Inspired by June 13th 2017’s daily prompt: taper
*I do not own these characters. All rights go to Marvel.*
Worth It
Summary: Loki removed the shining silver utensil from the nearest table. “That may have been Hel frozen over, but I am not known to fail on a mission.” In which Loki goes to the ends of the world to get what he wants.
A low hiss sounded in the dark abyss.
“Please, d-don’t,” came the hoarse whisper as pain settled deeply into the man’s bones. Jet black hair lay in a tousled heap, sweat sticking the loose strands to the man’s flushed cheeks. Rivulets of the liquid mixed with the man’s tears as they became one on their way down slender cheeks. The man’s lips were parched, his throat a mess of raw tissue and red staining wine. Except, of course, it wasn’t wine, but rather the blood of his heart that circulated through his body, pouring out from his open mouth as he spat feebly in response.
The pain, by the Norns, was the pain unbearable.
Electric shocks zapped through his body sending him into reigning spasms, uncontrollable quirks of his tissues as they shivered and shuddered. His hands, weak and useless by his sides, tingled with the shock that was working its way into his system. His palms itched, his fingers cold to the touch and his veins were pronounced–protruding outwards like high-rises.
His brain was sludge, barely working, barely functioning, and he, he was barely breathing. Thoughts rumbled into one another with a force so heavy he thought he might dry heave. Scattered were the remnants of his memories as flashes of a red cape, lightning and a blonde, blue-eyed face appeared in his vision. There were pieces of a brightly lit rainbow, a helmet man, an eyepatch, red and gold and so, so much green.
He felt the bile in his throat rise as he rasped out again.
“P-please, d-d-don’t,” he begged quietly. Forming words on his cracked lips was nearly impossible, but he thought maybe, just maybe they had come out all right. Maybe, just maybe, the Norns would grace him with repentance and kindness–just this one time.
But he was never so very lucky.
“–orry Reindeer Games,” the voice, rough and gravelly, didn’t sound so convincing. It sounded strained, as though difficult work lay ahead and the man felt fear rise unsteadily in his chest.
If this was just the beginning, he’d rather not be around for the climax.
“P-please, j-just k-k-k…” he felt his energy zap away from him as though he were a machine that had been startled from being pulled out from its energy source.
He felt so very, very sleepy.
His eyes wavered in their blinking motion, green orbs unfocused as the world swam around him.
“-ey, ’ey! Stay with me, okay?” The voice, whoever was speaking, sounded a lot more concerned this time around, even if the slowly losing conscious man noticed a hint of malice in their tone.
He violently wanted to complete his prior thought, but the sentiment rolled away from him like spilt marbles on an escalator. He watched in mild fascination and severe distraction as they glimmered like diamonds, like the jewels he once collected from Vanaheim.
Jewels, gems, Mother.
Oh, how the universe was ever so cruel to him! Why could he not be within the arms of his lovely mother, a mother who loved him dearly despite his abhorrent nature?
Green eyes rolled uselessly in their sockets, a cry of pain escaping his lips as the pain drilled onwards. Deep, deep into the flesh of his flesh, the bone of his bone, his brain could not comprehend the atrocity of what was occurring, but somewhere deep within himself he knew he was responsible for the pain.
He knew somewhere deep down in his heart that he was getting off easy with this flavor of punishment.
Maybe the Allfather had finally given him the reprieve he so wished for, just in the most brutal and terrible of ways.
Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be long for him now. Maybe he’d be finally allowed to let go of this haphazard wasteland of a life that was so cruelly cut out for him when he was found, abandoned, on that icy rock. Maybe it was time for him to finally breathe again, by way of no longer being.
The trickster felt all of these feelings, raw and pure and immobile, as he lay wherever he lay, in a world he was uncertain of, with a purpose long lost from his reckless fingertips.
His eyelids began to flutter shut, as the cool embrace of nothingness encompassed him, but as always, he was never let go of so easily.
“Brother!”
The trickster could not even suppress a groan.
The bumbling buffoon came running to his side, wherever that side may be (he certainly couldn’t tell), clasping one of his icy hands in a fiery bath of warmth.
Loki tried to pull away instinctively, but the older demigod refused to relinquish him from his grasp.
