My War Is Over (Original Unfinished Version)

Chapter Twenty-Four

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Sharp, jagged pieces of the chipped stone floor dig into his limbs, sending more and more streaks of dark scarlet blood mixing with the dried crimson and grime that coats his skin as two Chitauri guards drag him through the dimly-lit corridors of the seemingly endless cavern he'd been taken to months ago. Loki barely even flinches when the side of his cheek knocks into another one of the jutted pieces of rock, slicing it open. Fresh iron mixes with the sour taste of stale bile from his session earlier in his mouth, trickling into one side of his parted lips and out the other. Nothing compares to the horrible stinging, white-hot burning pain that lights up his entire back like a never-ending bonfire. His once perfect porcelain skin is shredded in dark, ugly lines from the whip they'd used, slicing him open over, and over, and over again until he'd mercifully fallen unconscious from the pain. The familiar tingle of his seidr healing his wounds is gone. They'd taken that from him too, a comfort he hadn't realized he'd taken for granted until it was gone, leaving only an aching hole in his stomach, and perhaps a few pitfull, sparkling green sparks from his fingers if he had the energy to try. Using a damaged seidr only results in more pain, though.

He's hoisted up to his feet rather abruptly, eliciting what's meant to be a soft gasp of pained surprise but is actually a slight gurgle of the blood that had filled his mouth. (From where? Oh, that's right. Hadn't he cut his cheek?)

"Show some respect for your Master, runt." Comes a snarling voice from a direction he can't discern as left or right. (Did it even matter anyway?)

Apparently, they'd still been holding him upright, as when the stinging pressure in his biceps slips off, he goes crashing to his knees, sending waves of agony through his ribs and his right leg, which had been bent at an unnatural, sickly angle since...he can't remember when.

"My Pet," The rough hand of Thanos (No! Master!) wraps around his neck, wrenching up his head and stealing the air from his already struggling lungs. "I grow impatient. Have you changed your mind yet?" The grip on his neck tightens.

"N-no. I-I won't." Loki wheezes around the thick, purple fingers. Thanos squeezes a little tighter, and Loki almost wants to encourage him. (Please. Rid me of this hell.) But the fingers release him, and he goes slumping back against the stone, searing pain ripping through his back. (Don't scream. Don't scream. Don't scream.)

"I think you will soon find, that you gave the wrong answer." His head is yanked up once more from the floor, tilted back roughly, and before Loki has a chance to panic liquid is being poured down his throat. He gasps and splutters, struggling wildly against the iron grip the guards had on him, but to no use. When he is positively certain that he's going to die, the liquid stops pouring and he is released, crumpling to the floor, choking and clawing at his abused throat.

"I've heard-" Thanos croons, petting Loki's hair before twisting his broken leg. Loki can't hold in the scream. "-that Frost Giants such as yourself do not...get along well with heat. They say your weakness is fire." Loki shudders. "So we shall discover if that is true or not." He finishes with a whisper, a crooked sneer spreading across his face before he turns and leaves, slamming Loki's cell door shut behind him.

He doesn't even have a chance to think before the fire erupts in his veins.

"Rise and shine, Snowflake!" comes Tony's voice to his side with a gentle hand across his face, his finger just lightly skimming over Loki's closed eyelid. You are going to travel to Midgard, with the aid of the Chitauri you will take their planet, find the Tesseract, and bring it to me. Do you understand? His left eye explodes in phantom pain, he jerks up, catching Tony's hand in his own, grip tight enough to cause the engineer to wince. Cease this! It is only Anthony! He draws in a ragged breath. You fool! You'll hurt him!