A/N: Inspired by the Thor2 trailers. Thor has come to Loki and proposed releasing him so that he can help save the realms from disaster. And then...

"When do we start?"

"First thing tomorrow. I'll fetch you at dawn."

This was to be his last night in the prison, then. His last night for now, and most likely his last night ever; he knew himself, and Thor, too well to think that he was going to survive this adventure.

It was his last night, so it was not exactly surprising that the guards came for him. They had come for him his first night too. He'd understood – break the prisoner's spirit right away, teach him his place, et cetera, but of course he'd protested that it was not necessary. They ignored him. The beating was much more savage than he'd anticipated, and it made him angry, which of course led to some weeks of resistant and uncooperative behavior that got him beaten almost daily.

Eventually, his sense of self-preservation had won out and he'd behaved himself and the guards began leaving him in peace. They hadn't come into his cell like this in months.

"Hello. Come to see me off?" he said from his bed. The basic courtesy of rising to greet a visitor didn't seem appropriate when the visitors were coming to assault him.

Someone grabbed him by the collar and dragged him up to his feet. "Really?" he complained. "I don't think this is fair. I haven't made your lives miserable in ages." He didn't resist, because that only ever made it worse. (It wasn't that he minded the prospect of earning more serious injuries though; he'd doubtless be allowed to get healing before they left tomorrow anyway. It was that the more battered he looked the more Thor would be able to tell he'd gotten his ass kicked, and that was humiliation he wanted to avoid if at all possible.)

Someone pressed his arms to his sides and bear-hugged him from behind. It made him feel minutely better – at least he was still considered dangerous enough to require restraining.

A guard approached with a bit of rope stretched between his hands, and for a second Loki panicked. Were they going to kill him? Thor would never allow that! (Would he?)

He started to struggle, but before he got anywhere the guard stepped behind him and tossed the rope over his head… and tightened it over his mouth, not his throat. Oh.

Still, it was now impossible for him to talk intelligibly – and he wasn't willing to garble. Also, before long like this he was going to be drooling. Wonderful.

He rolled his eyes and glared at the guard in front of him. Get it over with.

"Sorry about this, your highness," the guard said, before smashing a fist into his solar plexus. As he fought for air he heard the man continue: "…but it's standard practice, for traitors and scum."

The rope was digging in to his mouth even more as he tried to double over. Before long he was pulled straight up again and readied for another blow.

They slapped him about the face – but with dull heavy blows that wouldn't split his lips or blacken his eyes. He would have thanked them for that courtesy, except he still wasn't able to talk.

When his head was ringing they moved on to hammer at his guts. Eventually it was too much to stay upright under and he was on the floor, at which point someone went at his kidneys. Hard.

He was told to get up… but laid flat again by kicks to the ribs and belly when he tried. He realized he was going to puke and crawled for his toilet. They let him – with laughter that someone was going to pay for, some day.

When he was done puking his whole body ached and he thought maybe they would go away. How much fun could it be to batter a victim who took it without a word and wouldn't even make eye contact?

Sure enough, someone dragged him to his feet. "All right, there, Prince," a guard said. "Get some sleep. You've got a big day tomorrow."

Yes, he was going to lie down and never get up again. He would collapse as soon as they let go of him and left. Which they surely would do any moment now…?

But the guard in front of him gestured, and the one who was holding his arms behind him clamped down even harder. Fuck. What now?

Someone kicked his feet apart and that didn't bode well and he barked "No! Nonono!" in a panic, even though the sharp breathing hurt his chest horribly.

People held his ankles and dragged him into an uncomfortably wide straddle and he swore and struggled but of course it got him nowhere.

After the kick they stuck around a while to watch with great amusement as he rolled around on the ground wheezing and clutching at his crotch.

So much for taking the whole thing with dignity.

At least it was his last night.

It was mid-morning when Thor finally went down to the dungeons. Loki was sitting on his bunk, elbows on his knees, head bowed. "You're late, brother," he said genially.

"I had… things to do." He watched Loki closely. "Did you sleep well?"

Loki snorted. "Better than I'll be sleeping on the road, I imagine." He rose to his feet – stiffly. "Can I pack some clothes?"

"Of course. Come." He opened the cell, and handed Loki shackles.

Loki eyed them with arched brows, but said nothing.

