Loki dreamed a dream that night. It was a pleasant dream, to some extent, and it looked like the following.

He walked in a tunnel. It was pitch black - he could see nothing. Nothing but a tiny speck of light, somewhere in the distance, bidding him to come. Come he did. He walked until his patience was in shreds, his hope crumbled and his face grew into a snarl. He began to taunt the speck of light, calling it down, flattering it, then cursing it to high heaven and the cycle began again.

Yet, at last, he reached the end of the tunnel. He crawled up the last few steps, then emerged from the dark into the brilliant sun, looking around in a daze.

It was the gardens of his youth, where he used to play with Thor, when he still knew innocence and didn't know what blood tasted like. The grass was brilliant, soft and caring, the waters and streams sang his name, and before him, in the clearing, was someone who made his heart soar and strength return to his body.

"There you are!" Henrietta called, laughing. Loki saw she was wearing traditional Asgardian clothing - a loose, white dress which caressed her ankles as it blew about them in the breeze, her shoulders showing, her neck white, her hair black and rich and to her knees.

"What took you so long?"

He grinned, laughing out loud, quickening his step, then took her hands and kissed them with relish.

"I was in the tunnel. I didn't know you were here."

"Well, here I am. I think we are in Asgard."

"Yes! Behind the palace gardens."

Her skin was blooming beneath the rays of the sun, calming his torn nerves, washing over them like a soothing balm, patching up the wear in his bones.

"It's so beautiful." She breathed, looking around in awe. "I wish I could be here in real life."

"It's beautiful." He nodded, then took her gently by the shoulders and planted a kiss upon her forehead. "But it is nothing compared to you, Henrietta, darling sweet."

A crease appeared between his brows, for she had saddened a little and looked away.

"What is it?" He whispered, raising her chin delicately towards him. "What is wrong?"

"Do you love me, Loki of Asgard?" She murmured, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Without a doubt and more than words can express." He answered solemnly and without hesitation. "Darling… you must understand. It is hard for me to speak my thoughts in the present, I do not know why, and it is unimportant, now. I will tell you that I love you as soon as I wake up, I promise you."

"Tell me now." She laughed, grabbing his hands, lively and innocent as the young Hattie Knott she used to be. "Tell me now, Loki, my love, before it is too late."

"It won't be too late." He assured her, pressing her to him. "But I will tell you. I love you, Henrietta. My love, my queen, my world."

Loki bent down to kiss her the exact moment he was brushed awake by some unknown force, unsettling him and causing him to grow angry.

Only for a moment, though. He had a promise to fulfil.

He swung his legs out of bed in a hurry, cleaned himself up with a flash, then flew up the stairs to Henrietta's bedroom and knocked. She wasn't there - she was already downstairs.

"Hattie? Knottie?" He called, sprinting down the stairs, looking around, a smile adorning his face like never before. "I need to tell you something!"

He looked around, but only silence answered him. A thin crease appeared beneath his brows.

"Are you out in the garden?"

He flung open the door, smiling once more, for the weather was perfect, just like in his dream. The sun beamed down, lighting up the grass, setting the flowers swaying to the song of the breeze, looking very much like Hattie in her daily splendour.

"Henrietta! Hattie!"

Loki turned, then spotted her and laughed. She was lying in the grass, the romantic she was, probably an idea to catch the sun on her face like a child catches butterflies with a net.

"Knottie?" He chuckled, approaching her, ready to tease. "What are you doing?"

He stopped. Strength left him, colour drained from his face as though he had been torn open by a blade.

"Henrietta Knott." He mouthed, falling to his knees. "Henrietta."

He outstretched a hand, taking hers; cold. He swept her hair away from her brow; cold. He felt her neck, her beautiful, swan-like neck; cold answered him, his servant, the only thing that could not affect him.

Loki's thoughts turned like a mass of writhing snakes, spitting, hissing, biting. But still, he could not quite believe it - a strange daze had come over him, regulating his breath, telling him no, she's not dead, this is a trick.

