Chapter 4
When Stark had started talking about the agent, Loki had begun to realize his mistake. But he had still thought the Citauri would prevail. When he had stabbed Thor during their fight, it was actually the desperation that showed. Some stupid part of him had rather he died by Thor’s hand then by Thanos’. But of course he had survived in the end. That creature had brought him to fall, but in a way he had only been proxy to his downfall. He had been the last straw to the so-called Avenger’s victory.
As he was shoved into a cell below the palace, he was in some way thankful for his dark thoughts. They had kept his mind off the pain he was still in. His right knee seemed broken in some way, maybe some small part of the bone had found its way into the joint. The tendons in his left shoulder had been torn at some point and hadn’t healed properly so his left arm felt weak and larger movements hurt. His intestines seemed messed up as well or maybe it was the malnutrition that made him feel nauseous once in a while.
Normally his body would have healed. Broken bones or even internal injury were nothing his body couldn’t deal with. But his healing abilities hadn’t worked properly ever since Thanos had laid his hands on him. Maybe it had been the heat that had messed with his frost giant origin. Maybe his healing abilities had been used too often in too short a time span and had stopped working. Maybe it was even his mental state, the silent unhappiness behind the mask of arrogance, his constant fear of Thanos revenge for not leading his armies to victory. Maybe his fear of Thanos attacking Asgard, hurting or even killing Thor or Frigga.
Either way, as soon as the cell door was closed, Loki collapsed against the wall. His breathing picked up as he clamped one hand over the aching knee. On his way to the cells he had been putting his full weight on it in order to walk without limping. He much rather suffered the pain than showed that he was hurt. A wave of nausea washed over him as he sat down against the wall. Loki pressed his eyes shut and watched the stars dancing behind his closed eyelids. Cold sweat sprung up on his skin as he started heaving, but nothing but acid would come up.
When was the last time he had eaten? Loki had always been somebody to relish fine foods but then again nobody to like the over-eating that seemed so ingrained in Asgardian culture. He was a picky eater and would rather not eat anything than something not to his liking. Eating was a fine pastime and no necessity to Loki, having caused him to always be slim and lithe.
Thanos had not given him food and if he had, Loki wouldn’t have kept it down when he writhered on the ground, screaming so loudly he hurt his own ears. The Avengers had not given him food. They probably would have but his mind had been elsewhere. And in the spare time he had been free, other things had occupied his mind than food. Now, however, the stomach acid burned his throat and left a disgusting taste on his tongue. No food would probably not kill him, but weaken him even more.
Once the stars behind his eyelids had passed, Loki got back up, clenching his teeth to avoid screaming. His knee hurt and with his hands cuffed in front of him he had no way to push himself up.
A cruel move to keep the cuffs on his wrists. The chain was long enough to not be a bother but soon enough the skin on his wrists would bear the marks of the heavy metal.
Loki’s mind had already started to analyze the situation. Either Odin was angry enough to use every excuse to hurt him or the guards would be back soon. Probably both. Loki wondered if Odin was finally angry enough to have him killed. Frigga would not accept that, of course. But what if Odin chose to ignore her voice? Death. Loki wondered what it might be like. Some honest, ugly part of him would have been happy to end all of this and be it by the executioner’s sword.