This chapter is dedicated to pallyndrome because they gave me a really good idea for this chapter, so a massive thank you to them!

So sorry it's so late. Warning for violence and angst.

The first thing he knows is pain. White hot and unyielding, it throws his eyes open and forces sharp intake of breath from his lips.

When he sees where he is, the second thing he knows is fear. Raw and harsh, the terror seeps into his very bones. He has never felt this scared in his long, long life. Not even when he discovered what his true parentage was. That was nowhere near the true horror he feels right now.

The small, dark room has walls of rough rock, as if it was carved into a cave wall. There is a heavy iron door at the other end of the cell, which gives no indication as to where he is. There is little to no light, but a small window high up behind him lends a stream of golden light into the room.

His wrists are locked into iron manacles, which are in turn connected to long chains, secured to the walls either side of him. His legs and feet are free, but there is little he can do. He is stripped to the waist, and what he can see of his pale skin is covered in angry red welts and long, raised gashes. His back feels torn to shreds, and there is a puddle of dark red blood pooling at his feet. His back burns, as if he was being torched by dragonfire. A feeling he has known before.

He cannot cry for help, for his mouth and jaw are clamped into a silver muzzle, that stops him from speaking or moving his face at all. It digs into his skin, and he can feel blood trickling from the deep cuts that run along the edges.

His head droops onto his bare chest, raven hair matted and falling into his eyes. He cannot relax, for the chains at his wrists pull his arms taut and above him. He feels a little like one of those figures he has seen in Midgardian churches. Like a martyr. He smirks slightly behind the muzzle.

Lifeless green eyes stare blankly at the floor, where there are bloody footprints, and the tell-tale signs of where a whip has been dragged, soaked in blood, across the cool ground. He knows, without looking, that the wall behind him is spattered with blood. His blood. With a shudder, he attempts to shift his wrists in the manacles in a short-lived try to ease the pain, but they are locked so tightly that the movement rubs against raw and bleeding skin, and he hisses in pain.

There is nothing to live for now. Nobody to mourn him. Nobody who will cry. He laughs bitterly, throat raw and voice hoarse.

Before I die, he thinks, I want to see the sun again. Craning his neck, he twists to look out of the high window. A gold shaft of light streams through, landing on his upturned face. He blinks, features softening. Yes, this is how I will dies.

For the first time in his life, Loki Laufeyson closes his eyes and gives up.

With a start, Loki sits up fast, breathing hard. He claps a hand to his mouth. No muzzle. Good. His back isn't hurting, and he is exactly where he was before he fell asleep. He takes a deep, shuddery breath, wiping away the cold sweat that has formed on his forehead. He is still scared.

Bucky wakes up at the slight noise, pushing himself up into a sitting position. Loki is sitting across the campfire from him, black hair messy and a haunted look in his green eyes. The flickering flames cast strange shadows on his face, making him even more ethereal than before. Bucky scrambles to his feet, padding over to his friend, who doesn't seem to notice him, staring blankly into the fire.

"Loki? Are you okay?" Bucky says quietly. He knows these symptoms, they are those of PTSD, something he has seen in soldiers from all walks of life.

"It wasn't a flashback." Loki mumbles, still attempting to calm himself down. Bucky pats his back slightly, and Loki winces, arching away from him, a hiss of air escaping his lips.

"Sorry." He mutters, shuffling closer to Bucky. "I don't, as a rule, have flashbacks. It's normally nightmares, but this one seemed so real, that it felt like-like a premonition."

Bucky frowns. He doesn't want to ask Loki what occurred in his dream, but he's sure that it was pretty awful to spook a god like that.

"I think," says Loki, steeling himself, "that what I saw is going to happen. And it will happen soon."