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The Chitauri's Revenge	By : SaChanPwns Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 7806 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers, nor do I make money off of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers, nor do I make money off of this story.

The Chitauri’s Revenge
Chapter 12

How can there be truth in this situation? Loki’s mind swam as he was lifted from the ground. He had been tortured. Raped. Broken. Brought back. Broken again. Loved—was it love? What truth was there, or what possible fact that could make it all right? What could possibly explain everything that had happened to him? How could it pardon his crimes and help Odin see him as a son and not a wretched monster? There is nothing in truth. There are only lies. Loki knew and understood that. He lived it. He was a walking, breathing lie conjured to be something he was not.
“You will reveal everything, and then you will be judged,” Thor ground out at Yfulen, who just shrugged one shoulder.
“I was judged long ago. You can do nothing.” Yfulen settled Loki on the bed. He knew better than to ask if there was a more comfortable place. Both he and Loki were seen as criminals, and his only purpose in sticking around was to clear his false lover of any wrong doing. “And this, Prince Thor, is not for you.” His sharp gaze returned to the blonde for only a moment before softening on Loki. “This entire thing, Loki… the captivity, the Other, myself… It was all planned before you arrived—“
“Planned?” Loki searched his mind. Yes, he had been captured, tortured, raped, forced into situations that made him plead for death, but Yfulen had brought him back. He had soothed the burns, the aches, and the gaping void Loki had felt after Thor had finally given up on him. Yfulen had been there.
“I had not planned on becoming so attached to you—“
“Attached?” Loki searched Yfulen’s face for something, anything to prove himself wrong. He was not saying, he could not be saying—
“We were going to use you as a distraction to obtain the Tesseract.” Yfulen murmured, and felt as if all his organs plummeted into his gut at the expression that crossed Loki’s face: fear, shock, realization, anger, disgust, helplessness, and then, the most painful, hope.
“T-Tell me you are lying,” Loki murmured. He shook his head as Yfulen cupped his cheeks into his palm. Then, he squeezed his eyes shut. He did not want to see Yfulen. He did not want to look into his eyes; it all had to be lies, lies.
“No, my little prince. Unfortunately, the plan was to show you affection, to make you…” Yfulen searched for the word and then frowned, “To make you trust me. To make you love me, and I thought it was a grand plan. At least, until I fell in love with you.”
Loki sucked in a sharp breath. Perhaps it was out of disbelief. Perhaps it was shock. Perhaps he just didn’t want to believe it. “You are a liar.” He breathed, once again opening his eyes to look into Yfulen’s, as if the truth was as simple as seeing it through the eyes of another. “You are lying. You were there—you helped me—“
“All at the directions of the Other so we could obtain the Tesseract.” Yfulen watched as Loki began to fall apart. He could see the cracks that had disturbed his psyche become craters, and the craters become cliffs. Loki was falling, and there was absolutely nothing Yfulen could do to stop him.
“You… how could you…” Yet, couldn’t he? Didn’t everyone lie? Wasn’t everyone out to gain something? No one did anything for the sake of others. No one sacrificed anything without the guarantee of a gain. No, and especially not monsters.
And he was one. Loki was a monster, and he was falling. The onslaught of emotional and physical pain became welcoming. They were the only sensations that truly meant he was alive, even if he did not want to be. Death, the ability to sleep forever, sounded so hospitable that Loki could only pray that his wounds were fatal.
However, Loki froze. If everything had been planned, thought out, and so meticulously aligned, had he ever truly returned to Asgard? His eyes, haunted, turned to Thor. He stared at the blonde and tried desperately to suppress his guilt. “And Thor?” He rasped, his voice now raw with restrained emotions, “Did he truly allow those prisoners—“
“No,” Before Loki could finish, Yfulen shook his head. “No, he did no such thing, Loki. The Other simply wanted you to hate any possible way out of your captivity. He wanted you to… prefer it.”
Loki could not hold on any longer. He fumbled for the side of the pathetic excuse for a bed and vomited. Nothing but grey fluid splashed the floor. It was a testament to what the Other had fed him during his last month or so in captivity—semen and water; it had been just enough sustenance to actually keep him alive. His lungs burned with the effort to breathe as the events of six or seven months streamed behind his eyelids.
