literature

Compassion to a War Criminal

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Compassion to a War Criminal

The second Prince of Asgard lied there in the dungeon of prisoners, buried at the bottom of the palace of Odin, awaiting trial, which would come from the mouth and hand of the man he called father once.

He stood sitting on a bench attached to the wall, sustained by two short, thick, rusty chains at each end. He shrugged; his eyes seemed colorless and lost; his disheveled black hair. He likened to a war criminal rather than a Prince ... his current appearance contrasted perfectly. As he was last seen in the Asgardian throne, it was probably a criminal.

His throat was dry and he looked sick and paler than usual. He had not eaten or drunk anything in the last three days. Perhaps someone was waiting for him to get weak and he could be attacked without even fight back.  They could get rid of the goddamn outcast, he thought.

In darkness he did not notice, by the deafening silencing him, making him unaware of reality as the current situation, nor was he unmoved by an eerie noise that came from outside. Trembling – he did not know if it was for fear or cold- Loki just shrunk on his prince outfit, worn and torn apart.

- Who is it? – He squeaked, soundless, guttural. It sounded like a detuned instrument, far away from the seductive voice of the silver tongue.

The figure did not answer, it only approached. Given the shadow's shape, Loki inferred it could not be a man… less a guard. This figure bowed and did something, which the prince was unable to see. She got up and because of the steps; he realized that it was approaching. It was a refined, delicate trotting.

Loki was able, this time, to look up a bit. It was a young woman who was kneeling on one knee, with a bowl filled with a liquid, from which distilled a pleasant scent. After a while of gazing upon the prince - whom she thought unconscious or asleep- she took his face, carefully examining him, but Loki sensed some fear in those sweet moves that caressed his face after the beatings he received.

With extreme care, the maid began to apply a white cloth, moistened by the perfumed liquid, to his face, removing the blood from the wounds and dirt scattered on the face so horribly, that should not have any imperfection. Loki enjoyed the slow rhythm of her movements, his eyes closed but trying to how it would lead not to show how relieved he felt. Unfortunately, this did not last too much, for Loki bowed his head sharply, moving practically the upper half of his body, as if he were to fall on his face, which was prevented because of the chains, as shackles on his feet and hands, tensed.

She let out a gasp, stepping back briefly without getting up. Loki continued to breathe heavily; the muzzle in his mouth gave him a terrible desperation to want to drink something. The tufts of black hair falling down his face, giving a really deplorable, sad aspect... It could not cause fear, definitely. Instead, it inspired sadness.  Only a deep sadness was inspired.

He tried to release both eyelids and when he opened his eyes, he shut them immediately. The light from the open door was too much for him to bear, as if the darkness had blinded him with a certain punch. Before the half-closed eyes, drew the vivid and clear image of a beautiful young woman looking at him with motherly concern, examining him once again carefully to see if he was hurt.  Both shared a gaze for a while. To Loki seemed a sweet eternity. She pushed a few strands of black hair to continue her duty.

Now, she began to soak the cloth, taking care not to soil the liquid with her hands.  She squeezed it but not before removing the muzzle which prevented Loki from talking, eating and drinking. The young god closed his eyes to feel the essence of her, her soft hands palpating his neck, looking for the spot that could untie the muzzle. After a while, the girl finally took away the artifact which gave Loki a wild, dangerous characteristic. Now Loki began to breathe deeply, coughing and inhaling the air deeply.

Then, she took the rolled, moistened cloth and gently brought it closer to the mouth of the prince.

- My lord, please drink this for now, the next time I will bring you fresh, tasteless water. I promise - she said in a whisper, as if her compassionate action was forbidden.

Loki took his mouth rolled up the cloth. He began to sip the citrus scent anxiously. When he had finished, he dropped the whole dry, unable to deliver it to the hands of his young savior. He breathed softly and finally raised his eyes in order to stare at her in more detail: She smiled slightly to him. He made his best to smile back. However, a discordant scream of a man destroyed the moment.

- Alright, it is enough! You will not be fond of him now! - and a guard came in and grabbed the maid's arm violently, forcing her to get up and to leave the empty bowl in the cold floor.

Loki sighed annoyed. He would have given anything, even for that single moment, to be strong enough to run a telekinetic order to divert the dirty hands of that man from her young, whom he wanted to stay there, even for a little longer.

And again the door was closed, sinking him in the sepulchral, gloomy silence and thoughts, which turned out to be his only company.
Post Avengers. Loki x Sigyn One - Shot.

Loki is locked up in the Prisioners Dungeons at the House of Odin. He's all demented and ill but for a moment everything changes when Sigyn comes to heal him and soothe his pain. Of course no one knows this.

©Thepurpleharlequin93 - 2012
© 2012 - 2024 thepurpleharlequin93
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gpcat's avatar
This is so wonderful! I really would like to read more of it. You~re a great writer.