Night was never ending.
Pain was a welcome relief.
The cycle was constant.
Heat.
Cold.
Pain.
Darkness.
It had always been this way, had it not?
Heat. Cold. Pain. Darkness.
With a sudden panicked gasp, he held up a hand in the dark. Fingers wiggled and flexed. His wrist was attached.
How many times had he lost his hand, his leg, his eyes? Was it even real?
He laughed aloud into the blackness, not caring who heard.
Heat. Cold. Pain. Darkness.
He let his hand drop to his bare chest. They had taken his clothes along with his dignity long ago. It was nothing new. His fingers traced the raised lines along his chest and stomach.
Those scars were real.
Something was real.
Nothing was real.
The cold metal from his wrist touched his belly and he was brought back to reality for a brief moment.
The only thing they couldn't take from him.
The only magic he had left.
The only piece of her.
He couldn't even remember her name.
A tear escaped the corner of his eye and trickled, unbidden down his cheek..
Heat. Cold. Pain. Darkness.
How long had it been?
It had been forever.
He smiled, cold and soulless. He sensed that he was no longer alone.
"You are ready."
He nodded, his smile growing ever wider, his mind carrying him further from sanity than he ever thought possible.
"I am ready." Loki echoed.
They gave him clothes. They gave him a scepter. They showed him the portal. The rest was up to him now.
Their army stood at the ready, and they would not be left wanting.