A/N: You ever have one of those moments where you start coming up with ideas for a story you already finished? Yeah, that's what happened to me here. I was watching the end of Thor again - that final scene when everyone's celebrating - and thought, what would Loki think if he walked in on that? I feel like something like this should have been included in my other story, Safe In The Dark, but then I thought, why not just write it up as a one-shot? So that is what I did. Hope you enjoy.

It was cold.

Somehow, the frost of the air penetrated deeper into his bones than those of Jotunheim ever had. You fool. Perhaps there was something in the air that muddied his mind so. A monster born of the ice would not be affected by his home.

But here...gods, how the cold burned. It sunk into his flesh and made it brittle. Despite his pride and best efforts to counteract it, his teeth clacked together so viciously, he thought they would break. His hair hung in frozen, snow-covered strands and his bound hands trembled in his lame attempts to clear the snow from his eyelashes.

Cold. Cold.

The chains that kept him from moving from his cursed rock were stained red from earlier attempts at...well, he still was not sure. It had been made clear he was not to take his own life. Nothing worked anyway. The blood always dried, the wounds always mended. Pain was never ending and torturously consistent. He had shed tears, he thinks. Long ago. He can no longer remember a time before the pain.

A steady wind blows unceasingly against his exposed skin. Whatever clothing he had once possessed had either been stripped from his body or fallen to rags. His nakedness was more than just physical - his mind had been taken as well. He had nothing.

He was nothing.

Sometimes he found himself whispering words he could not understand. He thinks they had been spells once. Or maybe memories of wonderful things that were no longer. Or never had been. He felt confused again.

Am I cursed

Movements were limited to subtle shifts that sent shivers of burning pain throughout his entire being. He was no more than skin and bones, a meaningless life that was ever on the cusp of death. Death. How he would welcome it now, as he did back then. How it was ever kept from his grasp, so very very close to his reach, only to be pulled back again.

I am the monster parents tell their children about at night

He used to pray. Desperately, pleadingly to the Norns to take his life. To have mercy on one as pitiful as he. He had been given nothing in response, for oh, who would ever show compassion to such a beast? He deserved nothing. Fate obviously dictated he was getting exactly what he had earned.

Sometimes he tried to forget the other pleas he had whispered in the night. He could pretend, at least in his own mind, he had never cried out for him. That in the midst of his body being torn apart, and his mind exposed and twisted, he had not screamed his name.

"Help me, Thor, oh Thor please, PLEASE THOR MAKE IT STOP -"

How they had laughed. How he had allowed himself the hope that he might see lightning fill the sky and thunder crash in his ears and he would be taken away and safe, protected -

Childish sentiment.

He stiffened. The voice that spoke in the depths of his consciousness was not his own.

Oh gods.

He was back.

Missed me, little princeling? A chill swept down his back and he curled into himself, a vain attempt at protection. I know that you hear. I know what you...feel. He shut his eyes and tried focusing on other things. But his mind was no longer his own and it was suddenly violently filled with the horrors of all that had transpired here. He could not stop himself from crying out.

Speak to me, little prince. Let us hear that silver tongue you so boasted of once.

He lay against his rock, shuddering.

Do not listen do not listen do not

Come now...I mean only to help.

Lies. Always lies.

Shhhh...

Something coarse, something large, cups the side of his face and turns it. He refuses to open his eyes and the grip suddenly tightens so much he thinks his jaw might break. "Son of Odin," the voice whispers and he struggles then, trying to pull away. The grip transforms into a crushing hold and he is heavily yanked, the chains pulling taught at his side.

It takes everything he has to keep his cry within this time.

"How can you not see?" the voice speaks, deceptively gentle in his ear. "Why do you resist that which could aid you? Lift you up? Make you whole again?" The grip shifts to his shoulders. Strong. Thrumming with power. "Look upon me." He suddenly finds he wants to obey, and so he does. Glittering and empty eyes stare back at him. So blue they are almost glowing, yet dark. Cold.

Thanos.

"Surely you do not wish to remain here. Think of what you might be, prince." He refuses to take his eyes away from his, another act of defiance he finds he can still perform...but barely. Thanos cocks his head and the grin that forms is nothing short of petrifying. "You remember your supposed home, I see. You think of your family." He pulls him in close again, his hands twisting painfully into his shoulders. He whispers, "You forget, Jotun runt. They are not your family. And the realm eternal is not your home. Do no long for what was never truly yours." And he starts struggling then, thrashing despite the pain it inevitably causes, fighting uselessly to get away from this horrid creature. He does not need to hear this again.

He already knows.

"Do not speak of it," he finally croaks, his voice dry and strained from a tongue so long silenced. "You know nothing. Do not speak of it."

"What is the matter, prince? Surely you do not mean to refute me?" He attempts to shove Thanos away, but the Eternal suddenly slams him hard into the hardened earth and a gasp escapes his lungs. Pressing heavily upon his chest with one hand, Thanos waves the other above his face in the air and his grin has grown. "Watch what transpires, prince. Watch what your people think of your death, Loki of Asgard." He turns his head away and closes his eyes, but a sudden force comes upon him, paralyzing him in sorts because he no longer has control of his body. His head turns back against his will, and his eyes open to a vision that is at first so sweet, he nearly weeps.

He instantly recognizes the feasting hall of the palace. The table is laid out with all the delicacies the mind could possibly imagine, and then some: roasted boar, the fat still sizzling on the bone; rich, ripe fruit bursting with bright color; mead flowing freely into every cup, cheerful voices trying vainly to out-talk each other.

And then the smells hit his senses.

