They hadn’t been able to recall how long it had been since they’d let go. There were no windows, no distinction between words, and certainly no exits.
Days? Weeks? It couldn’t have been that long. Their time in the Sanctuary had blended all together in a big mess. What had started as hope had quickly turned into despair. Loki didn’t remember much. Darkness. The feeling of falling, waiting. They hadn’t thought the fates would let them live so long. Sadness became misery in those days. The longing for death. They’d failed Asgard, their family, and destroyed most of their birth place. And yet, they still lived.
Fear was an emotion that lingered as well. The knowledge they kept knowing they wouldn’t be welcomed at the gates of Valhalla. Only the depths of Hel knew what was in store for the God.
‘Oh, just do it already’, was something they’d thought often in the void. But that would have been too easy, yes? Death to the Traitor would have been too quick, too merciful. For the universe had other things in store for them.
They didn’t know what to call it. For wanting to perish in the void, their will to survive in this place was evident.
Loki had felt Death’s hands eventually, only for mere moments, eyes staring into that of the woman’s, though her eyes only held a look of warning, and not of peace. She had been gone as quickly as she’d come, for when Loki’s eyes closed for just that moment of relief, her touch was gone.
They didn’t know how much time had passed before they were drifting off to subconsciousness. Though it only felt like a blink before they were awoken by hitting a hard metal floor, eyes shooting wide open as they gasped for air. The void held no promise of it. It was an odder atmosphere than most. You had to time out your breaths carefully to just survive. So, the sudden influx of oxygen had Loki reeling back in pain, springing up from their spot on the floor and hitting the back wall instead.
Their entire body ached. They couldn’t tell if it was leftover from their brawl on the bridge, or from the lack of movement from floating.
The air had a rotten stench to it, and when they’d tried to find the source of it, their eyes landed on two silhouettes, the only light being a reddish glow from behind them.
Who? Why? … How?
The void was supposed to be empty. A place barren of life. They shouldn’t be too surprised. Outcasts often found a way to survive, did they not? They were a prime example of that. But that still didn’t explain why.
“It’s alive.” One of the voices said, her head tilting to the side. From what Loki could make out, she had longer hair than the other one standing there, two horns on the sides of her head, and she was holding what looked like a staff.
“Should we kill it?” The other voice spoke, this time a much deeper one than before. It was raspy, this figure hunched over.
Part of them had the urge to fight, to leap from their spot on the floor and proclaim themselves fit enough to live.
Yet that thought was already leaving their headspace at the reminder of “why?” What would they be fighting to live for? They had no home. No name to live up to. Nobody to live for. They were unworthy of life, and yet Lady Death had deemed them unworthy of dying too.
“No.” The woman spoke again, leaning forward, close enough that Loki could see her eyes. A bright yellow. Unnerving, to say the least. “If they’ve survived this long, Thanos would like to meet them.”
And it seemed Loki really didn’t have a choice in the matter. Two hands grabbed their arms, Loki letting out a hiss at the sudden pull upwards. Thanos? What was this, some type of cult? Their leader of some sort? Why was it so important for them to meet him? Why couldn’t these people just let them rot?
The hallways of the ship were no different. A bit more lighting from.. Well, where was it coming from? Looking up, it looked like the ship was a literal cave, random metallic gears turning from random points. It confused Loki to no end.
A random bang next to them had Loki jumping, finally truly looking around themselves. It was a cell. The entire hallway was just cells, the hunched over creature had taken the woman’s weapon, immediately hitting whatever had run at them back deeper into the cell. What was this place? Who were these people? Was that what was going to happen to them? Why would they save them from the void just to be put somewhere more miserable to die?
Heimdall could see them, couldn’t he? He was probably satisfied watching the exiled royal get what they deserved. Telling the Allfather that the traitor was to die a gruesome death rotting away in some type of prison. Now that had Loki really awakening.
Their fall had been on their terms. It was a decision that they had fully made on their own without any judgement from anyone. But, this? This was something that they knew Odin would put his word in. They weren’t dying on their own terms anymore.
