Loki mpreg and dungeon scene WARNING:Explicit Non-Con
Loki was tired. Tired and weary.
After the failed attempt to conquer earth, he had been dragged back to Asgard by his brother, a very very angry Thor. Thor did not like it when things were out of his control, and is showed.
Loki knew that Odin would be furious, his mind restlessly playing with different scenarios of an angry Odin giving him his sentence - and the most plausible one he could come up with was death.
Loki did not fret though; he had escaped death many times before and felt that if his luck had finally run out, he would submit to his sentence freely.
He was led straight from the rainbow bridge to the almost empty throne room, where Odin stood next to his wife Frigga, glowering at his fallen son. Loki could see tears on Frigga’s face. He realized that they had thought him dead, and seeing him back must be a shock to everyone as much as it had been to Thor.
“Loki Lafeyson.” Odin thundered.
Well, that was not a good start.
“You have brought shame on the house of Odin. You have betrayed our trust and that of the realms by stealing the Tesserack and putting it into the hands of the Chintauri, putting everyone in mortal danger, bringing war to Midgard!”
Loki bowed his head. He knew of his short comings, but then again - Odin had denied him before he was dropped into space, he had no loyalty to Asgard.
“You are hereby stripped of your title of Odinson, prince of Asgard. “
Well, that was not really a big surprise.
“You shall be brought to the dungeon and stay there until I command it.”
Odin turns to Thor, looking old and weary.
“Thor, you shall bring him and sustain any other punishment you see fit. You have been wronged by your brother more so than any one of us. I will leave this in your hands.”
Loki’s eyes glance over to Thor, who stands stoic and gives a sharp nod.
Loki is surprised by what he thought a lenient sentence. Having expected death, centuries in the dungeon seemed merciful, especially as the trickster god valued his life and always enjoyed it as much as he could. Also, being at the mercy of his brother was almost laughable, as Thor had always been someone to judge quick and harsh, but Loki also knew that his brother had a foolish love for him that would probably spare him from the most horrific torture.
“Come Loki.” Thor turns around without meeting Loki’s eyes, grabbing the chain between his shackles tighter and pulling him along behind him.
Xxxxx
The cell that Thor chooses is deep in the entrails of Asgard, far beneath the ground.
The smell of wet walls growing fungus and leeches is overpowering, the stones sweating liquid on the slippery ground, mixed with the smell of ash and fire from the torches burning along the wall.
Loki knows that without the shackles holding his magic he would be able to feel all the souls that had pained and lost their lives in these depths. He knows this because he had been in this part of Asgard before, torturing lost souls himself, adding them to the silent wall of never-ending screams.
After a long walk through a labyrinth of tunnels and alcoves, the small group stops in front of an unmarked dark door.
Thor turns around to face Loki, his face lacking any expression.
“Strip Loki”
Loki looks at the door, and shrugs. It is not a big surprise that they would want to make him as uncomfortable as possible, and there is nothing he can do at this point anyway.
He stretches out his arms to show Thor his shackles, a questioning look on his face.
Thor shakes his head. “Your pants and anything else you can remove Loki. We shall not unshackle you and give you access to your magic.”
Loki shrugs once again, bends forward and starts with removing his shoes, pulling them off slowly and then moving on to his pants, unbinding them with the string, careful not to drop them to the dirty floor when climbing out of them, folding them into a neat stack and placing them on top of his boots.
He does not remove his drawers, hoping that he will be able to cover his modesty, but Thor gives a sharp nod, and again Loki complies. He is tired.
For his jacket and shirt, a guard pulls a knife and steps towards him, cutting through the hard leather, ripping and pulling his coat and undershirt off him, revealing a snow-white body beneath it.
Once they are done, Loki stands naked in front of the men, thanking his heritage and knowledge that the cold he will be facing from now on will be a minor challenge due his Jotun blood.
The cell they push Loki into seemed standard, rather small, foul-smelling straw in one corner, dark, oily puddles covering the floor. No bunk. No light. Nothing to make anyone comfortable in any way.
Again, no surprise.
