Maternal Bonds

It took all four elves to hold Loki down against the stone slab he'd been dragged to. The entire way to the wretched chamber he now struggled in, he had fought with all his might to get free. His efforts had been futile, however, and had left him weary and bruised by the impatient fists of his captors. Now he lay pinned helplessly, awaiting whatever torments that would be inflicted upon him as they clamped him to the surface of the rock. The restraints bit into his limbs, slicing his delicate skin without difficulty. Even as they lifted their hands and backed away from him, he writhed in battle with his bonds, unwilling to submit without putting up a fight.

It mattered little in the long run. His straining became weakened with his state and the elves did naught but watch him thrash uselessly on the slab, their faces betraying nothing of what they felt. Malekith stood further from them all, grey hands clasped behind his back and cool eyes never leaving Loki's form. Not one of the creatures made so much as a sound and only the captive's tired heaving could be heard in the chamber.

Even so, the disgraced prince was ode to stop testing the clamps. However in the end he was forced to let his aching body rest, ceasing his wild movements and rolling his sweat-covered head away from the eyes of the elves. His emerald eyes closed with exhaustion and he went completely limp, finally coming to terms with the fact that he could not slip away and that he was glued to his position. He hated being at their mercy, replaying the role he had escaped a little more than two years prior. Their silence was pounding, screaming in his ears and he shut himself out from their grating muteness.

Well, perhaps they would keep their distance then. After all, he could hardly complain if his own torture was being delayed by their awkward ways. However Malekith shattered those desperate hopes by stepping forward, the sound travelling swiftly through the air to Loki's ears. Inwardly, his let out a traumatized screech that burned at him to flee, reliving things that never should have even occurred.

An elven hand came to rest carefully by his head, drawing an unwanted flinch from his body at the radiating darkness that came with the being.

"You have finished your pointless writhing then?" The elf's question was spoken slowly, factually and with barely any tone whatsoever and Loki was surprised by the lack of taunting that usually came to one in his position.

The elves were unique, that he could not deign, but that did not make his response to Malekith mandatory. For all of their superior technologies and wisdom, they lacked the humanity to be considered likable. A race of beings with hardly a sliver of true emotions that they developed, the feeling being more 'implanted' than truly felt. So the trickster held his tongue still, unwilling to be intimidated by the very creatures who imprisoned him once again.

"This will not succeed, Malekith." He snarled out between his teeth. "Frigga will not risk the universe, let alone Thor's lover, for the sake of her criminal second child."

The elf merely raised an eyebrow, keeping his gaze ever down and upon his victim.
"A Queen might be willing to hold fast for her kingdom in the face of another's agony. But a mother? There is not a woman in existence that would willfully subject their offspring to torture without cracking."

He waves towards one of the elves behind him, signaling him with the dark words of their language. The elf promptly murmurs back and bows, leaving the room quickly to do whatever he was bid. Loki watch him go, nervousness creeping up his spine and making it a difficult task to remain from twitching in anticipation. He didn't know what Malekith had in mind for him and he couldn't help but feel a sliver of terror.

Inside of his weary frame, the fallen prince prayed that his mother wouldn't implode with grief at whatever the sight of him returning would be. She had to remain strong, for both of them. There was no doubt in his mind that she would hold against the bribes their captors sent her way for a while, but for how long? Frigga, though empowered with the stone will of a monarch was not prone to bending her stubbornness. But as Malekith had stated, Frigga was also a mother and took her children to be her light. Even with Loki's consistent failures to her, he knew that her undeserved love for him could very well be their undoing.

As the thoughts raced through Loki's mind, the head of his misery and the leader of the elves was watching his turned face with interest. He knew that the blasted and thrice-cursed elf found him to simply be an obstacle in the way of his race's survival; he did not seem to begrudge himself the chance to look over his prisoner with a contemplating gaze. The disgraced prince could almost feel the emotionless eyes analyzing every aspect of his expression. The silence of the chamber made the situation even more awkward and uncomfortable for the captive and it everything Loki had to keep himself from squirming from the sheer oddness of it all.

Then the elf returned and the prince found himself stopping a relieved sigh when Malekith turned away from him. However, the prospect of promised pain so soon to become truth stopped him from fully enjoying the moment.

"What Asgardians believe of my race is naught by foolish tales for children and the unstable in the mind." The dark creature spoke suddenly, his back blocking Loki's view of what the subordinate elf had handed over. "Contrary to your beliefs, we are not beings that survive off the pain of others. We do not take prisoners unless absolutely needed and we dispose of them as soon as convenient."

Loki piled up the fraying remnants of his courage in places like these and spoke clearly, his voice resounding in the room.

"That information is useful, considering that I am the current prisoner under your power." He looked to the blackened ceiling and swallowed, putting aside the anxious feelings that bubbled inside of him. "Am I to be slaughtered then? Will you present to my mother the bloody remains of her troubled child and expect her to babble out the words you seek so that you might kill her also, allowing her to know the fate of what lies for her last son after her death? She may mourn me creature, but she will not give what you demand in a last revenge against you for what you will have done to me."

