This one-shot has pre-Thor, post-Thor, within-Avengers, within-TDW and post-TDW parts.
To be frank, I was unsure about uploading this - it was one of those stories that start off as an exciting spark in my head and Word doc. that burned briefly then simmered down - but after debating it I eventually hit a "yeah why not?" point.
Despite how careless that sounds, I'm hoping with the usual earnestness that you'll like it!
"I don't know why you insist on this same seaside every time."
The morning sun laid its warm touch against his nose, cheeks, and the backs of his hands and feet. He never really objected to the place, as Thor knew. The light always shimmered on the teal waves, and these slowly danced to a hypnotic rhythm. Like previous visits, he and his brother were the only beings in sight across the white shore. But in the slender chance any Midgardians were around, they would only appear as two human teenagers seeing the beach.
"It was a favourite of ours once, remember, Loki?" Thor was a few paces ahead, etching deep footprints in the soft, damp sand.
"Of course I recall, so stop insisting we are here under the guise of exploring new localities when all you want is a holiday. You realise Father already knows we only ever come here for fun? He never falls for your dishonesties."
"We are still exploring! You never know what new creatures inhabit these areas…" Thor turned and gestured expansively at the shore, the distant rocky cliffs, and open sky, as if the action did not emphasise how mostly deserted the beach was.
"It's been a mere four months since we were here last. Your hair has changed more than this place." As though agreeing with Loki, a crisp breeze dragged Thor's long hair into his face. He brushed the strands away impatiently.
"So you are adverse to this region now?"
"No. I think we should bring Mother here the next time she has a spare hour." Loki could picture Frigga there, with them, smiling among the sunlight and salt.
She was the one to introduce them to the Midgardian beach when they were much younger. Thor brightened at the suggestion, nodding as Loki added, "She has not been back in eons. She misses it."
"I thought she stopped returning because as children we had so many sand and water fights that she tired of having us cleaned off."
"No, it was because I kept winning these bouts and you were a sore loser," Loki grinned. "If I refrain from winning, she would enjoy a visit."
Thor ignored the jibe except for adding, "And I am no sore loser, so all should go well for her."
"Ah, I may have to just refrain from winning then…"
Thor immediately scooped up a handful of the dense sand and turned back to face him.
Loki gave a one-shouldered shrug, taunting.
Ten minutes later, Loki commented, "Come to think of it, there probably is no real winner of a sand fight."
With every movement, he felt the coarse grains that were strewed uncomfortably through his hair, down his collar and under the grey sleeves of his tunic. He also knew his forehead sported a large powdery smear. Thor looked similarly saturated except for an additional wet sandy clump soiling his hair, to which Loki decided not to bring Thor's awareness.
"If this had been true battle, I would have brought it to the softer sands. You must concede there I have greater speed because you struggle more than I when your feet sink so deeply." Thor grinned.
"I could use my magic to have the sand beneath me harden yet trap you," Loki countered. "Or conjure a great beast of sand and seawater to attack and distract you."
"What, and not confront me yourself?" Thor scoffed. "Magic is your quick answer to everything."
Thor clapped his narrow shoulder. "Anyway, in a true conflict, I would simply use Mjolnir to end it victoriously with lightning or a tornado."
Loki flicked his eyes skywards, but replied affably, "Oh, of course. And Mjolnir is the answer to all your questions."
"It is a good answer, is it not?"
"Not the only answer."
"Better than magical trickery."
"That depends on the question."
Thor just shook his head indulgently. But they hardly ever pursued the ongoing debate while at that beach.
After a minute, Loki remarked, "Imagine returning the fallen body for the funeral after the grand fight. Having to clean off all that sand…" Thor started laughing.
"Exactly why Mother no longer deigns to join us here. She would want a lesser part in dusting off your corpse."
Loki shrugged. "I suppose to save you the hassle you could always just bury me here."
They were close to the shoreline, following the curving white lines of sea foam left by the last tide. Thor stepped ankle-deep into the warm water before continuing their path, to let the ocean carry away the dirt from his feet. For some unspoken reason, they always had to walk the same length of the seashore that they used to with Frigga. They never seemed to cover the distance in less time, despite the years lengthening their legs and dispelling their urges to stop and examine patterned shells. Loki suspected they had been deliberately slowing down from their restless pace of earlier youth. Or at least Loki did, which held Thor back.