“Loki…” This time the voice was a deep baritone and it had lost its edge. Thor was stepping toward him with a raised hand, pain contorting his features. He wanted, desperately, to hold him again. He wanted to stroke his hair and cup the back of his head, as he had always done, and insist that he still had a home. He wanted to ease Loki’s pain, and he was beginning to believe that there was more to the story than Loki simply going mad.
“I believe that is enough,” Thor looked at Yfulen, and at the Chitauri’s expression, knew that he understood. Loki knew everything he needed to know, and he was not going to damage him further by trying to profess his love or to ask for forgiveness. Yfulen stood and Fandral marched him out and into a separate cell.
“Loki—“
“Leave me.”
“But Loki—“
“Please,” Loki looked up at Thor though glassy eyes, and as he blinked, the glass turned to tears, creating paths down his cheeks. “Please, Thor, give me this. Give me space. Leave me.” Loki’s cries fell on deaf ears. Thor knew he was lying; Loki did not want to be left alone. It had always been Loki’s habit to run and hide, to curl into a ball and cry himself to sleep, and Thor had been there for him then, too, as he would now. Instead of slipping out of the cell, Thor settled down on the side of the bed.
“Loki…” Thor’s intense gaze flickered to the healers, and his expression was simple: heal him. The healers stood and shuffled over to the crumbling god. They looked at him before they began to slowly heal the fractures, broken bones and lacerations. Unfortunately, they could not heal his heart or his mind, both of which had been ground into dust. It was obvious by the vacant expression. The only way Thor knew Loki was truly there were the small noises of discomfort as bone and skin knit back together.
“Father will see into the Chitauri’s mind—“
“Yfulen,” Loki whispered, but his voice sounded as lost as his eyes looked.
“It is a monster, Loki, he—“
“I am a monster!” It was all but a scream, and it left Loki gasping for breath as pain washed over his still healing wounds.
“No, Loki… no, you are not a monster. You never were and never will be.” Thor ran his palm over Loki’s cheek, and then slid his fingers into the matted, bloody locks that tangled in a curly mess around his shoulders. “You are my brother. You are… everything to me.” While Loki had fought so hard to be their father’s favorite, he had never truly realized that he was Thor’s.
“How can you say that?” Loki tried to wave off the healers, but they insisted on continuing, even if it meant healing him while he and his brother battled. “You have no idea what I—what I have done, thought, wanted…”
“I know that you are my brother and that I love you—“
“No!” Loki was frantic now. He had lost everything to lies, and he had done the same to his family. He had not done it willingly, but by the gods, he had done it. “You do not understand what kind of monster—“
“Enough!” Thor snapped and immediately regretted it when Loki curled in on himself. His expression shuttered, leaving him frustratingly blank once again. Thor took in a shaky breath and scolded himself for snapping at Loki. It was not what his brother needed.
“You are exhausted, brother,” Thor murmured, finally reigning in his temper. “After the healers are finished, I will speak to father about your circumstances. I do not believe you belong in a cell.” He stroked his knuckles over Loki’s cheek and sighed. If Yfulen was correct, Odin would have to dig deeper into the chaos to find its purpose. Loki may have been frantic for approval, for anything that would make him feel truly wanted, but his actions in New York were not his own. Thor had never believed it, and after hearing the Chitauri’s explanation, he was beginning to see what exactly had happened to Loki.
His brother had fallen into space, and then somehow turned around and attempted to take over Midgard. Thor was not the blubbering idiot that everyone made him out to be; he could connect two events and reason that the Chitauri and the Other were behind both. He prayed they were behind both. Loki would be forgiven, and despite the hate that rolled through Asgard toward him, he would be free.
“Prince Loki is healed,” The healer’s voice brought Thor out of his thoughts. He looked down at his blue brother, at the lack of wounds, but he still could not get the picture of split skin and shining bones of his head. He shook his head, as if it would help remove the image, and leaned over to press a kiss to Loki’s forehead. “I will retrieve our father—“
“There is no need.” Odin had been standing at the mouth of the cell for a few minutes now, watching the healers work to repair the damage that littered Loki’s body. He watched Thor evenly and then looked to his other son. They did not make eye contact. Loki’s gaze was attached to nothing, his mind processing nothing. His body may have been healed, but Loki, the trickster, was far from the boy Odin had known. On some level, he blamed himself, even if his duties as king had required him to let Loki go.