Before Loki can further assess his situation, he is pushed with his back against a wall, and a hook is lowered from the ceiling and is attached to the magical chain holding his manacles. Once secured so he won’t be able to remove it, the chain is pulled up again, raising his arms above his head until he is stretched to his toes, the manacles cutting into his wrists.
His legs are spread and shackled to the wall beneath him.
Thor steps forward, cocking his head. He examines Loki, scanning his whole body to ensure that he is secured and cannot break free of his shackles. He gives a testing pull at his bonds, making Loki wince behind his gag when the rings around his wrist cut even deeper.
“Loki, we shall remove the gag as it will hinder any feeding in the future, but I do not wish anyone to be exposed to your silver tongue spinning lies and twisting the truth. Therefore I shall bind your tongue otherwise. “
Loki raises one of his eyebrows, wondering what his brother has in mind.
One of the guards steps forward, passing a small silver box to Thor.
Thor opens it, pulling out a needle and long golden threat.
Loki’s eyes narrow, as he knows what is in store for him. He has had his mouth sewn shut once before, after a quarrel with Brokk the dwarf, and he is not keen to have it done again.
Thor studies the thread, pulling its golden length through his fingers, nods, and puts it back in the box.
When Thor faces him, Loki tried to put all discontent and anger into his gaze, throwing it at Thor in the twilight of the cell. If he is bound in a small cell far beneath the earth, what difference will make to anyone to sew his lips shut? They could send a deaf person to feed him.
Well, obviously Thor has a darker side than he had thought, and struggling against his fate will not make this easier for any of them. Then again, he does not really want to make it easy on Thor….
“Now brother, none of your words will make any difference, so I would prefer if you stay quiet.”
Thor steps next to Loki, reaches around his head and starts to unfasten the metal gag that has been silencing him since Midgard. He pulls a small chain of keys from around his throat and Loki thinks he can hear two locks being opened, but he is not sure. He is somewhat relieved to be rid of the gag that cut into his cheeks, but when compared with a sewn mouth….well, neither of them is appealing, but the gag at least allowed him to move his lips if he wanted to.
Finally the gag releases and clatters to the floor. Loki uses his new freedom to stretch his face, massaging the inside of his mouth with his tongue. He follows Thor with his eyes as he reaches for the silver box once again and removes a small bottle.
Loki puts all of the pleading into his voice he can muster, as he knows he only has this one shot.
“Thor… you know that you don’t have to do this, my magic is bound and there is no harm of me being able to speak to myself! It will drive me mad to be left in silence for however long Odin believes is necessary. “ Loki wills his pleading eyes to water, silently proud of the tear slipping down his cheek, his silver tongue at its best. Forcing fear into his voice, he lets it shake ever so slightly.
“I swear to stay silent when someone comes in, please brother, have mercy…”
Thor spins around, his eyes blazing at his shackled brother. “Mercy? Mercy? The way you showed mercy to midgard? The way you would have shown mercy to me or anyone else that was in your way? I think not Loki.”
Thor grabs Loki’s hair and pulls his head back, sending more, this time involuntary tears to Loki’s eyes.
He pours the bottle’s content over Loki’s mouth, and Loki knows from the sting that it is to sterilize his lips before pushing the needle through his flesh. At the same time the liquid does not numb his flesh the way it did the last time, so he will feel everything when the sewing commences.
Thor returns the bottle to the guard, picking up the thread and needle.
He turns around again, taking Loki’s chin in his hand.
“Now brother, do not struggle, or I might miss my aim”.
Loki shakes his head as hard as he can as the needle comes closer, but Thor’s grip is hard as steel, and he now pushes him back against the wall, limiting his range.
“Hold him”.
Two guards step up to both sides of him and push Loki’s shoulders back to the wall, each grabbing his hair on each side of his face, holding him steady.
The first stitch goes into his left bottom lip, sending pain into his spine, but it is nothing that he cannot handle. After all, he has faced the Hulk; nothing really comes close after that kind of punishment.
The stitches come fast and clean, the only really painful part is when the thread is pulled in its path, pulling the lip forward and together. Thor does not cruelly delay or slow down the process, but he also does not seem to take special care not to hurt him.
