I have over 50 followers on this story! You are all so amazing! Thank you for all of your kind reviews! They have been very encouraging, now all I need is some extra time to finish it... GAH! projects! Anyway... a lot of you have some idea where all of this is going... but here's the next chapter so you can know for certain.

Here we reach the absolute bottom... and Loki doesn't like it...

Loki was not familiar with regret. He knew it only from his subconscious mind's darkest wanderings in a time of such utter self-loathing that he regretted his existence within an inch of his life. That was a long time ago and put behind him well enough. But he could still recall the cold hand that was shame tugging at the back of his neck until his hair stood on end. It played with his thoughts and riled them into chaos until they were but wild animals, once docile, loosed from their chains and set to tear his conscience apart. If there was anything left of it. If it had even been there to start. He roughly tousled his hair until the raven black strands tangled around his fingers. Was it regret? Or just the sickly repercussions of compassion?

His wit was sharp. His cruel, verbal abuse even more so. It was all part of his charmingly abhorrent nature. With words alone he could crush his enemies without so much as lifting a finger. A thousand times – a tactic employed a thousand times. Hundreds of thousands of times. And yet, he sat at the edge of his bed fussing with his attire as if the fabric had wronged him in some way, regret wreaking havoc. What had he said this time? Such a natural slip of the tongue, he'd almost forgotten entirely. But not entirely.

Her eyes were dark, the brown almost black. And in that moment, when emotion slipped through her mask, he saw terror. Fear of an unholy sort mixed with embarrassment and pain, traces of sadness and nearly defeat – for the first time since he'd ever known her. And in that moment, that weakness only just contained, she confronted him. Her tiny frame was battered and broken, bruised and bleeding. But this time, not a wound self-inflicted for stupidity's sake. She carried herself as a warrior might, wearing scars without concern, but wearing scars all the same. Loki saw the destruction done to her mind, as he had feared. She struck out in anger and he felt it like a whip to flesh already raw from abuse. There must have been something I could have done. Anything? Every mistake rubbed like dirt in his face. He should've done something. I should have done something!

He couldn't speak for her pain, but what he endured waiting and wondering and imagining – surely it came close. But she'd never know. She'd never see it that way – because he was the monster. The monster that would haunt her dreams. The monster that would wake her in fits of sobs and screams. The monster that would lurk forever in the shadows of a paranoid mind. The monster parents tell their children about at night…

He didn't want to watch. No part of him wanted to see first hand what the guards had done to her. That was a show worthy of no one's admission. But that's what he told her – that was his gruesome intent. That's what he told her, even though it was a threat so empty the endless void beyond the realms was pleasantly dwarfed. He hadn't meant it. Or at least, he was fairly certain he didn't. It made him sick to think about it, so he assumed he hadn't. He thought – thought – to apologize. Apologize? Apologize? Apologize for what? For being a captive? For being incapable of helping her? It wasn't his fault! There was nothing he could have done. I could have tried. I should have tried. And therein lie the feeling they called regret.

Waiting and watching for almost a week, he kept thinking she would come around again. But he never saw it. She hadn't spoken a single word since that night. Her mindless fiddling had all but ceased. She hadn't added anything to her sketches on the floor in days. Thinking back on it now, she'd spent more time sleeping than anything else. He had assumed she was simply testing him with the silent treatment, but he was beginning to realize that this wasn't the case.

The water in the shower had been running for a long time now – he guessed a half an hour at least. She didn't sing this time. His ears were met only with the continuous pitter-patter of water falling to the stone and then the gurgling as it moved down the drain. He listened closer, thinking perhaps he'd simply missed it. No. She was quiet.

He let his chin rest against his chest, as he was slowly lulled by the sound. And then it finally stopped. She fussed momentarily, her feet squeaking on the polished floor and then she emerged, a towel wrapped around her. And Loki could only stare. Every day since arriving here, she went to incredible lengths to avoid being undressed where he could see her. But this time she puttered over to her cot, her long hair dripping and forming tiny puddles as she walked. Her drawings so meticulously adorning the floor were smeared under her feet. She had the sense enough to pull her underwear on with the towel still sitting precariously across her back. After that, she seemed to not care. She dropped the towel, missing the bench completely. It landed in a wet pile on the floor.