"Just for now," Thor promised. "Until I have a better idea what to expect from you." He'd chosen with care, a well-made pair with no sharp edges and a long connecting chain.

Loki shrugged and locked himself in. He walked where he was bid. He didn't volunteer conversation, but nor did he refuse to answer when Thor addressed him.

Thor waited as long as he could… but it was not long. They weren't even fully out of the dungeons yet when he stopped, pushed Loki up against a wall, and said: "I heard some of the guards talking this morning."

Loki's face shuttered. "Oh?"

He took him by the chin and tilted his face in the torchlight; Loki tried to pull away but he had never been strong enough and certainly was not now. Loki's lips were chapped, the corners of his mouth cut. He was otherwise unmarked, but when Thor nudged him in the ribs without warning it drew a grunt of pain.

"Loki."

Loki looked sullen. "I'm fine."

"You're not-… I mean…" he sighed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That four of the guards came into your cell last night and mistreated you."

Loki was looking away – no easy feat, at these close quarters. "There's nothing to tell, Thor. I said I'm fine."

His prideful silence was not hard to interpret, and Thor wanted to shake him. "Did you think I would not have sympathy? That I would shrug it off? How could you think that – how could you think I would do anything other than help you?" He was trying not to lose his temper, trying not to raise his voice – and failing miserably. "Here we stand, out of the cell, because I have given you my trust, and now I see you can't give me yours. Even to-"

"I thought they were there on your orders," Loki said sharply. Stunning him into silence. "But since that's not the case, then: yes. Yes, I feel like shit this morning. I didn't tell you earlier because I didn't want to give you the satisfaction."

Thor could only stare. Mouth open, shaking his head.

"I apologize if I've misjudged. It's easy to become paranoid down here."

The guards had looked so shocked when he confronted them this morning. As if they had thought he'd approve.

He should have made his position clearer. Not visiting all this time, refusing to discuss Loki in conversation… no wonder people had gotten the wrong idea.

Loki among them, apparently.

Thor hadn't cried in front of his brother since childhood and he forbid himself to start now. Instead, he stepped back from the wall and pulled Loki into a tight embrace. It was a bad position; the shackles were between them and digging in uncomfortably, but he still had no plans of letting go until his brother had been well and truly hugged.

"Are you trying to smother me?" Loki asked at last. Muffled in the layers of Thor's clothing.

"No." His voice was rough and unsteady; it seemed he was near to crying after all. "I just want to show you how wrong you are. I would never, ever have had you abused. I haven't been visiting only because it would have grieved me to see you in a cell. And also," he added, "Because I feared you'd be cruel and hostile to me."

Loki snorted against his shoulder. "A reasonable fear."

"Still. I did not even try," he said aloud. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this ashamed of himself. "I should have come. Then they would never-…" He squeezed harder. "I cannot believe anyone dared lay hands on you."

"I can. But thank you for your indignation on my behalf."

"It was more than indignation. I had them flogged within an inch of their lives."

He could feel himself shaking with emotion. He'd very nearly torn the guards limb from limb himself; attacking helpless prisoners was dishonorable and disgusting, and to think they'd done it to Loki of all people…

"Good," Loki said against him – and then stirred. "Now please let go. I really did get worked over last night."

Thor released him at once. Apologized profusely for the pain he must have caused. Promised a trip to the healing room.

And – after a small hesitation – offered to remove the shackles. It seemed the only decent thing to do.

But Loki, incredibly, shoved him away. "No," he snapped, drawing his hands up to his chest. "I'll take your hugs because I've missed you, but I don't need your pity. I'm fine, Thor. Put that key away." He stomped off, head high.

Thor scowled, chased after him, and grabbed him with the full intention of enforcing his decision. Then he realized how absurd it was: guards were going to walk in and see the crown prince wrestling with a prisoner in an effort to release said prisoner against his will.

He chuckled. But then he suddenly began to suspect that Loki was trying to provoke him into doing exactly what he just almost did. The devious creature. Oddly, he did not feel upset. It was rather a relief, to learn that things might someday be back to normal.

He pocketed the key; for his own safety Loki shouldn't roam loose in the castle anyway. He caught Loki behind the neck and touched their foreheads together. "We'll discuss the chains later, brother," he promised. "And please have no doubt that I've missed you too."

The End.

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