Chapter Text
Loki remembered little about himself. He could count all the reliable facts of his life on the fingers of one hand, and even then some fingers would remain unused.
He sat in his cell in the Sanctuary, the cold metal walls reflecting his distorted face in the dim light. Every morning he performed the same ritual - trying to remember something, anything real, something that belonged only to him.
First: the name was Loki. At least, that was what Thanos claimed, and it was the only thing that felt right in his crippled memory. Sometimes, half asleep, he heard a voice - soft, feminine, humming the name like a lullaby. But whenever he tried to grasp at that ghost of a memory, it dissolved, leaving only emptiness and a headache.
Second: he was skilled with most weapons. Muscle memory remained even where memories had disappeared. Blades sang in his hands, swords became extensions of his body. He was especially good with knives and spears, as if they were made specifically for his palms.
Yesterday, during training, he picked up a regular spear and suddenly, without thinking, performed a complex combination of movements. The instructor, one of Thanos's minions, stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide with surprise.
"Where did you learn that?" he asked.
Loki didn't know the answer. The movements came to him on their own, as if his body remembered what his mind had forgotten.
Third: he was a sorcerer, and a very powerful one. Illusions obeyed his will, reality bent under his desires. But along with the power came fragmentary images - green flames dancing between his fingers; golden helmets with curved horns; majestic halls with marble columns disappearing into vaulted ceilings that he could not assemble into a whole picture.
Sometimes, when he used magic, something inside him squeezed painfully. Not physically, but emotionally. Like he was losing something important every time the green light flashed around his hands.
Four: In his past life, he was surrounded by blond idiots. Their faces were blurred, as if someone had roughly erased them from his memory, leaving only a feeling of irritation and deep, irrational hatred. Not a single name, not a single personality trait, just golden hair and the feeling that they were all unbearably smug.
One of them laughed especially loudly. Another was too serious. Another was constantly eating something. And then there was the dark-haired woman who looked at him with something like pity.
That was it. Four pathetic facts made up his entire personality.
As for the rest... There was a guy named Thanos, who claimed to be his father. But seriously, how stupid did this Titan think he was? Loki had studied himself in the mirror enough times to realize the obvious: yes, he was part machine, thanks to his daddy's cybernetic implants.
His left arm was entirely mechanical, a perfect work of technological art in black metal that moved as naturally as a living one. His left leg, from the knee down, had also been replaced with a cybernetic prosthesis of the same dark shade. And at the back of his neck, hidden under the skin, were cold metal plates - reinforcements for his spine that sometimes ached in damp weather.
His right eye was still organic, an emerald green, as before. But the left was cybernetic - the same shade of green, but glowing with an unnatural inner light. It displayed data, analyzed threats, recorded every detail of the world around him - information that Loki often would rather not see.
But it was definitely not purple. Often white, sometimes blue, when magic was especially active in his veins. But never purple.
The only logical conclusion: dear "daddy" had erased his memory, loaded him with cybernetics to make him the perfect weapon, and then lied about his parentage to ensure his loyalty.
Dumbass.
Loki got out of bed and walked to the small window in the wall. The stars in space looked cold and uncaring. Somewhere out there was his real history, his real family, his real name.
And someday he would find them. But for now, he had to survive. And that meant pretending to be the loyal son of the monster who had stolen everything from him.
Tomorrow would be another training session. Another lesson in being a weapon.
But Loki was patient. And when the time came, Thanos would regret letting him live.