“Move.” The woman huffed next to them, Loki fully snapping out of their thoughts as they slowly looked towards her. They weren’t moving an inch. At least not willingly.
“Are you to kill me here?” Loki asked, almost in a whisper. Their voice was raspy, probably due to the lack of talking.
The creature just looked at them for a second, eyes studying them. They couldn’t exactly tell what she was thinking behind those eyes. Never a good sign.
“If Thanos deems it so.” She responded after a moment, though they didn’t miss the way the corner of her lips upturned into a smirk.
There was no time wasted. For someone who’d been longing for death not only moments before, it surely didn’t seem to be the case in that moment. They were running on pure adrenaline as they conjured their dagger and used their free arm to elbow the woman in the face. She was caught off guard at least, grunting as she took a step back.
Loki took this as their time to run. Where? No clue. But anywhere other than near those two.
They thought they’d gotten at least a decent head start, but the sound of running and .. was that growling? Ok, growling, was behind them, signaling that maybe they didn’t have the upper hand. Thankfully, their seidr had remained dormant long enough to replenish, so when Loki rounded a corner, they’d done one of the most basic tricks in the book.
Illusion projection.
It wouldn’t last a long time, but it was enough to at least trick them into thinking they’d gone elsewhere.
Their back up against the wall, Loki tried calming their breathing down so they couldn’t hear it. The illusion ran right down the hall, and Loki watched and waited as the running got closer, and the growling was growing near.
The hunched creature was the first to go by, running on what looked like all fours to chase after the illusion. It seemed like forever, but the woman was quick to follow, weapon clutched close in her hand.
They stayed like this for a tick or two, waiting until the sound of running sounded distant enough to move. There was no time to squabble.
But when Loki turned, they were knocked off their feet before they could even think, back hitting the ground with an echoing thud before a sword was pointed right at their throat.
They could barely breathe, eyes wide as they stared up at the person who’d struck the final blow. A Zen-Whoberis. Her hair was a dark red on top, ending in a lighter shade at the bottom, and a cold stare as she examined the person beneath her.
“It seems Proxima and Corvus failed.” She hummed, the foot on their chest pressing harder as she leaned down to look at them. This was the second time tonight somebody has had to do this, and they didn’t appreciate being examined so closely. They felt like a bug. This was beneath them.
She said nothing, only staring until she yanked the God up by the scruff of their neck, the God letting out a yell at the sudden pull on their hair. They didn’t exactly have it in them to fight anymore. They’d spent so much time fighting. But did they deserve to die like this? This place was decrepit. Where the dreary regions of the dead came to be forgotten. They weren’t to be forgotten in a place such as this.
It seemed the neverending halls were only an illusion, because there was a light at the end of the tunnel, though not the light Loki or any Asgardian warrior would pray for.
The room was one big circle, the walls made of cells of whatever beings could be lying dormant in them, a chair laid right in the middle of the room with- .. A Titan?
Oh.
Loki had read of this story before. Titan had been a realm of peace before being wiped from existence due to starvation and wars. Yet, there was one who had survived. They’d called him a madman. Preaching of a way to save his planet. He’d only been mentioned a few times due to his taboo ideas and nature, but Loki could draw conclusions based on context clues.
They’d almost turned to run, but the woman holding them seemed to sense their hesitation, sighing as she pushed the God to their knees. How low they’d fallen. To bow to such a thing as a madman. Then again, they weren’t as innocent as they thought anymore either.
“Well done, daughter.”
His voice was stern, full of pride for the Zen-Whoberis, who smiled and walked next to her supposed Father’s side. They couldn’t be related- that’s what they’d had thought before everything had happened. Yet now, Loki had been ripped away from their own heritage; only left with thoughts and ideas on who they could be. Perhaps he’d found her. Her kind was also extinct at this point, at least from what Loki had read. They had that in common.
The two from earlier also stood behind the Titan, Proxima and Corvus as the woman had called them. Their stares were much colder than that of the Titan’s who seemed more curious than annoyed. So, Loki stayed where they were, even if every fibre of their being was telling them to get up. They’d run too long from their problems, it was time to be brave about one.