"It is a nice view, but too lonely, Brother."
"I'll be sure to give feedback on the view you choose for me when I am dead," Loki raised an eyebrow amusedly.
"Perhaps halt this morbidity for now."
"And I'll make special note of the company I have with me, too," Loki continued.
"We shall reside with the other fallen warriors of history anyway. I mean you would have no solid memorial here that other Asgardians would visit often and pay mind."
"Then bring Mother here one day and build me a sandcastle."
Only the crashing of waves and the occasional gust filled the silence for some moments. The silhouettes of several gulls glided overhead against the tufts of drifting clouds, like pepper spilt on a white tablecloth.
"Well, then, if I die outside Asgard," Loki said lightly, "you'll have to bring me home, won't you? Sandy corpse or otherwise."
Thor smiled but said, "I thought I just said to cease this gloomy discourse."
"You also insisted this place too lonesome for me, for a proper sendoff."
"Of course you have my most sincere word, Brother." Thor laughed, glancing at him. "And at the funeral rites, I will recount every mortifying tale about you yet untold. I have your word that you shall do the same for me, don't I?"
"Obviously. I'll save some interesting stories for then."
"They have to be truthful ones."
"…Of course."
The sand, sea and sky spun abruptly as, from beside him, Thor wrapped Loki's neck and shoulders in an iron headlock. "Swear it, Loki, or I will make sure your funeral precedes mine by much longer than expected."
"You act as if your own daft endeavours are any better than the anecdotes that I would invent."
"Any act I will ever commit would stain my name less than would a fictitious narrative of your making." The horizon rattled as Thor shook him lightly.
His voice slightly muffled, Loki said, "You are a spoilsport. Fine. I promise."
The world righted itself, and his older brother patted his back gravely. "Thank you."
The sun was going down in a fanfare of roses, amber, and feathery pink.
Thor said, "This is a nice area of Earth."
In the clear green-gold waters, Loki spotted shadows of tiny, sleek fish darting below the surface like wraiths.
"But I'd rather home be the last resting place for us both."
It was taken for granted that, if one died in a real battle, the other would be there. That the other would be on the same side.
He wades in the warm shallows that caress the shoreline. He feels the brine molding his black hair into both shambolic spikes and flattened layers.
A sandcastle-building contest. Thor wins, with his featureless but comparatively vast sculptures.
Building one gigantic sandcastle together that they leave in the purple sunset for the tide to play with.
Glancing over his shoulder, seeing three different footprint trails. Frigga's relatively straight one has long gaps between each print. Of the two boys' meandering trails, one has wider, deeper steps and the other smaller, faint tracks.
Where these two trails merge into one, it still is an easy guess as to who lead and who followed.
The clouds above undulated past slowly, like herds of great, gentle beasts. Loki could pretend it was their lowing that made that sound of the ocean waves swelling and collapsing.
"Not falling behind, are you, Brother?"
Ahead of him, Thor was turning to grin at him. His thick arms were tanned by the morning sun.
Loki checked over his shoulder to see their two paths of footprints intersecting on the shore's sandy canvas. Where Thor had trod upon the damp, dense sand and Loki on the powdery kind, the crisp breeze was burying Loki's shallow steps. Where Thor had walked the finer sand and Loki the sea-soaked type, the tide hurried to smooth Loki's path over. Like the realm was trying to erase him.
"Our trails always equal in length by the time we leave."
Thor smiled at him again as Loki caught up. The wind sighed.
They walked on.
Though a good stride away from the Bridge's polychromatic edge, Thor felt like they were teetering.
"Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to just… jump?"
This made Thor heave himself from the Void's fathomless gaze to blink at his brother. There was nothing fervoured or determined about Loki's expression – no dreamy smile, no plan settling in his eyes like dead autumn leaves – though the green eyes refused to waver from the yawning blackness.
Trust Loki to be the only one who could win a staring contest with the Void. Thor felt his hand itching to grab Loki's wrist, and was suddenly all too aware of the nighttime gusts that swooped like vultures around them. His brother looked so weightless standing near the edge of the Bridge, like the softest sigh – of anger, of sadness, of disappointment, of relief – could tip him off. Thor realised his own breath held itself inside his chest.
But he responded calmly, "No, Loki. I cannot claim to this absurd imagining."
