, just minutes ago, you were lying on the floor, defeated and broken ?

Loki opens his mouth to reply that if the situation had been that idyllic, he would be free now indeed, that Thor's only presence at that time was more than sufficient to justify the fact he didn't try to move or put a fight, that after everything he went through, all the pain he had to endure when his powers had been sealed, Loki had all the right to feel exhausted and somewhat depressed. But the Voice's never-ending whispers cut him off before the first word even forms on his lips.

So, tell me. Amuse me. How, by Surtur, will you make your way out of here, ô Great 'Master of Chaos' ? What brilliant strategy your rambling mind will conjure to free your wretched carcass ? Go on ! Let your crafty cunning impress me !

The sound is unbearable. The furious soughs of the Voice echo and reverberate in his head, endlessly amplified by raw nerves and senses saturated by exhaustion for far too long. Loki clenches his teeth and tried to ignore the sensation, all too familiar now, of his skull, ready to implode.

No ? Nothing ? I thought so. You are not the Divinely Inspired Strategist you claim to be. You never was ! The dreams of fire and blood and vengeance and carnages… that was just words after all ! Just like you ! Yes. Your very existence never was anything else but words !

It's like Loki's skin is in fire, however a freezing cold overruns his body and he has great pain just breathing, like sharp, icy claws were gripping his lungs and clenching. Loki is scared now. His head is spinning. He knows what will happen if it keeps on this way. And he cannot allow it. It has to stop. This discussion has to stop. Now.

"Be… Be quiet ! I… My head hurts…!" he whimpers. He thought his voice would have been imperious, but it's nothing more than feeble and shabby moans. The hand left on the floor clenches into a fist, trapping a piece of glass between his fingers.

Oh… Poor baby…! Do you want me to call Frigga ? She will bring you a good decoction, with honey, to quell the pain. Then she will sing a lovely lullaby to you to help you sleep. Oh ! Right, sorry ! You don't wantto sleep. You are too afraid of the Monsters that hide in your slumber.

How dare it…

"You… Have no idea… Of what is hiding in my slumber."

No ? Do you want to bet ? Let's see… Claws as sharp as razors, misshapen yet terribly cutting fangs, grayish scaly skin, eyes without pupils, as dark as the farthest reaches of the Universe… Am I good so far ?

"… Shut up."

I know them. I know them very well. But I know how to differentiate reality from illusions so I don't fear them. And if you were the one-tenth of what you pretend to be, you wouldn't fear them either, sealed powers or not !

"I don't understand what you're talking about."

No, of course not. You never understand anything. But it's not your fault. You weren't designed to understand things, after all. Just to speak and act. Like a perfect puppet. Too bad that the puppeteer is not here to make you function properly. And that you're so terrified by said puppeteer that you can't even bear to hear his name without shaking like a leaf.

Loki's eyes snap open. The walls are not dancing and twisting anymore. Now, he just sees red. His body is still shaking, but now it's because of his rage.

That's ironic, isn't it ? A creation refusing to acknowledge its creator. Maybe that's why you fail at everything you do. Because you are sure that you don't need the puppeteer, even if it's not the case. Oh, but wasn't there a tale of the same sort ? Yes… The little piece of wood which wanted to become human…

His fist unclenches and the shard of glass falls on the floor. The warmth of the blood running through his fingers disperses the claws of ice.

"And you ? Aside from criticizing everything I do or think, what can you do ? What were you… designed for ? You say I'm nothing but words, but what about you ? Are you not nothing but words ? I am Loki, Prince, and ex-Sovereign of Asgard the Great ! I am known, and feared, to Muspellheim ! I am the Greatest Master of Seiðr in all the Nine Realms, Master of Dark Arts and Creator of Fenrir and Jörmungand, worst banes of the Universe ! There is no root, no branch, no twig of Yggdrasil that I don't know about, and only I know the secret ways between the Worlds ! I vanquished more Monsters, Laufey included, than there are stars in Asgard's sky !