By the 6th or so stitch Loki manages to move away, pushing his head to the side and Thor pierces his cheek instead. Instead of cursing Loki, he just steadies his grip on Loki’s chin, holding him painfully tight and continues with his work.
Loki can feel the magic binding his words and his tongue as coppery blood fills his mouth, binding every sound, groan, sigh inside him until the magic thread is removed once more. He swallows the blood and gives a tries to heal his bleeding lips, but to no avail. No magic.
When Thor is finished, he pulls a knot at the end of the thread, cuts it with his knife and steps back to examine his work.
Loki counted 12 stitches connecting the top lip to the bottom, as each one had burned into his brain, feeling all of them now blend together in white-hot throbbing pain. The thread is not too tight, giving just enough way for him to open his mouth slightly to suck air in.
He tries a small groan and confirms that no sound reaches past his lips.
Thor nods and turns away.
He gives a sign, and the chains holding Loki in a standing position is lowered so that now he can sit down, with his hands still fastened above him, but this way he may find some rest.
“We shall leave.” Thor turns and leaves, without as much as another look at his chained, bleeding brother now kneeling on the floor, the guards following his lead.
He closes the door behind him, leaving Loki in darkness with his throbbing mouth and his skin crawling with the cold, damp darkness.
Xxxxxx
The darkness is eternal and seems to be never-ending.
Xxxxxxx
As Loki is a god, he does not need continuous nourishment or liquid, he can survive without for extended periods of time. Thor also knows this, and so he gave order to feed Loki every 4 days with beef broth and water to keep him alive, but no more.
The time between these sparse meals, fed to him by a straw through his sew lips, seem to last forever to Loki as they are the only welcome distraction in his days spend sitting against the rough wall in the darkness.
Xxxxxx
His lips start to heal. He tries to move them every now and then and the burning stops after a while, leaving him without pain or further bleeding.
He starts to stretch them and tries to expand the opening, but the magic thread won’t allow it. He gives up after a while.
Xxxxxxx
After weeks and months of imprisonment Loki is starting to wonder whether there will be no further punishment for him.
He imagined Thor coming up with plans of torture, anything from the ancient rules of Asgard how to handle traitors or any other criminals. His mind has wandered endlessly through all the punishments he has witnessed as well as read about, and he had run through every scenario in his head. Public punishment, flogging, burning, cutting, removal of limbs, breaking of bones, anything really. He also wondered what his reaction would be, almost savoring the thoughts in the long lonely hours.
He can’t imagine that for his punishment all that will happen is to keep him kept chained and silenced in a dark cell for all time, but at this point that is what it seems.
Xxxxxxxx
Loki is woken by sounds that seem out of place. Nowadays every sound wakes him, novelties not to be missed in Loki’s quiet, dark world.
Voices.
Voices?
Loki strains to hear.
They come closer, talking loudly, laughing, singing even.
It sounds like drunk men, which by itself is not unusual for an Asgardian, drinking being one of the national pass times, but this deep down in the dungeons normally only guards on duty are allowed.
Drinking during duty is a grief offense, and it is not something that anyone would want to stand the punishment for.
The voices get louder and finally they seem to stop on front of his cell.
Loki can hear keys jingle as they are pushed in the door, taking a much longer time than usual to open the unwilling lock.
Loki is bewildered. He feels almost interested, even though his mind has been keeping him more or less entertained, whatever distraction is in store for him is almost…welcome?
But of course Loki has had a lot of time to think of all the punishment he would bestow on Thor or anyone else for that matter if they had him chained up here, and now all these scenarios flick by in his mind, fast as lightening, screaming through his brain and tense his muscles.
When the door finally opens, Loki closes his eyes to get them slowly used to any light he knows from experience will blind him for some time otherwise.
After so much time in utter darkness, his green eyes tear up and sting when slowly opened, and it takes him long minutes to adjust to the light of torches.
There are three men that stumble in as soon as the door opens their noise painful to Loki’s ears used to the silence.
“There he is, our silver tongue, our little princess, lost a little weight now, have you?”