“You cannot leave him in here,” Thor’s shoulders were coiled with tension, his eyes representing the storm that was howling outside. He was dead-set on having Loki in his own chambers so that he could heal his broken psyche. It was all he could offer him after losing him to the Chitauri.
“For the night, I will have to. I will investigate the situation with the Chitauri next door. Until then, Loki is not permitted outside of his cell.”
“Has he not suffered enough—“
“Do not question my decisions, Thor.” The king snapped, and then allowed a small sigh to escape him. “As king, I have to do what I must to protect my people.” He shook his head at the look of dismay that crossed Thor’s face. “You will stay with him tonight to ensure nothing else happens.” His sharp gaze fell on Loki, and with a whispered spell, Loki’s blue skin swirled back to that of an Aesir. The markings vanished, along with his red eyes, and it was then that the king left the cell.
Thor clenched his jaw in frustration and almost threw his hammer against the cell wall. He took in a shuddering breath, and then turned to Loki. His eyes softened as he looked over the shell that was once so clever and sly. He ran his calloused hand over his face and then closed his eyes. What could he possibly do to get Loki’s attention? He looked like a wraith of himself—thin, sickly, absent despite being physically there. Then it dawned on Thor.
Loki needed a bath. Odin had said to stay with his brother, and technically, Thor was not going against his father’s wishes. He shooed the healers out and then walked over to Loki. As painful as it sounded, he preferred his brother flinching over absolutely no reaction at all. It was torture to see him in such a state, and he was sure Loki would have simply waved his hand and the mess would have been gone. Not now, though. Not while his mind decided to settle so far from his body.
            “Come, Loki, you must bathe.” Thor offered Loki a hand. He was mildly surprised when Loki took it, and even more surprised by the soft skin. He had forgotten how fragile Loki had felt, even beneath his sly words and curses. Yet, he remembered how he used to tease Loki for how feminine he was. He had cursed him several times. Silly curses, but curses nonetheless. Thor would suffer for days with boils or rashes that would fester until he apologized.
            Thor looked fondly upon those times. He glanced back to his brother and then blanched. He had forgotten, in all the chaos, that Loki was naked. Quickly, Thor unlatched his cape and swept it around his brother. He tucked it securely around his bony shoulders and offered a small smile. “You always enjoyed stealing my cape from me,” he mused as he led Loki out of the cell and into the main hall of the dungeons.
            As they walked, Thor kept his hand in Loki’s. It was mainly to make sure that he kept up. At least, that was what he told himself. He would not admit to anyone that it was to ensure that Loki did not disappear. He did not want to lose him again. When he had laid eyes on Loki’s blue form, destroyed by the Other, he had vowed to protect him—forever.
            Thor had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that when Loki froze in his steps, he almost made him stumble. He turned to look and frowned at the emotions flickering over Loki’s features. There was pain, anger, fear, and then agony. “Loki, what are—“
            “Don’t make me,” The plea was so quiet that Thor strained to hear him.
            “What, Loki? Don’t make you do what?”
            Loki’s mind was a whirlwind of insanity. One moment, Thor was taking his hand and offering a bath. The next, he was bringing him to another cell. Was it going to be like before? Was he going to give him over to the other prisoners? Loki would rather sacrifice himself to Thor. He would rather be underneath him, begging for release, rather than beaten and raped by several men. Panic set his blood on fire, and despite the aching need to flee, Loki fell to his knees in front of Thor.
            “Don’t make me go in there. I will be better. I want to be better.” Loki tipped his head up to look at Thor, and shame washed over him at Thor’s look of pity. He fumbled to untie Thor’s pants. He was lucky that Thor was not wearing his armor. It was easier and maybe he would be able to appease him enough not to be punished.
            “Loki!“ Thor, baffled, tried to stop Loki’s frantic hands. He grasped his wrists and grimaced at the cry of desperation. “Loki, stop, stop.” His brother was babbling and begging, and Thor had no idea what he was talking about. He finally grasped Loki’s cheeks and pressed their foreheads together. Loki gasped for breath, his cheeks wet with tears, but Thor’s attempt to calm him failed. Instead, Loki threw his frail arms around his brother’s broad shoulders and smashed their lips together.
