Fury, hotter than the feel of the iron against both my and Loki's chest, erupts through me. I'm going to kill him,

I scream Loki's name, wanting so badly to end his pain, wanting so badly to harm Thanos, and a new heat spreads through me slowly, a terrified bloodlust that fills me to the brim. Loki gasps and my nose fills with the scent of his burning flesh. I can't stop the scream from tearing through my throat, anguish piercing through me at the sight of my beloved and what he went through. His eyes are squeezed shut and I reach for him, trying to crawl toward him. The new, foreign heat spreads further until it overwhelms me, clouding my eyes and adding the immense pressure to my veins. I cry out and fall onto my hands and knees, gasping against the searing pain in my chest.

Then, suddenly, the sensation flips, like something clicked within my body, something unlocked. Like a deadlock turning, setting a door free, but it remained closed. It melts into only a feeling, a warmth spread over my skin that makes me pause. And then the door slammed open all at once. With a burst of colors in my vision the feeling turns euphoric, amazing, and I grind my teeth together as I raise to my feet. The iron falls out of Thanos' hands, leaving Loki hunched and panting, tears falling down his face and mixing with the blood of former injuries. Fury is alive inside me, clouding my eyes and my judgment, and I want more than anything to take the branding iron and stick it through Thanos' skull. To my surprise, Thanos turns slowly toward me.

I recognize the second the illusion changes, like a subtle shift in the atmosphere. And all thoughts are banished from my head.

There is only that moment, playing on repeat, and the heat in my veins. Kill him, this new force begged, burn him alive, make him feel what you feel. Make him feel what Loki felt.

My lips have become a snarl, my senses alive, fire lives inside me but it's not painful, it feels like something I've been missing my entire life, and I'm aching to unleash it. Thanos eyes find mine, a wide, menacing smile on his lips. And then suddenly fire is not just inside me, it is everywhere. Red hot flames dancing off my fingers, rolling off my skin and the once black room is ablaze as the fire licks up the walls and completely encases me. A scream rips through the air, and I'm too overwhelmed to even realize that it's mine.

Suddenly, I'm no longer in the illusion, I'm on my feet, heat clawing at my skin as I face Thanos and his daughter, both eyes are wide with a different emotion. Flame encircles me, it does not affect my skin but it singes off my clothes and turns them to ashes. Tears spill from my eyes, evaporating seconds later, and I yell in anguish, aiming this newfound power toward Thanos. Kill him kill him kill him, it is the song of my blood, the only thought I can hear or feeling I have. No fear that I'm giving Thanos what he wants. I only want to see his skin withered and burnt, to have the flames living in him as they do me.

Seconds after the fire came to me, the machine that hovers over me captures me and banishes this new power, and suddenly my legs and arms don't work anymore. The darkness slams into me like a solid wall, forcefully pushing me under. "It worked,"  I hear Thanos say, his voice carrying through me, the wicked delight in his words imprinting in my brain. I don't have time to realize what I've done until sleep has encompassed me.

I awake moments later, a throbbing pain lingering on my chest and a heavy weight still pressing on my eyelids. The soft light still shines on me, and I realize that I am suspended in midair once again. I feel the material of the gauntlets weighing on my fingers, like they'd never been removed. Like nothing ever happened at all, as if it were only a fever-induced dream. I take in the fact that I am wearing clothes, though they had been singed off to my recollection, but I still notice the nasty burn that scarred my flesh above my breast.

The reality of what happened crashed into me all at once, so abruptly I almost gasp in surprise. Fire had erupted from me, it felt so natural, so right, the power had felt so good and I had wanted to burn everything in my path. I hadn't cared who went down with the flames.

"You have a power deep inside you that you are not aware of. A heart of flame that I mean to unlock. You, little bird, possess enough power in your finger to decimate an entire planet."

The memory collides with my thoughts, I thought Thanos had been speaking in riddles, but he was speaking far more literal than I ever thought. A heart of flame, he'd been right about me all along. But it can't be true, I cannot have the power the burn entire planets, it's impossible. There is not such thing as that sort of power. Still, I could feel the phantom caress of the heat in my veins, like I could call upon it at any time. I could feel the fire lurking beneath my skin, but forbidden from being released by the contraption I'm held in. Tears roll down my face, what is he going to do to me now that I've proved him right? He'd manipulated Loki into trying to take over Midgard, and Loki had only been in his clutches a month. Thanos could keep me for years, for decades, he had all the time in the world since people thought I was dead.

A sob racks my chest and tears flow down my face freely, and still I cannot banish the image of Loki being burned by the iron, the agony in his face.

How long would I last Thanos, if at all? I don't bother trying to hold back my sobs anymore, don't bother to fight the image of Loki in pain. How long would it be until I couldn't picture him at all anymore? The notion seems impossible now, I can't imagine going one second without holding onto the image of him, but Thanos seemed adamant that he could make me forget him. What all is he right about?

My sobs came in gasps, and now I find myself unable to cry from being so dehydrated, and in one last desperate chance to get away from this place, I reach out with my mind and try and gather any mental connection at all with someone else. I know I can dreamscape, I've done it before, how hard can it be to try again?

I close my eyes, my chest still shuddering with sobs, and I concentrate.