Loki blinks, eyes tearing, trying to put faces to the voices, but can’t. From what he can see, the clothes they sport are from the Asgardian guards, but he does not seem to be able to place them in his mind.
Loki tried to push himself up on the wall, his knees trembling fatigued and weak.
He has used his bit of freedom by standing up and sitting down several times of what he thought a day was and walking the three steps his chains allow him to again and again.
He eyes the men warily, not sure if to finally expect the torture that he has been waiting for so long. Then again, would not Thor be present as well? And surely, they would not send three guards, drunk at that, of which two of them seem to be mere boys?
He can see the men clearer now. He does not know them, but his earlier suspicions are correct, they are part of the Asgardian guards wearing the uniform of the men watching the outer parts.
Three men, two of them rather young, blond, tall, sun burnt and lean, and one slightly older , darker man with a large stomach and fatty stains in front of his shirt. All of them seem to be intoxicated and reek of ale and mead. Loki crinkles his nose and turns away. He sits back eying the intruders.
The three stare at him as if unsure what to do next, then one pushes the torch he is carrying into a metal ring in the wall.
A young blond man steps forward, grinning widely, grabing Loki’s hair, pulling him up to face him.
“Have you been lonely, oh god lies? Have you been crying yourself to sleep?”
His mouth comes close to Loki’s face, and he can smell the alcohol on his breath. His eyes blaze fury and he jerks his head to the side, trying to rid himself of the hand tangled in his hair.
The young man tightens his grip for a moment before he pushes Loki back against the wall. Loki, not expecting this, falls forwards, his fall abruptly stopped by his shackled wrists, sending spears of pains in his arms and breaking the skin once more, metal digging into his flesh. Loki pulls in a hiss of pain.
“Our former prince stinks. I think we will need to clean this little whore before we can play.”
Loki is trying to process what is being said - a moment later a bucket of cold water is poured over his head, making him gasp involuntarily, ripping at the healed seams of his sewn lips, washing coppery blood into his mouth. Loki swears under his breath, shakes his head like a dog and looks up at his tormentors. Are they here to wash him?
Not that he is complaining, mind you, he has not been cleansed in a long time, and he can only imagine that he smells like a caged animal at this point. It just seems so - out of place - and not at all what he had expected.
He can feel the drops running along his naked body, dampening the already moldy straw around him, and he feels more awake, more alive, than he has for a long time.
The young man that has talked to him takes a long swig from the mead bottle he is holding, before he passes it to his companion.
“Our little princess has been alone long enough; we shall rid him of his loneliness, right comrades?”
He gets to his knees, grabs Loki’s ankles and pulls them towards him, Loki falling backwards his head cracking into the wall. Stars circle his eyes for short moments, then a wave of nausea hits his stomach and he fights to not throw up the little watery substance and bile that is in his stomach. The taste of blood that he had just swallowed washed back into his mouth and Loki closes his eyes and concentrates on keeping himself from retching, to safe himself from bloodying his lips any further or throwing up through his sewn lips.
The god of lies stays as still as possible until his stomach calms and stills.
He is pulled forward by rough hands, as far as the chains around his wrists and ankles allows, and when he opens his eyes again, he can see the young man kneeling in front of him fumbling with his trousers. The young guard is swaying back and forth due to too much drink, but Loki can see the man’s arousal form a dent in pants, and his breath is going fast the way only men lusting sport.
It dawns on Loki then why these men are here, and he pushes himself back using his feet and hands, pressing himself to the wall.
It can’t be, it can’t be….
Obviously rape as punishment has crossed his mind, but never in his life would he have thought that Thor would allow this. Then again, Thor was not here. But they had the key….
The men had noticed his wide eyes and scrambling against the wall.
“Oh, is our little princess scared? Don’t worry my lovely, you will enjoy this, I promise”
The man had finally freed his cock and a wide grin splits his face. Again, he pulls Loki forwards, gives him a punch in the stomach for good measure which freezes Loki in place and spit into his palm. He rubs the spittle on his fingers and uses one hand to push Loki’s knees back towards his chest, cursing as the chains around Loki’s ankles restrain the movement. The other hand glides past Loki’s flaccid penis to his small, puckered entrance.
