(Warning - Madness portrayed very explicitly, suicide references. Not for the weak of mind and the youth, 18+ only)

"Sir, you have a visitor."

Tony Stark had abandoned all attempts to keep himself up and running the last three days. Right now, he was lying on top of his bed, playing with an ever-lighter bottle of whisky, in the same clothes he had been in when Henrietta had called him that morning; the morning in which he had failed to arrive on time.

If he had perhaps moved quicker… If his plan had perhaps been more polished… If he hadn't gotten himself so damn wasted the night before, perhaps things would have gone differently. Perhaps Henrietta would still be alive; perhaps Laufeyson wouldn't have been taken to his death with his only purpose to live for gone.

"Tell him to go away, Jarvis." He muttered, stirring, sending the bottles around him clinking emptily, a fresh wave of guilt and sorrow choking him, calling for another swig.

"Sir, he is adamant."

Stark breathed out an agitated sigh and dragged a hand down his face.

"Who is it?" He managed to mutter, swigging at the bottle again, no strength in him to rise and manually extract the visitor from his residence.

"Steve Rogers, Sir. He is in the lift."

Indeed he was. After a short moment, there was a ding in the distance, followed by footsteps and the sound of a door sliding open. Steve Rogers stood in the doorway with his arms folded and his gaze stuck somewhat halfway between disapproval and pity.

"Stark." He sighed, after a short moment of surveillance. "What have you gotten yourself into?"

"Don't give me that. You were there." Tony muttered, turning away. "What do you want?"

Rogers took in the setting with a glance, but didn't comment. After a moment, he stepped into the room, swept a few bottles off a chair and sat in it, casting his gaze down.

"The funeral's today."

"Did you do as she wrote?"

"We did." Rogers said, looking at his friend. "And I reckon you should be there."

Stark gave a snort and emptied the bottle. Rogers leaned back in the chair and folded his arms, looking him up and down.

"So that's it. You're going to drink yourself into a stupor for the rest of your days, huh?"

"Can it, Rogers."

"Make me."

Stark threw an empty bottle at him; Rogers caught it and set it down on the bedside table neatly with a clunk.

"I'm being serious. You've not left this room in three days. SHIELD hasn't even seen you. Judging from the smell, you've not moved from this bed either. It's grim."

"For your record," Stark said, pointing at him, "yes I have. Now, if you don't have anything better to do, why don't you go and bother somebody else?"

"Jarvis!" Rogers called, setting his jaw. "Explain to your superior why drinking continuously and not moving from his bed is a negative prospect."

Jarvis started to say something, but Tony switched him off with a few choice words then turned to him.

"Clear off, Steve. You're wasting your time. Everyone's time."

He made to reach for another bottle and uncork it, but Rogers grabbed it before he could.

"Don't push it," Stark growled, "don't push it, Rogers. Give me that-"

The bottle was dropped and smashed with a crash, its contents spilling over the floor, creating quite a sorrowful puddle. Rogers maintained direct eye contact, although Stark had gone red with fury.

"Oops." Rogers shrugged, a smirk adorning his infuriating countenance. "What a shame. So sorry. My fault-"

Stark leaped at him, knocking him over. They rolled over and over on the floor, dodging and packing punches into one another, writhing and hollering curse words.

"Pack it in, Tony," Rogers growled, restraining him, one hand on his neck and the other on his right fist, "or I'll-"

Stark hissed through clenched teeth, then managed to push him off and crack his nose with his fist.

This lasted for another ten minutes, until both of them had a black eye each, both their noses were bloodied and steam was curling off them like off a boiling pan of water. Stark sat on his bed, panting; Rogers sank into a chair, massaging his temples.

"At least you've not overloaded your senses with that drink." he muttered, wiping his nose, "Do you get my message now?"

Stark didn't bother to reply. He hunched over, leaning against his knees, his eyes on the floor. Rogers threw his handkerchief at him.

