#thirdsonofasgard

The madness he'd felt in his head still lingered, but had diminished slowly as he was imprisoned. The staff of the Chitauri had been taken from him. He cursed the thing many times over, more so in his head then verbally. He had not been permitted to speak, silenced with the scolds bridle about his head. He'd scoffed at it before it had been forced upon him. The shackles had drained him, he loathed feeling so weak. He barely managed to keep upon his own two feet as he had been led back across the bridge, until he no longer had any strength, and his consciousness had faded. Thor had carried him the rest of the way. When Loki awoke, it was to the glimmering gold of the palace, laid upon a bench outside within the gardens. His head was spinning, and the chains rattled as he shifted, feeling more then sickened. The room felt as if it spun, and the first thing he picked up upon was the voices near him. "Would you watch him, brother? I beg this of you, as he will not let me care for him." There was only one other he knew that could possibly be, whom Thor was pleading with. The bringer of light. His vision had not yet focused, yet he glared as he sat up, not wishing to be touched nor approached, not by him.