Thor could not even tell if Loki saw through this lie, because his insane brother still would not look away from the impossible drop. He knew not why exactly, but he felt admitting to such a thought would not be good. He had wondered, though, what it would be like to take an extra step forward and let whatever invisible currents that snaked through the space below just take him wherever they pleased. If it would feel freeing. Or if he would retain his sanity as any other should, and fear the fall.
"Surely you've wondered what new places or creatures could possibly be found through there."
Loki turned, surprisingly, to give him a smile. Thor was relieved it appeared perfectly carefree.
"Of course I speculate upon the new realms and beasts there are to discover. But that is many thoughts away from jumping, Brother."
There were oft times – and Thor would rather run unclothed through Muspelheim than admit it – at which Loki was the only who could truly scare him. But often, it was fear for Loki, not of. He did not like this talk of jumping whilst they stood near the edge. Thor was the one who would brave a perilous leap when the occasion called, but he could fly with Mjolnir to safety. Loki would only keep falling, until he could no longer.
"I wonder if anything down there could jump high enough to greet us," Loki pondered aloud.
Thor briefly pictured something like a Jotun beast springing upwards from the black hole to shake their hands at the peak of its leap, before falling back down. He sighed. His brother was more unfathomable than the abyss.
"If you ever leap down there by means of discovering Yggdrasil, that would make our promise very difficult for me to keep."
Loki glanced up at him once more. "The one about bringing the departed other back home and telling their stories?"
"Obviously. Now step down! My coronation is a mere week away, at which you probably should be alive and present too, lest everyone else think you avoid it out of jealousy." Thor goaded him, again secretly relieved as Loki stepped backwards towards the midline of the Bridge.
"I thought you above the jibes of Sif and the Warriors, Thor." Loki shook his head in mock disappointment. "If that be not the case, Asgard deserves to know her next king is an inarticulate, lowly – "
Thor chuckled. "You still would not receive the throne in my stead."
Loki frowned.
It was dark.
Opening his eyes revealed more blackness to him than closing them could.
Not that Loki let himself shut his eyes very often in the Void.
… our promise very difficult for me to keep
The one about bringing the departed other back home and telling their stories?
He and Thor had made many promises to each other over their lifetimes, unspoken and aloud.
Help me.
Defend me.
Trust me.
(Love me).
And all broken just weeks ago along with the Bifrost.
Like with the Bifrost, it was hard to say which of them was truly responsible.
So why should Loki expect his mangled body to be brought back home from this place?
There in the Void, he was expecting the unexpected, but not that.
He was spinning out of control.
It was too damn dark.
Sirens and humans were screaming together into the smoky sky.
The sky looked different somehow. Not only the other non-Asgardian distinctions, like the lack of silhouettes of giant neighbouring planets, or the softer blueness of it all. Perhaps it just seemed different when he was flat on his back instead of on his feet. Hard against his hipbones and shoulder blade armour was what felt like smooth stone.
Ironman's expensive little building.
He could hear his Chitauri crooning amid the reverberations of rapid gunfire and explosions.
This was all trivial, of course, because Thor stood over him, eclipsing the white-hot sun.
As Loki braced one arm to push himself to his feet and the other to shield his head, he felt his eyebrows automatically pull together.
(Don't you love me?)
"That no longer works on me, Loki." Thor had sounded perpetually furious since ripping him from the S.H.I.E.L.D Quinjet.
Loki smiled blithely instead, whipping the Sceptre up and around once more to fight.
Through the din of the collapsing city, Thor heard the Hulk roar in the distance.
As he swung and slammed Mjolnir, the acrid odour of smoke and blood clung to his senses like his sweat-matted hair sticking to his face and neck.
Sooner than he expected after his last defence, Thor had to pound Mjolnir against the Sceptre's handle to prevent a searing energy blast from taking his leg.
But Thor had been a better fighter than Loki ever since they were old enough to lift weapons. Even Loki himself had acknowledged the fact. Probably that had further compelled him to take advantage of any opportunity he saw in their conflicts – a turned back, a distracted glance, an illusion.
The Loki that Thor knew would have used an illusion against him by then, somehow. Why this Loki before him only relentlessly swiped and stabbed at him now was not certain of Thor. It would be unnerving, because perhaps this Loki was just biding his time for longer before pulling an elaborate illusory trick, but Thor had no time to be unnerved.
