Restraints
Loki isn’t really concerned until they’re separated. They’d spent the ride to…wherever it was that the Midgardian authorities were taking them, in tense silence, hands cuffed behind their backs and blindfolded. They were sat on the same bench, so Loki was able to press their shoulders together. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to take comfort, or give it. Probably both. The guards had stopped Thor from trying to talk to him, but at least they don’t try to pull them apart. Until their destination.
They take him to a room and remove the blindfold. It’s a grey tiled room, with two doors and a single chair in the center. The guards stay on either side of the door, holding their weapons at the ready. The bonds on his magic aren’t as airtight as on Sanctuary, so he’s able to reach out and feel a little of their prison. Thor is in a neighboring room. They’re clearly soundproofed because he can feel from Thor’s energy that he’s shouting at someone, but he can hear nothing. He reaches out further and feels staff workers, indifferent, then a layer down the ghosts of desperation that cling to prison walls. It makes his stomach flip. He finds the edge-
It’s underwater. They’re underwater. And sinking. They’re going to bury them in water.
Before he can really dwell on that, the door opens and the man who had arrested them - the one Stark had called Ross - enters, looking very flushed and furious. He takes a few deep breaths, hands on his hips, staring at Loki.
“You know, I was strongly in favor of executing you immediately. A lot of people were. But a lot more people still believe that Thor can be convinced to work with us rather than against us. Killing you would ruin that.” So they mean to use him as a hostage, to ensure his brother’s cooperation. He’s struggling to find a fundamental difference between what Thanos had been trying to do to them, and what this Ross was suggesting. “So you’re going away, for a long time," the man continues. "And you’re not going to struggle, or try to escape, or hurt anyone, because maybe the people who think Thor can be saved…maybe they’ll change their minds if the costs are too high. Do you understand?” Loki says nothing. “I said: do you understand?”
“Yes,” Loki hisses.
“Good. Now you be a good little monster and cooperate while we get you ready.” Monster. The word echoes in his mind as the door slams shut and the water beats at the walls of their prison.
The burnt out, hopeless exhaustion overtakes him then, like on Sanctuary. They probably hadn’t even needed to threaten him with Thor, he would have rolled over and obeyed just from the sheer lack of will to fight. Thanos was right; he was made to be ruled.
A younger soldier enters, with a pile of clothes. He unlocks the handcuffs.
“Undress,” He commands. “And get in the shower there.” The water is ice cold, pounding down on his skin. He’s given a towel to dry and a band to tie back his hair. He manages to gather the energy for a small rebellion then, taking his own time to braid a single thin section of his hair, before pulling the rest of it into a loose knot. The frustrated guard shifts his weight between his feet impatiently but doesn’t rush him.
They photograph him stark naked, from all angles, and measure his height and weight before they let him dress. The clothes they give him are thin and shapeless, dark blue. They take his pulse, his temperature, tittering with interest at how low it was. They take blood from his arm. He tries to jerk away from that but is silenced into compliance with a gentle reminder about his brother’s place. He stays tense as they fill three vials with his blood. They take his fingerprints, his palm print, scrapings from the inside of his mouth. He is poked and prodded and palpating and begins to feel like a doll, to be moved and manipulated at will.
None speak to him, except for the young guard who gives him basic instructions. The scientists talk over his head and he doesn’t have the energy to pay attention to them. They make recorded notes. He is called ‘the subject’ or ‘the prisoner’ or ‘it’. Never his name. Rarely ‘he’.
When they have collected what they wanted, the guard makes him stand with his back to the wall, hands on his head. He looks uncertain. When the scientists leave, he turns back to Loki.
“They’re going to bring in your brother now, so he can say goodbye to you.” Loki’s heart sinks. “You have to remember what the Secretary said. What will happen if either of you try to escape or otherwise attack us. Do you understand?” Loki almost says nothing, but remembers Ross’s insistence on his answer.
“Yes.”
Thor is brought in, dressed identically. “Brother,” He says, rushing for him.
“You’re not supposed to touch,” The guard says. Thor stops short, hands falling at his sides and balling into fists.
“Thor, it’s okay,” Loki’s vision is blurring. “Thor, it’s right. I am a monster, this is how it should be.”
“Loki, stop! You are not a monster.” Thor’s hands come up but stop short, like he’s aching to touch Loki. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll find us a way out of this, just as we found our way off Sanctuary. Just as we’ve survived a thousand times before. I promise, we’ll be together again soon.”
Loki’s arms tire and he drops them to his side. The guard looks like he’s going to tell him to put them back up, but he hesitates when he sees the look on Loki's face. “I’m sorry they’re doing this to you.”
“Loki, I should be the one who is sorry. And I am. These were my friends…I had no idea the situation had gotten this bad while I was gone. If I had known, I would have never brought you here, or else I would have run with you so much earlier.”
