The Amnesiac Trickster (A Loki Redemption)

A whole new world

Loki paced his cell. His eyes trained on the escaped beast outside.

The monstrous beast walking on the opposite side of the magical screen was twice as large as him, armed to the teeth, but did not nearly give off the amount of danger that Loki was oozing.

Loki's arms remained by his side. Completely relaxed. He smirked as the beast lost the impromptu staring match. "You might want to take the stairs to the left."

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Two Years Later

The atmosphere was thick. Breath bubbled from his lungs as he was dragged deeper into the darkness.

He craved the dark and wanted to embrace the familiarity. The other part of him screamed in terror as darkness seemed to bring only pain and horror. It was frightening; traumatic even, but he couldn't exactly say why.

"THOR!" A word that made no sense rushed through his mind, but it was lost again just as fleetingly as it had appeared.

All he knew is that he needed to get out, but out of what? Maybe he should try swimming up towards the surface...maybe that would help to lose the overwhelming urge to curl into a ball and scream himself hoarse.

"Please! Help!" For a split second, he thought he heard a reply in the boundless pit of darkness.

The longer he stayed in his inky surroundings, the more it became terrifying and the less it became familiar. The dark seemed to seep into his mind and suck out his very will to breathe.

"Darkness is only the absence of light." The wise scholar stuck in his mind whispered encouragingly, "Find the light. You are dreaming, wake up." Green tendrils of light swirled around him.

His confused brain confirmed that he was indeed asleep.

Not normal restful sleep, but where you have to constantly battle the lead in your bones and the heavy feeling in your chest. His eyes drooped tiredly as he tried prying them open. A countdown started in his mind. "5, 4, 3, 2, 1."

It was like flipping a switch, he went from the mental world to the real world. His bright green eyes snapped open and he was greeted by a variety of colours and a headache. "Just wonderful." He said before giving a startled twitch at the definite British accent of his own words.

. His voice was rough and hoarse from disuse but there was this honey-like, smooth tone to it. Almost as if he could wrap anyone around his finger in a second. Weird that he didn't remember it.

"This is crazy." It was his voice. But how the hell do you forget your voice? How do you even know you have a voice to forget? How do you know what a voice is? "Get it together .... Together ...Uhphh." A surprised noise escaped his lips. The revelation had rained down on him like a ton of bricks.

He didn't even know his own name.

His heart raced, eyes widened, and he started sucking in air like he was not getting enough oxygen. His pale hands shook as he tightened his arms around himself. Taking a long stare at his lanky legs he was once again reminded he knew almost nothing of himself, gulping down a panic response, he pulled his knees to his chest instead allowing shoulder-length raven hair to fall over his eyes.

"Deep breaths, that will help you in staying calm and level-headed." The thought flew through his mind, it was his voice, but he was not in the right head space to spout of wise words like that. Maybe it was a past him? He sounded very.... educated almost scholarly.