~MEANWHILE, IN LOKI’S CELL, THE DESERT~

After thirty days in near pitch black with nothing to look at but tiny holes in the wall, sudden glaring white light thrust upon his perpetually dilated pupils felt like a kick to the face.  Loki’s head pounded, his vision desperately trying to adjust to the abrupt change, and despite his inability to see anything save for the white spots darting across the backs of his eyelids, he knew who had spoken to him, recognizing the voice of the grey man instantly, the sound as revolting as he remembered.  Cringing, he started to ask what sort of proposition he was being offered, but he was cut off by a gag around his mouth.  

What was with the gags?  Did they really believe him idiotic enough to bite them?  Or scream for help?  Help from whom?!  As though he could even make such a sound.  His vocal chords had been spent on mocking Odin’s voice.

Two bestia grabbed his arms and yanked him to his feet.  Honestly though, yanked was too gentle and sweet a word for the action.  Dead weight under their grasp, his legs wobbled beneath him as they dragged him from his cell.  He’d not used them much, obviously.  He’d gone thirty days with no food or water for Hel’s sake.  He was too weak to stand, much less walk.  Fortunately, his eyes were beginning to adjust to the light, which meant they still worked properly.

Unfortunately, what he could see were his bone thin legs attempting to keep off the rock surface lest the skin of his feet be rubbed off from the friction.  Scaly hands digging into the skin of his armpits, Loki choked on the blood from the gag slicing into the corners of his mouth, and after fifty yards or so, they turned sharply, dropping him into another bright white room no bigger than his dressing room in his chambers.  

His chambers. In Asgard—Home.  

What he wouldn’t give to jump off this desert and fall through the abyss again.  Maybe he would land right back on what was left of the bridge where he’d started.  Maybe the universe was one huge circle rather than a tree with branches.  No.  Hope was utterly useless here, and he still wanted to hear this proposition that he would supposedly like.  There would be no jumping off this desert rock until he heard it.  That was, if the grey man decided to show his face again and actually tell him what it was.  At the moment, he was nowhere to be seen.  

The floor of the room he’d been dropped into sloped down on all sides into a foot wide drain in the middle.  Squinting at the walls, he grimaced.  They weren’t walls.  They were mirrors—Oh shit.  As though he hadn’t seen enough when he’d caught a glimpse of his shriveled legs.  Now, staring at the corpse looking back at him that had once been the king of Asgard, his insides boiled with hate for the alien beings who had done this to him, for his brother who had done this to him, unintentional as it was.  

Every bone jutted out from beneath his ashen skin, what little muscle he had left barely visible.  Two silvery jagged scars stretched angrily across his thigh, long since dried blood caked on the flesh below.  The once gaping wound under his ribs had turned the same silver color of the scars on his thighs.  His hair, now far below his shoulders, hung in messy matted waves.  Sharp cheekbones had become sharper still, the cheeks below all but hollow, and emerald eyes had dulled to a murky olive.  If it hadn’t been for the hair on his head, it would have looked more akin to a skull.  Fresh blood seeped from the gashes around his mouth as they removed the gag, and shrugging, he looked to the creatures—Now what?  They started speaking then, and if Loki hadn’t been trained in the magic of Alltongue, their words would have been lost on him.

“Why must we be the ones to clean him?”

“Can we not just throw him the soap?”

“Look at him!  He can barely hold his head up!  You think he has the strength to scrub himself?”

“Well I’m not going to do it.”

“What if we fed him?  Think then he would be able to do it himself?  He looks to be starving.”

Loki couldn’t believe his ears—He looked to be starving?!  Surely not!  After thirty days with no food or water, he looked to be starving.

Imbeciles.

“We were told to clean him up, not feed him.”

Rolling his eyes, tired of their idiotic blather, Loki snapped, “I am starving you mindless savages.”

Eyes blown wide, shocked by his retort, they gaped at him. “You know our words?”

Shaking his head, the slight movement taking more effort than it should have, Loki spit out the blood gathering in his mouth. 

“I speak Alltongue, you blathering fools.  Of course I know your words.”

The creatures eyed each other before addressing him directly in a different language. “Ugly fucking Asgardian.”

Ah, so they thought he was bluffing.  Smirking, he looked at them from underneath his brow and adjusted his words, his tongue twisting in the manner theirs had. 

“The ugliest Asgardian will forever be infinitely more appealing to the eye than your kind.”