"Wipe your nose, shower, then get dressed. You won't forgive yourself if you miss it."

He glared at him, then softened a little, for Tony had tears in his eyes and was clenching his fists. He sat next to him and patted him firmly on the shoulder.

"Things like this happen, Tony." He muttered, sighing. "From what I gathered, she was a really good person. Wherever she is, she'll be fine."

"Yeah. You're right." Stark nodded, put out. "I'll get to it. Does Thor know?"

"Thor's still in Asgard." Rogers stood, shuffling through the glass towards the door. "We can't contact him."

"Oh, well. Nothing we can do."

"Onwards. Onwards. That's all we can do." Rogers called, bowing his head once. "I'll inform the rest of SHIELD you've come back."

"Thanks, man."

He nodded, then left. Stark was left alone, but followed Rogers' advice - Jarvis cleaned the glass up as he emerged from the bathroom in a towel and got dressed into a suit. Half an hour later, he arrived at the Haldanson house, his poker face in place. He grabbed the flowers he had picked up along the way and shuffled into the house.

Henrietta had been placed on the table, dressed in white, her hands folded on her chest, waiting for the burial. She looked peaceful when he last saw her, making him almost envious of her whilst he drank himself into a stupor back in his home.

Now, she didn't look peaceful. She didn't look anything at all, for she simply was not there.

Stark clutched at the flowers, his temper flaring, up to here with this whole mess, ready to destroy everything he saw with his own two fists, when he turned - he stumbled, for Hattie Knott came down the stairs, dressed, rosy-cheeked, looking as though she hadn't seen death at all.

"Tony! Tony?" Her voice was hoarse, as though she had cried for a long, long time, but it was clear enough. "Oh no, sit, don't-"

She rushed to help him as he swayed, dropping the flowers. A minute later, he more or less came back to the present in a sitting position with his head between his legs. His breathing regulated as she patted his back.

"Are you alright?" He heard her say, her voice sincerely worried.

He looked up at her slowly, his eyes so wide they almost hurt.

"Are you alright?" He repeated incredulously, his voice shaking. "Are you alright?! You were supposed to be dead! I saw you dead! You… you-!"

"I know." She whispered, then looked uneasy as he stood. "I'll explain everything to you once you get over the shock-"

"I AM NOT IN SHOCK!" He cried, throwing his arms about, then began tearing his hair out. "I mourned you for three days, I blamed myself for your death, for Laufeyson's departure, for all this-!"

He encompassed the house with a mad gesture.

"Only to find out that I'm being played with by someone, by fate, or whatever-!"

Henrietta looked at the poor warbling man then grabbed his shoulders and hugged him tight.

Tony cut himself off mid-yell, breathing heavily, finding himself in an entirely new situation, because, as a billionaire genius who enjoyed holing himself up with nothing but donuts and quantum mechanics for company, he wasn't accustomed to a woman's touch.

"There there, it's alright. I'm not dead and it's not your fault." Henrietta murmured, patting his back. "So don't shout so."

Tony Stark swallowed.

"Okay. Sorry." He managed, then hugged her back, feeling relief so great it almost made his legs weak again. "I'm very glad you're not dead."

It was his turn to become the one in control, for she suddenly burst into tears in his arms.

"It's alright." He muttered, patting her back awkwardly. "Let it out. Yeah. Like that."

"I need you to tell me-" she managed between sobs, "-exactly what happened when I was dead."

His embrace tightened.

"How much do you know?"

"Well, Loki's gone." She gasped, swallowed, then stopped sobbing slowly. "I just don't know when he did, what state he is in, who took him, and how on earth I'm going to go after him."

"These armoured men took him somewhere." Tony said, leading her to the couch, gladly stepping over the flowers. "He took a nasty blow to the head. I don't know what state he was in. Thor was in pieces for a bit, but he had to go back after them. He thinks you're dead, everyone does."