Loki's eyes grew wide. She stood in plain sight, wearing nothing but a pair of black underpants. And for some reason she didn't seem at all concerned. Perhaps it was all part of the show she had promised. Though she hardly delighted in his discomfort. Just as he could hardly stomach how little remained of her. She was beautiful, but sultry curves gave way to atrophied muscle and frail bones barely sheathed in milky white skin. But even that was marred, by bruises and forming scars where the guards had marked her skin. His gaze traveled down her long legs and just as soon back up again to her now exposed breasts. He didn't breathe as she retrieved the towel again and dried her hair, the whole of her body exposed with her arms raised just above her. So little remained to be imagined.

She dropped the towel again and he finally took note of her shaking hands. Her fingers brushed her forehead, soon bracing her face as her body slightly swayed. She half turned, her waist resting on the wall, and he caught sight of the well-defined protrusions of her spine. He could count her ribs at a distance, the breaks from her encounter now reasonably obvious. There were distinct hollows in her cheeks. And the whole of her seemed absent, mind and soul.

Loki glanced at the notches in the stone. She'd been almost three weeks in captivity – three weeks without food. His entire body was tense as if at any moment he would come violently uncoiled like a snake. He wasn't sure how all of this had escaped his notice before now. She was emaciated. Or very quickly on her way there. She wasn't playing their little game anymore. She was trying to survive.

Regaining some of her stance, she finished dressing, though at a frighteningly slow pace. It seemed an eternity had passed before she finally fished her arm through the hole in the fabric. She didn't even bother with her pants. She just curled up on her cot and tried to fall asleep. She drifted off after a while, her one arm hanging limp over the edge. But he couldn't find the means as he was plagued by the image of her horribly neglected body.

Everyday after, it brought an unholy turn of his stomach to see her suddenly struggling; she who had been so headstrong and stubborn and fearless. The lack of sustenance would take its toll slowly, but after the attack, her strength had bottomed out with remarkable haste. Ultimately he came to a very sickening realization: he was watching her die.

His chest hurt. It was a burn he could only compare with revenge. His entire body felt hot with rage as he watched her mope silently in her cage. He tried more than once to get her attention, but either she was very successfully ignoring him or she was too debilitated to even notice. He didn't even know her name to call to her. She was only human and while he had no soft spot for their kind, this was cruel. She was dying needlessly. Slowly. Painfully. He deserved to be here. He deserved far less than what he received down here and yet she was the one suffering. Suffering – and dying. But I will not make the same mistake twice.

Loki anxiously awaited the guards that morning, pacing the glass with a look that could kill. On each turn, he glanced at his cellmate. She was curled up on her cot, unmoving with her back to him. The curves of her body were so sharp, even beneath her clothes. Her hipbones protruded a little further than they should have. Her shoulders were a little more prominent than he remembered. He had to turn away to hold his cool before it was necessary that he lose it.

No sooner had he centered his thoughts, did the doors to their dungeon unlatch. His eyes followed them all the way down the stairs. The young woman carrying a clattering tray of food visibly slowed when she met his gaze, so much that the guard bumped into her. She needed only to recognize the anger in his gaze to send hers straight to the floor. The guards continued to hurry her forward until she was a theoretical arm's length away.

"If you intend to ignore me, I will make you sincerely regret it." He could have sworn he saw her shiver. He extended a hand, slowly, as not to startle her and pointed to where his companion lay. Gradually her eyes followed his silent command. "This woman needs to be fed."

"I'm sorry?" she asked quietly.

"You heard me," he growled. "She needs to be fed. She's been down here for more than a fortnight with nothing to eat. She is soon to starve to death."

"I was never instructed to bring anything for her," she meekly replied.

"Then consider this your instruction."

"I'm sorry – I can't do that. I can only serve what's been left out for you."

"Then give her mine." His tone left no room for rebuttal. But he could see the depth of her confliction. Someone had explained this entire situation to her – to all of them. She was simply trying to cover that fact with some pitiful excuse.

"I'm afraid I cannot. Please understand that I have my orders."

"Whose orders?" He had a fair idea judging by her silence. She should learn to fear me more. "Give her my meal." She didn't move, but her eyes darted back and forth, between him and the guards. "Now."