When he reaches it, the young man grins and pushes two fingers in, not enough spit or other fluids easing the way, burning painfully.
Loki tenses up, his mind trying to cope with what is happening, the fingers in his ass burning hot, rubbing, forcing themselves in again and again, roughly preparing him to be taken by loosening his tight muscles.
He has had male lovers before, mostly toping them, or when bottoming himself being able to prepare himself using magic. Pain was never something the trickster was too fond of.
He starts to struggle weakly as the fingers move faster, pushing into him, earning himself a slap in the face.
The other two men crowd around him, grinning, one of them, kicking him into his side to still him.
The pain explodes in his ribcage and he now focuses on pulling air in and out of his lungs, through his sewn lips and nose, concentrating on the bare essentials of staying alive.
“The bastard is tense” the man who is still working on widening him growls, and the other young guard steps forward and pours Ale over Loki’s ass, alcohol burning on the stretched and bleeding flesh.
The guard adds another finger and finally a fourth, pushing and pulling, too aroused to take his time to ease the way. By now Loki can feel the fingers slipping in and out easier, connecting the burning sensation to the possibilities of bleeds.
With the little nourishment Loki has been receiving, the short struggle has robbed him already of most of his energy, leaving him panting under the man’s fingers but not able to defend himself any more. The restriction of his raised hands and shackled ankles leaves him no room for escape, and no matter how much he squirms, there is no way for him to go.
After another slap that leaves his ears ringing he stops struggling.
All Loki can now do at this point is trying to memorize his tormentor’s faces in case he will ever be free and able to seek justice. That possibility seems very far away, but it is something for Loki to hold on to while being stretched and finger-fucked like the meanest spoil of war.
Finally the man pulls out his fingers and guides his erect cock towards Loki’s ass, settling it to his tight hole and slowly pushing into the warm cavern beneath it. He lets out a satisfied groan while he pushes himself in, Loki can feel his flesh tearing and blood easing the way, as the red hot burning sensation is filling him from the inside. The pain shoots into his spine, his flesh not prepared for being filled, his body tensing creating more pain.
The young man grabs Loki’s narrow hips pushing them into the stinking straw below and starts rutting, his head thrown back, making small groaning sounds every time he sheaths.
All the god of mischief can do now is try to relax his whole body to allow his rapist easier access and to erase the pain of his ass clenching, making the intrusion harder on himself.
Loki tries to focus on the flames of one of the torches, distracting himself from what is going on in and on his body, trying to ignore the tearing pain, his hot innards that are being punished with every push. Every now and then the man strikes into his pleasure centre as he can go deep in this position, but Loki is thankful that at least in his current state of hunger and weakness keeps his own body from reacting in any treacherous way he could be ashamed of.
The young man has the vigor of youth, and he keeps slamming into him without pause, pressing Loki further and further into the wall, his shoulders rubbing against the cold stone floor. His comrades cheer him on, his faces looming close behind him, one already rubbing himself while a small string of spit gleams on his lip.
Harder and harder Loki is being fucked, taking to new heights of pain, the pounding increasing and seemingly never-ending. Finally his tormentor lets out a long groan, pushes in once more, shuddering and collapses on Loki. He stays there, eyes closed; Loki can feel his heart pumping against his chest. The weight on Loki is heavy like a stone, but his sewn lips swallow his sounds of discomfort.
Loki can hear another one of the men stir before the man on top of him is pulled back by his comrade who has been rubbing himself and now stands above them without his pants, his cock red and erect in the torch light.
“My turn, get off.”
Loki closes his eyes.
Xxxxxxxxx
They take him several times that night, by the time one of them is finished another one starts again.
Also, they tell their friends. And Loki has more visitors from then on.
Xxxxxxx
Men visit him regularly now. In small groups. In large groups. They seem to be there all the time.
Xxxxxx
At one point he stops caring. He stops fighting and struggling. He lets them turn him on his stomach, prop him against the wall, take him any way they can think of. For once he is happy that his mouth is sewn shut, at least he is spared the humility of being orally fucked as well, raped by more than one man at a time. He is slick with cum of many, many men, he stops counting at one point. No one washes him, but they start to bring along a cloth to clean him before they use him, as he turns sticky with unwashed juices.
xxxxxx
One day he sees Thor.