And you ? You're nothing ! Nothing but feeble and nonsensical soughs, whispered in the dark with the sole purpose to make me doubt of myself ! Is there more than plain words of which no one will ever know about ? No. Just words. Just criticisms. Never action. Why ? Because you're nothing else! Because you're nothing at all ! You're not here ! You doesn't even exist ! You're just a parasite which would like to replace the host ! Oh, but that won't happen ! Never ! Do you hear me, vermin ?! Sooner or later, I will find a way to get a rid of you, for good ! I will find a way to make you shut up once for all ! And then, you'll disappear ! There will be nothing left of you ! And while you'll be reduced to nothingness, all will kneel before Loki !"

When Loki stops speaking, he is breathless and his throat is in fire. He feels like he drank melted metal. And that's painful. But it was worthy, because the seconds that follow his monologue are deliciously, peacefully, silent.

A triumphal smile spreads on his face. Loki closes his eyes and lets escape a relieved smile. He settles his head against the wall behind him, relishing his seemingly Victory over the Voice and the return of Peace. His left hand is covered with blood, lashed by the shard of glass he clenched in his fist, and is trembles slightly. But he will deal with it later.

For now, he needs to clear his mind. Chase away that damned migraine against which even Eir's potion seems utterly useless (so after all, even the Medicine Dragon proves herself unworthy of his respect). Soothe his raw nerves. Think. Heal.

But Loki doesn't have the time to enter in that meditative state that could revitalize him.

He is certain to have heard something. A sound. Like a detonation. Loki opens his eyes to see where that came from.

The walls are twisted again, just like they were trying to engulf him, to bury him alive under their stones eaten away by mould.

That's… That's an illusion. He knows it. It has to be. A downward slide of his mind. Another one.

Loki is not especially claustrophobic, yet, this vision is troubling enough to make him shut his eyes again and shake vehemently his head, even if it means to worsen his headache even more, to dissipate those images and make things turn back to normal.

The illusion doesn't fade. It worsens. The walls are being slowly covered with dark, reddish stains. The stones darken and some of them fall, turning into dust, forming great clouds of grey and thick smoke around Loki. The taste of ashes spreads in his mouth and the air becomes freezing.

What the… ?

Loki shivers. That's nonsense. He shouldn't be affected by cold. He shakes his head again, but another detonation echoes in the room.

The second after, a shrilling sound pierces his eardrums and Loki screams as the pain explodes in his head.

He presses his hands on his ears, but the sound only turns louder. Loki falls forward and crashes on the ground, in the middle of sharp shards of glass and dunes of ashes fallen from the walls.

Parasite… Parasite…

The Voice's whispers rumble once more in his ears, even more throbbing than the unbearable hiss that is stabbing his skull. They are nothing like those Loki heard before. They are hoarse, inhuman. And utterly terrifying.

Parasite… How dare you… You stupid puppet ! You're not even aware of what you are ! But I, I know who I am !

Around Loki, the walls are starting to fall now, spilling out on him stones and ashes in torrential rains. As his bones crack painfully and the agony swells in his body, Loki feels the earth shaking hard. But perhaps it's just the convulsions that are taking up again. It's hard to tell. He would have to remember how to think again to figure it out. And also find a way to escape the torments the Voice is putting him through, instead of just endure them.

I exist ! I am real ! Don't you dare pretend otherwise ! Words… I was so much more than words before you came ! So much more… I had everything ! Everything ! And you stole it ! You stole everything from me ! You foul creature ! And now, you want me to disappear ?!

As he is writhing in pain, struggling to straighten himself and just breath, Loki vaguely notes a new emotion in its words. It's faint, well hidden, but perceptible all the same. What is…? Is that…? Despair…? But… Why…?

That won't happen ! That will never happen ! Never ! You don't have the right ! I won't let you ! And don't even think about trying ! Look around you ! Do you see ? Do you hear ? Do you feel ? That, all that, that's my doing ! Consider it as a warning !

A… A warning ? Oh Norns… That thing… That thing is a Demon…

Loki's heart races up. It tears apart his chest each time it beats. The claws of ice are back, lashing his inwards, freezing his blood in his veins. His muscles tense to their maximum, trying to respond in one way or another to the pain induced stress. Then, suddenly, they block, one after the other, until every fiber is totally, and excruciatingly, petrified. Shots of adrenalin cross over his nerves, devastating everything on their way. Loki remembers having read about something like that, a lifetime ago. A disease. Lockjaw. Lethal.

