Summary: Post-Avengers. Loki Laufeyson is suffering through his punishment for his crimes with ways he really does not deserve. Abused in the Asgardian prison and then abducted by his worst nightmare, the God struggles to keep himself together. After he blindly escapes after months of brutal torture, he finds himself in a place he never wanted to go back to—right in the righteous embrace of his worst enemies, the earth's Mightiest Heroes. And more specifically into Tony Stark's. Eventual Frost/Iron. Rated for gore.

Warning: Blood, gore, explicit torture, mentions of rape

Disclaimer: I own not the characters of this story

Chapter 1 – Suffering alone.

Dark.

The only way to describe the cold feeling that swept away his senses, his mind. He can't feel cold or hot, nor pain, nor the hard and wet from his blood stone floor beneath him. He can't move or think. The darkness takes away everything, embraces his empty vision as a sweet mother does for her trembling and scared child in the middle of a storm.

And he's glad.

He succumbs, giving his body away to the welcoming darkness that surrounds him. And he wonders, just a small flame of hope, that death may eventually come for him.

But it never does.

The door of the cell flung open, heavy steps echoing on the hard floor. Something wet and cold was suddenly thrown at him, and something heavy collided with his face. He jerked awake with a gasp, his heavy and ragged breaths echoing around the small space. Still dizzy from passing out -and from the hard fist on his wet face-, Loki looked around confused. The ugly creature in front of him gave life to a spark that brought back life to his memory. His mouth went dry, and he swallowed hard. The shudder, though, that run through his body, didn't reach his eyes. He stared hard and hatefully at the Chitauri in front of him- his torturer. He struggled with what small power he had left as he was dragged away from the tight chains around his hands and neck. The creature didn't bother to stop him- Loki barely had strength left to stand on his own two feet. He didn't scream though-he wouldn't give them the satisfaction. As he was stranded on the wall, his already almost healed wounds made to bleed again, he didn't make a sound. The Trickster wouldn't yield to torture. No, he would draw his last pained breath before he screamed and begged for mercy.

Oh, but how he longed for death's sweet embrace...

The day the Avengers saved the earth, the day the God of Lies was defeated and brought back to Asgard chained and muzzled, was a day of celebration for all. All except Loki. Even Thor, the so loving not-brother of his, that claimed that so loved him and was pained for his fate, was beaming with pride and happiness as he practically dragged the Trickster in front of the All-Father and his court. It didn't take long for his punishment to be decided upon; a few centuries of isolation in a cell deep into Asgard's dark prison, would do. The young god wasn't particularly pleased with the news but it could have been worse. He was still a prince though, and no matter what the court decided, they had no power over his life. So imprisonment it was.

"Loki it will be all right." Thor's low but booming voice echoed along the long corridor, as he escorted his brother to his cell."It is just a few years, you will be out before you realize it, and we will celebrate your return with a big feast upon your name."

Loki sneered. Even now, all this oaf could think of was feasts and celebrations. He wouldn't be the one locked away for three hundred years, with nothing but his dark and unwanted thoughts and memories for company.

"Brother..." The Trickster narrowed his green eyes and glared menacelly at Thor at the mention of the b word. If only that muzzle wasn't on his face... Thor didn't seem to notice the piercing gaze and he continued.

"After you fell from the Bifrost, we all thought you dead...If you were alive why didn't you come back to Asgard?"

Loki rolled his eyes. The oaf didn't seem to realize that a muzzle is meant to prevent a person from speaking.

"What happened to you all this time, brother?" Loki's eyes seemed to darken at the question and on his pale face a cold drop of sweat dripped above his brow. Thor turned and looked at him, curiosity and worry mixed in his bright blue eyes. He managed to hide his weakness behind a thick mask of hate and he just stood there, glaring at his brother, body tall and straight. Thor sighed and continued walking towards the cells.

After Loki was locked away and left alone in the small dark room, he left out a long sigh. The muzzle and the chains that restricted his magic were not removed, to his utmost discomfort, since they were quite tight, and his shoulders and jaw ached. Was he to be left like that for the next three centuries? He rested his back to the cold wall, and slid down to sit on the floor, convincing himself that they would be removed eventually. They had to feed him at some point. He just sat there, legs crossed and head and back resting against the wall, for what seemed like hours. Maybe more. Eventually he drifted into sleep. It had been long since he had truly slept, long before the attack with the Chitauri, or his fall from the Bifrost. It didn't take long though for him to jerk awake, sitting up awkwardly while trying to calm his panicked breathing. He was soaked in sweat, and his heart was racing. He slumped back against the wall, his eyes closed, trying to forget his nightmares. It was painfully clear that it'd take a while longer before he'd be able to sleep again in peace. A long while.

As he was still trying to gain control over his breathing, he heard steps coming closer. He listened to the sound trying to figure if they belonged to his brother or at one of the guards. Two... no, three people. He wondered why so many guards were needed for one cell. He didn't need to wonder for long though, as less than a minute later, the door opened and two tall men dressed in formal Asgardian army clothing stepped inside. Loki managed to catch a glimpse of a third person standing outside as the door closed behind them. The Trickster stood up slowly, his brows drown to a frown, as he analyzed the situation. It didn't take a genius to figure their purpose there, and Loki definitely was one. His deductions were confirmed, as a heavy boot collided with his abdomen, sending him to crash on the wall behind him. He could feel the coppery taste of his own blood behind the muzzle, and he almost chocked. Strong hands grabbed him from the cloth around his collar and held him firmly, before another hit to his middle forced out all the air from his lungs. He stumbled, breathing heavily from his nose, his green eyes sparkling and burning hateful holes to his attackers. They snickered before exchanging a meaningful look and they proceeded to finish what they started.