He even managed to chuckle, although he felt like vomiting the last week's worth of dinners out along with his internal organs.

"Henrietta, stop being foolish and get up." He muttered, bending down, pressing his ear to her chest. "Answer me. Now."

But only silence answered him. His hands began to shake. His lips grew white.

"Henrietta." He took her shoulders, then rested her head against his chest, grooming her face with desperate eyes, shaking his head, feeling cold freeze his insides. "Henrietta."

He clutched her suddenly, trembling with the force.

"HENRIETTA!" His voice cracked as he yelled, and still, she did not hear him. He cried her name like a madman, calling for her to wake up, to stop being idiotic, to open her eyes and struggle out of his grasp, laughing, calling him a fool.

After what felt like a decade of this, he lowered his voice and loosened his grip on her a little.

"Hattie, dear. Hattie, dear. Wake. Wake. Set me free." He whispered, although his voice shook. "With one breath. One word. Please, I beg of you. Tell me I'm wrong. TELL ME I'M WRONG!"

Something erupted within him. Reality lost meaning, its barriers unravelled; the palace of his mind swayed, cracking and fell with a rumble, burying all inside his walls - the man trapped inside him fell dead with a cry, crushed by bricks that covered him so that he could not be seen.

And still, he could not break free, although his face had now hardened and paled in a sickening mask, although his hands now shook permanently, although his eyes roved like a madman's, unable to settle in one place for long when sharp.

"Hattie, Hattie? I love you. Can you hear me? I do. I love you. You. Only you. Hattie. You can hear me, can't you? Hattie. Hattie."

The light of the sun distracted him. He raised his eyes to meet it. He gave an empty snort of laughter, then his face contorted and he rose up with a flash, upon his knees, Henrietta still clutched in his grasp.

"ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?" He hollered, his teeth sharp and cold. "ARE YOU? HAVEN'T I SUFFERED ENOUGH? HAVEN'T I PAID FOR MY SINS ENOUGH?"

He began to curse, first in English, then in languages unknown, words that would have blackened the sky if Henrietta wasn't near him.

He did not see Alhan the Jailer emerge behind him, silence and expertise in his step, but he felt his presence. Still, he did not stop cursing the sky, the earth and all nine realms.

It was only when he was a few steps away from him did Loki look back at Henrietta, feeling something flood him, although he now could not tell what.

"My dear, I'm so sorry. I know my hands will be blacker, I know." He crooned, his voice trembling. "I know, I know. I know."

Ahlan chuckled behind him.

"Perhaps you should have taken notice of why I shut your lips." He grinned, his voice laced with relish. "Perhaps you should have listened to those who dubbed you Lie-smith. Silver-tongued. Truth-twister. Perhaps you would have been pardoned and perhaps this young filly would still be alive right now."

Loki froze. Reality, justice did not exist. He saw and thought such twisted things it would have made a sane man wither.

"But she's dead." Ahlan stood, folding his arms. "And you will never join her."

Perhaps Ahlan would have said more, but he underestimated how terrible the inflictions would be, and thus, the consequences. He opened his mouth to say more, but he never got to.

There was a flash of green, steel and blue cold. Ahlan chuckled, his teeth sharp like metal, his eyes like metal and his chest now metal, for Loki had turned and pierced him with a blade which he had spat out with his eyes; literally pierced him with his gaze.

Ahlan the Jailer looked down at the protruding weapon, his teeth stained black - then stumbled, falling to his knees, his heart beating no more.

Loki turned back around and looked down at Hattie.

"I'm sorry, Hattie. So sorry. So sorry."

He couldn't cry. He couldn't, for his eyes that had before fooled so many along with his tongue of silver were cursed to stay dry.

But he didn't focus on that for long. He focused on her. It looked just as though she was sleeping.

"You're dreaming now, my sweet." He whispered, cradling her to him. "Well, go safely. Remember what I sang to you, once?"

He waited for a reply, but none came, so he just carried on.

"That song. Mother used to sing it. About the little soul. Remember?"

He began to smooth her hair down, pinch her cheek as though soothing her to sleep.