Henrietta bit her lip and nodded, speaking once she managed to steady her voice.

"Okay. Thanks, Tony. Thanks for coming."

"No problem."

"Honestly, if I was alone for a second longer I may have gone mad." She wiped her face and breathed out a shaky sigh. "Can you contact Thor, somehow?"

"I'm afraid not." He said, frowning. "It's inter-dimensional, isn't it, or something. I don't exactly know how it works. Those Asgardians came and went as they pleased, through a portal of some sort…"

Stark broke off, because her face became so frighteningly calm he became convinced she had lost her mind there and then.

"Henrietta?"

"Yes? Sorry. I'm listening to you." She came back, fixing him with huge, grey eyes, as though she knew something he didn't. "Please carry on."

"In summation, I have no idea. Do you want me to take you somewhere?" He added after a short pause. "Mom, Dad, friends? Nobody but us knew of your death, so they won't be panicking. Even so-"

"I do need to make a few calls, actually." She nodded, pulling out her phone. "And I'll be completely fine. Thank you so much, Tony. For everything."

They rose. Henrietta gave a wan smile.

"I'm so sorry I caused you grief. Truly. All that alcohol must have cost you."

There was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes which made Tony Stark grin.

"Heh. I suppose it will take a few days for the smell to wear off, huh?"

"I suppose so. Thank you, again. I don't know how I can ever repay you."

"Hattie." Stark raised his eyebrows. "The fact you're alive is payment enough. And money? Nah. What's money worth, after a certain moment?"

"You're right." She whispered, nodding. "I won't keep you any longer. I'll leave you to spread the news of my newly acquired life."

Tony nodded as she shook his hand.

"Well, you have my number. You know where to find me. My doors are always open, even if they're shut. Call me later. Tell me how you acquired your life."

He returned the smile she gave him, a strange peace enveloping his heart as he looked into her eyes. He left the house with a restored spirit and a few new thoughts, all along the lines of:

If she wasn't someone else's, I would make it plan A to make sure she would be mine.

Henrietta waved him off, then shut the door. Once she did so, her face set and she dialled a number.

She had woken up almost as soon as she had drunk the potion, unaware any time had passed at all, but her mind and soul in turmoil, for she knew what had happened. She knew Loki had found her - she felt his grief with her soul, and it made tears flow for many hours before she heard the door open and Tony arrive.

She was thanking all powers above that he came, for if he hadn't, she may have thought of the solution too late.

The solution - the portal, the one in her attic, the one which uncle Haldanson had created for her. She was going to go through it, no matter what she would find on the other side. What had Loki read, back then, those many weeks before?

Trapping sparks, ignite the window to come home.

She did not possess an ounce of magic within her, but she knew somebody who did, and her future depended upon him.

The call connected. She bit her lip.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Hi, who is it?" Filip Greer's voice sounded on the other end. Hattie sighed in relief.

"Hi, Filip, it's me, Hattie. I need you urgently at my house, right this instant, if possible."

"Alright… Did something happen?"

"Just come quick. As quick as you can." She muttered, her fists clenched and voice tight. "I'll explain when you get here."

He arrived quicker than she anticipated. He must have sped the whole way here. He didn't even manage to knock on the door - she pulled it open, then dragged him inside.

"To the attic." She breathed. "It's about Asgard, I need to get there as soon as possible."

"What?"

"Come on!" She pulled him, then broke into the room, storming up the stairs. "I need to get to Asgard, now, if possible."

"Hattie? That's kind of impossible." Greer frowned. "Unless Odin summons you, or something, you know that, right?"

"Not if you have a lovely, mad uncle, it isn't." She reached for the attic, opened the trapdoor and stepped back, waving the dust about as the ladder unfolded. "Go first."

The attic was dusty and dark. The old lamp flickered, then lit up a musty yellow when she pulled the switch.

"Woah." Filip murmured, casting an eye over the setting. "Lovely, mad uncle indeed."