They let out howling laughter at his words, and Loki cringed at the sound, his fingers digging into his curled up knees.  Nails on the academy chalkboards were celestial music in comparison.  Unexpected scalding water poured from above his head then, and digging his heels into the white floor, he pushed himself back violently from the boiling shower, the force of the shriek that escaped him burning his throat as adrenaline flooded his veins.  Their cackling bounced off the walls as another shower drenched him in his new spot, his ear piercing cries only encouraging them.  But it was damn near impossible not to cry out!  Every move he made, a new hole in the ceiling would open above his head and drop buckets of flesh searing water on him.

Did they have any idea what they were doing to him?  Did they know what sort of torture this was for a gods damn frost giant?!  The burning water froze at that moment, the droplets on his now blue skin and hair becoming icicles.  Blessed, glorious, frigid little icicles.  Their squawking ceased abruptly, their feet slipping right out from underneath them, and they landed hard on the icy floor.  If he hadn’t been in so much pain, Loki would have laughed at the sight of the two bumbling fumbling creatures.

“What is he?!”

“Why is he blue?!”

“I thought he was Asgardian.  Do they do that?”

“I don’t think so.”

Never had Loki been so grateful for his true parentage.  Though once again, he had no idea how he’d changed.  That was something he sorely needed to know.  It had proven quite handy twice now.  First saving Sigyn in Vanaheim and now this.

Continuing their bemused conversation, the bestia gawked at him as his skin returned to its normal pale hue, the ice melting, the remnants flowing to the drain in the middle of the room.

“Should we tell the Other?”

“Let’s just clean him and be done with it.  I do not want to see him turn blue again.”

Finding his voice once more after all that wretched screaming, Loki chuckled mirthlessly. “Surely you aren’t scared of the weak ugly fucking Asgardian?”

Using the wall for support, he managed to push to his feet, some of his strength returning to him.  Maybe turning Jotun made him stronger.  It certainly seemed that way.  Hopefully, he would live long enough to test it.  Following a far too close for comfort wash, they cut his hair once more to the shoulder length it had been when he’d arrived and threw him a pair of black knee length fitted leather shorts.  Stepping into the garment and pulling it up his legs, he breathed a sigh of relief, and looking at the bestia questioningly, his eyebrow raised.  

Is a shirt coming, too?  

Grabbing him by his elbows, they pulled him from the room.

Apparently not.  

Well, at least he wasn’t entirely naked anymore.  Not that he should have been embarrassed.  Even after a month’s starvation, he was still, ahem, impressive.

“Where are you taking me?” Loki growled, trying to wrench his arms free from their grip to no avail.  Dammit.  He needed to eat.  And drink.  He needed the muscle he’d lost.  He needed his magic. “I can walk on my own, you cretins!”

He received no response as he was pulled down a long open air rock path bathed in the same dim blue light that had shone on the stairs he remembered.  His shoulder was nearly yanked out of its socket when they came to an abrupt halt at the base of a new set of stairs.  

Clenching his teeth as they pushed him to his knees, he sneered, “I do not kneel for anyー” 

A swift kick to his mouth shut him up immediately, blood splattering on the stone beneath him.  Sweeping his thumb across the gash in his split lip, he stared at the red smeared across it.  Blood on his mouth.  The bond—Sigyn.  Hanging his head, he squeezed his eyes shut, but no tears came.  A month ago, a week ago even, he might have wept.  But now?  All he had was anger in his bones.  Seething, blood mixed with saliva dripping from his open mouth in one long string, he peered from under his brow at the grey man who had reappeared and was now descending the stairs above him.

“Careful, Asgardian.”

At his right, the bestia opened its mouth at the word Asgardian, but when Loki shot it a murderous look, its lips formed a tight line.  Impressed that he could once again inspire fear with a mere glance, he smirked, his eyes returning to the grey man who was, rather eerily, smiling at him.

“Do you like your new clothes?”

Uninterested in small talk, Loki inclined his head and glared, speaking through clenched teeth. “It is an acceptable garment.”

Laughing, the grey man clasped his hands behind his back. “Well, we had no desire to see all your parts.” 

Loki snorted—Get on with it, hideous creature! “What is this proposition of which you spoke earlier?”

Nodding, the grey man bent down to Loki’s level, his voice dropping an octave. “You are an Asgardian sorcerer.  A strong one.  Just look how quickly your strength has returned to you!  He has need of your abilities.  If you travel to Earth, learning and testing the human defenses, and come back with that knowledge, he will give you what you desire most.”

