Fidelity

A Needle and Thread

WARNING: This chapter is a little gory and graphic, so if you have a weak stomach or don't want to read something like this, then don't. It's not pertinent to the story that you read it, so don't feel obligated to. Otherwise, I hope those of you who do read it appreciate it. I personally always hated the idea of this happening to Loki, but it's part of mythology, and although I changed the circumstances slightly, it is still part of his story. I'm gonna stop rambling now.

Loki’s Point of View

            That night and the next morning passed dreadfully slowly. The guards brought breakfast to me, which I reluctantly forced down my throat, then I was left alone for most of the day. I spent much of my time practicing small spells, one of which involved e accidentally setting my only blanket on fire. A guard came to check on me just as I was using magic to put the fire out and salvage the blanket, and his reaction frightened me. He seemed surprised and scared, and quickly backpedaled out of the room. I could hear his footsteps echoing all the way down the hall until he slammed the door to the dungeons shut behind him.

            I knew I already had some sort of punishment heading toward me today, but now I assumed it would be worse if Odin knew I was using magic. My stomach turned at the thought of him taking my powers away from me the way he had Thor. It would be different for me. Thor lost his superhuman strength, but I would lose all hope of defending myself at all. My magic was a part of me. If he took that away, then I may as well just curl up in the corner and patiently await my death.

            I laid my head back against the wall, covering my legs with the half-charred blanket, and closed my eyes. It was going to be a long day, but at least I would see Sigyn again tonight. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand what she still saw in me. She has every right to let me rot in the dungeons alone. She should despise me, but her love is just as strong as ever. After seeing her the night before, I felt so guilty for ever leaving her side. I realized just how wrong I was. I had everything I would ever need in her, and I threw it all away for my pathetic pride.

            I wallowed in my own self pity like this for about an hour before I heard the dungeon doors open again. I lifted my head slowly to see three guards walking towards me. I recognized all of them as being my former servants before I left Asgard. The three of them each held an expression of both pity and anxiety on their face, and I nervously sat up a little straighter. “My lord,” the one in the middle said as he opened the door, “my sincere apologies.” He held out his hands to me, showing me a needle and a small spool of black thread. I stared at it for a moment, confused as the other two guards came to stand on either side of me.

            “What’s this for?” I asked, looking up at the guard slowly. He frowned and knelt down in front of me, a little too close for my liking.

            “The Allfather asks that I silence your spell casting for the time that you are imprisoned,” he said, beginning to thread the needle with shaking hands. I watched him, silently denying the fact that I knew what he was about to do to me.

            I shook my head feebly, backing myself against the wall as much as I could. The guards at my sides gently took my arms and pinned them to wall behind me, keeping me still as I squirmed in distress. “How will you accomplish that?” I asked, my voice as calm as ever. “You are not a magician; What knowledge have you in silencing magic?”

            “I know you require the power of your silver tongue to call upon magic, my lord. As much as I regret having to do this, I cannot disobey my king.”

            “Even if it requires you to disobey your former king?” The guard halted in his movements, his gaze meeting mine for a short moment, and then he turned away.

            “Please, sir,” was the last thing he muttered before placing a gentle, but firm hand around the back of my neck. I pulled back as the needle was forced closer to my face, but he continued on all the same, his fingers digging onto my mouth as he fought against me for a grasp on my lower lip.

            I squeezed my eyes shut and suddenly let out a violent, ear-splitting scream that very nearly shook the stone walls of the dungeon. Without pause, the guard slid the needle clean through my lip, dragging the unforgiving thread with it. When I dared to think the pain was done, he repeated the action, dragging it in a diagonal motion through my upper lip. He did this twice more, each time ending in guttural screams and desperate thrashing of my legs. He had now formed and “X” that held the right corner of my mouth completely and tightly closed. He hesitated here, looking at me sympathetically and allowing me to catch my breath, then pressed ever forward. He formed two more “X’s” before finally tying off the thread and retiring the bloody needle to his pocket. This having been done, I collapsed against the wall, tears streaming down my cheeks. As badly as I yearned for it, the pain was not yet done. The salty texture of my tears ran down my face, leaving thick trails behind them, and finally fell into the still bleeding wounds of my lips, mixing with my blood and stinging like one would never imagine.

            I lay there whimpering and moaning in muffled sounds as the guards slowly left me to myself. I barely listened for the clang of the metal door being barred shut before allowing my eyelids to droop closed, a pain-induced sleep taking over my senses.

            In the dark recesses of the dungeons, there is no physical way to be sure of the time, or even the day, for that matter. When I opened my eyes to only the faint, familiar glow of the single candle in the middle of the floor, I could only assume that night had only begun to fall. For a moment, the pain in my lips had left me, but I became violently aware of its presence when I attempted a yawn. My muscles pulled at the threads, but they did not budge; they only scraped and cut into the raw flesh. I cried out at the pain, but the scream was lost in my throat, having nowhere else to go.

            After recovering from that mishap, I turned my head slowly towards the door. All I could see outside of it was darkness, but I instinctively knew that somewhere in that direction was light. I stared at it for an innumerable amount of time, until the only thing I could do was think. I thought about what had transpired that day, and how my inability to behave brought upon me a more terrible punishment than the Allfather had originally planned for me. I groaned softly in response to this, allowing the air in my lungs to escape through the small, barely passable gap I could make between my lips. The air rattled the threads, again causing me more pain. It was in that moment that I became all too aware that nearly every movement of my face or mouth would cause unbearable pain, at least until the wounds healed.

            I caught my breath again, then continued to stare blindly down the dark hallway before me. I stared for what seemed like hours, but were probably only mere minutes, until I suddenly saw a small light appear from the opposite end. Immediately, I remembered that Sigyn was to come to my cell that night. One horrible thought after another invaded my mind at that moment. Would she be repulsed at the sight of me? Would she be angry at me for bringing this upon myself? Would she be frightened? Would she even continue to love me in this state? I would never be able to kiss her this way. I could never tell her how beautiful she is, or that I love her. Not another conversation would be passed between us, unless it was one-sided. I was terrified as the light moved closer and closer to my cell, and soon enough, it was close enough that I could make out the slim figure of the woman carrying it. Finally, the nerves became too much for me to handle, and I turned my face away, hoping she would think me asleep and not bother with me that night. I was not ready to face the possibility of losing her again.