A/N: Just so I can feel better about writing Thor and Loki as more breakable—in this story—Thor is around 800 years old, which means Loki is under that at around 400 years old. (Keep in mind Thor is canonically 1,500 years old in Infinity War.)

Thor barely avoided falling headfirst into a pitfall. He'd been searching for Loki, not really paying attention to the ground, but when his foot fell and then there was suddenly nothing beneath it, he'd recoiled.

Now, his surprise fading and his curiosity piqued, the large god leaned over the edge of the pit. His blond hair hung at the fringes of his vision as he strained his eyes, hoping for a glimpse of something at the bottom. It was not the deepest he'd ever seen, definitely not enough to kill Æsir such as he and Loki, but enough to maybe leave them winded.

As Thor looked closer, he could see this one had been opened recently due to the too organized array of underbrush around the entrance; not just opened by him, but by someone else. Thoughts of Loki falling down and hurting himself filled Thor's head, and he needed no other reason to jump into the shadows.

Just as Thor was about to take the initiative and leap, something hard shoved him from behind. A sharp gasp left his mouth as he pitched forward, headfirst for real this time. The fall wasn't long enough and the tunnel not wide enough for him to try and maneuver himself into a different position. All he could do was use his arms to try and take the force of his fall.

Thor hit the ground with an unsavory THUD as his upper body crashed first, followed by his legs. He was dully aware of Mjölnir slamming down beside him, and a small thought of relief came at the knowledge that he had his enchanted weapon; however, he was still reeling from the abrupt fall. His forearms and shoulders burned with the force taken and he'd smacked his head against the ground despite his trying not to.

Thor laid there for a minute, blinking away the spots in his vision. Somewhat better, he pushed himself up on shaking arms, fumbling for balance as he did so. The thunder god swung back on his knees and noticed the drops of fresh blood scattered on the floor. He'd split open his right brow upon the crash and was now blinking blood out of his vision.

Now he was really angry. There was no denying he'd just been pushed into the pit—maybe whoever had taken Loki had done the same to him. Fortunately for Thor, this fall had done little more than daze him, and with his rage flaring hotter in his mind, he would do anything to get his brother back. The thunderer would not rest until Loki was safe and sound.

His resolve even stronger than before, Thor wiped the blood out of his eye and shook his head to toss his hair back into place. He pushed himself onto one knee and stood with little more than a wobble, flicking his cape out of his way. He glanced upward to see a grate now covering the pit, allowing in beams of moonlight. A thought crossed his mind to wind up and fly out of there, but something told him there was more to this trap than one could see.

Loki was constantly telling him to take in more than the plain five senses could detect, and Thor was sure this was one of those times.

Thor turned in a circle to take in every angle of the pit's rough wall. The space he had was only him plus his arms bent at the elbows wide, so he didn't have much wiggle room. Reaching out, the god felt around the rock to see if there was some sort of hidden door. The pitfall wasn't an efficient way to catch prey if the hunter couldn't get to it without a hassle.

And, most sentient beings couldn't fly or jump as high as Thor could, so he figured there had to be something down at the bottom for others to collect the fallen. His intuition ended up being correct and his determination was rewarded with a small bump under his fingers.

Thor furrowed his brow, trying to follow the miniscule flaw in the rock. It stretched in a line, and he soon discovered it had two more sides. Yes, a door! Thor grinned at his findings, elated, but realized it more than likely wasn't able to be opened from his side.

Well, here is where Loki's way switched to Thor's way. The thunderer lifted Mjölnir from the floor and, keeping in mind where the hidden door was, raised the hammer above his head. He swung it as hard as he could against the rock, making a small crater that sent cracks webbing out from the center. Thor repeated the action twice more before the door began to cave in on itself and crumble. He used Mjölnir to break the rest of the stone that remained at the top, crunching it beneath his strength.

With the doorway open, Thor smiled to himself and stepped over the pile of rubble at the entry. It was a mistake to underestimate the god of thunder.