Loki frowned—What he desired most?  How would this ‘he’ know that information?  What, had he been speaking in his sleep?  And dear gods, if he had, what paramount and highly classified information might he have given away?  More importantly, who was ‘he?’  When Loki had asked who ‘he’ was at their last meeting right after his fall, the grey man had refused to tell him.  Maybe he would tell him now.

“Who is this ‘he’ that needs me?” Loki tried.

Shaking his head, the grey man pursed his lips and wagged his finger. “Agree to do this.  Be successful in your mission.  Then, and only then, shall you have his name.”

Of course the creature wouldn’t give him the name.  Loki was rapidly tiring of the cryptic ‘you must earn the right to that information’ answers.  He had learned one thing, at least.  The grey man was not the leader of this desert.  He was only a henchman with exclusive rights to the ear of their leader.  

Quirking his jaw, Loki sucked in his cheeks. “Very well,” he said, “Then tell me what it is that I supposedly desire most.”

Smiling in that wretched way again, the grey man looked around, his eyes darting back and forth in their sockets. 

“To return to Asgard, yes?”

Sighing, Loki rolled his eyes.  Well, obviously.  One needn’t have genius level intellect to figure that out.

The grey man showed his teeth then. “And to kill your brother, yes?”

Loki bit the insides of his cheeks to keep his jaw from dropping.  They knew exactly who he was.  Either he had been sleep-talking, or they’d investigated his past during his time in isolation.  The latter was unlikely, though.  If that had been the case, surely they would have discovered his Jotun heritage.  

He considered the grey man’s words.  Was that truly what he wanted?  To kill Thor?  For certain, he wanted Thor to pack up his royal chambers and move into the dungeons.  Why, he would himself throw the blond miscreant a fucking housewarming party!  But no, he had no desire to flat out murder his brother.  He’d seen enough death in the past few months to last a lifetime.  Perhaps it would be best to play along though.  Let them think that slaughtering his brother was precisely what he wanted.  

“Yes,” Loki answered, nodding once, focusing on keeping his breath even. “Now, do please explain why the mortals are of your concern.”

Returning to his full height, the grey man began pacing across the bottom step. “They have the tesseract.  It is an energy source as strong as your bifrostー”

“I know what the tesseract is,” Loki cut him off, glaring at his back. “My father-” he sighed at the word “-the Allfather put it on Midgard himself ages ago.”

Turning on his heel to face Loki, the grey man spat, “I would adjust your tone if I were you!”

Huffing, nostrils flared, Loki shut his mouth.

Resuming his pacing, the grey man continued, “As I was saying, the tesseract, the cube to some, is as strong as your bifrost, and he wants it.  If you accept this mission, and I suggest that you do, you shall return to Asgard soon.  Retrieve the cube as well, and you shall return sooner still.  If you return without it, you will wait until our army has penetrated the human defences.  Once we are in possession of the cube, you shall return to Asgard with our army to defeat King Thor.  What say you?”

Eyes narrowing, Loki pursed his lips, his thoughts racing.  He’d never held any particular affinity for the mortals (why should he?), but he had no desire to be privy to mass genocide on their planet.  Even less so if his hand was involved.  If he refused to kill his brother (one man) how could he possibly accept killing billions of humans?  If he were to accept this proposition and go to Midgard without retrieving the cube himself, this ‘he’ character would send an army of bestia or whatever other species was in this desert to the human realm.  Loki couldn’t allow that, could he?  All for the chance to get back to Asgard?  No.  That was a terrible option.  He was selfish, but he wasn’t that selfish.  

He would have to bring the cube back, right?  That was the only way to spare the humans.  Though if he did bring it back, it would then be in the hands of a person who clearly enjoyed torturing and tormenting anyone of his choosing.  If ‘he’ was powerful enough to have his own army, or powerful enough to wield the cube which was one of the most powerful and original singularities in the universe, then he would have the ability to colonize or destroy every known and unknown realm.  The cube could transport this ‘he’ person anywhere.  Whenever he wanted.  With however many of his army he wanted.  It would be far more than just the humans who would suffer.  No.  That was an even worse option.  

Truly though, how could he trust this person in the first place?  How could he put his faith in someone who had starved him for thirty days naked in isolation in complete dark?  This great torturer?  This horrid tormentor of souls?  No doubt ‘he’ had done this to others.  So then what?  Just say no and either return to isolation or be killed or tortured further?  Well that certainly wasn’t an option either.  Was it?  

