Darkness|Loki

Cold sweat dampened his face when he reached for his cheeks. His hands were shaking. Heat and darkness surrounded him in this little room he had lain in for several days. When he woke up the first time feeling exhausted, not being able to breathe properly, he had not been sure whether he was still alive or already dead. After realizing he was not only alive but also kept in some sort of dark prison he tried to figure out where he was.
The permanent heat slowed his thoughts and forced him into deep, short sleeps. Nearly every time he dreamt of flying over a white, snowy scenery. In the distance high mountains filled the horizon, so high, their summits were hidden in dark-grey clouds. He felt light and free and comfortable.
Then, suddenly lightening separated the clouds, followed by fulminate thunder. In that moment something hit him so hard in the back, it thrust him onto the ground.
Rage filled his mind. A hot, fierce rage. He screamed in agony and hatred only to wake up by his own voice. The feeling of freedom was gone. Only the heat was left. He had the urge to wash it off of his body. But there was nothing in this hole they had stuck him into.
Thinking about his situation he became even angrier. Whose fault was it he was captured? If it had not been for his stubborn brother he would still be at home, with his mother, on the throne he deserved.
"NO!", he shouted into the gloom. In a sudden fury he jumped onto his feet. It was the first time he had stood up. His legs felt palsied, but he did not care about the dizziness. There was not much strength left to keep him in an upright position. Nevertheless, he started ripping off his garment.
Now, naked, barefooted and clueless about what to do next he hovered between lying down again, or screaming some more.
A clicking noise above his head erased all his thoughts about loss and pain. He looked up and saw a tiny spot of light shining through a small gap. Had they come for his rescue? For a short moment he really hoped for his brother to appear in the opening.
"Prisoner!" A grumbling voice pierced through his head. He could not locate it. Unsurely he turned around to view someone talking to him. Laughter ringed around him. "We may not be seen by the unworthy, Asgardian quim."
He frowned in despair. Where was he? "Tell me then, how the unworthy become worthy enough to see their custodian." No power lay in his feeble words.
"We will show him, if he dares to take the ordeal for proving his aptitude."
Everything seemed better than staying in this dark, hot place any longer. "I accept."
Again abundant laughter filled his mind. He was not quite sure whether he had made a reasonable decision. Still, confidence grew in him when the gap was opened a bit more. Something wavy floated down to him. He could feel a coarse meshed fabric and put it on without thinking twice about it. The robe smelled mouldily and ancient, it excoriated his skin when he moved.
Above him the gap was closed with a metallic impact. Darkness filled the room once again. After some minutes, a crack opened in the wall in front of him. A slim shade emerged offering him to exit through the port. Her fragile body was dressed in a grey tattered frock as she scuffled in front of him showing him his way through a labyrinth of stone walls. The frowst and torridity in the aisle made him pant. He had hoped for fresh air to anneal once out of his cell. The flambeau in the girl's hands was the only illuminant. It provoked shadows and made it difficult for him to see. Uneven rocks covered the ascending floor and caused him plantar ache. If it was possible, the heat became more suffocating with every step they took.
Finally, they reached a vestibule. Six basins filled with dancing flames had been arranged in front of an enormous iron gate. The blazes mirrored in its burnished exterior. With one thin finger she pointed at the gate. Her big eyes were gazed on a spot between his naked feet and herself.
"Do I have to get in there?", he asked breathless. Abjectly she nodded before she turned to leave him. He oriented towards the huge portal. For a moment he paused and wondered about his own reflexion. His black hair appeared inanimately and unkempt. The vesture he wore was of a cruddy brown and looked exactly like it chafed his skin. He felt mortified.
He heaved his hand to the rapper and demanded entrance. As if by an invisible hand the gate unbolted slowly. With rising agitation he waited to catch a glimpse of what lie ahead of him.
His breath caught when he viewed the humungous hall in front of him. Broad columns flanked a long alley leading to a tremendous throne at the end of the hall. On both sides streams of fire confined the walk.
"We welcome him to the royal court of Surtr." The powerful voice was back in his head. "We need him to come forth to see the daunted guise of his."
Hopelessness overwhelmed him so violently he was not able to take a sole step towards the giant on his throne. He had not expected fate to be gentle with him. Now, he knew he was destined to die. He should have perished a long time ago.
"We want to hear of his purpose."
"There is none," he replied soundlessly. Laughter was the immediate answer.
"Why has he come all the way to Our realm without any ambition?"
He hesitated while cogitating if it was a wise decision to cavil about his birthright. Slowly he moved forward, avoiding the edges of the path. The fire crept along the sides.
"As the rightful king of my world I have been betrayed and sent to exile."
"A king?" Surtr spit the words into his direction. "We have not seen such a diminutive king since Our last gathering with the mingy Odin."
He grit his teeth when he heard the name. "Odin is a gratuitous imbecile."
"He speaks of his king as if he was his own archon."
"I am." Having spoken these words he felt regaining his strength and sophistry.
"We presume he has come to claim Our throne then."
He chuckled to himself. It had not been his intention, but it sounded quite admissible. "I do not," he answered sternly. "If I was to claim one throne it would be the one of my origins."
"He is no Asgardian? We are surprised. He must tell us his purpose, or We will step on him."
"I am Loki of Jontunheim and I have no purpose."
"Oh! He dumbfounds Us even more, this little, unworthy Frostgiant. We feel certain he has come to subdue Us. BURN!"
Around him the floor was aflame. They seized towards him. He screamed as the reached his garment and set him on fire. Hotness crept over his body, lacerated his garb and let him faint.

~*~

Darkness.
Nothingness surrounded him. He was all by himself. In the distance he could hear a consistent drum beat growing louder. The more boisterous it became the more rapid it got. It sounded insistent and minatory. He felt insecure and unsure how to react. His body quivered for a moment. A heart-rending scream erupted in the gloom ere he conceived it was him who yelped in pure agony. Lacerations covered his skin, ailing him with every move he made.
After the first twinge ebbed away he could concentrate on the drumming noise again. It filled his head, obstructed his ears and impeded him breathing. Anxiously he tried to steady his respiration. His heart leaped.
Silence.
There were no longer drums to be heard in the distance. He did not hear anything. He did not breathe. He did not feel any pain. He did not feel at all. Everything was light and dark. His thoughts rushed stagnantly through a chiliad of no time. He could not see anything while viewing his whole life. No emotions occupied his full heart.
Glare.
With a sudden halt he opened his eyes to an illuminated scenery. A familiar odour encased him – the dulcet, bracing mixture of dayflowers and blackberries. He turned around but there was nothing to see except for the infinite light. Frigid, caressing fingers reached out to embrace his face.
"Precious." During the last couple of days he had remembered her as a mere shadow of his past, the lone ghost of his pain. At that moment she rose in front of him like the beautiful tableau of his most clandestine memory. He sobbed. "Please, do not shed your tears, poppet."
He grasped her arms. "Where am I?" Was it regret he could see in her gaze? "Can I come home?" He flinched when listened to his own words. He had heard them before. But they were spoken to him.
"You are my son, you will always have a place in my heart."
Monotone.
The brightness of the ambience became blurred. Throb. Throb. Throb. Her face steadily vanished into thin air. Throb. Throb. Throb.