Malekith turned back to him, meeting his green eyes dead on and holding the path between them effortlessly. His eyes were pits of nothingness, only ambition for his race gleaming in the hollow orbs within his pale skull.

"Another misconception of your.…'kind', if that is what you claim them to be, Jotun." He raised his chin, tilting his armored head back. "My ilk does not practice the gruesome torments the other and more 'lightened' peoples of the universe do. Your Mother shall tell all, but your lifeless and tortured corpse will not be needed for the means of persuasion."

Loki watched with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as the elf reviewed to him a syringe, made and formed with delicately blown glass. The sharpened needle was produced between two curled ends of shining crystal, the pusher at the end forming a beautiful loop where Malekith's finger was lightly placed. Within the container was a glistening yellow substance, swirling wondrously and waving within its confinements. He didn't need to look twice to understand what exactly the fluid was.

It was magic, a liquefied spell to be injected into a subject to work at its fullest and to bring about the most efficient results for the wielder. Loki knew its ability and had even studied it within the healing arts of magical properties in his learning as a young and naive boy. The healers of Asgard often wove complex medicines for suffering and dying patients, diverting the need for surgeries and the long, tedious treatment for sicknesses. The style of recovering a patient was quick and most effective, bypassing many deaths to people of terrible injuries. He had been told Frigga herself had been given one after Thor's difficult birth and when she was believed to be close to the fatal tip of life. It was the only reason for her still having the use of oxygen in her lungs and a heart that pounded love into so many. It was the reason he had ever experience the joy of seeking out his maternal parent and telling her of his issues while she listened carefully to him.

Yes, liquefied magic could be good, a useful things to those with no hope of living. But to a prisoner? Loki knew instinctively that whatever Malekith had woven into that syringe, it was not meant for aiding him with anything other than a very unpleasant experience.

"You recognize it, this magical form." The elf said, nodding with approval. "The spell I have concocted for you is called Veritas in the elvish tongue, a difficult creation."

A cold hand came to rest on Loki's upper arms, resulting in a violent flinch from him as the elf touched the tip of the needle to his arm. A shiver wracked his frame and he looked away from the scene.

"The effects are not immediate, however they repetitive once they begin." The sharp point was pushed, breaking into his skin and forced into the muscles. As the substance was slowly injected, Loki gaze a long hiss of pain, his eyes shut tight and teeth grit. "Firstly, the magic within the fluid itself is limited, though the spell will remain. It will feed off your own magical force and therefore block it from your capability to use."

As Malekith handed the syringe back to the subordinate, Loki could feel an invading tingle travel up his arm, teasing and prodding his body as it moved relentlessly through him. As the elf said, the feel for his magic steadily began to dwindle, leaving him even more exhausted and heavy, as though large weights had been placed over his ribs and limbs. He fidgeted under the influence, wiggling vainly to stop the sensation from taking over.

"Secondly, you will become hypersensitive." Malekith lay his hand over his victim's arm again, his facial expression never changing as Loki moved frantically away, his nerves acting raw to the touch. "However this is the one effect of the spell that will not last. But the third aftereffect will be the most persistent. It will act as a random switch, draining you in the process."

Loki cast an eye on the elf, trying desperately to keep his fear at bay.

"You will see things that are not, experience things that are not and you will be put through memories of the past as if they were repeating themselves." The prince's eyes widened in terror that took grasp of his very core, understanding dawning on his face as Malekith continued. "The final point will be death, resulting from the continuous shock your body and mind will suffer. Without the counterattack on this spell, you will die."

The carefully laid dam he had built over the course of time, protecting him from events and immovable fear shattered, leaving Loki exposed before the elves. Even as Malekith gazed on the stricken victim before him, the prince's mind drew blank from reality, dragging him to remembrances long due to be forgotten and discarded. He recalled the terrible emotions desolation, abandonment and ultimate betrayal, their situations bouncing violently around in his skull. He thrashed in his bonds against the waterfall of horror that poured over him, growling and spitting as a last defense against what was to come. It was a valiant attempt, but overly vain against the might of the overpowering shadow that took his senses.
A face appeared before his eyes, large, terrifying and grinning down upon him with eyes that burned into his very brain, a voice echoing in the past with beckoning and promise of rewards and punishment. In a unhopeful attempt, Loki tossed his head wildly side to side, begging his mind to clear and leave him in peace.

He could not go through it again…he couldn't….

Watery emerald eyes pried open, looking to Malekith's expressionless face, wondering how, how he could have known!? He closed his lids again, knowing he could not suffer through the past a second time without losing himself once again and this time for good. He would give anything, take anything, even die over reliving that what once was.

For a brief moment his façade cracked open, a split of the burning he felt coming to light in his eyes as he once again gazed at the elf before him, a crazed desperation coming over his features. His sanity felt as though it was on a thin fulcrum, tipping much too far to the acid on one side and preparing to roll him off.