            At first, Thor was frozen with shock. He did nothing as Loki’s tongue prodded his lips and pushed into his mouth. When his wits finally returned, he grasped his brother’s shoulders and forced him back. “Loki,” his voice was broken as he watched desperation flicker through Loki’s features. What had they done to him to force him into such a state of helplessness? He searched his face, looking for any indication that his sly, silver-tongued brother was still there. He found nothing, and crushed, gathered Loki into his arms and pulled him to his chest. “It is alright, brother. You are safe now.”
            Loki’s heart beat was so frantic that it caused dizziness. He slumped into Thor’s arms, completely and utterly defeated. Safety was not something he knew any longer. He had believed he was safe with Odin and Frigga as a child. He had believed he was safe with Yfulen. Safe was a relative term. No one could promise safety. It was too slippery to grasp, and just when he had felt its warm embrace, it was torn savagely from him, taking bits and pieces of his being. No, safety was just a veil of lies and deceit, and Loki understood that thoroughly.
            Thor kept one arm locked securely around Loki’s body as he settled the other hand behind his neck. He held him, and as he held him, his own pain began to chip away at his heart. He had been furious when Loki had disappeared. It had been easy to believe that it had been a planned escape, but the broken creature in his arms was not plotting. No, if anything, Loki was simply trying to stay alive. He ignored the tingling on his lips and the heat that had warmed him when Loki had kissed him. It was Loki’s desperation, not his true desires. He had obviously feared punishment, and that left Thor enraged. What had they done to him if he disobeyed? He knew his bones had been broken and he had been raped. Yet, while he watched Loki tremble in his arms, he concluded that there had to be more.
            Perhaps it was the mind games. Loki had always played them on others, so Thor had always assumed that he would be too strong to fall for them. How does one break down such a resilient mind? How long did it take? What did it take? Thor ran his fingers over Loki’s neck, through his tangled hair, his blue eyes piercing the darkness of the dungeons as he held him. He did to think about asking Loki for details. It would be cruel, and right now, Loki was being cruel enough to himself.
            Words only seemed to put Thor’s brother on edge. Instead of speaking, he slid his arm beneath Loki’s knees and his back. He stood carefully to make sure he did not jostle the mess in his arms. This was not justice. This was cruel, and Odin was blind for not seeing that he was fragile now, punished to the brink of death. It was enough, but Thor was uncertain that Odin would see it that way. He was a king before a father, and he may have let go of Loki as a son.
            Thor’s boots were as heavy as his heart as he walked through the hall. He was grateful that the few people he spotted were servants. With a sharp look, they scrambled, leaving him to care for his brother. Once he was at the doors of the bathing chambers, he shifted Loki in his arms and eased the door open with his shoulder. The steam that met him was welcoming. He eased the door shut and walked over to one of the large, in-ground tubs. At this point, he cared little about getting his clothing soaked. He managed to at least kick off his boots before stepping into the heated water. His clothing sealed to his skin as he continued to step down into the water. Just before the liquid brushed his cape that still covered Loki, he stopped.
            “Brother, it is time to bathe.” Thor kept his voice quiet. Loki’s eyes may be open, but they looked at nothing. He did not acknowledge Thor, and that made him sigh. This was not going to be easy; nothing with his brother ever was. He shifted in the water and removed his arm so Loki’s lower half slipped into the water. His other arm stayed anchored beneath Loki’s arms, keeping them chest-to-chest as the warm water hugged their bodies.
            It was good that the baths had small sitting areas within them, Thor mused wistfully as he managed to sit Loki down in the water without completely submerging him. He pulled away for a moment to peel his shirt and pants off. They had bathed together as children, and seen each other naked as adults; the awkwardness of the whole situation did not cross Thor’s mind, not even after Loki’s sudden kiss. He turned back to Loki and froze. The God of Mischief, the trickster, the silver-tongue, was clutching his drenched cape to his body, hiding himself to the best of his ability.
