Prologue

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There is a reason why she is imprisoned. Not many knows, and those who does wishes they never did. Locked away in a place where no one can reach, where escape is impossible. A prison that not even the strongest man could break for it is a prison of space and time itself. To be trapped forever, and forgotten.

A monster they used to say, did the evilest of deeds. Death is not enough of a punishment.

And forgotten she is, as time resumed in the world above. Generations past, and a myth her existence became. People begin to question the logic behind it. Impossible, they say.

Unknown to anyone, through all this she survived. In a place where there is nothing and everything. Where she cannot die because time and space does not exist, which means she too does not exist. Something that was never there cannot disappear. But in a way she does exist, because her heart still beats, and she still feels.

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He is floating, falling, plummeting down into oblivion all at once. For how long he cannot tell. It is endless; the silence, the darkness, the depth of his fall. Because Loki has climbed up so high, and it's a long fall to the bottom.

It wasn't what he wanted—not at all. He wasn't a fool, he knew that it wouldn't be quick and painless, but it never occurred to him that it would hurt this much. Time, he had so much of it in his hands. Memories, even if he wanted to, he couldn't erase it, not all of it. It haunts him throughout everything.

Hate hate hate. He hates it all, hates all of them. If it wasn't for him, he'd have succeeded; made his fath—made Odin proud. A mistake, all of it was a mistake.

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It isn't rare for her to question her sanity. For a time her mind would create illusions to sate her eternal loneliness. But this man wasn't like her other mind-tricks, she doesn't know him, never seen him before. He is lying on the ground, motionless. Unlike her usual illusions, she cannot see him perfectly—shrouded in the darkness.

'Who are you?' she asks in her mind, for it has been a long time since she has last opened her mouth, and could not bring herself to do so. The man did not stir—a queer thing; usually her illusions would respond immediately.

The prisoner falls down on her knees. With hesitation she reaches out to the unmoving man, knowing that she will find nothing in the darkness. He will dissolve, be gone, disappear; just like everyone else. She was sure of it, yet her fingers still reaches out.

And to her utmost horror; he did not disappear.

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Loki did not let himself fall, hoping to open his eyes again.

He had wanted an end to all the treachery, all the pain and jealousy. But it seemed even death wasn't enough of a punishment for someone like him.

Now he finds himself in an eternal darkness. No longer falling, but it doesn't matter.

Is he even awake? He could not tell.

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The prisoner sits down next to the fallen man. How much time has passed she did not know, but not once did he stir. Perhaps he is dead, she once thought. But why would he be here if he was? And once in a while she would ask herself; is this a new sort of illusion her mind had created?

But he is real, a voice in her head would say. You can touch him. And just to make sure, she reaches for him again, finding flesh beneath her palm.

And she would wait, for she has all the time in the world. Someday he will wake up, he has to; because this abyss is not for the dead, and it does not exist. What does not exist cannot die, and therefore he will wake.


Prologue/END

Author's Note

I will not stop rewriting this until it's decent. Just, damn it. Oh, and reviews are love; everybody needs love.