Chapter Text
Loki had been with the Grandmaster for three weeks when Thor showed up.
Three weeks was enough time for him to realize there was no getting away, no exits the Grandmaster didn't have eyes on.
And three weeks was enough time for that man to find all the ways Loki hadn't been broken yet, to break him thoroughly and repeatedly.
He was taken to parties where the guests took turns on him, using him until everything was burning, until the agony overtook any pleasure there had been in it, until he collapsed. And when it was over, the Grandmaster would fuck him -- and there must have been something wrong with him, because he was damn near grateful.
He was fucked in every position, in ways even he hadn't known about. And he was fucked, too. Because he knew he needed to run but where would he run to? Where was he safe, where he hadn't burned any bridges yet? He felt the walls of his mind starting to crumble and cave. He felt it in the way he started seeing figures out of the corner of his vision, and in the way he clawed at his arms until he bled, because it was his body and he could do whatever he wanted to it. If the Grandmaster noticed, he didn't comment on it.
He was getting worse at the parts in between, where he had to mingle with the Grandmaster's other pets and sycophants. They made conversation about politics and culture and they told stories about their lives, and Loki wanted to scream at them, but instead he politely engaged, drinking himself into a pleasant dullness.
When Thor showed up, Loki felt that old, dangerous spark of hope within him. He thought if Thor's here, there must be some way out.
There's always some way out, for him.
Loki went to him, trying to bargain, but of course Thor was upset with him, because Thor was always upset with him, and he said nothing of what the Grandmaster had done to him, and had others do to him, because what good would that do?
Loki was allowed to watch the fight, the Grandmaster purring in his ear, "If Sparkles here wins, maybe you can reward him, hmm? Now, wouldn't that be nice?" And he had nodded, tears that he dared not shed burning his eyes.
And then there was the champion, the beast that tossed him around like a ragdoll once, and he was prisoner here, just like anyone else. Loki wanted to run. He wanted to throw himself through the window and see how far he would fall.
During one party, when some arachnid creature was thrusting inside of him, a commotion was started outside. A pained whine spilled from his lips as the creature ripped itself out of him. He lied on the ground, bleeding and broken, as people started running around.
Thor, apparently, had started a revolution.
And it was Thor and his new friends -- because Thor always makes friends, wherever he goes, the bastard -- that found him there, that stared wide-eyed for only a moment before one of them rushed to grab something for him to cover himself with.
It was that same one that suggested a place for Thor and Loki to go -- a facility, they had said, where they specialize in treating these kinds of injuries. Loki had refused, still broken and bleeding, and in the end, like everything else recently, it hadn't been his choice.
They stayed just long enough to watch the Grandmaster's head get chopped off. And somehow, although everyone cheered, Loki found that it did not feel like victory.
The ride in the ship was agonizingly long, and Loki sat beside his brother, curled in on himself. He got blood in the seat.
Eventually, finally, they arrived. The facility looked like any other station, he thought, though the inside was clean and sterile, white walls and tile, with people marching around with determined looks on their faces, with other people sat shaking and crying or simply staring into infinite nothing. Loki, as he waited, was one of the latter.
They took him into a room with a something that failed to be fully a table or a bed, which they had him lie down on. His brother beside him asked if he wanted him there. Loki only shrugged, because it didn't really matter.
They performed their examinations with brutal pacing, stopping at every stiffening and whimper. He wanted to tell them they could just get it over with, it would be easier, he'd had worse. He stayed quiet.
Loki looked to his brother, because he needed something familiar to lean into. He was surprised there wasn't more anger there, just a miserably somber expression. Thor gave a tight smile and placed a gentle, hesitant hand on his shoulder, saying, "It's okay, brother. It'll all be okay."
Loki shook his head, "It's never going to be okay again."