However, he was now faced with a long hallway that branched off in half a dozen different points along its length. Thor frowned, sighing at the task that lay ahead. He would have to somehow locate his brother in the numerous and chaotic hallways.

"I'm coming, Loki," Thor said under his breath. He began his journey down the scarcely lit tunnels, his senses on high alert and Mjölnir at his side.

Loki was trying his best not to scream with every new letter that was carved into the soft flesh of his abdomen. Usually he was more reserved than this, could handle pain better than this, could hold back tears longer than this; but this wasn't the 'usual' by a long shot.

The youngest prince was stretched taught over the altar, his body tense and stiff, every muscle frozen to somehow hold himself together and manage the pain. Every few cuts, Loki couldn't help the cry that ripped from his throat. He was shaking despite his tensing, but the man cutting into him didn't seem to even notice. In fact, Dalin didn't even seem bothered by the act of carving words into a living and awake person's flesh. The crazy wizard hummed softly to himself in light of the situation.

Tears were running down Loki's face into his hairline and his breathing came in uneven bursts. It was unthought of, him splayed across a stone slab, his armor flayed and spread out under his torso as if he were some fish to be gutted.

Blood pooled in the scoop of Loki's stomach, and Dalin brought out a cloth to wipe it away between letters when it got too much. Every time the knife was pressed back to his skin, the trickster flinched and had to hold back sobs.

Not only did this hurt, agony flooding his nerves, but Loki was terrified of what was going to happen. He was to be killed, he knew, but how? Why was he being prepped for this spell? What was its purpose?

He had so many questions and so few answers. He could barely even think straight with all the slicing into him, so he didn't even have time to linger on the confusion.

Loki screamed loudly as the knife jerked deeper into his insides, prompting a new spurt of blood to begin dripping down his side. Beside himself with the added agony, he cried harder, sobbing into the air.

"M-Mister Sage! What a surprise!" Dalin exclaimed, stopping his work and turning away from Loki, leaving the blade stuck in his stomach.

The elf stood in the doorway, his face holding a look of irritation.

"I thought I said to have this done within an hour," Sage snarled, walking forward with an air of superiority. He kept his distance from the altar where Loki laid, breathing erratically, chest rising and falling in small, quick movements to prevent himself from full hyperventilation. Purple eyes glanced over the broken god with disgust before turning on Dalin.

"Well, y-yes, Mister"—

"Master," Sage corrected the fumbling mage as if he'd done it a hundred times already.

—"Master! Yes, yes, yes, well, you see, it's just this spell takes time; I can't afford to make a mistake, you know?" Dalin explained nervously, bloodied hands wringing together. He cowered in Sage's presence, obviously scared.

Sage sighed, bending down to look Dalin in the eyes. "When I say something has to be done, you do it. Right?" His tone was full of faked kindness, dripping with intent.

The wizard blanched, eyes flicking around the room. "U-um, y-yes, yes." He took a step back.

"Then why isn't it done?" Sage snapped in a rage, towering over him the next second.

Dalin flinched, wincing, and was about to say something when he was stopped by the fist that struck him across the face. He stumbled backwards as Sage's arm retreated back to his side, falling on his ass.

"This better be ready in thirty minutes, or else," the elf hissed before turning around and stalking out of the room again.

There were several moments of silence as Dalin sat on the floor, stunned. A bruise was already spreading across the left side of his face under his eye. The threat's warning hanging in the air, Dalin clambered to his feet and shook his head.

Loki, recovered from the abrupt stabbing, laid on the table watching the wizard. Now was his chance.

"You know," the young god began, voice scratchy from all his screaming, "he's using you. Whatever spell he wants to do doesn't benefit you in any way."

Dalin turned and looked carefully at Loki with cloudy silver eyes.

"Just, just let me go and we can get out of here, I promise."

". . . This has happened before, little prince. I'm used to it, uh huh," Dalin said softly, nodding several times. "Mister Sage doesn't like me very much, no, no, no. But I can't."

"Can't what? Leave?" Loki asked. He tried, for the time being, to ignore the pain in his abdomen and his consistent quivering.