“What is your name, little one?”
Loki’s eye twitched a little, quickly hiding the expression by just closing their eyes. The man had a more friendly aura then his children, something that had Loki’s shoulders relaxing. At least not as tense since they’d gotten here.
“I am Loki, of-“ They stopped, eyes opening quickly as they shut their mouth.
“Of..?”
It wasn’t mocking. A general question, but Loki had no answer. Their brows furrowed, almost in frustration as they tried to figure out what to say. They were being watched so closely, it made their skin crawl when they made any movement.
The Titan’s chuckle echoed the chamber, along with the thud on the ground as he stood from his chair.
“I am of nowhere,” they finally answered, swallowing down the lump in their throat as their eyes closed once more, “born of a cursed land, yet not accepted in the one I had roamed. I am the God of Mischief yet I do not have status.” Loki explained, the footsteps stopping just inches in front of them.
“Loki of nowhere?” He spoke. He was right there. This Madman that the people of Titan spoke so lowly of. Yet there he was, sparing Loki time to hear them. Something their father nor brother had much time to do.
Two large fingers were on Loki’s chin, pulling their head up to look up from their position, green eyes opening to meet that of the Titan’s. For his looks, for the setting they were in, for the many things spoken about him, his demeanor read kindly, his eyes only holding sympathy.
“We are all from somewhere, child. That somewhere does not have to hold us down, for we claim it as our own. Make it our own, even if it doesn’t seem that way now.” He hummed, smiling down towards Loki. “I suppose you know who I am?”
Loki nodded, the hold on their chin unrelenting, but pulling them to rise. “You are Thanos. Survivor of Titan. Your planet was ravaged, and therefore went extinct many moons ago.” Loki spoke carefully, forcing their hands to be kept at their sides.
A sigh escaped the Titan, nodding as he let go of Loki’s chin now. “Indeed. And I’m sure you know of my legacy, then?”
Loki just nodded. They weren’t going to be targeted for something Thanos already presumed. He’d just said it, and who was Loki to argue?
Thanos nodded, hands going behind his back as turned to look away. “They called me a mad man. Said my ideas were consequential, that they’d only promote violence and not peace.” Thanos grimaced, eyes falling to the ground for a moment before that smile was right back on his face. “I proved them wrong. My plans would have saved us. I am proud to say I am from Titan because I stood up for my home, even if others didn’t see it that way.” He turned back towards Loki now, head tilting down at the God.
“Now I ask you again, Loki, God of Mischief. What are you of?”
Their breathing had stopped in their throat. Time felt frozen compared to just moments ago. For so long, Loki had read only horrible things of this creature, and yet here he was, offering Loki nothing but kindness, the chance to prove themselves. Who was he? What game was he playing at?
Loki inhaled, eyes wandering behind Thanos at the children who huddled around his chair. They’d barely moved an inch, so intent on listening to their master. How the people listen to the Allfather. How the Warriors Three and Lady Sif would listen to Thor.
“I am Loki, of Asgard.” Loki finally spoke, bringing their eyes back to that of Thanos’s, their feet glued to the ground.
“Loki of Asgard.” Thanos repeated back, nodding slowly as he made his way back to his chair. He seemed to mull it over, deeming it good enough to accept the title.
“Are you to kill me?” It was a slip of the tongue, Loki flinching at their own words, but they would rather it happen now then for the face of it to be dangled in front of them. The one named Proxima seemed to smirk at the idea, her posture straightening and her grip tightening on her weapon.
Thanos was definitely humored at the idea, the man laughing as he shook his head. “If that were the idea, Gamora would have already done it, child.”
The words were cold, yet his smile was warm. The Zen-Whoberis, who was now known as Gamora, brushed her hair off her shoulders, circling around her father’s chair until she reached the other side, seemingly taking distance from the rest of this odd family. She was proud of the idea, clearly, yet something about her was off. Her smile seemed too pleasant, something Loki often did when trying to please the Allfather. Their brows furrowed.