A man is rutting on top of him, his hands as always above him bound by shackles, the rhythmical slapping of flesh against flesh filling his ears. There are 5 or 6 other men, drinking, laughing, playing dice and patiently waiting their turn.
When he sees Thor, he tenses, causing himself pain, and his dull green eyes lock the blue ones of his brother. He raises his head and balls his hands into fists.
Brother…..please…..
He pleads with his eyes. He sends all his pain and frustration and anger into his gaze, willing Thor to understand him, to realize what is going on here and to stop it. To stop them from raping his brother day and night.
Thor stares at him for a moment, stares at the men who went silent, looking at their prince. Even the man on top of Loki has stopped moving, staring at his king. They all wait for the reaction, no one sure what will happen.
Thor lowers his eyes, turns and leaves.
He leaves Loki.
Loki lays back down, tries to relax his ass as much as possible, a tear rolling down his cheek, the one and only real one he has shed so far and will from now on.
Forsaken. Forsaken and forgotten. The kingdom’s whore.
So be it.
Xxxxxx
They feed him more frequently now, every 2nd day instead of every 4th, maybe because the man feeding him reported back to Thor how his brother had lost the light in his eyes and stopped moving even when he came into the room.
He takes no more care to swallow what is being fed to him, more than half of the broth and water running out between the stitches. His energy is gone.
And then the nausea started.
Loki thought it was from the constant stench of sex and seed surrounding him. The constant abuse had finally hit his stomach. He was not surprised really that now his body would turn against him.
The nausea did not leave him anymore, a constant companion that made him gag whenever he was fed his broth or water. The guard feeding him would watch as Loki retched behind sewn lips, a slightly interested look on his face as if wondering what would happen if Loki ever did throw up and if he would choke on the liquid.
In the end Loki won each battle, but it left him feeling weaker and emptier than he did before. He was a shell. He felt sick when he was not fed as well, waves hitting him and once or twice he had to bend over to gag, blooding his lips once more, but his body fighting to keep what was necessary in his bowels. Not that Loki cared anymore.
The smell of the men that visited him seemed stronger than before, and the stench of his own body and the smell of spilled seed and sex in the room did not let him go. It bothered him now, and he felt he could distinguish the men by smell alone, their sweat, what they had eaten, the ale, their unwashed clothes.
He got tender. His skin felt translucent, each rough touch went straight to his bone, each twist of his nipple made him hiss in pain.
Then his belly started to stretch.
When he finally started noticing it, he wondered if he was sick, his mind not allowing the truth to reach him.
While the rest of his body had slowly turned gaunt, sharp bones showing through his skin, his stomach rounded as if he had eaten too much, in stark contrast to the rest of his body.
He could see the puzzled look on the faces of the men that visited him, and as the months passed and his stomach ballooned further, they started to stay away.
At one point he knew that even though he was malnourished and broken, that he was with child.
Two men remained, they visited him frequently, maybe finding his swelling body exotic, but when the bump started to descend they too stayed away. Loki had his freedom once more.
When he realized that this would spare him from rape for a while, he started to calm and croon to his stomach, finding new hope in this new life that was forming within him.
Loki stopped jumping at small noises, hungry again for his broth, life shining again in his eyes.
A child. The idea was so abstract that it took him a long time to understand what this would mean.
He concentrates on his womb, not able to touch but following the movements of the new life inside him, he finds his peace again.
Loki is sure that now someone will have to take him to the healing room when it is time to deliver the child, wash him, remove the stitches from his mouth to properly feed him and nurse him back to health, before continuing his sentence.
Loki waits for them. From experience he knows that his pregnancy lasts about 15 months, and he is sure that he is close to delivery. But they do not come.
They continue to feed him every second day, Loki’s eyes searching the man’s face that brings the soup, finding nothing but disgust in his eyes. Loki looks away and does not try again to silently plead for mercy or help with the man.
He knows that his state is monitored though.
And he waits for them to come.
Xxxxxx
Finally he goes into labor.