“Time’s up.” Thor’s face crumples and he touches Loki's neck. "You're not supposed to-" Thor ignores him completely, throwing his arms around Loki’s neck, and burying his face in his hair. Loki returns the embrace, eyes drifting closed.
“I love you. It’s going to be okay,” Thor whispers in his ear. Loki just nods, and clings. Thor kisses his hair one last time, then pulls back. He runs his fingers down the braid as it falls over his shoulder. One last warm press of his hand to his neck, thumb tracing the line of his jaw.
Then Thor is drawn away by the guards, leaving Loki feeling cold.
“Hands up, back against the wall.” The guard says and he gets back into position. The door slams behind them, making Loki jump. “They’re going to lock you up now. You will be fed twice a day, allowed out of bindings once a day to walk and use the bathroom. If you speak to anyone, if you resist at all, you will no longer be allowed out of bindings. You will be fed through a tube in your stomach, given water through an IV. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Your cell is in the deepest level. The lights in your cell will be on a timer, twelve hours of light and twelve hours of darkness. You will have no visitors.”
“I’m going to go mad,” Loki’s voice cracks. The guard says nothing in return to that.
“Do you have any questions?”
“Where will Thor be?”
The guard’s expression falters again. “He will still be on the Raft, a cell just a few levels down from this one.”
“Will he be bound like this?”
The guard hesitates. “He will be chained, but not bound in the way you will be. He will be allowed out to attend official functions, perform whatever services that are needed by the World Security Council. He can earn rewards and lessened security with good behavior.”
“Okay.” Loki nods, trembling a little. “I’m ready.”
Other attendants bring in the restraints. The main one is a rough gray garment with buckles and long sleeves. They have him thread his arms through the sleeves and tighten cuffs around his wrists. They wrap his arms around his back and secure them there with a series of straps and mechanized locks. One brings forth a metal circle, a collar.
“We’ve designed this to dampen our prisoners’ extra abilities. We’re working on an enhanced version, but this should be sufficient for now." It snaps around his neck and dampens just enough of his magic to make him uncomfortable. Then the muzzle, which makes his pulse race and his stomach drop. But he does not complain, though he instinctively turns his head away when they put it to his face. Someone holds his skull firmly.
“Open your mouth. Do it.” He complies with a ragged breath and the mouthpiece is thrust inside. The muzzle is equipped with a piece of rubber that presses his tongue to the bottom of his mouth and creates a layer between his teeth. “Bite down. Bite down!” He does it, after a moment’s hesitation. The muzzle is buckled around the back of his head and tightened so it fits snug around his face. He can’t even budge his jaw.
It’s slowly dawning on him that this is going to be his reality for the foreseeable future. This was how he was going to feel every day, all day, but for a small respite to eat and piss every day. He feels as though he can’t take a deep breath. The guards entirely ignore him. They shackle his ankles together and two guards take his arms.
Their walk is slow and stumbling, the chains on his ankles making his gait short and awkward. They get in an elevator and begin to descend.
They drop, further and further down, into this watery prison. True to their word, they are deep underwater when they finally stop and escort him to a clean, white cell.
It is completely featureless, three walls white tile, the fourth glass. The glass slides away, into the wall, when one of the guards presses a hand to a keypad on the wall. There are chains attached to either side of the cell, one affixed to a loop of leather.
“On your knees,” The guard says. The attendants buckle the leather loop tightly around his torso, clipping it into the other side. The chains are pulled taut by some mechanism in the walls. He can’t move very much, just enough to sway, change his seated position, but not stand or lie down. “This is the position we expect you to be in when we come for you. On your knees, in the center of the cell. Do you understand?” Loki nods. “You will hear this noise.” A siren, a short blast. “And you will get into position. Understood?” He nods again. “Good. We will return with food in the morning. The lights will go out in two hours.”
And then Loki is left, immobile, under the harsh lights of the cell.
He lets himself cry for a while. He’s so hopeless and alone and he knows he is going to lose his mind and he cannot stop it. When the tears slow, he starts to tentatively reach out with what limited seidr he can access. They cut off enough of it that he’s unable to do anything, but he can feel still.
It takes him a while, but he finds what he’s looking for. The lightning hot, storm-blown, energy of his brother, hundreds of yards above his head. He wraps himself in it, feeling Thor’s fury, his frustration, his betrayal. He brushes his mind and feels confusion, awareness. They’re not strong enough to really communicate like this, but perhaps in time. Loki closes his eyes and anchors himself in his brother’s power, and soothes himself with it.
Then the lights in his cell click off. He blinks his eyes open and sees nothing. It is completely and utterly black.
That’s when he starts panicking.