“You interest me, Loki.” Thanos leaning back in his chair, hands folding on his lap as he eyed the God beneath him. Wasn’t it usually the other way around? But he saw himself so highly, as well as his children. He practically was one at this point. “You say you were scrutinized by the people, that you were born in a place of fear.” Not their exact words, but it’ll make do. “I’d like to think of us as a family, one that’s open to invite others like us.” Thanos motioned towards his children, seemingly proud of those next to him.
“You will meet the others in time. The Maw has other matters to attend to, and Nebula will be arriving back shortly.” The one named Gamora cut in, taking a step forward.
“It would be wise of you to accept this offer.” She whispered as she circled the God, finally stopping behind them.
The kindness and sympathy they’d felt only moments ago were replaced with something else. They couldn’t place their finger on it. It wasn’t even an offer. She had already said how they would meet these other children soon, so had they already technically accepted this offer?
Where else would they go? Loki of nowhere? Back to the void? To die in a cell? If the fates had kept them alive this long, to offer them something such as this, shouldn’t they take it?
“You will have to prove yourself worthy enough. A child of mine must be strong enough to fight whatever comes their way.. what drives you, Child?”
That word. Worthy. It had Loki tensing again. All their life they’d been so unworthy of the life chosen for them. At least everyone thought so. What did drive them?
“To prove myself.” True. It’s what they’d done for years. That they were truly a child of Odin. That even though they couldn’t wield the hammer, they deserved just the same amount of respect. “My father has discard me most of my life. I was lied to about everything. I don’t-“ They stopped. Did they know who they were? Loki Odinson was a name give to them, but was it who they truly were? They thought so for a moment when they’d killed Laufey, only to be shut down after. “I’m just as worthy to rule, to be respected, to be looked at the same way and be treated the same as any other.”
Odin may not be their father anymore, and Thor may have been an oaf to discard Loki at some points, but they’d seen enough to know that he still cared. They wouldn’t dare speak of their mother. She was the only one they’d been able to rely on during their later years.
“You will be treated respectfully here. You just have to earn it.” Thanos spoke plainly, a glint in the Titan’s eye as he watched Loki unwind. “Prove yourself to me, and we will show you what true power and respect really mean.”
Gamora had moved to the side, her eyes glued to the side of Loki’s head as she watched closely. They still couldn’t gauge what her motive was. Surely she didn’t feel threatened by them. So what was it?
The silence was thick, the air heavy as Loki tried to think clearly. They were here for a reason, right? Death had spared them from her clutches, why should they deny?
Loki had fallen to one knee once more, their head lowering as they put a hand on their knee. There was no time like the present. If this is what the fates had decided, so be it.
“I, Loki, God of Mischief, do hereby pledge to you, my undying fidelity.”
———-
They’d sat like this for so long. Tine was tricky in this place. Corvus had been the one to deem it “The Sanctuary”, yet as Loki had willingly given their service to these people, the name’s purpose was slowly slipping away from them.
They were hungry, left in tattered clothes, and hadn’t seen anyone since they were put in this cell. They’d been given food by a someone new earlier. A skinnier man with only bits of grey hair. For a family supposed to be of respect, he’d only looked at them with mockery before he’d walked away. Though they weren’t apart of it yet, were they?
Still, the rations that they’d been given didn’t do much for them. Weeks of ignorance, and that feeling of hopelessness had started to follow them once more. They used to be given platters back hom- Asgard. On Asgard. They should have eaten more then, perhaps it would have helped them now, as they made their way back through the ship.
Loki’s door had not so graciously opened minutes ago. The rumbling of the gate and rocks snapping them out of whatever trance they’d put themselves in to escape this doomed reality. But nobody had come to retrieve them.
An open invitation.
They’d hesitated of course. What if it were a trap? They’d been given no grace in this ‘sanctuary’, why would it be given to them now?
Yet their feet moved when their mind couldn’t, and they were stumbling their way out. Where to go? What were they to do? The ship was a maze, and it seemed to only get more confusing the deeper they went. Hallways once offered, now blocked with gates, which was the only way Loki was even getting through in the first place. All until they’d ended up at the center.