Fuck—If only he knew how to wield the tesseract himself!  If Loki could wield it, then he could transport himself straight to Asgard and throw it in the vault.  ‘He’ couldn’t follow him into Asgard.  Not if the cube was locked away.  Odin’s vault was far too powerful.  It mattered not, though.  Loki didn’t know how to wield the cube, therefore he couldn’t accept the proposition.  As much as he longed for Asgard, to escape this wretched rock, to hold Sig again, to save his home from a disastrous king, he couldn’t go back this way.  No more blood on his hands.  He was done—Done.

Shaking his head, Loki sighed and glared at the grey man. “I’m afraid that I no longer make deals with monsters.”

Chest heaving, the grey man sneered as he bent back down to look Loki in the eye. “Did I not say that you should accept this mission?!”

Hands fisting, Loki attempted to stand to his feet, but the heavy hand of one of the creatures at his side landed on his shoulder, shoving him back down.

His blood boiling, he snapped at the grey man, “You cannot force-”

“Either you accept,” the grey man shouted over him and grabbed Loki’s chin, “or she dies!”

Angry tears clouded Loki’s vision, his mouth gaping, “Wha-”

“You screamed her name every night.  Tell me, Loki, who is Sigyn?”

No no no no no no no no NO.  What had he once said to her?—I’d sooner let Asgard burn than I would let anyone or anything hurt you.  

And by Hel had he meant it.

Eyes darting back and forth, he quickly went through his options again.  Maybe he could use one of the human scientists, one of those astrophysicists like Dr. Foster, to help him wield the cube.  She’d been working with someone before Thor had returned.  What had his name been?  Erik something.  Then he could return to Asgard, right?  Why wouldn’t the humans help him?  He would be protecting them!  Surely they would understand.  Shoulders slumping, he sighed heavily.  No, they wouldn’t.  They would assume he was mad.  They wouldn’t simply just hand over the cube.  They were mor-tals, not mor-ons.  

Maybe he could unleash Surtur on this torturer of his.  The demon king would without a doubt defeat him!  Scoffing, he rolled his eyes.  Had he completely lost his mind?!  He’d just said he didn’t make deals with monsters, and yet he was considering releasing the biggest one of them all?!  A fucking thousand foot tall fire demon?!  Odin himself was terrified of the creature!  But this was Sigyn.  Jaw quirking, he ran a hand through his hair.  

Wait—Maybe his torturer was Surtur.  Shaking his head, he scowled.  He could have kicked himself for being so brainless.  Surtur was in Muspelheim.  He couldn’t have just wandered into the middle of space unnoticed.  Heimdall might have mentioned an occurrence such as that to his father.  Ex-father.

Loki had only one option, regardless of the outcome.  He had to go to Midgard.  He couldn’t just sit by and watch his torturer kill Sig.  Of course, there was the possibility that the humans would defeat this desert army.  They had those, what did they call them …. superheroes?  Ridiculous name for a pack of mutant misfits.  They had more than capable armies, too.  There were seven billion of them, after all.  They weren’t exactly defenseless.  Not to mention his torturer couldn’t kill Sig without the tesseract in his hands.  ‘He’ would have to come to Midgard himself or send his minion army to fetch it.  

Annoyed with Loki’s silence, the grey man, glaring, sighed heavily. “Well?  Do you accept?”

Taking a deep breath, Loki raised his head and nodded. “Yes.”

Yes indeed.  He would go to Earth and somehow learn to wield the cube.  If not, he would fight alongside the humans when his torturer came for him.

FALLEN CONTINUES IN CHAPTER TWELVE: RAIN RAIN, GO AWAY

Visit the Trilogy main page HERE.

Fallen Chapters: ¹ Come Back to Me, Sig. ² I’ll Protect You From Everything ³ Let’s Just See How This Plays Out ⁴ When Did I Get So Soft? ⁵ Bring Me Home (But Not to This) ⁶ Death is Everywhere ⁷ The Bridge ⁸ The Desert ⁹ Remember Remember (It Hurts Like Hel) ¹⁰ Green is for Life ¹¹ I Don’t Make Deals With Monsters ¹² Rain Rain, Go Away ¹³ Are You Ready? ¹⁴ I Will Find You

CHAPTER ELEVEN THEME SONG:

“Backbone (E)” by Droloe feat. Nevve

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