Wherever Loki's heart was, it was not beating in the chest of the snarling maniac attacking him now. The wide-eyed ex-king – crown too heavy for his head – that Thor had half-heartedly fought in the Bifrost a year ago had transfigured into a fully-fledged monster that Thor was supposed to hunt down. And no one else, save for Frigga, would object if he slayed him.
But Thor was still relieved when Loki took a calculated leap off the edge of Stark's tower to escape Mjolnir's next strike.
Thor stood still for a moment, breathing hard. He wanted to keep no old promises to his brother.
Despite the shouting match and Thor's near attempt at punching Loki, Jane Foster was still insensible. Her body was curled up against the inner rim of the Dark Elf vessel, covered with the blanket Thor had brought. The Aethr's black pulse replaced hers, visible as throbbing wisps at her pale wrists and throat as though mocking Thor. In sleep, she had let her exhaustion show more easily, though Loki had seen it through her bravado earlier. She would not wake any sooner than she would need to.
From his position steering the stolen ship, Loki watched Thor gently brush her brown hair from her forehead again.
His older brother did not look at him as he said, "I heard you."
"When?" Loki asked without missing a beat.
"Before her funeral."
Silence.
"I came to visit you, to see what you were feeling."
Of course, the guards had told Loki nothing of that. "…And you didn't live up to this intention because…?"
"I didn't need to see." Thor still did not look at him. "…I heard it, as you screamed out in anguish. You terrified the guards I passed – "
Loki tightened his grip on the steering handle.
" – even I could see it in their eyes."
Loki let nothing else of his manner betray him. But if Thor knew him better, he would have noticed.
Loki shrugged off the words. "And you didn't shout back at me to shut up in case I disturbed the other prisoners? Thoughtful of you, Brother."
Thor ignored him, still staring at Jane.
"You cannot wake the dead with anguished cries. I'm sorry, Loki. Not you alone were loved of Mother. But I know that you loved her."
(Suddenly Loki was standing two years earlier on Earth before a weeping, banished Thor, saying, truthfully
I know that you loved him).
Thor continued, "And sometimes your voice is too soft."
Thor had a moment before meeting with the other Avengers. Romanoff and Barton had uncovered more security knowledge about the fortress on Earth they were to raid for the Chitauri Sceptre.
Inwardly, he was still calming down from a riot in Vanaheim's outer city circle that he and the Warriors Three had just nullified. But they had triumphed, so that part of Yggdrasil would continue growing and wilting to the beat of reality a while longer. Before his next task, he had a moment.
Thor stared at his mother's private study through the gap of the door ajar.
He could see a slice of her desk, with its elegant pens and old tomes. He could see a pair of her blue shoes. They were dark, velvet blue with silver clasps.
She had been sent off with some of her material possessions, like her favourite books, her favourite letters, her favourite blade. He had tried not to think that, because Loki had gone too, whatever was left in the world now was not her favourite.
(But
I'd hoped by sharing my gifts with Loki that he could just find some sun for himself).
Thor still stared into her room.
You think you alone were loved of Mother?
The gap was as broad as his hand outstretched, so he could reach through and touch something, if he did not spread his fingers too widely, as if wanting too much.
(I only ever wanted to be your equal).
What had Frigga wanted of Thor?
His memory blurred somewhat whenever he thought back to the years in which Loki had been too young to speak or play real games with. Thor just remembered he had promised their mother numerous things back then.
Be good.
Work as well as play.
Listen to your father.
Be good, Son.
Thor found himself saying into the gap, "I am trying, still."
Be good.
Look after Loki.
"…I tried."
The moment was up. He had to return to Earth and confer with his friends there.
"Rest well, Mother."
"As you wish, my king."
The stiff line of servants filed out after inclining their heads towards him – towards Odin – politely.
They were the last group to consult with for the morning. After Loki secured his concealment magic and the double doors of the king's study chamber, he pulled off the Odin illusion like an uncomfortable uniform. There was much work to do in Asgard, much of which he no choice but to do in public, displaying the Allfather's face.
(I will never wish to be like you ever again).
But Loki had a moment.
He used his spare moments for only a select few things these days.
One task in particular was becoming increasingly dominant and desolate as time wore on him, warred with him.
The handheld mirror in its simple silver frame was vaguely reminiscent of her. It matched Frigga's grace and calm, in the burnished gold light of the chamber. Her mirror had not been included in her funeral vessel for some reason, but Loki did not care because then he could take it. As if the material possession was really worth anything without her holding it. Frigga had never particularly been fond of staring at herself in the mirror, anyway.