I know my actions are in vain, but I continue to grasp at strands, because it's the only chance I have before Thanos turns me into something I won't recognize.

-

The compass' surface was still smooth, though it looked worn in Steve Roger's fingertips. He ran his fingers over the glass, the red arrow pointing north beneath his thumb. The compass itself wasn't what he was looking at though.

The image of Peggy Carter, worn over the years, was what his eyes lay on. He sighs sadly at the picture, the pain of losing her to great to manage. The picture brought his pain back, but still he can't tear his eyes from the photo.

He frowns, releasing a breath before closing the compass and holding it in his closed fist, refraining from imagining the life he could've had with Peggy.

Tucking the compass into his pocket, and leaning against the back of his own bed, he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander elsewhere. His thoughts come across Lyra, the brunette he'd spent his time with a long time ago. Was it really two years ago? It didn't feel that long, and it hadn't felt like a month ago when Thor had broke the news that she'd died a year ago. One year, that's how long she'd been dead when Thor had told Steve and the other Avengers. It hadn't felt fair, and still it doesn't. But that doesn't change anything, it doesn't bring her back. Thor had told them shortly before the issue with Ultron, after he'd discovered his best friend Bucky Barnes was not only alive, but was being used as a weapon of mass destruction for the gain of a Nazi-world domination group.

Everything in Steve's life was going just fine and dandy.

Steve glances at the clock on the wall, he knows he should sleep, he can see the pale light of the moon casting small rays of light through the open blinds. With yet another sigh, Steve closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer that he would have a merciful, dreamless sleep.

Steve's prayer was not answered that night.

His dream was confusing at first, he was in a room of black rock that he couldn't name, it was a smoothly carved cave like room that was obviously unnatural. The room gave him a bad feeling and it pulsed with a foul sort of energy that he couldn't identify. In the center of the room, on her hands and knees in revealing thread-bare clothing was Lyra. Her chestnut brown hair fell like a curtain around her face, but it didn't hide her saddened expression. Lyra had two strips of white cloth that covered her breasts and hung on her hips, barely counting as clothing. On her chest, right above her heart, was a gruesome burn that was red with a deep imprint that reminded Steve of a brand of some sort. She was hunkered on the ground in pain, silent tears falling down her face and falling to the ebony ground.

"Lyra," Steve breathed, and he saw her eyes widen, her head lifting and her eyes meeting his. Steve recoiled, seeing her hollow cheeks and empty eyes. He could see how skinny she'd become, dark blue and black bruises covered her ribs and arms, some of her bones were somewhat twisted and crudely bent. She was once so beautiful, but now she was a vision of horror, yet Steve couldn't tear his eyes from her. And he hadn't been able to see how she trembled with fear before but now he did see it, as well as the pain bright in her eyes. Why was he dreaming this?

When she lifted her head and saw him, she looked shocked. "Steve," She sobbed, almost in relief, tears still flowing from her eyes. Lyra crawled toward him, her movements painfully slow, but he took a horrified step back. What sort of sick trick was this? He thought. "You have to help me," Lyra begged him, her voice hoarse and gravelly, as if she had screamed her throat dry. Steve took another step back. "Please, Steve. You don't understand, Thanos-"

Her talking ceased and her eyes turned from him to beside Steve, and if it was even possible her eyes widened even more. "L-loki?" She stammered, her head falling as if she were devoid of any hope. Steve whipped his head around, his heart beating hard in his chest. Sure enough, standing beside him was the God of Mischief, the guy who almost destroyed New York. Steve shrank away from him, but Loki's eyes weren't on Steve, they were glued to the girl groveling on the ground, the ground wet beneath her from her sobbing.

Steve wasn't sure what the hell was happening.

Steve was suddenly ripped from the dream abruptly, and he found himself sitting in his bed and breathing heavily, his head pounding and heart beating wildly.
-

Loki stared at Lyra with terror. Why were his dreams torturing him so? Lyra's threadbare clothing did nothing to hide her twisted bones, and every time she moved her face contorted in pain, and when she noticed him the hope in her eyes seemed to shrivel and she sobbed hysterically, falling to the ground and curling up within herself. She was in the same room that Thanos had kept Loki in when he'd been his captive.

Loki knew it was a dream, but he couldn't help but rush to her, falling on his knees before her. She cried out suddenly, falling onto her back and crawling back on her heels. "No!" She screeched and he couldn't stop the hurt in his chest. "Lyra-what happened?" He begged her, reaching toward her. She recoiled. "What more do you want from me!?" She begged in a hysterical, desperate voice, covering her face with her hands and trembling. His heart throbbed for her, even if this was only his subconscious torturing him. Still, it hurt even more to see the nasty, barely healed burn on her chest that was twin to his. She shielded herself from him, as if he was going to hurt her.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Loki said softly, his own voice shaking as much as hers did.

She tucked her arms into her chest and curled her knees against her elbows, pulling her chin down and letting her hair fall like a protective curtain around her face. "It's not real, not real not real not real not real," She muttered, sucking in a breath that shuddered unevenly, Loki furrowed his brows in confusion. "What's not real?" He asked her, shuffling toward her on his knees. She didn't recoil this time, but her sobs came back at full force.

"You will never break me," She whimpered, though she didn't sound convinced, and Loki tried to reach out toward her, but this time she lashed out at him with a scream.