"I was given specific instructions -"

Loki slammed a fist against the glass and it splintered around his hand, its enchantment fervently fighting his magic to seal itself again. The servant girl stumbled, nearly losing her grip on the tray. "She is dying!" That familiar black haze formed against the glass, finally overwhelming his hold. One of the guards steadied the terrified young woman while the other violently shoved the tray of food through the newly parted glass into his cell before ushering the lot of them back the way they'd come.

Well that was a spectacular failure. She had not been forgotten – she was being purposefully neglected. And none of his threats were going to change that. He peered with a deepening frown at the slightly disturbed tray of food. His appetite was non-existent. Something had to be done about this.

He approached the pane that separated them, noting that she still hadn't moved. Not even the noise of their confrontation had disturbed her. Not even the prospect of food was enough. How could she give up so easily? It was infuriating. His hand roughly massaged his face. There had to be something else.

His forehead came to rest against the glass with a light thunk. The coolness quickly invaded the whole of his head. And his sei∂r leeched out again, coming to meet that of the glass, intangible flames of either color licking at one another. But there was something about it. What was that? He opened his eyes and found the room unchanged. No. Something was most assuredly different. It was something he hadn't taken notice of before. He pressed his palm against the glass and found his reach diminished to some lesser degree. Could it be possible? The entirety of this glass prison was encased in a barrier that prevented his escape. It was impervious to any form of magic. And yet, he could very distinctly recognize his limitations. This wall was different. This wall was far less protected. He'd never thought to test it, being that it wasn't exposed to the outside, only the other cell. This might be possible. His thoughts suddenly whirled. This might be possible. If he could simply conjure something edible into her cell, maybe she would be all right.

Sitting back down in his usual spot, he focused every ounce of his energy. His back was a little stiffer, his entire posture a little tighter. His eyes were clenched shut. Loki decided within moments that it was possible, but it was going to take serious time and energy to do so. His only companion was still lying motionless across the room. It was partly his fault, he decided. Had he done something to stop those drunken bastards, maybe she'd still be hungry, but she wouldn't have sunk into such a state so quickly. He couldn't do nothing this time. He owed her a debt – however small. He needed to make amends for his own sake. It was worth it.

For hours on end, he attempted to break through the enchanted barrier that separated them. So far, it had all been for nothing. It was more difficult than he had anticipated. But her condition worsened with every passing moment. She couldn't afford to wait. Two days passed and he was physically exhausted. His body was riddled with aches and pains like he'd just gone a few rounds with Banner's beast. A few rounds. It wasn't working. Two days later and he had nothing to show for it! The only thing able to put his mind slightly at ease was to see her doing something other than sleeping.

He breathed a sigh of relief to see her standing again, however weakly she did so. With that, he took a break. Let renewed strength prevail. She slipped into the bathroom where he couldn't see her. He almost caught a moment of shuteye before she reappeared. As she stepped back into his line of sight, he was startled back to a bracing state of consciousness when she coughed suddenly. A horrible panic was born, even before he looked up. She hung forward, her delicate hand pressed against her chest as she continued to cough, more violently with every passing second. Oh no. Not yet. This is too soon. She tried to brace the cot as she stumbled forward, but her hand slipped and she collapsed. Even curled up on the floor, her body was still shaken with the same lung-tearing cough.

Loki was on his feet and across the room in half a second. "Guards! Guards, please help! Guards!"

Silence. The guards didn't respond. And his prison comrade didn't cough anymore. He turned back, fearful that he'd lost her already. He didn't breathe as he watched with wide eyes for the rise and fall of her chest. He exhaled a long breath when he found it. Still alive. Still breathing. But she didn't get up. She didn't move any further than curling her legs into the fetal position. His time had run out. The guards weren't going to save her. If he didn't, no one would. Time for reprieve had run out. He regrouped with a well-renewed resolve.

The lights of the room dimmed, signaling nightfall in the world above. Just under an hour had passed, but Loki still stood with his hands pressed against the glass, trying until he was – almost literally – blue in the face. He watched her through squinted eyes again, seeing that even now she hadn't moved. She made no attempt to stand or even sit up. Her strength, however infinite it had seemed for a time, had all but run out. We can't have that now can we?