"A small soul came, inside a boat

Propelled softly by a breeze

Of hope and dreaming, set afloat

By simple warmth gathered with ease.

It looked back at dark land it passed

And felt a spike of bitter cold

But until the boat arrives at last

It had another place to go.

It could furl the gentle sails up high

And ask the wind to guide its way-

A breeze stirred her hair, startling him, but still, she stayed silent. He swallowed.

"Avoid the raven's bitter cry… until…" His voice went, while he stroked her face. "Until dark night turns into day, sweet. Until that very moment. That beautiful moment."

He placed a kiss on her temple.

"Goodnight."

"Enough, Laufeyson." Jeehl the fair-haired called, his eyes dripping with tears, although his voice was unaffected. "Let's go back to Asgard."

Loki chuckled emptily, making the guards shudder. He planted another kiss on Hattie's forehead, then sighed, closing her eyelids firmly - he bent over with a wince and clutched at his stomach, longing for her touch to make the pain flee, but knowing he would never feel its warmth again.

"Stand, Laufeyson." Jeehl called. "We're going."

He nodded to the men with hearts of stone. They stepped forward and grabbed his arms, bracing themselves, yet nothing came, for the god of lies was lost within the void of his mind. Only when Hattie slipped from his grasp onto the grass as a result of him being dragged backwards did his eyes sharpen.

"Let go of me. Let me go, or I'll kill you." He muttered, then twisted, sharply. "I'll kill you-!"

One of the guards brought down his hammer upon his skull and he saw no more but darkness; a mercy in itself.

"I'm expecting a heated battle, so arms up and ready. Bruce, wait for the call. Clint, you know the position best." Stark said as they leaped out of the army truck. "Thor will be here any moment. If a single hair falls off her head, they die instantly. Clear?"

Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner and Natasha Romanoff nodded, following suit. Stark charged into the house whilst the rest circled the gardens, looking around wildly.

"Henrietta? Henrietta!"

There was no answer. He cursed, stealing a glimpse out the window, then charged into the gardens with the rest of them.

He emerged just as one of the armour-clad men brought a hammer down onto Laufeyson's skull, cutting him off into silence.

The Avengers stood, uncertain. Stark stepped forward, looking at the scene.

A giant man lay dead a few yards short of the still form of Henrietta, a blade piercing his chest, whilst two guards were dragging a limp Laufeyson away towards something that looked like a huge gateway.

"What's going on? Leave him!"

A fair-haired fellow turned upon hearing his voice; Stark froze, for his face was wet with tears.

"Loki Laufeyson will answer before Odin, mortal." He stated in a voice which Steve Rogers often used when speaking to those below him. "He is no longer your concern."

"As long as he is in this town, yes, he is." Stark said, looking between the figure of Laufeyson and a still Henrietta. "He's not going anywhere until I say so."

The fair-haired fellow said nothing, merely gestured; all covered their eyes, for the gateway lit up golden and shuddered, spitting out blinding glimmers of light.

"We're going. You should take care of that girl. Tell his majesty Thor Odinson to return to the court, when he arrives. The Allfather requires his presence."

He pointed, then bowed his head. With a flash, they were gone, taking the gateway with them.

The Avengers recovered, blinking. Stark looked around, gave a cry of rage and kicked at a stump.

"What do we do?" Romanoff muttered after a moment, her face engraved with bitterness. "We need to take her body away."

"Not another word." Stark said, falling onto the stump and removing his helmet. "Not until Thor gets here."

Thor appeared with a flash after a few horrible minutes, his face enraged and twisted.

"Where are they?" He growled, his voice throbbing with temper. "Let me. Let me-"

He stopped, looking at them all in turn.

"What is it? What happened?"

Stark rose sharply and shoved him in the chest, hissing through his teeth. It was a futile move, but Thor looked as though he had hit him with Mjolnir.

"Where were you?" Stark grabbed his chest plate and pulled Thor towards him. "Why were you late? HUH!?"

"I only just got the message." He said, grabbing both his fists in one of his. "Are you going to yell at me, or are you going to tell me what happened?"

