The beginning
He had stumbled through the portal half dead, sceptre in hand and unbeknownst to the humans around him, in mind. The first impression he gave was that he looked like death, both that he was here to kill them and that he had been killed and reborn. They wouldn’t have known what he had been through, a year of pain and darkness and blood. He could do nothing but watch from the prison that had formerly been his free will as he trapped another, the hawk, in the same way. He felt useless. His mind was not his own, and his mind was all he had ever had.
“Please don’t.”
He asked as the leather decked man tried to flee with his ticket home. Ah, he had been reduced to asking nicely.
“I still need that.”
He didn’t, the chitauri did. The man in the trench coat could have taken the tesseract and ran for all he cared, but if he failed now he knew what the mad titan threatened to do. He had lost everything trying to protect them before, he would not put them in danger again.
“This doesn’t have to get any messier.”
HA
“Of course it does. I’ve come too far for anything else.”
Yes he had come far, but the reason he complied with the last bit of his sanity he had left was not just a journey. If you had your reasons for living stripped away from you and forced into prisons of their own, and the only way to protect them from anything worse was to comply? You would do the same. Anyone would.
“I am Loki, of Asgard. And I am burdened with glorious purpose.”
He mentally flinched at that. He had always had a flair for the dramatic, and yet the lines they fed him were a bit much, even by his standards. The scientist recognized him, the brother of Thor, he said.
Psh. Brother. A meaningless word, the statement was as far from the truth as could be. He had been betrayed and cast aside by the one he trusted so, shunned only to find out he wasn’t even truly related to the boorish oaf. And Odin, he was on the whole glad to find out he shared no blood ties with the man, for what father would take his own spawn’s children and cast them into hell?
As the Chatauri fueled his spiel, he could do nothing but stand idly by in his own body, and when he was informed of the impending explosion, he almost hoped it would kill him.
What life was this that he had to spend it destroying to prevent his own kins destruction. He had once thought that that was all his life was meant for, and now he looked back on his actions and scoffed. He was too young, too brash, too naive. Always too something.
The escape was easier than expected, and as he watched the building crumble in his wake, he finally gave in to the pain, dropping into nothingness once more.