Summer Clouds

Worth it

WARNING- GRAPHIC TORTURE. Well, kind of. I don't think it's graphic, but you guys could all be massive wusses.

A/N: I love him, I really do. But...  Sorry, Lokes.

Loki's POV:

He'd been through an awful lot, over the past few months. Or was it years? Weeks? Days, even? It was hard to tell. He was in solitary confinement, completely isolated from anyone except for the guards who came in twice a day (?) for his physical punishment. The pain was almost unbearable, and long after they'd gone, he found himself screaming, purely to gauge whether or not he was dead. It was hard to tell, because the cell he was in was far too dark for him to see anything, and when the guards came, they didn't even make a sound. He reached up, absently, waving his hand in front of his face. He felt the draft of cold air, but saw nothing. Perhaps he'd gone blind? The prospect wasn't quite as daunting as it would have been, say, a few years back. He was screaming, now, but he couldn't stop. His throat burned, and his lungs ached for an influx of air, but the inhuman screaming ...just ... wouldn't... stop. At least he was sure he wasn't dead, although that probably would be a relief. Hela might enjoy his company, he mused, still screaming, and then this pain would finally end. But then he thought of Savannah, her soft words, and her grin, and oh, that laugh. He was dimly aware that he wasn't screaming any more.

He knew that, if he were allowed to sleep, he would dream of her. But he wasn't allowed to, and the drugs that they'd pumped into his body (Asgard was finally learning science) were not only draining his body of his magic, but also preventing him from any kind of rest. But he could survive this- would survive this, because he had to see her again. And that was the sole thought in his mind, as the last part of his magic was removed, leaving him vulnerable, and in his Jotunn form. It was the only thing he could think of as they broke his legs, (as if he could escape) the solitary thought of her triumphing over the pain that repeated asphyxiation brought. And even when they brutally wrenched the fingernails from his hands, or broke each of his ribs, methodically, yet sadistically.

But when they dropped his unresisting body into boiling oil, and then bubbling tar, his mental image scattered, and he was exposed to the unnerving sensation of being slow-cooked to perfection.

Alive.

It would be difficult enough in his Aesir form, but as a Jotunn...

Well...

Loki was stronger than most gave him credit for, but as the whip sounded against his already over-sensitive skin, he wondered if it was worth just giving up. It wasn't as if anyone would miss him.

Thor hadn't even come to visit.

And that hurt Loki more than he was willing to admit.

But Savannah...

It was worth it all for Savannah. Everything he had, and more.

So when they brought a knife to the skin of his stomach, and gradually stripped away the layers of flesh, he closedd his eyes, and replayed the scene at the Chinese restaurant, when she has a look of pure joy, whilst dragging him farther into the restaurant. He doesn't think he's ever seen anyone look so childishly happy and innocent as she did at that moment, and he allows himself a small smile.

He is up to the part where he holds a small piece of food in chopsticks up to her mouth, when the guards leave, satisfied with a job well done. So engrossed is he, that he doesn't notice the heat in the cell rising until his skin has already started to peel, and blister, until his skin cracks, and gradually loses its pigment.

Still, he reminds himself, it's worth it.