Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Marvel-characters!

AN: As promise, part two of the chapter which I just call chapter 14 because that's simpler. You guys seemed to (mostly) like the new writing style so this one continues in that trend. I'm not sure how the other coming chapters will be. It depends on how much time I'll have to write I suppose. Thanks for the reviews! With this one, I'll hit 200! That's amazing and I'm so grateful! Really, you always make my day. I'll shut up now.

Enjoy!

~ Fields of Blood ~

Chapter 14

~ 0 ~

The first thing Thor became aware of were the voices near him. They were soft and collected which made it difficult for him to distinguish them at first. After a few seconds of listening to them with his eyes closed, he recognized the voice of his father which sounded strain and tired. The second voice was Sif and she sounded incredibly near to him.

Only then was he aware that he was laying on a hard surface, except for his head. His head lay in Sif's lap and her thin, warm fingers were gently massaging his skull. When he opened his eyes and cleared his throat to let her and his father know that he was awake, Sif's piercing gaze fell onto him. She smiled, clearly pleased to see him awake.

"Welcome back," she said softly. Sound barely came across her lips and Thor wondered why she spoke so quietly. Perhaps she just minded his headache, but how was she to know his head felt about to burst? Then he glanced around and saw they were currently locked in a cell. Guards under Arta's command were stationed outside and Thor instantly knew why Sif and Odin had been speaking in whispers. They didn't want to attract any attention of those bastards outside.

Thor pushed himself up and winced slightly when his head began to throb more violently. Since a savage had knocked him out, he now sported a shallow, but long cut at the back of his head. How long had he been unconscious? Hours? Mindlessly, he rubbed his hand over the wound, trying to sooth the aching skin and a part of him wished Sif hadn't pulled back her hand. Her circling movements in his hair had been rather soothing.

"It's a shallow wound," Sif informed him, "I cleaned it to the best of my abilities, but I only had water."

"How long was I out for?" He returned his gaze to Sif and suddenly he was appalled by her appearance. He no longer cared about getting an answer to his question since anger overwhelmed him.

Sif's black hair was a mess and her skin was unusually pale. She sported a black, swollen eye and a deep cut ran just underneath said black eye. Her lower lip was split in different places and a large bruise covered most of her neckline. Thor felt slightly sick when he recognized a pair of hands in that bruise. Someone had tried to choke her.

"Sif…" He breathed before she could answer his question.

"I'm all right," she said surprisingly airily, "you should see the other guys."

Thor didn't care about her humor. Of course she wouldn't show any sign of weakness, not in front of the king. Yet Thor would have none of it and he carefully extracted his hand. The tips of his fingers brushed against her skin very lightly because he was afraid he would harm her even more if he actually touched her. He hated himself at that very moment. He hated that he had left her alone to face a dozen or more savages. He should have stayed with her. They should have fought side by side.

Sif easily grabbed his hand and pushed it back down. "Don't worry about me," she said intensely, "all this will heal."

Thor nodded in response. He knew Sif didn't like to be treated like a weak, fragile lady. Still, she was his best friend and he cared about her. He wanted to protect her.

He turned his gaze away from her and focused on his father instead. "Father?" He asked. "Are you all right?"

Odin was sitting on a wooden bench at the other side of the small cell. It seemed he had kept quiet in order to give his son and Sif a moment of privacy even though that was hardly possibly in such a small space. Now that Thor had addressed him, however, his gaze sharpened and remained full of emotions.

It was rare for Thor to see his father so weary, angry, irritated, determined, thoughtful and all those other emotions he couldn't even begin to describe. Odin was usually a very collected, private man that never betrayed any of his feelings. Today appeared to be an exception.

"I am well, son," Odin replied.

Thor believed him. "Do we know anything about the others?" He asked, addressing both his father and his friend.

"Many of the guards have been killed," Sif said regretfully, "but most of the servants escaped with their lives. Whoever stayed behind to fight are either dead or they're locked down here as well. The Warriors Three are just down the hall. They've been locked up, but other than a few cuts and bruises, they're fine."

"No one found mother?" Thor asked with dread in his voice. He didn't want to imagine what Arta would do to Frigga if he got his filthy hands on her. Odin had told them of their shared history and it wasn't exactly positive. Arta probably held a lot of hatred and resentment towards the royal couple.

"She hasn't been seen anywhere," Odin explained, "but I am certain she escaped the palace."

"How?" Thor didn't know how Frigga could have gotten away. By the time he had been aware of the attack, the palace had been swarming with enemies. The servants might have gotten away since they held no value to Arta, but not Frigga. She could never have moved through the palace unnoticed.

"She must have gotten help," Sif offered.

"You needn't worry about her," Odin said, "Arta doesn't have her and he never will. If he hasn't found her by now, he will never find her. Besides, do not underestimate your mother's strength and capability."

That was true. Everyone knew Frigga was a stubborn woman. If she wanted something, she would have it. She certainly wouldn't surrender easily, nor would she ever lose hope. If she was still out there, then there was still hope for Thor and everyone else as well. He knew his mother wouldn't abandon them.