Finally he breached the other side. At last, he broke through the barrier, but that was the easy part. Now he had to keep it that way. No time to waste. He projected a perfect copy of himself into her cell, just beyond the pane of glass. Somehow it lessened the strain to have even half a presence on the other side. Though there was still a fresh film of sweat on his brow. His duplicate was unaffected, clad in garb more of his preference and looking fresh out of a throne room and not a prison cell. It was miraculous to see his hair in a presentable state.

Loki closed his eyes, forcing as much of his consciousness into his clone as he could. It was like pushing his brain through a colander, one very tightly weft. He could only hope it would recollect on the other side, but as of now he couldn't even attempt to force it all the way through. Already the stress on his mind was nauseating. But at the very least, he could control it. He rushed to her side, turning her onto her back as gently as he could. All of the color had run from her face and her entire body was limp like a doll in his arms. A doll of only skin and bone. Her beautiful skin was clammy and cold with a thin film of sweat. Pulse racing and body shaking, she was barely coherent.

"Can you hear me?" he asked, leaning closer to listen. A few long breathes passed her lips, but none formed words. But he was confident, at least, that she had heard him. "Tell me your name, love."

"Naomi," she breathed after several tries.

"Naomi," he returned. "You're going to be safe now. I'm going to take care of you. I promise." He tugged her into his lap, so that she was sitting up at least slightly. With a subtle motion of his hand, he conjured some food and water.

Loki collapsed with a muffled shout, almost losing his existence in the other cell entirely. For a long moment, he was unmoving, attempting to collect himself as the sei∂r pulsed aggressively around him. This barrier would complicate even the simplest of tasks. He slumped on his knees, his forehead sticking against the glass. His hands shook profusely. Watching his projection carefully, he noted that the sudden stress only barely affected him. His nostrils flared with a deep inhale and he refocused his mind again.

She was still quiet in his lap, having not even noticed his tiny outburst. He brought a chalice of water to her lips, careful with his subtly shaking hands. She hardly responded when the cool metal touched her lips. Tilting her head back he poured, the majority of the water running off her cheeks. Finally she swallowed, taking drink more feverishly once her mind registered what she was offered. One of her frail hands reached up, wrapping lightly around his wrist. Her hands shook almost as badly as his did. Her other hand, with a slightly firmer grip, fisted the fabric of his pant leg as she drank down the rest of the water. When she reached the end, she choked on the last few drops and he was instantly worried she'd fall into another fit like the last one. Momentarily, she calmed, merely adjusting in his lap.

Now for something more substantial. Thankfully he had the forethought to procure something that did not require chewing. In this state she'd probably object to such effort and he didn't have the strength to acquire anything else. At least, for some time. Soup was supposedly a remedy for everything, he thought, sliding the container where he could better reach it. When he'd fallen ill as a child – on rare occasion – his mother would personally prepare them a brew he could never truly identify. No one in the nine realms ever made it so well. This would be subpar in comparison, but under the circumstances, it would certainly suffice.

Removing the lid, a large plume of steam escaped that quickly smothered the tiny room with the scent of the soup. He gave it a stir and then tasted to ensure it wasn't too hot. Tolerable, he decided. He brought the spoon to her lips. "Open up, darling." She gently parted her lips at his command, welcoming the first taste with a quiet sigh of relief. He was so sure he felt the warmth as it invaded the whole of her, one spoonful at a time. He lost count after a while, mindlessly feeding her until she wouldn't take anymore. She curled further into his lap, nestling her face against his shirt. Before long, she was asleep – content and for the time being, safe.

Waving away the food with a quiet moan of exertion, he scooped her up and gently set her down on her cot. He could hear her sigh, a smile nearly gracing her features as she curled onto her side. It warmed his heart so much deeper than he ever thought it could.

Certain that she was safe for now he finally allowed the clone to disappear. Panting softly, he fell onto his side, thoroughly exhausted from the entire ordeal. Laid out on his back, he stared up at the ceiling until sleep took him by force.

There you have it! And it's not a cliff hanger! Yay! The next three chapters are pretty much done and only need to be edited before I post them... Shouldn't be long, but as I have probably mentioned, I have several very large projects piled on top of each other, all of which have stricter deadlines than my stories... though it's clear which I'd prefer to be working on :/

I'll be able to work more freely after October 8 (for like three days until I get more projects thrown in my lap)... but it will be a good three days :3

P.S. New Thor: The Dark World tv spot... Loki bondage... I am now going to be even less productive... gawd. O_O