“Loki, what is the meaning of this?”
The urge to yawn strangely swept through the younger sibling before he could stop his mouth from opening and spilling out the breath he had unknowingly been holding.
“Friend Stark, why has my brother taken to sudden illness?” Thor’s expression hardened as his eyes narrowed in suspicion; “Has something gone on while I was away?” his voice was low, as though issuing a threat, which Loki was surprised to hear from his not-brother.
The aforementioned individual raised two hands, palm open, in the air.
“Whoa there, Point Break, I was just helping out. I figured you’d be pissed if we let Reindeer Games,” he gestured to the limp figure on the cushioned table, “die.”
A frown and look of confusion etched its way into the features of Loki’s face.
“I’m-I’m not–” Loki reconsidered his words carefully, “is it over?”
His words were measured, controlled almost, and whispered delicately as if their utterance would result in a swooping motion of reapplied pain.
He waited a second, two, three, but the pain was tapering off. He felt himself regain control of his once trembling limbs, his fingers feeling warmer than before (except for where Thor held his hand, which he still grumbled about and tried to pull away from) and his head clearing considerably.
Of course, leave it to the Allfather to give him a sudden illness only for him to wish for death then take away the opportunity straight from under him.
“What happened?” Loki asked next, seeing as how the Man of Iron had yet to answer his previous question.
Tony Stark quirked an incredulous brow upwards and snorted to himself, pouring himself a glass of scotch while holding up a torched, smoking circular object.
“This thing was the cause of your plight,” he tossed it lightly to the demigods. “Would you like to keep it? I can probably score one of those medical jars that doctors keep record breaking tumors in from Pepper, if, you know, that’s your thing.”
Thor looked to the object in equal amounts of confusion. Before he could ask, the memory clicked in Loki’s mind.
“That is what caused all of this?” He sounded dismissive and hardly believing some metal bracelet around his ankle was capable of so much damage.
“Well, you were on house arrest. What did you expect? You can’t just show up a few months after New York and picture Fury welcoming you back with a pink ribbon and a Pride parade.” Tony took a swig from his scotch. “You gotta earn that last one.” He remarked, winking.
Thor cautiously picked up the device. “What–?”
“Lokester was on house arrest; meaning he wasn’t allowed outside twenty-five feet from here to, well, anywhere. Fury wanted to make sure the ‘subject’ remained a part of the tower and only the tower,” Tony shrugged, “we needed something nearly indestructible and he wanted me to tamper with the thing. Never thought we’d have to use it, but Reindeer Games here just couldn’t stand another night without peppermint ice cream.” Tony gave a pointed stare to the offending victim. “Cue the bright lights, party anthems and the ferociously bad ailment, and voila, here we are!”
Thor sent a curious glance towards his brother.
“All for this…peppermint ice cream?” he questioned, gaze lighter than it had been in years.
Loki half-shrugged then smiled mischievously.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never had any,” Loki chided, smile growing wider. Before his not-brother could reply, Loki removed the shining silver utensil from the nearest table. “That may have been Hel frozen over, but I am not known to fail on a mission.”
“Except when–” Tony began about to point out the obvious failed mission of recent news but Loki shot him a glare that silenced the man for now.
“What do you say…brother?” Loki challenged his older sibling with sparkling green eyes.
Looking back at his brother as though he’d just seen him alive for the first time, Thor let a small smile form upon his lips.
“I call forth for another!”
~x~
A/N: This fic was brought to you by my sleepy musings of Loki wearing an anklet which turned into an ankle bracelet mixed with WordPress’ daily prompt on June 13th 2017 “taper”.
Ta-Da! Something serious that just turns silly.
Additionally, I’d like to thank you all for reading! I’m back with notes on all my stories and soon to be published pieces although, I’ve recently gotten a puppy and inspiration is dodgy at best. Regardless, expect many writings over this summer! Thank you so much, peeps!
Also, if I had to go through an immense amount of pain before I got ice cream mine would be Ben & Jerry’s Boom Chocolatta. So worth it! What would you choose?
And I don’t own these characters!!
Written June 13th & 14th 2017.
RecoverytoWellness 