            “Oh, Loki…” Thor stepped forward, but stopped when Loki flinched. “I will not harm you. You are safe with me.”
            Loki pulled his legs up to his chest, his heels digging into the bench to help his body remain stable. The water made it difficult, but he managed. Being in the warmth of the water reminded him of Yfulen. It reminded him of their time spent together. The last time he had gone into a bath, they had splashed and dunked each other until they were sputtering and gasping for breath. That was before he had handed him over to The Other. It was before the agonizing pain and the begging for death. It was when he had trusted Yfulen—when he had felt safe.
            “Loki,” Thor had said his name several times now, trying to bring him out of whatever trance had caught him. Finally, green eyes lifted to him, and he smiled warmly. “If you let me have the cape, I can wash you.” However, at the mention of taking his cape back, Loki whimpered. His hold tightened enough on the cape that his knuckles turned white. Thor bit his lip. It was almost endearing, had the situation not been so gruesome. “Alright, alright… you may keep it, but I still need to help you.”
            Steadily, as to not startle Loki, Thor slid closer. He took a small pitcher from beside the tub and sunk it so that water filled it. “I am going to wash your hair first,” he murmured. It occurred to him that taking Loki step by step may be easier on him than doing everything at once. He tipped Loki’s head back by his chin. Then, carefully, he poured the water through the roots, through the long, tangled strands. He watched as blood leaked into the water and pursed his lips. The blood kept coming with each pour. Thor began to believe that Loki had lain in his own blood, his hair soaking in every drop. It would make sense.
            Apologizing profusely would not fix the situation. Thor knew that. He could apologize until his face was blue, and it would not matter. It would not soothe the injuries, physical or mental. Instead, he continued to run the water through Loki’s hair until it was clear. He was surprised Loki was so complacent, but he also understood that he had no other choice in his captivity. Perhaps he had fought, at least, for a while, but they had won. Loki had been broken. It was clear in the muted tones of his normally vibrant green eyes. His sly expressions were gone, a mask of fear replacing them. His silver-tongue was still. He was so unbearably thin, so frail, that Thor felt he was taking care of a child.
            This was not his brother, but Thor was determined to bring him back. He smoothed his fingers over Loki’s hair, and then through it, a sad attempt at detangling the knots. When that did not work, he reached for the oil that the women often used in their hair. He put some in his hands, across his fingers, and began to untangle the knots. The strands moved easier with the help of the oil, and Thor concentrated on not hurting Loki as he went through each small mess.
            Loki was holding his breath. He was terrified and thankful at the same time. The hot water relaxed his rigid muscles, and Thor’s searching fingers relieved tension in his scalp. He still felt trapped, like an injured animal, but he convinced himself to stay still and allow his brother to wash him. His mind told him that the more he obeyed the less punishment he would receive later. Despite Yfulen’s confession, his mind was warped around the idea that Thor was angry with him, that he would throw him into a cell with multiple prisoners and watch as they took advantage of his body. He could not say that anyone could take advantage of his mind anymore. There was nothing left. At least, that is how he felt.
            The tension in Loki’s body was obvious, so Thor made sure that he was careful with each touch. Once most of the knots were free, he took the pitcher and once again ran water through the hair. With most of the knots taken care of, Loki’s hair shimmered with its former glory. Thor smiled to himself as he ran his fingers through the locks once more. When he was finished rinsing the oil from Loki’s hair, he turned to his front and cupped his cheek.
            “It is time to wash your body, Loki,” Thor murmured. He tried not to frown at the fear that flickered over Loki’s eyes. He stroked his cheek with his thumb and allowed himself a small sigh. “It is best for you to be cleaned, so that you may rest.” Loki glanced up at the mention of being clean, at the reward part of it, and nodded. He liked rewards. The Other would reward him when he was good. The rewards were normally lesser forms of torture, like sex with lubricant or a couple days with adequate water. After a while, Loki did everything he could to earn those rewards. He would lick semen from the floor, suck its flaccid cock to hardness, and force himself to moan wantonly beneath him. He would do absolutely anything for a reward.