Dalin cocked his head, then shrugged. He turned his eyes away from Loki's face and instead glanced down at the god's bloody torso.

Loki noticed the shift and tensed, distressed.

"Dalin, look, I can get us out of here! I have magic, and I could cast an illusion to sneak us out before Sage even knows we're miss"—Loki didn't have time to finish as Dalin tugged the knife out of the trickster's sensitive flesh, drawing out another choked cry. His limbs' trembling intensified, and he was pretty sure he was going into shock from blood loss. Would he even live to see what spell he was supposed to be part of?

The lunatic studied Loki for a minute before saying, "Don't worry, don't worry. I'm almost done, almost done. I just need to get the last part on you here, yes I do."

Loki sagged in his restraints, exhausted and on edge. He shouldn't have been giving up—Thor would come, right?—he needed to use this small window of time without a knife carving into him to think of a plan.

"Will you at least tell me what spell I'm being used for?" Loki asked wearily. He was so worn down.

Dalin was cleaning the blade off before he got back to work. He didn't look at Loki as he replied, "Mister Sage has got plans, yes he does. Big ones, yes."

Loki didn't like the sound of that.

"What kind of plans?"

"Mm . . . not supposed to say nothing, no, no, no. Sorry, prince." Dalin finished cleaning the knife and positioned himself by Loki's side again. Fear ignited in the god's eyes; he didn't want to go through this again, and the realization that he couldn't get out of it made him sick.

Dalin finally stepped away from Loki's broken form. Fifteen more minutes—though it had felt like hours with the red-hot pain slicing through his flesh.

Now laying in a shallow pool of his own cooling blood, Loki stared up at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes that were cloudy and wet. He could feel the tear tracks on the sides of his face, and he wished he could scrub them away. Despite how he usually had an affinity for the cold, Loki shivered violently. He was sure he was in shock now.

"I'm going to get Mister Sage," Dalin announced as he finished cleaning some of the blood off his hands. He bent and picked up a few items he'd scattered earlier and tucked them away in the hidden cabinet. A moment later, he was gone.

Loki sighed in relief; the man didn't even know the damage he'd done. Dalin wasn't inherently dangerous on his own, and if Loki had not been a prisoner here, surely the wizard would have been just a bit annoying with his lunacy.

Deciding to not lay there and do nothing, Loki instead examined the writing on the walls more intensely. His eyesight was a bit fuzzy from blood loss, but he could mostly tell what was written; he didn't know what it meant, however, for his magic studies were still far from complete. The ruins chalked all over the walls had no meaning to Loki, and when he struggled to crane his neck for a look at the ones carved from his ribs to his waist, he found he didn't know what they were for either. It was all awfully far from his understanding. He felt ignorant and unschooled, but he knew himself that some forms of magic were yet out of his grasp at this age.

Now even more confused, Loki let his thoughts roam to Thor. Just hearing the blundering oaf would put his mind to rest, for at least then, he'd know he was coming. Loki wasn't proud at having to be rescued, but his pride would recover—death, however, was a permanent state.

Sage entered the room sometime later. The twins stood just outside to guard the entrance; this made Loki's heart flutter. If they were protecting this ritual, then surely there was a threat—and a threat could mean Thor. He was out there somewhere, and apparently, he was close enough to hinder this.

Dalin also followed nervously behind the elf, fidgeting and picking at his hands. Sage walked right up to Loki and looked down at him.

"Well, this is a nice outcome," Sage said with a smug grin.

Loki refrained from speaking for the time being.

"Not going to say anything, princeling?"

"What do you want me to say?" Loki managed to grate out past his sore throat.

Sage smirked, humming. "I suppose the typical begging for your life."

"Never." Loki glared at him. ". . . Although I do have a question."

The elf twitched an ear, obviously waiting.

"If you're going to kill me for whatever spell this is, then don't I deserve to know what for? What cause is it for which I am dying?" Loki tried to keep his voice level. He could at least stall his impending doom for as long as he could, just in case Thor happened to be nearby.

He prayed he was.