Hattie turned to him, taking his shoulders firmly so that he was wholly focused on her.

"Two things." She stated, her voice and eyes solemn. "I need your magic."

"Okay… And the second thing?"

A small smile formed on her lips and somewhat of a mad glint sparked in her eyes.

"I may not come back once you use it."

Loki giggled all the way to his old cell, although he did not feel it.

Imagine the following. A barren, red wasteland of crumbling rock. A dark, purple sky overhead, lit up green occasionally by raining boulders of fire. Dead trees, their branches shaped as though they had withered up grasping at the air litter the landscape, along with the skeletons of lizards and beasts. The wind is dry and hot. Tremors rake through the ground. Debris falls from the sky along with thick acid rain.

Now, once you have, you would have a similar picture to what Loki Laufeyson's mind looked like. He was all. The red rocks, skeletons, green fire and dry wind carrying debris, all which sometimes twisted to make up something of a memory, or a wisp of an emotion.

But, of course, the people who looked upon him could only see his eyes, not his mind, and so they saw a madman, a rogue, a fallen man who's laughter meant desire for the demise of others.

"No, Benerl." Jeehl the fair-haired raised a hand, as one of the guards raised a whip once the doors shut. "There's no need for that."

The guard retreated with a bow of his head. Once they reached his cell, Jeehl ordered them to stop dragging him.

"Take off his chains."

There was a moment of hesitation, but the guards obeyed. Laufeyson stayed still as though he couldn't feel his freedom. Once the chains were undone, he fell to his knees, looking upwards at the craggy ceiling, as though seeing something more than mould and damp.

"Loki of Asgard." Jeehl rounded him and bent down to look him in the eyes, although it was a futile move. "Come into the cell."

He repeated this twice before daring to put a hand on the madman's shoulder. Loki did not flinch, but his eyes sharpened a little, enough to make contact with him.

"Into the cell." Jeehl said firmly, offering him a hand. Laufeyson took it, surprisingly nimble for his condition, and waited for him to make way.

It was only when he was inside and the door was being shut did Jeehl realise why he had complied without an ounce of defiance. As he turned to leave, Loki turned, quick as a serpent, then leaped at him with a flash, tackling him, his eyes fixed with a crazed obstinacy on the blade Jeehl wore at his side.

"That… I want that-"

Jeehl managed to remove it from his reach, throw it out and slam the door shut with nothing hanging on his belt but his keys. Loki's pupils constricted at the bang the doors made, but he didn't stop.

"The blade. Give it to me. Give it to me, Jeehl, give it to me."

"Stand down, Loki Laufeyson-"

"The blade, Jeehl." His fingers furled into his shirt as he wrestled with him. "Give me a blade. Give, give, give-"

Jeehl managed to shove him off. Loki landed with a thump on the cold flags, but scrambled to his knees almost instantly and grabbed the hem of his shirt.

"You're a good man, Jeehl." He murmured, looking at him intently, his gaze so devoid of humanity it made the guard captain shudder. "A merciful man. Your heart is softer than the rest of the beings here. Make one little move for me, please. One small move, before Odin calls Death off me again…"

Loki struggled to his feet and threw back his head, revealing his pale, translucent neck. He traced a line across it with a trembling finger.

"Just a little thrust. You won't even feel it. I won't whimper. I won't make a sound."

He knelt down again and clasped his hands, shaking them feverishly, begging.

"I promise you. Be merciful. Make me smile one last time, Jeehl, one last time."

Jeehl's hands were shaking as he listened. He tore his eyes away from Loki's devoid ones, mustering every ounce of strength he had to turn his thoughts away from listening to his plea.

"One last time." He heard him whisper. "I don't want to hurt anybody, Jeehl. I just want to fall asleep. Forevermore. I want to see…"

His voice shook - Jeehl turned back to look at him. His eyes were rimmed with red, his lip trembled, although his eyes stayed dry.