            Loki’s eyes had lit up. It was a fraction of a second, but they had lit up. Thor assumed it was because he could rest, and it pained him to know he was so tired. It did not occur to him that Loki was looking forward to a reward, of all things. He slid his hands down to Loki’s sides and with disgusting ease, lifted him from the bench and settled him on the rim of the tub. Some of the dried blood and semen had already fallen off, but a large amount still remained. He frowned, but said nothing as he took a soft sponge and soaked it with the hot water.
            “I am going to start with your legs, Loki.” Thor watched Loki closely, ensuring that he was comfortable. He was used to the tension now. It was something that his brother just seemed to carry with him. “Are you ready?” He looked up, and when Loki nodded, he took the sponge and began to press it along his hips. He swirled it around the skin, his gaze fixed on the draining rust-colored water. The swirling became mechanic, from Loki’s hips down to his knees, then his calves. He was gentle because he was so thin. The sponge was not abrasive, but he was afraid that if he rubbed too hard, the bone would come through his skin again. He was that thin.
            “Now your chest,” Thor shifted so that he was in between Loki’s thighs. He paused and looked up. Their eyes met, and for a long moment, Thor could not look away. There was a depth to Loki’s eyes that brought him in and drowned him. He returned the sponge to the water and then brought it to his brother’s chest. Carefully, just as he had done with Loki’s legs, he swirled the sponge in small circles. He had to tear his gaze away to make sure he cleaned every patch of skin. However, he had to admit to himself that he had looked away because he remembered the kiss Loki had given him, thrown on him, really.
            What had that been about, anyway? Thor’s eyebrows knit together as he thought about the desperation that had crossed Loki’s face after he pushed him away. He had even flinched, perhaps expecting to get hit? His stomach turned at the idea that Loki had to be so readily giving. Loki did not like to be touched, ever. He had made that clear to Thor many times throughout their time as brothers.
            They were still brothers.
            Thor shook his head and once again lifted his gaze to Loki’s. They were just as dull as before. He was awake and in front of him, but his mind was far away. It was agonizing to see him so distraught, and Thor did not know how to bring him out of it, but he could try.
            “Do you remember when we were kids,” Thor murmured, continuing his tender circles with the sponge, “You used your magic to move all the sweets from the kitchen to our room? We ate as much as we could…” He chuckled, raising his eyes to Loki again. They were still muted, but he continued, “father found out the day after, when we were both sick with stomach aches. I told him it was my fault, and I couldn’t have a sweet for a week. You still brought me yours.” His smile faltered. “You have always been kind, Loki. Always, no matter what. That is why I could never believe your hatred. You just needed an outlet… You were just lonely and angry…”
            Thor looked up at Loki again and froze. Despite the dead expression Loki kept, tears were slipping down his cheeks. His eyes were glassy, and his cheeks had darkened in what Thor assumed was a blush. The tears were real, slipping down his cheeks, dropping from his chin, and plopping into the water.
            “Oh, Loki.” Instead of continuing to wash Loki’s body, Thor wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled him against his chest. Loki did not make a noise, but his tears continued to fall.
--
Something always brings me back to you.

It never takes too long.

No matter what I say or do

I'll still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone.

You hold me without touch.

You keep me without chains.

I never wanted anything so much

Than to drown in your love and not feel your rain.

Set me free,

Leave me be.

I don't wanna fall another moment into your gravity

Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be.

But you're on to me and all over me.

Oh, you loved me 'cause I'm fragile

When I thought that I was strong.

But you touch me for a little while

And all my fragile strength is gone.

I live here on my knees

As I try to make you see

That you're everything I think I need here on the ground.

But you're neither friend nor foe

Though I can't seem to let you go.

The one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me down.

You're keeping me down, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

You're on to me, on to me, and all over...

Something always brings me back to you.

It never takes too long.
-“Gravity” by Sara Bareilles
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The Chitauri's Revenge