From giving birth to Svaðilfari he recognizes the tightening around his stomach, the mounting pain in his back, the heat flashes that run down his spine.
Still hoping for help Loki rattles his chains between contractions, waiting for someone to notice and take him away, to give him the chance to change into a woman or to use magic to open his stomach and remove the baby.
There is no one.
The waves gnawing into his intestine flash all the way back to his spine, doubling him over.
Once he realizes that no one is going to aid him, he tries to remember everything he can from birthing his last son, but that had been in the form of a female mare, and he was not even sure how a man would give birth. He knows that Jotun give birth, but he believes that they use the aid of magicians to help them open their bellies to help the children into the world.
He is in labor for hours, and when the contractions are getting close to each other, maybe a minute apart, he pulls himself up by his chains and squats on the floor. He keeps breathing over the pain that washes over him, trying not to drown in the ocean of blood-red hurt that tries to pull him down.
And that is when he hears something.
The door.
He looks up, his mind filled with hope.
Thank Thor, Odin, anyone that they have heard his silent pleads and are here to help him.
They did not forget about him after all.
The door opens, and Loki closes his eyes against the uncomfortable brightness.
Someone fastens a torch above his head. The brightness of the flickering light makes his eyes water, and he waits. He waits for words, a helping hand, anything.
But there is nothing.
When his eyes stop tearing, he looks around and sees a shadow in the corner.
Just sitting, not moving, not helping. Just watching.
Loki blinks away the water in his eyes that makes his sight fuzzy, concentrating on the large shadow standing in the corner, towering above him.
Thor?
He blinks. He cannot imagine what his brother would do here, now, watching him writhe in pain, his hands chained above him, his feet shackled to the ground.
Just then another contraction hits him, stronger than the ones before, and he groans into the magic threat swallowing his sounds, doubling him over.
When this one eases, he raises his head once more, staring into the dark corner, willing the shadow, Thor, to move, to say something, to do…. Anything.
But there is nothing. Not a sound. Nothing at all.
Fine.
Another contraction. The distance between them is now mere seconds, they start to chase each leaving the god hardly any time to catch his breath in-between.
Loki cringes in the pain that is so much worse than anything he has ever felt before.
How will this child without his magic or proper care make it into this world?
He leans forward as far as his shackles around his hands allow, cutting deep into his wrists, partially distracting of the pain that destroys his insides. When he feels light headed he realizes that the pain has made him hold his breath and he pulls air shakily through his tortured lips, demanding it to go into his bowels, to loosen them and supply them with the oxygen that is needed.
And then there are no more breaks, and all he can do is start to push, to get rid of this being that moves inside him, to keep it from killing him.
The pain breaks him in half, and he starts to scream, tearing his lips newly, not caring, screaming, screaming, his screams swallowed by magic that binds him.
He keeps pushing with the pain, against it, feeling blood gush from his anus, slowly stretching.
So this is how it works… he manages to think.
He can feel the small being slide down into his cavern, stretching it, and he keeps pushing and pushing until he can hear his insides rip, blood gushing from him. His anus splits with a loud sound, and he can feel the little being leaving his body. He stops pushing, feeling it still halfway inside him, burning on his open, split flesh, and presses one more time.
He is empty. His knees give way, and careful not to lie on his new-born babe, he sinks down next to it and glides into unconsciousness, the last thing he hears are the mewling sounds of his new-born child.
Xxxxxxxxxx
When he wakes Thor is gone. So is his child. He slowly fights himself out of the web of his deep healing sleep, and pushes himself up. He is still covered in blood and other substances, now dried and sticking to his skin, itching.
He twists and turns, looking for his child, his babe, panicking for a moment that he may have lain on it while sleeping, but it is not there. It is gone.
And this is when Loki can feel his heart break, he throws his head back and howls his silent pain into the seams closing his mouth, the tears he has held back for so long flowing freely down his cheeks, crying for himself, crying for his lost child, crying for all that has gone wrong in his life.
After a couple of weeks of healing, the men start coming back to visit him.
And Loki wonders how many children he will need to bear to make up for his crimes against Midgard,,,,,