"...I want to see my dearest sweet. I want to see her, touch her again. Tell her what I never got to. My Hattie. My dear Hattie. Come, Jeehl. Listen to me."

Jeehl unhooked his thin, trembling hands from the hem of his shirt.

"I cannot, Loki Laufeyson." He said, although his voice quivered. "Stand down."

Loki's lips parted, as though in disbelief that one could be so cruel. His grip loosened and his hands drifted slowly to his sides.

"You won't draw the line?" He whispered, his eyes still fixed onto Jeehl's.

"No."

A faint smile turned up the corners of the god of mischief's lips, but it was an empty one, one that was resigned. His eyes flickered towards the golden chains, long enough to wind around his neck, then to the stone flags.

"Very well." He muttered. "It is already too late. Death has fled. She has crossed my name off her list."

He offered him his clenched hands, a sharp grin creeping slowly onto his lips.

"Chain me, Jeehl." He muttered, although he was already slumping, out of strength. "Fulfil your duty."

Jeehl was pale as he left. He was pale when he returned. He was pale when Loki was chained and bound as he had been before the green portal had spat him out in Midgard, those months ago. He was pale, with trembling hands, as he took out a golden needle and black thread from the bag around his belt, averting his eyes from Loki's seething gaze.

Loki gazed upon the needle, his breath jagged and in shreds, suffocating, warbling gibberish, scrambling backwards even though his chains did not allow him to move an inch.

"Jeehl? Jeehl. Jeehl, put that away. Away. Away, Jeehl. No, Jeehl. No. No… No-!"

Thor threw open the door to the throne room without knocking.

Odin was already there, having a conversation with a trembling Frigga. Her eyes were filled with tears and she had bared her teeth in a sharp snarl.

"-he's your son, Odin, your own son! You can make one exception for him, just one-!"

"I already have, Frigga, and you know that."

Thor averted his eyes. He had only seen his mother like this once before, and that was when Loki had been sentenced to death a few years ago. She had managed to lessen his sentence after such a conversation, managing to gain him imprisonment instead.

"Father?" Thor said, falling onto one knee, then rising. "Father, I need to speak with you."

Odin turned, his eyes filled with thunder.

"I have seen and judged, son. Let us not speak of this any longer."

"No, Father, you do not know the whole story. Let me speak with you, I beg of you."

Odin saw solid obstinacy in his son's gaze, and so made a gesture with his hand for him to speak. Frigga blinked at him, hope lining her tears.

"He loved a woman." Thor said simply, for he was never a great scholar or the most eloquent. "He swore to her, though not with words, that he would change. He did. From the moment he did, he did not hurt another being. I swear to you, Father."

Frigga's lips formed a faint shadow of a smile at the thought of Loki, her son, in love. Odin surveyed his son with a stern gaze.

"I knew her." Thor continued. "She had a heart of gold. Loki would have spent the rest of his days without his words, magic, both if she told him to do so - no other could control him as she did. I was there when she held him, and when called off his attacks upon others with a few words."

Odin furrowed his wisened brows.

"Who is this woman?"

"Her name is Henrietta Knott. She was the niece of Haldanson the Foul, father."

"Where is she now?"

Thor bowed his head. Frigga's face fell.

"She is dead, Father. She died yesterday. I got there too late."

There was a long silence. After it, Odin spoke.

"From Loki's past actions," he growled, "we must also take into account the possibility that Loki killed-"

Both Frigga and Thor began talking feverishly at once. Odin raised his hand.

"Let me finish, please. We must take the possibility of his angry outburst causing her sudden death."

"I highly doubt it, Father, I doubt he ever touched her without her agreeing to it-"

"How many times did you see them together, Thor?"

Thor bowed his head again.

"Twice, father. Three times at most."

"Then I do not see upon what basis you make your judgement. It is past actions which speak of a man's character, not his words. You cannot compare mere weeks to a thousand years."

Odin sat heavily upon his throne.