Tony Stark gave up. He kicked at the stump once more and collapsed on it, burying his face in his hands. Thor looked up at the rest of them in turn, searching for a sign of hope, but none came.

Romanoff gestured with her hand. Rogers bowed his head. Thor followed her point.

His face darkened, then fell. He took off his helmet.

"How did this happen?" He managed, his voice tight, rising from Hattie's side after a while. "Where's my brother? Where is Loki?"

Stark didn't move. Rogers stepped forward.

"They took him away through a portal. I don't know what happened to the lady. She was already dead when we got here."

Thor's hand began to tremble. He gave a blood-curdling cry, startling the birds in the trees, then hurled his hammer and stumbled off, not bothering to reclaim it.

They watched him go, unable to comprehend the situation. Romanoff bent down beside Henrietta and checked her over.

"It looks like she died suddenly. From natural causes. No poison, nothing. Like a heart attack."

"What's that in her hand?" Rogers muttered, crouching down beside her.

He pulled something free from her grip - it was a slip of paper.

"Bury me after exactly three days." He read. "Don't tell anybody until after the funeral-"

Stark had risen and snatched the paper from his hand.

"This was planned." He cast the paper away crudely. "It must have been them."

"Maybe it was that giant fellow. Maybe that's why Laufeyson stabbed him." Romanoff said, then put her hand on Stark's shoulder. "Go home, Tony. We'll take care of this. And Thor."

Tony Stark didn't even bother to reclaim his helmet. He just sloped off in the direction of the truck, then sped into the sky, his thrust engines roaring.

"He's gonna get drunk." Rogers muttered, watching him go. "What's the big deal with this girl, though, do you know?"

"Not a clue." Romanoff turned and looked down at Henrietta. "I suppose she and Tony must have been close. Thor too. Well, let's get her out of here."

Steve Rogers nodded mutely, and stooped down, not commenting, although all of them felt the silence more than ever before, averting their gaze from the sun, as though it was being indecent by beaming upon the sad scene so happily.

"He needs to be up."

"Well, wake him, then."

Loki's head snapped upwards, dripping, as the bucket of water was sloshed over him. His head felt as though it was about to blow, in addition to the searing pain at the back of his head where the hammer had hit him.

He looked at them blankly, for they were not Henrietta.

"She's not here." A fair-haired man came forward. Loki didn't even realise he spoke. "Do you not remember?"

Loki thought back, then doubled over and retched, although nothing came out of him. He realised he had some trouble moving, then realised why - he was in chains. Heavy, alloyed chains, around his arms, neck, torso, everything. He was bound well. There was no escaping.

He couldn't care less.

Someone called to bring him out. The doors were opened. The noise hit him. Cheering. Cries of joy, anger. Was there a military parade?

The guards yanked on his chains, forcing him to stand. He didn't comply, falling on the floor, lying still, unblinking, while his mind worked and his chest constricted and his stomach imploded.

He got a vague impression of something touching his back, but he didn't react. Only when he received a kick did he look up and grin - someone was whipping him. Wasn't that funny? As though they thought they could hurt him.

"He's crazy." He heard. "Bash him harder."

He felt something trickling down his back - he realised he was shirtless. Was it blood? Was it black?

He didn't care.

They had to manually prop him upwards as they dragged him out of the building. The sun blinded him, but he didn't shut his eyes. It was painful, it made him see grey and burn. It made him remember darkness.

Still, he did not care.

The crowd roared as he was dragged forward. The chains connected to his arms were so taught, they creaked, attached to two rolling wagons on each side of him so that his arms were stretched wide open. The sun was bright, just like in his dream.

What took you so long? He heard Hattie's voice and saw her before him, golden, blooming, warm.

He smiled, his face lighting up, although nothing was there, not feeling as his skin was split along his back with the cat o' nine tails.

"I thought you were dead." He called, grinning. "I thought you had died, Henrietta, dear!"

She withered into nothingness and cold before his eyes, leaving him confused and sad. She was before him a moment before. Where did she go?

