The first thing Loki felt again was pain.
Pain immediately became agony as his nervous system finished being pieced together.
(He couldn't remember where he had been before, only that it had been quiet.)
If Loki had a mouth, he would have screamed.
The Void had torn him apart, atom by atom, after he let go. That, Loki remembered – bursting into pieces when his body couldn't hold itself together anymore. He remembered the relief.
It hadn't hurt as much as this.
(Before, it had been peaceful. Before, nothing had hurt.)
After the nerves came the circulatory system – veins, arteries, capillaries, blood, the molecules gathered up from where they'd been scattered across Yggdrasil. Next, the internal organs. His digestive tract squirmed into place, his stomach filled with acid and bile, and Loki felt his heart beat as deflated lungs grew on either side.
Loki thought he should have blacked out by now – it didn't seem possible to endure such pain and remain consciousness. But obviously his body hadn't progressed far enough for that mercy.
(Before, it might have been dark like a night spent curled up safe and warm beneath his brother's blanket's. Or it might have been bright like a summer's afternoon spent sprawled in his mother's garden beneath the sun.)
(But not this.)
Bones calcified, a trachea sprouted, vocal cords grew and began to vibrate in one endless note. Skin crawled over muscle, the sensation like fire racing over his body.
The details came last. Fingernails, hair, a mouth and a nose.
The first thing his ears heard was a drawn-out wail.
The first thing his eyes saw made him snap his mouth shut, newly-formed teeth drawing blood from his newly-formed tongue.
On a rock set against the stars, were two beings. One was huge, purple-skinned and clad in golden armour, sitting indolently in a throne. The other, draped in dark robes, stood beside him with Her arm outstretched towards where Loki hung, naked and suspended, before them. At one moment Her face was a bleached-white skull, at the next it was a woman's, with the universe in Her eyes.
Loki knew Her. He had been Hers, wrapped in Her embrace after he let go.
Until he was not.
She dropped her arm and Loki fell with it, collapsing at the foot of the throne. Loki gasped as the impact shuddered through his body, every stone and jagged ridge feeling like knives piercing his new skin. Yet his eyes remained locked on the two figures above him. He couldn't look away.
She turned to the being on the throne.
YOUR GIFT, She said.
Purple eyes ran across Loki's body, studying him like a particularly interesting specimen of insect. When the eyes met his, terror howled through Loki's mind, every instinct telling him to flee and hide or cower and beg for mercy.
The being on the throne made a dismissive noise.
“I had expected something less...pitiful,” He sneered.
HE IS ALSO A WARNING, TITAN. YOU TARRY, DESPITE MY HELP. HE WILL BE ENOUGH.
The purple eyes shifted away, and Loki sagged in relief.
“You need not worry, my love,” the being purred, running His hand down Her cheek.
He grinned down at Loki, and that was worse.
“I will put my new pet to very good use.”
And Loki knew why he was no longer in Death's arms. He understood the only reason why he yet again lived.
He was no longer Hers.
Now, he was His.
(“No more than another stolen relic, locked up here until you might have use of me–”)
Something inside Loki's heart shuddered and snapped.
He wanted to scream.
(Because before, he had been free.)