You fear the Shadows that linger in your sleep, but it is me you should be afraid of ! The Shadows cannot reach you. Not as long as you are awake ! But I, I am here. In your mind, as you put it so passionately earlier. For now, I only have access to a minimal part of your brain, alas. But that will be enough ! Everything you can sense, I can distort it enough to make you live a real Hel ! Hela would be jealous of the pain I can brought you through ! Yes. I can make you regret not being dead already whenever I feel like it !

Soon, Loki cannot draw enough air to keep screaming and he ends up lying on the floor, gasping for air, just like a fish thrown out of water. Terror spreads on him. At this rate, he will die. For real. Because of the walls burying him alive or of the clouds of dust and ashes suffocating him or of the shrilling hiss piercing his skull or of the lack of oxygen or of the imminent heart attack caused by the combined action of the panic and the lockjaw, he will die. All because of hallucinations, born from his own mind. Is there a stupider and crueler way of dying ?

Parasite….

Suddenly, Loki feels his heart skip a beat. Then another. Then he doesn't feel it beat at all. So… that's it. His body is starting to give away. This is the end.

In the middle of ashes and rubbles, the Shadows come back, materializing slowly before his eyes, with what should be their face twisted in an awful grin. And before he even realizes it, Loki is begging. The Voice, the Shadows, the Norns, Thor, everyone he can think about. He wastes a breath he doesn't have to desperately plead, Odin only know what, for it to stop. For everything to stop. One way or another. Finally…

The words that escape his lips are nonsensical, even for him. His voice comes out strangled, barely audible. It sounds more like sob than anything else. It's so far away from the one full of defiance and sarcasm he was using barely minutes ago…

Loki hears another detonation. The ear-piercing noise reaches an octave higher and it gets even louder, tearing a new cry of agony from his throat. Loki plants his nails in his face, desperately trying to replace a pain by another. To no avail.

And then, it stops.

The shrilling hiss stops. The claws withdraw once more. His muscles slacken, allowing his lungs to fill again with air and his heart to beat. Oh Norns… Breathing never was so good… Slowly, the Shadows retreat, snarling.

When the eyes Loki thought having kept open through all his ordeal can see again, the walls are back in their place, upright and whole again, their damp stones cleared from the red stains. There is nothing left of the mountains of ashes and dust which was threatening to suffocate him some seconds ago.

Loki stays where he is, on the floor, breathless, chest aching. He doesn't dare to move, for he fears that the Hel will start again at his barest movement. Anyways, after having been clenched for so long hours (seconds ? Minutes ? Who knows…), his muscles don't have any strength left. Loki wonders vaguely what Thor will say when he will see him, laying on the ground like a ragdoll, surrounded by countless pieces of glass, shaking like a leaf, soaked with sweat, still barely able to breathe without choking, tears running unrestrained on his face, the face he scorched himself in his panic.

He wonders too if he should wish for Thor to come back when he is able to crawl back to his wall and find a semblance of composure again, instead of whishing for Thor to come back now.

Tss… Here we are… The White Knight in his shinny armor, coming to the rescue… Magnificent… What a joy-killer. Go on ! Go run to hide in his cape and play the martyr ! That the only thing you're good at, after all. But it serves you right, little puppet. You are not the Master here. Get it memorized, once for all. Ah ! And by the way, you shall refrain yourself from speaking of Fenrir and Jörmungand as 'the greatest banes of the Universe'. I don't like it. It makes me feel quite angry, you know ? And when you'll stop shaking like the coward you are, I hope you'll still have enough brain to think and answer correctly to that question.

Loki closes his eyes. He is exhausted. More tears spill, leaving scorching hot tracks on his frozen skin. Far in the distance, the door of the dungeons grates, heralding the arrival of the Mighty Thor (finally… finally…). The sound comes to him muffled, like he was under water. Only the Voice makes its way clearly through the dull humming that saturates his ears.

The words he hears are bloodcurdling.

Of the two of us, who, pray tell, is the parasite ?