"Ahlan Gehtrelson told me of his actions in Midgard preceding his death. He had been wreaking havoc as soon as he could talk again and you know it. If I let him loose, he will do it again. More lives will be lost. The blood of the innocent will be spilled. You know it. As do you, dear wife. You need to realise that I carry justice's name. I cannot let him go unreprimanded."

Frigga had drawn herself up tall, then blanched at his arguments, for they were made of stone and could not be overthrown. Thor looked up.

"Father, he has suffered already. I believe he has paid for what he has done. Truly. Look into his face - there's something there which was not there before."

Odin bowed his head.

"His trial will be held after those three days in the cells. Then, we will see what lies beneath his eyes."

Thor did not hope for anything more. He nodded briefly, bowed before his father, kissed his mother's hand, then made his way down to the dungeons with his face set in stone and a brief intention in his heart, that even he dared not to think.

This last visit was a goodbye to his younger brother; goodbye to Loki Odinson.

"What are you talking about, Hattie?" Filip murmured, looking at her solemn expression not without fear. "What do you mean, you might not return?"

Hattie let go of him and sighed.

"Loki has been taken back to Asgard."

"Loki?" He frowned. "Like that prince of asgard? Didn't he tried to take over Midgard-"

"Layden, Filip, is actually Loki Laufeyson. We didn't want to scare you." She studied him, for he had paled. "What is it?"

"Nothing." He wiped his brow, then glanced at the portal gates. "And you wish to reach him for what reason?"

Hattie tore a longing gaze away from the gates and turned to him.

"I love him, Filip. He's been taken against his will. Ask me no questions, I beg of you, I really need to get to him. Now."

Filip studied her, then dropped his gaze.

"And what if you don't come back?"

"Then you get my house, my money and my cat, Filip." She smiled knowingly. "I know it means a lot to you."

Filip went really, really red. Hattie poked him.

"None of that, now. I know why you wanted it so much. I know about your daughters. I transferred fifty thousand to your bank a week ago when I found out about their illness - no, don't protest. It was my choice. Now, you can treat them. You should have told me earlier."

Filip looked up after a long while. His blonde hair was a stark contrast to the redness of his face.

"Thanks, Hattie." He managed, his voice almost gone. "I owe you one."

"I need your sparks, Filip. In the gate."

He nodded, and no other words were said upon the matter.

Hattie watched, then covered her eyes as the sparks were caught between the gates, as they grew and brightened, until they formed a sparking, golden net, not different to the one the Asgardian guards had used to get back home. It whipped at their hair and sent them blinking, until finally, it grew still, whispering gently, stirring the pages on Haldanson's desk with a gentle breeze.

"That's it." Filip muttered, once all had stilled. "It's fascinating. Did he build it himself?"

"I don't know." Hattie said, clenching her fists. "But I'm going through it."

"Is it safe?"

"It's my only option." She turned to him and smiled. "Goodbye, Filip. Perhaps I will see you soon."

Filip Greer nodded, swallowing, then took a step back.

Hattie turned, shut her eyes tight, then took a step forward. She was a foot away from submerging her face in the pool of golden light, when there was a faint meow from behind her.

She stopped, then turned.

Loki the cat had sat neatly a few steps behind her, his eyes wide and questioning, his tail flickering nervously as he stared up at her. Hattie felt her heart squeeze.

"Oh, pet." She murmured, crouching down. "I'm so sorry. I forgot about you."

Loki the cat streaked into her arms and let himself be picked up. She held him, pressing her face to his fur, then giggling breathlessly as he licked her tears away.

"Promise me you won't miss me." She breathed into his neck. "I'll try to come back."

He gave a faint meow, then fixed his eyes into her again.

He didn't understand.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. Stay here. Guard your lady's house, okay?" She said, tears streaking her cheeks now. "Be as good as you always are."

Loki the cat stared up at her, as though trying to reassure her. Hattie could only guess what he was thinking.