Loki didn't know if he thanked or cursed his healing powers, as his abusers came every day to his cell, finding him recovered from the previous day's painful marks, only to inflict new, even more painful ones. At the end of the third week, as Loki was thrown on the floor, his nose and three of his ribs broken, he still glared at the guards as they left him alone in the small room. He was used to the taste of blood by now...Didn't even notice it anymore. A whimper escaped his throat, as he struggled to pick himself up from the floor in a sitting position, and he felt his broken sides prick on his lungs. He lifted his still chained hands -oh, how he wished he could use his magic...then they would be the bloodied corpses on the floor- to push his ribs back to their place, to heal properly. He shut his eyes closed at the immense pain the action caused him. When they were back in place, he did the same for his nose. With a sharp exhale from the nose he ridded himself of the remaining blood from his nostrils and he slumped back against the wall. Even though there was a small bed at the other side of the small room, he never used it, since he never had the strength to crawl onto it. He let out a small scoff, a mirthless laugh at himself. He was a prince and a God, the God of Lies, laying bloody, chained and ragged in a small cell abused and violated by some no-name guards on daily basis. How much lower could he fall...? Still, ignoring the brutal abuse of the sick guards, Loki was not broken. He simply refused to be. The irony...

As he drifted off to sleep exhaustion and starvation catching up to him, his thoughts trailed off to Thor...Did Thor know what was happening to him...? No, he wouldn't know... Did the All-Father know...? Even if he did, the fact was that no one was coming for him...He was all alone...

A few days later, the same routine continued taking place. Though, for some time now the guards were becoming even more creative with their little games day by day. The god never stopped glaring hatefully at them, disgust and distress apparent in his eyes. This time, he had but few fractured bones, though his head was bleeding from a hard impact with the floor. One of the guards held him down with a strong grip on his raven hair, jerking his head back, as the other one struggled with the buckles of his pants. Loki knew what was going to follow, it was nothing new, and he dreaded it. The sheer humiliation as the guards had their way with him, was enough to make him completely disgusted with himself even. The guard flashed a wicked smile and he undid the last of his Asgardian buckles, before the room was painted red with his blood. Loki blinked, his face completely red with the guard's blood, as he struggled to realize what was happening. His first conclusion was, of course, that the guard was dead. A sickening warmth filled him with the thought. He watched the insides of his abuser drip down the walls onto the red floor and he would laugh, wasn't he gagged. The other guard just stood there frozen small whimpers escaping him as he tried to realize the situation. Loki's hair slipped from his grip, and the Trickster hurried to put distance between them. His triumph was cut short though as the pierced door of the cell creaked open. With horror in his tired green eyes, Loki watched helplessly as three Chitauri soldiers marched into the room, butchering the remaining guard.

The abuse of the guards was mere teasing compared to what he suffered in the hands of the chitauri. They were strong, they were evil, they were creative and most of all, they were angry. The fact that in the hands of Loki, an entire Chitauri fleet was completely annihilated, against mere humans even, made their twisted little brains think of better and better ways to make the God suffer. They beat him, they cut him, they burned him and that was just the foreplay.

They tied him up on a wooden table and stretched his limbs until they were dislocated, only to put them back in place and start all over, while at the same time they slowly dripped burning acid on his face.

They cut him with knives dipped in some sort of poison, that slipped though his wounds and caused him immense pain, while it prevented them from healing, causing severe blood loss on regular basis.

They nailed his hands above his head, and left him hanging from the wall barely able to stand on his toes, for days, until they got bored and thought of something new.

On one occasion, they removed the gag, and, as Loki's relief was evident, they pinned him down and slowly sew his lips shut with poisoned threat, just to put the muzzle back on after they finished.

It didn't take long for Loki to lose track of time. Not that time mattered in that hole they had dragged him and tortured him. Slowly, after a while, his mind started betraying him. The taste and smell of blood, the pain, the suffering, the humiliation, all clouded his mind making him lose sense of himself. For endless days he suffered alone in the darkness in the the hands of the Chitauri. From time to time, the name of his brother would pop into his mind, only to be replaced by burning white hot pain, as his skin was torn apart by his captors. But that wasn't the only kind of torture he endured. No, pain, hunger and thirst, were way too common ways to torture.

They spoke to him, with their disgusting, hissing voices. Calling him a monster, reminding him he was all alone, that no one cared for his worthless self. Blaming him for all the deaths, the distraction. And then they would come onto him ravaging him, stripping him of the last bits of his remaining dignity. Leaving him blank, empty.

After a while he seemed to have stopped caring completely. His gaze was blank and he seemed to not pay attention to his surroundings, as the creatures still brutally tore his flesh. But he was Loki. The Trickster. The God of lies, the Master of deceit. One of the most strong-willed and prideful creatures in existence. Even if he was exhausted, in pain and suffering, almost broken in body and mind, when he was left alone in his cell that burning hate in his glistering green eyes came to life. Even if his magic was sealed, his healing powers depleting, and his lips sewn shut, he still hadn't given up. As the days, weeks, months went painfully by, in a dark corner of his mind, Loki patiently gathered small, tiny bits of magic from within him. His healing energy, his life force, his blood, the sorcerer put everything aside, converting it to magic energy. Oh, how close to death he had come at those times...! But the Chitauri would never allow him to die. Would never allow him redemption. They would give him something to make his already fast -though depleting- healing rate faster, and when the color would start to return to his almost white skin, they would start destroying him again.

AN- I hope you dear reader, that took time to read this story, enjoyed it! This is my first fic, so please go easy on me people~
If you find any mistakes please do point it out.
I'll try to have the next chapter up soon, sometime within the following week probably.
Until next time~! :)