The angry roar of the crowd followed by a boot on his back sent him stumbling forward, breaking him out of his daze a little. He thought he saw Thor in the crowd. Was it Thor? No, it was Ahlan. No, it couldn't be, he had killed him.

The chains creaked and groaned. He continued to be tortured by his mind, for no physical pain was going to affect him, now. He had long gone past the point of madness, of hope for it to end. Now, he was a shell, waiting for death.

He was kicked onto his knees, but didn't realise, not until the sky was pierced by a horn, causing him to flinch and look around hopefully for Ragnarok. But no, the sky stayed blue.

"Loki Odinson."

He looked up, but did not see. At least not for the first few seconds. Then, faces materialised before him, causing his eyes to grow a little sharper.

Thor had arrived, as called, just as they had brought Loki out. He had to be here - he could not disobey his father directly. His mother, Frigga, was here. She looked as though she was about to break herself, her eyes red, deep sorrow engraved in them as Loki was brought before them, dripping blood and stone-faced.

The horn sounded. Odin stood.

"Loki Odinson."

The absent look on his brother's face was lessened slightly, as he looked up. Thor shut his eyes, for his gaze sent his thoughts into the most painful and cold of caverns he had been in.

"You have been brought here for your crimes." Odin called, then raised his hand as the crowd grew wild, jostling with one another, calling for Loki to perish. "You have murdered, betrayed, escaped from imprisonment and caused havoc for your own relish. Do you deny it?"

Loki did not react. He merely looked upon his father as though he was a connoisseur of art, and he was a painting. After a moment, his eyes grew bored and flickered to other faces. Frigga stifled a sob.

"Do you deny it?" Odin called again. Again, Loki did not react - but then his face lit up in a brilliant smile, as though he was gazing upon something beautiful. He mouthed words, then chuckled.

The guard raised the whip and brought it down upon him time after time - it did not affect him. He kept looking up at the heavens and nodding, as though listening, whilst his skin was split open, whilst blood dripped down him onto the marble floor.

"You do not." the Allfather called, his gaze and face stern. Thor turned to him.

"Father." He muttered, agitated. "Something is not right. He wasn't like that before, I need to explain to you, upon my honour-"

"Not now, Thor." Odin said firmly, then turned back to the prisoner in disgrace. "Silence means agreement."

Thor held Frigga as she sobbed. He was having trouble keeping his face set himself. And still, he looked upon his brother, seeing nothing but the scrawny child who would not leave him alone, many, many years ago, the one who called him brother; the one who was gone now, who had nothing left.

"Silence. You shall have it, Loki Laufeyson." Odin continued grimly, looking down at the smirking god of lies. "You will face imprisonment for three days, with your words taken from you. Then you will learn what it means to be helpless. You will be encased in gold, a marker of your greed and cold, for all eternity, alive, conscious, but unable to move or breathe; a state of permanent suffocation."

Frigga buried her face into Thor's chest, trembling. Thor bowed his head, hugging his mother close.

"It is now your chance to talk, to defend yourself. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Loki looked stunned at Odin's words. Everybody held their breath, wondering whether they would hear something that would change the circumstance, perhaps a word of explanation or maybe even an apology - then an outraged murmur rippled amongst them, for Loki Laufeyson snorted, trembling, and began to laugh madly, juddering and trembling.

It was a terrible sound. It resonated with the deepest pain, anger and darkness within everybody's heart. It raked through chests, backs, minds, making the audience cover their ears and some women burst into tears, for nobody as long as they lived knew such a scraping sound.

The giggling turned to screaming, then to hollers of mad laughter as his face stretched and broke, then grew still, still giggling madly at the floor.

"Take him away." Odin gestured to the guards. "Do as has been said."

Jeehl the fair-haired bowed, then gestured to the guards to cease their torture. Loki was dragged backwards, but he was still affected. He stared up at them with a terrible grin, calling words they couldn't understand, screaming with laughter until he disappeared from view and the huge, heavy doors clanged shut behind him.