Sage seemed more than happy to tell. "Of course, of course. I suppose it is only fair, after all the suffering you've endured," the elf began.

"Well, you see, I'm a bit of a . . . power seeker, as it were. For the past decade, I've sought out mages and other spellcasters and brought them here. Any visiting magic user that happened into the enchanted forests of Vanaheim—they'd end up right where you are. Because you see, princeling, all beings who harness magic have a pool of it inside them—a fact I'm sure you're aware of already.

"Unfortunately, an outside force tapping into this magic typically kills the user. The ritual also demands a specific laying of spells and wards if you don't have the ability to take it yourself. I lack that ability, so I recruited Dalin here to set this all up, and in exchange, I allow him to live. He's an expert with these kinds of spells, so finding a replacement would only hinder my progress."

Loki interrupted, "Progress towards what?"

Sage narrowed his eyes at the intrusion but continued, "Progress towards becoming more powerful than any other being and taking over first Vanaheim, but then other realms. Position as Allfather would surely be fitting, wouldn't it?" The elf let out a small chuckle. "And how was I supposed to react when the twins reported back to me that the Æsir princes, Thor and Loki, were here? Came for the convergence, I take it? It is quite beautiful; I don't blame you for wanting to come. Unfortunate that your longing to be part of this event led to your death—truly a pity.

"Anyway, continuing, once I knew you were here, well, I was beside myself with excitement. As Æsir, you and Thor are not only inherently more powerful than other races, but your magic remains the best in the realms. And everyone knows the younger prince has a particularly special talent for magic." Sage smiled coldly; it made Loki want to growl at him.

"Of course, Thor could have been, by himself, another nice collection of magical power. But he's much harder to contain than you, so I took what I could handle," Sage said. "Does that answer your question, princeling?"

Loki narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the elf. "Is that why your servants are also strangely strong?"

Sage nodded lightly. "Ah, so smart. Anything else?"

"I'm afraid I just don't understand your motives—you're going to drain my magic—killing me—so you can . . . beat Odin?"

Sage met the glare with a flat look. "If you'd like to put it in those terms, fine. Either way, I'm done answering your questions." He straightened up and glanced over to Dalin. "Begin the collection."

"R-right away, Mister Sage!" Dalin immediately brought a ratty journal from under his cloak and flipped it open. Sage snorted at the crazy wizard and stepped back.

Loki swallowed, panic beginning to set in. If Thor truly was coming, it was now or never.

Luckily for Thor, after only a few minutes of wandering up and down hallways and checking rooms for his brother, he'd run into someone he assumed was a servant by their dress. The short woman had gone pale at his swift approach in the dimly lit hallway and turned, grabbing her skirts, and had run away as fast as she could. Unfortunately, she wasn't very fast at all. Thor easily caught her, snagging her by the back of her dress and keeping her pinned; typically, he wouldn't treat any lady like this, but Loki came before any sense of chivalry.

The woman flinched as Thor bent down to look at her, her whole body quivering.

"Where is my brother?" Thor demanded, not harsh but not friendly either.

"I-I don't know exactly, b-but the cells aren't that f-far from here!" she blubbered, crying out of fear.

"Tell me where."

"T-take three lefts that way, go down the long hallway, turn right, a-and the cells are at the end of the hall!"

Thor repeated her directions several times to himself before nodding and straightening up. He released the servant and gave her a small push in the way he had come, prompting her to leave.

"You will not want to stay here, Miss," Thor said as a warning. The woman stumbled, nodding, before turning and fleeing, skirts bundled in her grasp.

Thor continued the way he had been going, following the woman's directions. He didn't run into any more servants along the way; was this place just devoid of life or were they all hiding?

On edge, Thor swiftly made his way toward the cellblock. It took him roughly five minutes to navigate the dark tunnels. He inwardly thanked his luck of running into that woman so he did not wander aimlessly for hours. Time was of upmost importance at the moment; who knew what Loki could be enduring during his absence?

