For Pity

Marriage, Alright then

DEPICTIONS OF TORTURE ARE DESCRIBED IN THIS CHAPTER, IF THAT TRIGGERS YOU DO NOT READ IT

Loki could hear screaming.

He wasn't sure where it was coming from, or even who's it was, due to how distorted it was by the passage through the hallways, but whomever's it was, they were in more pain than most could survive. The sound bounced off every wall and made the space reverberate slightly, every little grunt knocking between the cells of the prison and making everyone scuttle in nervousness. This was Asgards prison.

Of course he was in the prison, where else would he be?

And yet there were no chains around his wrists, no knife in his gut, no wounds on his back and no cold blowing upon his bare skin. He wasn't the one being hurt this time. So was this not real? Perhaps it was a nightmare, for it took place where he feared most, and yet it wasn't him being hurt. So who?

Loki continued down the corridor, taking twists and turns to wherever the bellows and shouts seemed to be the loudest. eventually, as he got closer, he began to hear the cracking of a whip, making Loki wince in sympathy. Whomever was on the receiving end was getting all that Odin could give.

The whip cracked down again and again and again without fail, with the wrath of a vengeful deity behind it every time. Eventually, when he was close enough to figure out where the cell was with only the crack of the whip, the screaming stopped. Lord knew that Odin was still whipping, and yet his victim had given up on all hope of being heard once and for all. The only thing which Loki could truly hear from them were small, shallow breaths followed by sharp intakes every time the whip cracked.

As he got closer to the cell, Odin came into view. His usual robes untouched by the blood which had stained the walls, coating almost every surface and leaving a faint memory of what white walls hid behind it. The feral look in his eyes told Loki he had been at this for hours, the red slowly soaking through his sanity. His teeth were bared and his jaw clenched, making him look that much more terrifying to passers by.

As Loki kept walking, the victim came into view.

It was a female, with white hair which seemed to be held down by grime and blood. The hair seemed to be trying to curl, but it couldn't due to the tangled and overall mess it was in. It seemed to hide her slightly and make her entire body seem odd, he supposed that it would have blended in with the white walls, when they were still white of course.

Her body was broken. Marred with scars and crevices where skin must have once been, and yet all he could see was open wounds. It seemed she had given up on healing and had instead forced herself to simply waste away through the continue exposure to such brutish methods. The blood trickling down from her cuts seemed to have stained the skin below, some of which didn't seem to have a drop on it and yet glowed in an odd, orange fashion.

He could see her body trembling. From cold, lack of sleep or lack of food, well no one ever knew. Sometimes it was all, sometimes it was two or one of those reasons, and sometimes it was just out of pure fear. Loki could see other places where she had been mutilated, her arms had large scars running from shoulder to elbow, ragged and zigzagging over each other in a manic fashion, as if Odin had just grabbed a knife and carved. The problem with Aesir was that their skin is thick, and their healing quick, and so trying to leave scars took effort. Trying to leave those types of scars however, seemed to have taken months.

He walked closer to the cell tentatively, flinching back slightly to the sound of the whip and the gleam in Odin's eye, until he was finally near the victim. Head still bowed and hair still covering it. The only area in the room which did not have any blood was below her, that area however was wet with tears. How she still had enough water in her body to cry was beyond Loki, and yet another dropped to the floor.