It has been so long...oh so long since he had partaken of any food, let alone a feast, and his mouth fills with saliva and his body feels very suddenly empty. He swallows thickly, watching Sif pop a grape into her mouth, the laughter around the table filling his ears in dizzying volumes. And for some reason, it is in that moment that realization slams his consciousness like a sword to his gut.

There is a feast.

There is laughter.

And it is because they think you dead.

"No," he whispers, baring his teeth in an angry snarl. "No," he says a bit louder, but denying it out loud changes nothing.

They celebrate your death.

He is dizzy. The words swirl in his brain and echo in mocking taunts. He knows that it is real.

It is real.

Loki is aware he is in the midst of a vision, but he finds himself frantically swiping his hands in an attempt to dispel it from his sight. He sees Thor nowhere, nor Frigga, and he wishes to make it disappear before he can see their laughing faces.

He cannot bear it.

You do not wish to see that which you already know in your heart is true.

STOP.

The vision vanishes and Loki still finds himself trapped beneath the Mad Titan, his arms swinging wildly at empty air. He freezes when he catches Thanos' eyes upon him, but they are no longer merry. Once more they are filled with the coldness and ancient hatred Loki had come to expect. His heart skips a beat and he wills himself to stop breathing so heavily.

"You are disgusting," the Titan states, finally standing, allowing Loki to roll over on his side and cough. "Be aware, I will always get what I desire. You have not the strength to fight me." He swoops in with deadly speed, grabbing Loki by the throat and lifts him towards his face. "Pathetic bastard child. Unwanted by all who lay eyes upon you. I would have killed you the instant I saw you, were you not so unfitting a gift to my beloved. Even Death would not have you...cursed filth of the universe." He spat in his face and dropped him, but Loki had frozen again, staring blankly at the sky as the spittle rolled down his face like a teardrop.

And in a brilliant flash, Thanos was gone once more.

Loki trembled on the cold of the earth and wheezed. The vision flashed once more behind his eyes and he wanted to ignore it. Pretend it meant nothing, but in reality, in meant everything. It was merely a confirmation of what he had always believed: he had never truly been of Asgard, had never been one of her people, and everyone at that table (no, the entire realm) knew it.

He was not certain why it affected him so, especially now. But it did.

He had closed his eyes and curled his hands into his chest, when a sudden boom filled the air and echoed in his chest. His eyes shot open and he looked about him, heart pounding in terror, when another crash resounded.

And then lightning filled the sky.

He could not stop the gargled cry that flew past his lips as he rose to his knees. Raising a shaking hand to the sky, he gasped in elation as the sparks flitted across his fingertips.

This was real.

In but the next breath, footsteps pounded the earth behind him and he cried out again as he turned. The sight of Thor standing before him, eyes steely and determined, mighty Mjölnir in his hand...it was too much. He rushed to stand and run to him, but his legs were yet unsteady and he fell onto his face in the dirt. In but a moment, he was back on his feet, clumsily standing and moving until the vicious clank of his chains snapped angrily and halted him once more. He looked at them a moment, eyes wide and confused, then back at his brother.

His brother.

His brother.

"Thor," he whispered, shaking so badly he fell once more to his knees. He raised his chained hands, and the cold metal clinked in the still air. He found he could not say anything more.

"Brother," Thor whispered back, his voice aching, eyes brimming with pain. Loki could not bear him looking at him so, with such...with such sympathy in his eyes. "Oh Loki," he murmured, and the very sound of his name on Thor's lips was burning and aching and filled his head like the banging of a thousand drums. His vision blurred and cleared as tears fell unbidden - warm and wet down his face. "Who has done this to you?"

"P-please Thor...please..." Loki fell on his outstretched hands, his body no longer having the strength to hold his weight. He kept his head raised, eyes on his brother. "Please...please take me home..." He had never been one to beg, but by the Norns, how very little that mattered now.

Thor nodded and strode forward, and with every step he took, Loki's heart pounded fiercely in time with them. Home home home, he was going home. He was nearly upon him, hand outstretched. It was such a familiar gesture that Loki swallowed another sob, raising his hand to clutch that of his brother's and he was going home and -

Without warning, the outstretched hand turned and delivered a powerful backhanded slap across Loki's face. The force of it sent him rolling backward, skidding along the frozen earth until he crashed into his slab of rock. The startled cry passed through bloodied lips, and his eyes rose to the sight of Thor advancing upon him, grinning wickedly. Loki had not even the time to move before Thor's fingers were clutched fiercely around his throat and he was slammed into the rock once more as laughter boomed and echoed around him.

You utter waste of flesh and blood. How pitiful you claim the title of deceiver when you are so easily fooled.

The meager flares of hope he still clutched to died an ugly death in his chest. Thor's grinning face, which Loki still looked upon with horror, soon melted away to reveal a pale skull beneath, even as Thor's (not Thor) blood splashed upon his skin and his body disintegrated into bones. His screams were drowned out by the sound of the same cruel laughter.

He will not come for you, prince. He has forgotten you ever even were. You attempted to take his life - why would he ever bother saving yours?

"NO!" His scream was hoarse and desperate, and he pounded his fists into the rocks until they bled. "No, no, NO NO -"

He isn't here, he isn't here, why did I think

He knows you are here and will not come for you.

NO

WHY

The laughing ceased, and the bones disappeared from sight. Loki lurched forward, slamming his head into the dirt, sobs racking his beaten body until he could no longer breathe. "I am a fool," he wept into the ground.

Stupid, worthless, runt.

Oh, to think he could have been found.

Saved.

It would not be the last time he would fall for such a trick.

Review? For Loki's sake. ;)