Right back to him.
The Titan sat unmoving in his chair. Just staring curiously as Loki made their way through the hall before him. They still had no clue what they were to be doing, why they’d been summoned. All until a hand was on his back, pushing him forward.
“Don’t keep him waiting.”
A new voice. Much more robotic sound than the others. And when Loki had gone to take a look, they merely received another forceful shove from behind into the room.
The Titan made no move to get up, motioning towards Loki with his hand, where the one they called Proxima had made her way forward, something that looked a kin to what Odin would use as a staff in her hands, but with a pointed blade at the end. A scepter.
The former royal narrowed their eyes as she held the weapon out towards them, Loki looking up towards Thanos in slight confusion.
“Take it.”
A hiss from the warrior, Loki looking back quickly and taking the scepter before they even knew what they were supposed to do with it. It was certainly a weapon, they’d give him that. The handle was made of gold, and they surely didn’t need to test the blade.
“I told you when you first arrived here that you are to prove yourself worthy to this family. To me. Isn’t that correct?” The Titan asked out, to which Loki had nodded. Was it finally their time to prove themselves? What had taken them all so long?
“Well, any child of mine must know how to fight, as I’ve said before.” The titan gave a somewhat comforting smile, though his eyes didn’t say the same, Loki’s shoulders tensing slightly. “You are to fight each and every one of my children. Think of it like a match in the ranks. You climb higher after every victory, do you understand me, child?”
Oh. That was what this was? A part of them had that voice in their head that dared to ridicule the idea. How were they to fight when they hadn’t the proper strength? They’d been left with scraps and to mingle with the dead, and this Titan thought it would be best to let them fight? Were they to be made a spectacle?
But the other voice was overpowering. That they would at least be given a chance to show their strength. The warriors three only ridiculed when it came to their matches, but this? This was different. These children knew nothing of what Loki was capable of. No stigmas or stereotypes, nothing to taunt them with. It was a level playing field to show that they too were worthy.
“I said, do you understand me?” The voice echoed once more, filling the room with only silence. Loki despised silence.
“I understand.”
Now, as much as they enjoyed that the respect in this match would (hopefully) be upheld, they were very quickly reminded how different it was to not be playing in home territory. Loki had been on many different battles and quests, but Asgard was always on the offense, always making the first move. So when someone had slammed right into them without even the slightest acknowledgment that they had started this match of sorts, it had them grasping at the realization that they did not have the upper hand.
When did they ever?
Their body hit the floor with an echoing thud, but their fingers were grasping right back around the gold handle of the scepter they were given, a new found strength found inside them. They would make it out. This was their purpose, and they would not fail.
The child, Corvus, ran right back towards them, but Loki had dodged out of the way this time, rolling to the side with a grunt and pushing upwards with their feet, this time being the one on the offensive. It was odd in a way. Sure, Asgard had many splendors, but Loki’s abilities were more suitable for the back lines. Taking the stride, them being the one to strike, it was outside of their comfort zone, but this was how one survived now.
And they survived over, and over, and over.
Again, again, and again.
A rank match. Something that could help them gain respect as they climbed higher, yet it seemed impossible to beat more than one.
It started with Corvus. Once Loki had beaten the creature, there was no break, no notes, but instead Cull Obsidian, a giant of yet another creature, sent to take lead.
Each and every time they were knocked to the floor. Every time they blacked out. Every time they woke up in that pitiful cell they now called home, it was yet another week of nothing. Nothing but sitting with their thoughts. Nothing but silence. Sometimes they’d laugh, thinking how much of a joke they must look like to Heimdall. How he would describe the Asgardian Royal to the Allfather.
After a week, or they assumed it was a week, the gates would open, and Loki was left to trudge out of their cell, aimlessly walking the darkened hallways until they reached the main room.
After a few of these matches, the Titan had stopped giving introductions. Stopped giving Loki that moment to access their battlefield, instead sending each child one after the other.
