A/N: Okay, so...it's been awhile. Holy SHIT, it's been awhile. And I'm sorry. If anyone is still reading this, then my apologies for the long delay. But I promise I'll be better with updates.
Just to let you know, there is a perspective switch on this chapter - it starts out one way, and it goes into another. This was done intentionally to kind of test out how it would work. I hope the tenses here make sense.
"Loki...Loki, dear prince...open your eyes will you, hm?"
He knows the runt can hear him. Knows it can sense him near, the weak tendrils of magic still in its blood mingling with the seidr he possesses. It lies in a crumpled mess of bones and flesh, curled in on itself, barely recognizable as anything still living.
Thanos smiles at the sight.
"You will obey, child. You will heed my words." He reaches forward and grabs it by the hair, lifting it up with a single hand, his smile growing as the gasp escapes its lips. It still does not obey his command – the rejuvenated eyes are hidden beneath swollen and puffy bruises, purple and deep and ugly. Thanos' smile curls into a sneer as he gazes upon the wretched thing, anger building steadily in his chest. "I hear your obstinacy grows," he says quietly, reaching out with his other hand, caressing the bloodied face. Satisfaction blooms in his chest at the way it flinches and stiffens in his hands. "Are you still so foolish?" he whispers. "So naive as to think you may win with your silence?" He chuckles then, watching the feeble attempt it makes to push him away. It utters a sound, something like a whimper, and he finds it suddenly so disgusting that he half wonders why he keeps the useless beast alive. Instead he tightens his grip about its jaw, and nods in approval at the snap of the bone breaking. "Look upon me, godling," he utters, voice thick with warning. "Now." It shudders and moans, raising its hands to grasp at his armored wrist, and he watches as it struggles.
So weak, and yet…it lives.
It fights.
The grotesque muscles around its eyes flutter and strain, and in the next breath, they open and stare unseeing at his face. Its eyes are unfocused and shining unnaturally, but within their depths he sees a fire still growing. "Mmm, not so difficult, is it?" he soothes, pushing the dark locks of its hair away from its face. The creature is but a wisp of what it was when it arrived, and truly, he wonders at its resilience. "You do not speak? Has the famed Silvertongue nothing left to say?" It is here that it looks upon him, staring fiercely and determined and Thanos can see it now – the power and longing grips at revenge that still linger there.
"You are…" It wheezes, wet coughs shaking the body in his arms until blood spurts forth from its mouth and disgusted, he drops it to the ground. It gags and shakes violently beneath him and indeed, there is a sense of rightness in it. "You are despicable," it finally croaks out, voice dry and labored from disuse. It moves unsteadily to its knees, and he can tell it takes everything within it to do so. "You would have...have been w-wiser to just...j-just k-kill me."
"Kill you?" he repeats, before throwing his head back and howling with laughter at the sky. It reverberates in the silent air of space, and he crouches down beside the creature, noting with some displeasure that it does not rear back at his closeness. "There is yet so much you do not comprehend," he says, a smile pulling at his features. "You, who would claim yourself a skilled sorcerer." The smile disappears as quickly as it had come and he looks with revulsion upon the quivering thing beneath. "But I grow weary of you, Liesmith, deceiver, traitor. To whom is your loyalty held? Upon what reasoning do you continue to suffer?" It exhales beneath him, eyes fixed straight ahead on nothing, and utters not a word. "Not your family, surely?" He continues. "Do you think they too hold such sentiments?" The Being grins once more, his eyes alight with glee. He finally gets a reaction from this as it backs away, moaning quietly in pain as it falls to the ground once more.
It is cracking, Thanos can tell. Wounded pride, ravaged body, tormented soul.
But it is not enough.
More is to be done, if it is to be truly broken.
One final push.
"I will take great pleasure in this," is all that he says before he grabs ahold of the thing's head and squeezes, uttering ancient words of dark and powerful magic. The world around them melts away, and a strangled cry rips from its throat.
Yes, he thinks. Kneel, pitiful runt.
Kneel.
In that moment, his mind was torn inside out.
He was no longer in the arms of the Titan, on the forsaken realm of death and dark. He was nowhere and everywhere at the same time (the Void, the Void, back in the Void). Words and sounds and sights were shifted into eerie patterns that pulled at his core and stole from him. In one breath the past played out in rapid succession – childhood, learning, playing – then in the next, the downward spiral into adulthood, horrid events twisting without sound into the man he had become. An invisible hand reached ever further into his mind, and he found himself powerless to stop it. Slowly – painfully so – his secrets were being revealed, laid out and examined, touched.
He struggled to breathe, to scream, to make it stop –
No no NO GODS NO –
Warped.
Exposed.
Laughter echoed in the recesses of his mind, mocking and taunting and cruel.
Then suddenly – a shift again. As if the free-fall into oblivion had halted and sent him flying backwards through the vicious whims of time and space.
And then everything – everything – was being replayed, in violent, sporadic visions of past and future intertwined.
Why have you done this?
To prove to father that I AM A WORTHY SON.
Brother
Please
You know it all makes sense NOW, why you favored Thor, ALL THESE YEARS, because no matter how much you claimed to LOVE ME –
Do the Frost Giants still live?
He is different, Odin. He is...not like us.
Why am I not like Thor, papa? Will I grow strong, strong like him someday?
I am not your brother
Is it madness? Is it?
