Proof that Tony Stark Has a Heart ~ Frostiron

Death

Loki vomited into the small bucket he was given. He had just been thrown back into the white hellhole that is his cell in the Asgardian dungeons. His shirt was ripped so his bare back was showing, several cuts in the center were trailing blood down it. His face was red and raw, as it had been burned earlier, and there were tares in his skin around his wrists from where his handcuffs were.

Loki glared at the two guards who were walking away from his cell, smirking. As they disappeared out of Loki's vision, Loki felt something in the back of his throat and threw up again.

For two weeks now, Loki had been whipped, gagged, starved, cut, and had his face dipped in boiling water. He had several insulting (yet somewhat true) words carved into his arms. (mainly 'Trator') He had had his hair pulled out on multiple occasions, his hands had been met with flame and once had a liquid given to him that made him go completely nuts. He had large scratches down his face after that experience.

For several more months, Loki had this sort of torcher done to him daily, most taking him several days to recover from. They added more and more creative ways of making him hurt. He had the circulation cut off on his arms several times, hot oil dropped onto his skin, red hot metal pressed onto his arms, deprived of food for days on end while only giving him something small whenever they did, and hung upside down for hours. He had tried to shank a guard and himself with a quill he had found, though neither worked. He was always tired, yet couldn't sleep since the sensation of torcher lingered with him. He had become increasingly thin and pale and at no point had any scrap of happiness or any emotion other than fear or anger. And him vomiting after every session didn't help at all. At night he would groan to help relieve some of the pain in his cuts, bruises, and migraines. Though, he had been told every single time to shut the hell up.

Five months. These torcher sessions had been going on for five months. Loki was still alive, yes, thought the life he was living felt even worse than death. He had to have a constant watch on him in fear that he would again attempt to kill him self. Loki had noticed one of the guards that were constantly hurting him had started to look worried, even sorry.

And one day he was brought to the room with all the contraptions and tools that Loki had learned to fear.
He was put down on a table and he felt something sharp puncture through his lips.

They were sewing his mouth shut.

Loki winced. This was different.
Once he felt the guard tie a knot, he had a bag thrown over his head and was dragged down a hallway.

Or maybe it wasn't a hallway, as when he stopped he heard Heimdall's voice talking to the guards.

"Has the all father ordered you to take him to Midgard?"
"Yes."
"Mm. Very well then."

He felt the Bifrost pulling him in and the ground beneath him give way.

They flew forward in midair until Loki felt them land in some sort of meadow. He was pushed forward and he landed face first into the ground.
He heard the Bifrost reactivating and then, noting but the rustling of the tall grass around him.
He didn't want to move. It was just him laying there without even the energy to move his fingers. He just closed his eyes and layer there, waiting for the cold hands of Death to finally capture him.