Marvel Oneshots And Crack

When Loki Crashed On Sakaar

Thor Ragnarok
Loki arriving on Sakaar.

Loki POV || 2017

It felt like when I let go of Thor's spear back in 2011. I was hurtling through space, untethered, in severe danger of anything and anyone crashing into me.

I wasn't as cold as I was then. But I was still hyperventilating with panic. What planet would I end up on this time?

Stars, galaxies, and nebulas whizzed past me as the Bifröst transported me to an unknown and perhaps uncharted location. Just as I had begun to wonder if I was going to end up in the Others' realm again, I fell out of a wormhole and into a clear blue sky.

I barely caught a glance at the junkyard below me before I was landing harshly on my back in a mountain of trash.

Laying still for a moment, I assessed myself for any injuries. Shit, why didn't I ever learn more of Mother's healing magic? My younger self had foolishly prioritized learning illusions over repairing my own bones by sheer will alone.

Swearing to myself in multiple languages, I stood up and clenched my fists. "Who is allowing such an appalling disposal of rubbish to exist in this fashion?!"

I, Loki, can easily tell when a place is in desperate need of leadership. And this place was pathetic!

My temper flared only further when I stubbed my toe. Suddenly, I was not a mature (okay, almost mature) Asgardian prince, but an angry teenager. Thor always nagged me about my temper, saying that I 'threw fits worthy of a child'. Of course, I stubbornly told him he was wrong. I thought myself in very good control of my emotional faculties. I mean, duh, I am.

"Are you a fighter or food?"

Oh fuck. I slowly turned around to see a rather disturbing group of individuals. I chose not to answer the question. It could be a trick question. I magically summoned my armor with a glimmer of my seidr.

I immediately regretted my actions, or lack thereof. A net was thrown on me, something hit the nape of my neck, and suddenly, I was unable to move an inch.

My pride felt sorely bruised. "Do you treat all your guests like this?!"

I was electrocuted in response.

"Let me" -a rather loud belch- "-take care of him."

A female voice with an Asgardian accent pierced through my tortured seizing. I was fighting for consciousness, painfully aware of the fact that the tea I had drank just this morning disguised as Father had just made a reappearance in the most humiliating way possible. I thought I had outgrown that centuries ago!

I was dragged, catching a whiff of alcohol and perhaps perfume. Definitely a woman, and a strong one at that. Was she a warrior? Thor would be fawning over her. He admired women in armor to the point it nauseated me. I myself shared in his admiration, but was more mature about it. Honestly, did he have to get a boner every time Lady Sif rode into battle?

"I'm very sorry, your majesty. Oh, he wet himself. Great."

I woke up in a strange hexagonal shaped aircraft made up almost entirely of glass windows. Whatever had electrocuted me was slowing down my thinking, causing me to stare like an idiot at the armor-clad woman in front of me. My mind was so foggy that I did not register the sterling silver of her armor, the white war paint on her face, or that she knew to call me 'your majesty'. All I mumbled to myself was 'Asgardian' before attempting to wipe drool off myself.

An unprecedented shock of panic made my throat close up in the middle of my weak attempt to clean myself up. Thor! He was still fighting Hela, wasn't he? Despair took hold of me, immobilizing me once more. Thor's hammer had been crushed with Hela's bare hand. He didn't stand a chance.