Hidden Troubles

Chapter 20

"Drink, little prince." Loki eyed the chalice held by the clawed hands suspiciously, but his desire for some liquid overrode his suspicion. He found himself chugging the moist liquid, comforting his sore, dry throat. Perhaps he heard a growl of laughter from the Chitauri, but he cared not, for he was revelling in the liquid, stopping the escape of stray droplets running down his lips. He hardly noticed the chalice being taken as he licked his lips hungrily.

He had been shaking from the cold at first. He almost laughed at the irony of such a climate being too cold for a Frost Giant. But soon he realised, it wasn't cold. In fact, he was far from cold; he was burning, he was lit on fire, he was a star ready to die. He could feel it in his chest, in his throat, coursing through his arms.

Loki didn't know he was screaming. Nor did he know that he was crying. All he knew, as he raised his manacled hands from the ground, was the excruciating pain and the indescribable blackness as he dug his nails into his eyes and pierced them, gouging them out. Visions all too real, too real to be illusions tortured his mind, leaving their mark with cruel mental slashes at every passing memory and nightmare. His fingers and face were sticky and dirtied—he could not tell whether they were blood or tears.

Could an eyeless face still weep?

It mattered not, for the visions still poured into him like liquid metal, taunting him, flogging his mind. He didn't know reality from insanity, insanity from reality- were they not the same?

Monster, monster, monster, he with a heart so black and dead it knew no mercy or love.

Monster, whose only desire was to slaughter and gorge, whose meaning in life was nothing.

"So very weak," a voice cackled as Loki descended into nothingness.

Even as his eyes returned to him a week later, Loki did not open his eyes for a long, long time.

***

"You can do it, brother."

"I can't. I'll fall Thor."

"Then we'll catch you."

The team were gathered into a cleared section of the downstairs gym. Loki lent heavily on the wall, only a few feet away from his wheelchair. Today would be the day they'd all discover how much of a distance the god could walk without tiring. Weeks of basic physiotherapy, building his leg muscles up to support his malnourished form.

Natasha and Thor stood by his side, trying to encourage him to abandon the wall, abandon its stability and support and take his first independent step forward. Natasha watched the thin god, concerned; his face was so pale she thought she could see the thinned life flowing through his blue veins under his skin.

"Tony put the camera away." Steve sighed.

"But it's Loki's first steps! I'm being the proud father and recording this!" Tony retorted, childish indignation framing his words as he waved his camera around.

"Tony."

"Fine," Tony sighed, placing the camera down. Despite this, Natasha noticed him holding it at an angle where the camera still pointed towards Loki. She suspected it was poised to record. 

"You can do it brother. We'll always be here." Loki looked at Thor, green eyes the painful personification of vulnerability. He had never depended on others so much before in his entire life- if he was to fall, they'd have to catch him. They'd have to save him. He was putting far too much trust in their hands. But what choice did he have?