A heavy sigh suddenly escaped Odin's lips which drew Thor's attention back to him. He didn't need to ask who Odin was thinking of right now. "I am worried about Loki," Odin said, confirming Thor's thoughts, "he is still in Arta's hands and I am afraid of what else he has planned for your brother."

That thought gravely unsettled Thor. He lowered his gaze and helplessly stared at his hands. It was nice to see Sif reach out to him and he folded his fingers together with hers. It was a friendly, loving and supportive gesture and he greatly appreciated it. He knew Sif and Loki weren't the best of friends, but when he looked up to meet Sif's gaze, he could see she was worried about him as well.

"Loki should have told us," Thor said with a hint of bitterness in his voice, "he should have warned us of Arta's plans. Then we could have prepared and lured him into some kind of trap."

"No," Odin instantly answered, "he couldn't warn us. He has been tortured by that man for days and even though you freed him, he was still in agony every day afterwards."

Thor frowned. "What?" He knew Loki had always been in pain due to those horrible lashes on his back, but the way Odin had said those words made Thor believe he was speaking of something else entirely. "What do you mean?"

"The moment Loki stepped into the throne room after you and your friends freed him," Odin explained, "I could see in his eyes a pain I had never before seen. Your mother saw it, too. We knew Loki was struggling, but we couldn't help him."

So Thor had been the only one that hadn't noticed his brother's odd behavior. He had been the only one that needed to actually see the wounds before he could understand what Loki had been going through. And then he had only been aware of the physical pain. He had never really bothered to think of the mental pain his brother had been suffering through.

By the gods, he really was an awful brother.

When he switched his gaze from Odin back to Sif, he knew she could read his thoughts clearly in his eyes.

"We will help Loki," she assured him after a long silence, "I promise."

~ 0 ~

There really was nothing Loki could do. Yes, he could scream all the air from his lunges and he could call those four savages holding him all kinds of obscene names, but what use would that be? He could tense all of his muscles and try to kick or smack someone, but again, would that really help him in the end? It wouldn't lead to his freedom, in fact, it would only lead to more pain.

So he let those four savages hold him down while a fifth one approached. That man was holding something round with a hole inside. It was golden and it looked heavy as well as expensive. To Loki, it also looked dangerous. He knew this didn't bode well for him.

Out of nowhere, his right trouser leg was being pulled up – all the way towards his knee – and his right shoe was removed. It had been so unexpected that Loki was momentarily dumbfounded. He simply couldn't figure out what the meaning of this was.

"What are you doing?" He asked breathlessly. He shifted his eyes from his exposed leg towards Arta who stared back at him. Arta narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. That unsettled Loki even more. "What in the gods' names are you doing?"

"Lay still," Arta ordered.

It was a pointless order since Loki hadn't been moving in the first place.

He made a small, frightened noise as the fifth savage closed in on him. His leg was hoisted up and finally Loki realized what that device was. It was an anklet and the savage roughly shoved it over his foot until it was perfectly in place. The cold metal felt uncomfortable to his warm skin, but it was the least of his concerns.

The fifth savage stepped back, but the other four didn't release him. Loki swallowed heavily and stared at the anklet. It was heavy and looked impressive, but he just couldn't figure out what the use of it was. And hadn't Arta been speaking about pain? What pain?

Loki swallowed heavily.

"Is it activated?" Arta asked the fifth man.

"Yes, my Lord."

A grin spread across Arta's face. "Good."

Then the heat came and at first, Loki had no idea where it originated from. It simply spread through his body like a warmth washing through his veins.

"What have you done?" He asked for what must have been the millionth time.

The warmth continued to spread and much to Loki's dread, he felt it intensify. The warmth turned to heat and the heat turned to fire. He bit down on his tongue as he didn't want to scream, but the agony became too much. The pain in his back was nothing compared to it and finally he realized what Arta had been speaking about moments ago.

He hated himself for it, but he screamed and when his gaze landed on Arta, he found the older man staring mindlessly at him. He appeared annoyed and Loki wanted to rip Arta's beating, cold heart right out of his chest. Yes, imagining killing Arta did make him feel a bit better.

Finally, the fire retracted and Loki felt the four savages release him. He stayed lying down on the cold floor because it was actually rather soothing. He was breathing hard, but he wasn't in any pain anymore. At least, not any pain he could handle.

After a few moments of catching his breath, he pushed himself into a sitting position. Arta was still looking at him, but Loki ignored him. He only had eyes for his right ankle and much to his horror, he saw that the metal had burned itself into his flesh. The smell of burned flesh made him feel sick and he was frightened to touch the burned skin around the anklet.

"You are afraid of me," Loki whispered, only understanding Arta's behavior now. He tore his eyes away from his ankle and stared daggers at the wretched old man. "You are afraid of my magic so you put this anklet on me to prevent me from using it."

Loki faintly remembered choking Thor nearly half to death simply by using his power. That did point to a lot of potential. If only he could control it. He could have tried to choke Arta as well. Yes, that would have been marvelous.

"You are no threat to me," Arta stated, "not anymore."