Brotherhood - Loki & Thor ♡

46. but with the beast inside, there's nowhere we can hide

The Jotuns must learn to fear me, just as they once feared you, Loki remembered as clear as day. Father! We will finish them together! Thor's every word still engraved deep in his soul it got louder with every passing second. Loki looked down at his hands; blue with patterned lines slithered through his ice cold skin - Jotun skin.

Thor would kill him for who he was. Loki knew for a fact his own brother would kill him for the grotesque, monstrous Frost Giant blood running in his veins.

Trigger warning's applied as some might find these slightly disturbing and violent. But mostly it's just Loki and his issues. Poor baby needs a hug.

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When the Hulk slammed him around like a rag doll, thoroughly breaking bones one by one, Loki dared let his hope raise its ugly head somewhere in his chest. Hope, it was deadly and temping. Oh so tempting. But Loki had thought, then, he could actually die a quick death. He was in pain, sure, (hadn't he always been in pain?) but at least it would be quick. This would be quick.

Whatever tiny glimpse of hope he had had, gone in the blink of an eye when, instead of finishing it, the Hulk walked away, leaving him laying on the ground, alive and breathing, his fractured bones slowly mending itself together despite Loki's dismal.

He should've known a quick death wasn't something someone like him deserved. How stupid. How naive to believe otherwise.

When Thor clasped the cold, metal muzzle around his mouth like a dog, Loki could barely hold himself from flinching away. Despite the firmness the gag provided, Thor's touch was surprisingly gentle it almost looked like Thor didn't wish to cause him any more harm. A lie. Thor's sentimental eyes were nothing but false kindness. The same type of kindness Asgard's royal family showered him with ever since he was a babe, the one that wasn't real. It smothered him. It suffocated him. Loki knew better now. They couldn't fool him no more.

He let his gaze, his hateful gaze, carry up ahead as Thor dragged him in chain - like a dog, a savage beast - through village in Asgard, their destination the palace where he would stand the trial.
Loki felt all eyes staring at him, people who once kneeled for him and called him their prince were now whispering to each other about such a monster been living among them these whole time, about how dangerous it was to have their children so close to something so menacing. He wondered briefly, had Thor not been here, would they pick up rocks and throw them at him until he bled. Had it not been for their respect belonged rightfully to Asgard's golden prince (Asgard's only prince) would they stone him to death right there and then? Thinking about it, Loki almost bursted out laughing because wasn't it funny? The way all of them must be picturing him dead and unmoving in the pool of his own blood on the floor. The way they all would surely have nightmares for centuries to come; the monster they told their children about at nights had been right under their noses and they hadn't the faintest idea about it.

Let them fantasy his demise. Let them fear his existence. At least Loki knew what he was now. At least he was no longer a clown Odin and Frigga fooled. At the very least they couldn't laugh at him behind his back any more.

He had expected a cell, locked away in the deep dark dungeons. He could hardly hide the surprise on his face when Thor took him to his old chamber. His old chamber. No. No, Loki couldn't be here. This place held too much history. Memories. The innocent little boy who grew up here was dead, what Loki was right now, it wasn't that. So he protested, fought with all he'd got (and what he'd got wasn't much, obviously, with his limbs restrained and his magic bounded)
A voice buried deep within him screamed 'pathetic' as Thor manhandled him inside the room until he was not-so-gently shoved back until he stumbled and ended up sitting on the edge of his own bed, in which he hadn't slept in for what felt like eternity. Thor's hand on his shoulder wasn't a dreadful grip, but the pressure was firm enough to keep Loki still. Pathetic. Defenseless. Loki looked up defiantly at the man whom he once believed was his brother, his eyes burnt with loathing.