Thor came upon the stretch of a hallway that hid only a small handful of cells. He walked past each of them, glancing in for a sign of life. Nothing so far. He hoped there was something in the last cell as he approached the end of the hall.

No. Nothing.

Thor's heart sank as he discovered it was also empty. Letting out a disappointed huff, he decided instead to go down the opposite way, the hall facing forward.

He turned around just in time to avoid a punch from someone who'd come up behind him. Thor began to swing Mjölnir up to smack the man out of his way, but a staff thwacked with an unexpected strength against his arm, stopping the action. Thor snapped his head to the side to see a woman wielding the offending weapon, and he was surprised. During his lapse in attention, the man caught Thor across the face, causing him to stagger backwards.

Thor righted himself quickly, accepting the challenge of the hooded figures, and whipped Mjölnir around in his hand, preparing to swing. He lashed out at the woman first and raised his arm to take the attack of the man against his armored gauntlet.

The woman quickly leapt out of his hammer's range and stabbed the end of her wooden staff into his chest, knocking the wind out of him. The man ducked under Thor's raised arm and uppercut him, nearly lifting the thunder god off his feet. He slammed into the bars of the cell behind him with a grunt, throwing his arms out to keep himself upright.

Thor was surprised at the challenge the duo possessed. They were fast and strong; abnormally so, for Vanir people.

Unfortunately for them, they were standing in the way of a god: a god whose little brother had been taken from him. This meant no mercy.

Thor felt the power surge in Mjölnir as he raised his arm less than a second after initially being slammed into the cell's door. Lightning shot out and struck the man, who cried out and was flung backwards a dozen feet. Smoke followed his thrown body; the smell of burnt clothing and flesh filled the hall.

The woman managed to get a hard strike with her staff in against the back of Thor's knee just after he fried her brother. The thunderer dropped briefly onto one knee, earning himself another thwack across his shoulders with her durable weapon before he got Mjölnir up to defend against her blows.

They began fighting in close combat that was much more intense one-on-one with the man out of the way. Thor swung his hammer at her, but she was so fast that she dodged it and retaliated with a series of harsh blows. He fended against all of them, catching them on his forearms. The gauntlets were excellent at taking pressure.

Thor dove low and tackled the woman outright, obviously taking her by surprise. She let out a growl as he plowed her into the floor. Her staff clattered against the stone, but she punched him several times as hard as she could in the back of his head as they fell. Tingles shot through his spine at that.

"Stand down and I might allow you to live!" Thor snarled, grabbing her wrists and forcing her down.

The woman responded to this by spitting at his face, earning a growl and him tightening the pressure on her wrists. If he wanted to, he could break them like twigs.

The woman managed to wrestle one of her legs free from under him and kicked up, catching the god in the jaw with her sharp heel and throwing him off. Thor felt blood dripping down his neck and roared, tired of the distraction.

Mjölnir flew to his outstretched hand and he began swinging it in a tight circle, ready to crush the woman. She was already on her feet, but she was tired, if her posture was anything to go on. Her staff was back in her hands as well.

Thor threw himself forward, closing the distance between him and the woman. He swung Mjölnir in front of him, smashing her into the nearby wall. She hit the stone with a crunch and fell, limp. Her staff rolled out of her grasp with a small clatter.

Thor straightened up, breathing heavier than he would have liked to admit. The woman had been an especially worthy opponent. He'd probably have a few bruises later. The god turned around, ready to go down the long hallway. He swiped a hand across his nose, still bleeding sluggishly from when he'd gotten punched by the man. Red also dripped down the front of his throat into the neckline of his armor thanks to the kick, but he didn't worry about that as he hurried along.

If the man and woman had come down this hall, then surely, he was going the right way.

Thor stopped at a large door nearing the end of the tunnel. He tried to listen for a sign someone was in there, but heard nothing. Well, the rock was thick and would probably be hard to hear through anyway.

The thunderer braced himself and pushed open the door. The room was already different from anywhere else he'd been considering it was actually fully lit. Immediately upon his entry, he was met with the sight of his brother strapped to a table in the center of the room.

"Loki!"