YOU COULD NEVER HAVE A FROST GIANT SITTING ON THE THRONE OF ASGARD –
Monster, monster, mindless evil monster
Please don't hurt me, please don't, oh gods, what have I done, dead dead, you are dead
Enough Loki, ENOUGH, no more LIES, no more tricks, such a liar, always have been, stupid cruel boy
You think you know pain? Suffering? Stupid, stupid boy, making play he's a man –
I WILL BREAK YOU, CHILD, FORM AND MAKE YOU INTO WHAT IS MINE AND YOU WILL BEND TO MY POWER, OBEY ME, AND BRING ME
THE TESSERACT
Loki screamed. Screamed like he never had before, screamed until his wails punctured the sky, screamed not from his lungs, but from the depths of his soul, and he was only brought back into the physical realm when wicked hands ripped his throat apart to silence him and threw him to the ground and he was certain he had died
He died
Only to be brought back again, convulsing and panicked, the only sight that filled his eyes that of Thanos, grinning madly down at him, touching him, releasing the collar from around his neck and a voice cut through his horrified haze that he could barely comprehend, spoken in a whisper –
"So very very much I have been missing."
And then he felt it, the seidr in the air, twisting around his insides and yanking, pulling, stealing the magic that had only just begun to flow within again and the feel of it was violent. As if losing blood, he could feel the power streaming from his body and into the Titan, greedily drinking in what remained of his magic until he is utterly spent.
And he knew – he knew – what was happening, could feel the chill in his bones and see the perfect white disappear and the horrid, horrid blue bleed into his skin and he wants to die
He wants to die
Not allowed, not allowed, never allowed
"You are not of Asgard," someone said and in that moment, something connected with what was left of his mind and he is knocked into a senseless cold that burned from the inside out.
The stars.
The stars were brilliant in this place.
And somehow it seemed their beauty was only emphasized by the overwhelming quiet that encompassed the entirety of the planet.
So, so quiet.
Loki lay there staring up the sky, having no memory whatsoever of waking. It took merely a moment for him to notice the absence of sound - no impending footsteps, or evil laughter, or the crackle of fire. Nothing. He focused entirely on breathing and grimaced at the rattle in his lungs.
Shattered bones, splintering and stabbing into what remained of his heart...
A heavy cloud fogging his mind, he shot up abruptly, entirely uncertain of what he had just been doing. Sleeping? Simply lying there, mind cast off elsewhere? Memory began to slowly dawn like the rays of a rising sun, and his panicked eyes glanced down at his own skin.
White.
Breaths of relief shuddered in his lungs and tears burned his eyes. Gods, but he was so confused. He was trapped – trapped in between the worlds of nightmare and reality, the ever-present being still tugging at the corners of his mind.
He could no longer deny his steady decline into madness.
He rolled onto his side, bringing his knees in slowly to his chest as he attempted to stand on legs he was certain could no longer support him. A quiet gasp escaped his lips as he managed to stand, trembling violently. He blinked at the desolate rocks that had become such a familiar sight, and a wandering thought rapidly became an all-consuming understanding.
He was alone. Entirely alone.
Pinpricks of apprehension tingled on the back of his neck, feeling achingly like a warning. He swallowed hard, yet a quick glance around confirmed it – he could not sense any other life force anywhere within the vicinity. He somehow felt like something was draining from him, like one who wakes from a nightmare and calms himself with the comfort of reality. He felt clear-headed, his body was no longer bound by chains, and his magic –
His magic.
A whimper sounded from his throat as he held his hands before his face, eyes blown wide at the sight of the green light dancing between his fingers.
No restricting collar, no chains, no guards...
Oh, but this could not be real. They could not simply have given him his magic back and left him alone out here in the dark…
He felt giddy, nearly insane with indecision. Yet the desire to simply move seized him fiercely, and his legs began to walk of their own accord. Silently his footsteps fell, as they had once long ago, and the comforting touch of his power flowed through his entire being, building and spreading and waiting to be used.
Sobs threatened in his chest at its comforting presence.
He suddenly, inexplicably did not want revenge, and lust for blood did not cloud his senses.
He wanted only to escape.
Asgard. He would return to Asgard.
Or perhaps not. He no longer cared. He could not dwell on it. His chance was now, for the Norns only knew when The Other or Thanos would return.
He closed his eyes and focused on the spaces between the shadows and without another moment's delay, stepped through.
It was much to his shock that he was not enveloped with the comforting shadows he was used to, the slight pressure that would swathe him like a blanket as he sought somewhere to travel to. It was, in fact, much to his horror that light brighter than one thousand Asgardian suns burst before his eyes and swallowed him whole, burning and tearing and hot. He could not even find the breath to scream and merciless thoughts filled his mind that he was back in the Void, falling and falling endlessly through the skies of the universe, forever -
And then he heard the laughter.
Dark faces above him, flashing eyes and sharp teeth surrounded him and he struggled wildly against their touch. "D-don't," he stuttered as his senses came rushing back and he almost screamed at the sight of his horrid blue skin and the filth and the blood –
"How easy it is to deceive you!" Voices howled, laughing as they came at him with glowing hot spears. Loki struggled to breathe as they grabbed him, forcing him down onto his stomach. "He who would call himself trickster!"
But I didn't, I never called myself that I
"Worthless creature," The Other snarled. "Continue to suffer in your stupidity." And in those moments before the burning metal pierced his skin, Loki wondered – if only briefly – how a dream could have seemed so real.