Filip wiped his eyes furiously, then nodded to her, his lips pursed. The gates shuddered as she stepped through them, then went out with a flicker, leaving only the dust it agitated swirling as evidence anything had happened at all.

Thor was halfway down the dungeon stairs when a guard came hurrying to meet him.

"My Lord," the guard thundered, "it's good you're here. Laufeyson-"

Thor raised a hand for him to cut to the chase.

"I believe we need a medic."

"Then go get one!" Thor growled, bursting into a run, "Hurry, go!"

He didn't need to see the scene to assume what the problem was. The second he had reached the bottom of the stairs, the shrill cries reached him.

"Sons of idiocy! Grievers! Blood-drinkers, pain-relishers, fools!"

Thor burst in through the doors to his brothers cell the second Jeehl the fair-haired turned to do the same.

"My Lord-"

"What's with him?!"

"Death-banishers, torture-impenders, sons of blackened blood-!"

Jeehl was trembling, but his jaw was set.

"I don't know."

Loki had managed to wind the chains around his arms so tight, they had split the skin along them. He writhed within them, his face a maddened mask, his lips bitten till they bled. His eyes darted towards a discarded needle and thread at his feet, then at the guards, then at Thor.

"Loki, enough!" Thor cried, coming forward and seizing his face. "Brother, what is wrong?"

Loki screamed with laughter at this question, his body stiffening, his eyes flashing.

"What is wrong?" He yelled, his teeth like steel. "Nothing! Nothing, Thor! Nothing! I am doomed to taste and revel in darkness until the stars fall down, NOTHING IS WRONG!"

"Enough of this madness!" Thor yelled, trying to detach the chains from around his arms. "Control yourself, this is helping no-one!"

Loki receded into breathless giggling, throwing back his head and running his tongue along his bleeding lips.

"Oh, you're still so naive. Such a hard, beaten, bloody warrior, and yet you are so naive… You believe in justice, happiness. You believe in peace!"

Thor was getting angry, for the hope he had carried away from the throne room was slowly ebbing away. Loki wasn't going to gain forgiveness at this rate - he would only assure Father that he had to be put away.

He grabbed his shoulders, shaking him to and fro, setting Loki's head swaying back and forth, which only made the madman giggle harder.

"Tell me Thor, what on earth made you think that happiness is a defined idea?" He muttered, when Thor stopped shaking him. "Because for me, it was Henrietta. She made me believe that I can touch it. She made me think it is something I drink along with the warmth she gave me, but you know what?"

Thor took a step back, for Loki's gaze was roving from reality and a place that scared even the god of war.

"Happiness, peace, love is an illusion, brother." His voice was broken and yet hissed like an approaching serpent. "Something created to manipulate us as we pursue it. In the end, there is only pain and void. There is only what was created to destroy us, in the end-"

Thor could stand it no longer and punched his brother in the face, cutting off his morbid monologue.

The crazed smile didn't leave Loki's countenance as he lost consciousness and his head hung limply.

"Should he be unchained?"

"No," Thor said to the medic who had arrived a second before, "there is nothing you can do but stop him from bleeding for a moment."

"My Lord, what of the Allfather's orders?" Jeehl said, his fists clenched, his eyes on the needle and thread he was forced to drop.

Thor picked them up and handed it to him.

"Don't do it. Leave his lips undone."

"My Lord-"

"I will explain to the Allfather it was my command." He interjected firmly. "I will ensure you will face no punishment for disobedience. Let me know if this-"

Thor pointed at his brother, slumbering with unrest.

"-happens again. With haste."

Jeehl bowed his head and retreated as the medic mended Loki's broken form. The medic bowed when he had finished, leaving only silence and sorrow in the cell.

"Anything else, my Lord?"

"No, Medic. Unfortunately, my brother is right."

Thor surveyed Loki, swallowing, his face set in stone.

"I believe only Death can help him now."