"Don't do this." His voice was rusty, not begging or pleading, but simply asking the impossible of those who did not care and never would.

In Loki's life, he had been lied to and his loyalties taken advantage of by those he had been willing to give his all for. It had been those in his own family who had worn masks and false demeanors against him, his 'friends' outright showing their bold disapproval and disgust for him without heeding the damage they caused. But he had also had many enemies, some so much more hating then others and so, so brutal in their actions towards him.

Brutally honest of their death wishes for him, their cruel plans for him and their opinions of his longing for admiration. They had shown him more truth of themselves to him than those he had always cared for, desired to please. In the end they did not care anymore than his foes and he would rather plead to his tormentor than ask of his family. Because at least then there was no means of him having his heart hurt deeper than already expected.

In response to his words, Malekith merely stared, holding the look for various seconds before signaling two elves over to unbind the suffering trickster. They didn't handle him too roughly as they pulled him from the table, nearly limp and quivering in their grasp. As they moved him from the chamber, following their leader back to the cell, he found himself curious towards his captors with a new light. They were strange in their beliefs and their actions certainly displayed a different picture to that which the Asgardian bards and books painted for entertainment and lore.

When Malekith touched the door, opening by the simple friction of skin, Loki tried to squirm from his holders, not wishing his mother to witness the state he would soon be in. However his resistance was dealt with quickly and Loki soon found himself thrown to the floor of their cell, the door closing behind him and sealing as if it never existed. The hypersensitivity of his skin had toned down since his injection, but the crude landing upon the marble ground caused him to cry out in pain, clenching his fists and snapping his jaw shut to fight it off with the meager tool of sheer willpower. He could deal with it…he just needed to be calm, breath evenly and focus on something other than the pain…other than the pain….

"Loki!"

With the gentle perfume of roses about her that Loki could not help by feel grateful for, Frigga was soon kneeling by her dejected child's side, carefully scooping him into the safety of her soft arms. She held him to her breast as he lie still, panting and thankful that the illusions of his mind had faded before his arrival back into the cell. His mother's loving hand was brushing strands of loose hair from his face before looking him over for injuries of any kind. Loki let her, too worn out from the magic sucking at his reserves to tell her what Malekith had done to his weary form.

Her slim fingers prodded him smoothly over his body, being sure not to cause him any sort of discomfort. However her thorough examination showed no signs of beatings or other agonizing practices, much to her relief. She sighed with the stress of being separated from him waning, but when she met his eyes, she must have seen something that frightened her terribly. Loki hoped he did not seem weak or easily read into like an open book on display. She could not see his terror; he could not allow it to be for he knew that she would surely break over the things she would see.

Silver tears slid over her cheeks despite his hardest efforts to shield his inner self from her in his exhausted state and she held him tighter to herself in an attempt to hide him from all the world.

"Oh poor, sweet child, what did he do to hurt you so?" The Queen lamented, weeping into his black locks after finding not even a small wound to tend to. "What has caused such fear to surface in your precious eyes?"

Loki looked away, heart heavy with the idea that he could not even save her from himself. She would see him for what and who he was, the shambles of a once bright garden in bloom, reduced to dried leaves and unfertilized soil. She knew him far too well, leaving him no chance to shell himself completely from her piercing gaze. At one point, as a small boy, he would have loved the attention directed on him, willingly leaving himself open to her with a large smile. But now the thought only brought an agonized ache to his chest and he had to force himself to look away.

However, Frigga's persistent spirit would not allow such a shutdown to occur and she gently tipped his head towards her once again.

"Loki, please." She insisted lightly, rubbing two of her fingers across his cheek before leaning down to kiss his forehead. "I must know."

He blinked, the mysterious sting unwilling to fade that seemed to have suddenly come. He would not speak of anything to her. She was far too dear to be lost, too motherly to be hurt and too kind to be torn apart by raging and vengeful things that haunted his every moment. She was his everything and all he had that remained and linked him to who he had been before. If he was to die soon, from the horrifying shock of being put through all the past torments he had suffered, he wanted her to be safe. It was a sacrifice towards his own joy of halving his burdens, but he could cope as he always had.

She deserved a better son and if he couldn't give her that, he would not harm her with things that would only make her weep for him after his soul departed from his body. When the memories of his pain came, he would not let it be known to her, ever.

So he merely stared at her longingly and overflowing with the want to embrace her, a single tear running down his cheek as he kept his silence.

And Frigga wept for him, hugging a boy who dared not return the gesture, telling him there was nothing to fear and that she would always remain by him. In Loki's mind he cursed Odin for snatching a runt from a defeated race of monsters for himself, allowing him to believe that this beautiful woman was he maternal paradise when hurt.

She cried upon him and he knew that everything would have been better had he been speared through as a babe, never to know the pangs of believing one thing, when the exact opposite was truth.

Notes