This was the worst of all.

Loki strained against his brother's grip, clenching his teeth until something in his jaw cracked and he tasted lightning.

And then it was done. The pain didn't end, but it was done. As Sif stepped back, he opened his eyes. He knew he should thank her, should say something but the very idea of speaking was unimaginable.

His stomach rolled.

Loki twisted out of Thor's grasp and snatched up the basin from the floor. He dropped it. His fingers were slippery and didn't seem to be working right. He bent to pick the basin up again, but instead dropped to one knee and retched.

At least he had his back to them, he thought bitterly. It could always be worse. And he now had some idea of what worse might look like.

His stomach had been clawingly empty when his father had ordered his lips sewn shut. All he retched out now was all of the blood he had swallowed. He propped himself up on the floor with shaking hand. His breath came out in sharp pants like he had just run a race. Fresh blood leaked from his lips and fell into the basin.

He could do nothing but close his eyes again and try to forget the sight.