This went on longer than Loki’s commitment to carving lines onto the walls of their cells, eventually forgetting and instead focusing. Their food and drinks were sparse, yet they’d gotten used to it. Their body now survived and got its energy from what it could, and Loki had grown accustomed to it. It would make due.
Proxima Midnight had taken much longer than the two before her to defeat. She was skilled in many things, and to her going up against a, to put it bluntly, slee deprived god whose only supply of energy was two meals was an easy task.
They fell easily against their will each time. The floor hitting their back, grasping at the edge of where they’d been pushed off the surrounding flooring, and the sharp black when their head bounced off the wall. All different ways Proxima had sent Loki back to their hell hole. They wouldn’t wish it upon their greatest enemy.
Usually, what one would do in these situations was to keep a level head, think of their ways out and strategies to plan. Yet Loki was only filled with that of resentment. Though no longer at the many faces that came to mind when thinking of home, but themselves. The fact they couldn’t complete this singular task. This was their new purpose. They had been made to rule, to be glorious, and yet here they were, falling victim to a warrior others wouldn’t dare go up against.
The next walk to their fate had a different effect than before. They had an extra stride in their step, a front they carried with themselves when they were unsure of their own person. Just because they knew who they were didn’t mean that others had to. To the children, to Thanos, they were more than ready to take on the challenge.
Everything had mainly gone the same, Loki faltering, blocking, getting a hit in before Proxima had taken control of the situation. By this point, Thanos would look away, turning towards the Zen-Whoberis, Gamora, to speak amongst her, the Luphomoid, Nebula, listening but not daring to look.
The two had never spoken two each other. Only glimpses as she would sometimes throw a pitying stare in their direction. But they knew what it was she felt during those conversations. As your father’s back turned towards that of the less competent. In a way, they both were looked down upon in this situation, though playing in different fields.
It was a competition of sorts between them all. That was what they all wanted right? The Titan’s approval. To give you a look of satisfaction. It had Loki gritting their teeth. The glance they rarely received, and if so it was one of disgust by the All Father. They deserved a chance just as everyone else in that room did. And they would do what it took to get it.
A diversion of sorts was under way, something they hadn’t done in one of these matches before. They’d thrown their scepter to the side, something that had Proxima looking the other way for a quick moment.
Loki had conjured up enough energy to cast an illusion. Something petty and weak that Proxima had tried to kick down, but it was when her foot went straight through their face that she’d realized too late what was happening.
It wasn’t even a realization, it was a look of pure confusion, one Loki was to take advantage of. As the illusion in front of her faded, the one behind her, the real Loki, had gripped her hair, yanking her backwards as they summed their dagger, and out of the corner of their eye they saw it. The Titan’s interest. A pleased smile on his face as Loki had put the dagger to her throat, breathing ragged as they held her firmly.
“Trickster. Witch.” She’d hissed, but it had only gone in one ear and out the other. The Titan was pleased, and that was all Loki cared about.
“So, it’s magic you want to play with, child?” The Titan bellowed from his throat, motioning for Loki to let go of the warrior. They’d done so reluctantly. So long they’d waited for that moment, and to let go seemed like giving up so easily, but she had already been beaten, so what was there to lose?
Proxima hissed, eyes narrowing towards Loki over her shoulder before she’d picked up her weapon from the floor, making her way towards the others.
“It is of my skillset, yes.” Loki breathed out, finally regaining some of the air in their lungs. An illusion was no easy feat when running on basically nothing. How Loki was even standing at this point was an absolute miracle.
Thanos had nodded, seemingly thinking before snapping his fingers, the one named Nebula standing quick and alert before Gamora had followed after, her haste hesitant. “Bring me the Maw. If it’s magic they want, we’ll give them a fair fight.”
But the fight was anything but. Loki may be skilled. Their mother was an excellent Sorceress, but they’d only been trained for so long. The Maw was a level of precise they hadn’t seen. He was quick, and every action he made he did with ease. Loki had fought in combat with the other children, but the Maw had beaten them with just the wave of his finger.
This was only the beginning.