Loki never used it to admire himself, either.
He sent wisps of his magic seeping into the glass.
The visions of Thor he had scried over the past year were varied like the patterned shells at the old beach. Talking with Jane Foster. Working with the Avengers. Duties in other realms, often with Sif and the Warriors Three. But after examining them all, he saw that Thor was, on an individual level, at peace.
In the scene Loki watched forming in his palms, Thor was speaking in a Midgardian chamber with Romanoff, Stark, Rogers and a smattering of other humans Loki had not met. Occasionally, one of them, including Thor, would laugh. He looked relaxed. When the sounds of the image emanated from the glassy surface, the conversation was completely carefree. Loki expected to witness nothing else. He was a Liesmith – he would eventually convince himself he knew that Thor would be so merry, surrounded by his new friends, after everything that had happened so far. Loki expected to see nothing else in the mirror.
The problem was that, in the days after dying being cradled by his big brother, Loki had let himself hope to see something more.
He had given his brother the benefit of the doubt, at first supposing Thor planned to try find Loki's body – covered in sand from Svartalfheim, funnily enough – only after renouncing the throne and reuniting with Jane Foster. The days of supposing had transmuted into weeks.
In the times Thor had returned to Asgard, as part of various missions, he had not tried asking Heimdall to search for Loki.
Loki then imagined that Thor might have simply gone to Svartalfheim for his body in the gaps between Loki's glimpses, until the scrying chanced upon a morning with Jane Foster.
" – wouldn't make a difference in Loki's case," Thor says at one point, with a half-hearted shrug. "Those are only reserved for those given the Asgardian sendoff – "
Jane says once, " – I might have wanted to get to know your brother a little better one day…"
"He was a complicated being," Thor replies.
Then Jane had mentioned something Erik Selvig said earlier that week. Their conversation had strolled on. That was all.
It had been nigh a year since Loki fell in Svartalfheim.
During which Thor had even gone to the Dark Elf realm on other missions,
and not once had he upturned so much as a sand grain in search of Loki's corpse,
nor said anything when his friends – Asgardian or otherwise – ever mentioned Loki's failed reign in Asgard or failed invasion of Earth.
Thor would not have found any corpse, of course.
But he had not tried.
And no one would know their stories.
A short-lived sand and water fight. Their mother declares no winner. She scolds them for getting so much sand on each other, threatening to no longer take them there if they continue the sand war.
"But we love this beach, Mother!" Thor chirps. Loki nods his agreement.
Glancing over his shoulder, seeing Thor's footprints. They are too deep, too certain, for the tide and wind to erode yet.
Loki's own trail is already washed away.
Upon one of the long-legged tables nearby, a server had set a gilded tray bearing a full, gold-rimmed wineglass. Without so much as a glance at it, Loki sent it across the chamber with a lash of his foot. When the tray and chalice hit the wall, the brassy clattering and shattering sounded muted compared to his churning thoughts.
It was such a trivial, childish promise they had made during happier moments, as fleeting as those moments themselves.
He had been foolish to hang hope upon it. He had committed atrocities against Thor and the worlds that a few hours of vaguely brotherly comradeship against a maniacal Dark Elf leader could not redeem. He could not resurrect a dead childhood.
Your voice is too soft.
So why did he care about their old promises so much?
Loki gripped one fist into a stony, curled claw, unsure if he will relax it again.
(Why did he have to care?)
He felt the isolation that had been, for the most part, remarkably kept at bay between his prison release and seeing Thor work regularly with the Avengers after Malekith. It was a hollow feeling that sunk deeply into his chest, yet he was the one drowning.
The room abruptly felt too big.
It is a nice view, but too lonely
Why did Loki ever care?
People of all Nine Realms, of Asgard, of Earth – Thor's new friends – would celebrate Thor but forget Loki, save for some recounts of the jealous, greedy, desperate prince. Eventually, history would be Thor's decorated headstone. But it would bury Loki.
He knew that from the beginning.
Yet he had known – he knew – that it never really mattered if only Thor remembered him. If Thor would just bring him home.
But why did he ever care?
(Thor).
He shook his head, the knot in his chest feeling no looser.
The moment was up. Somewhat ironically, he would have to forget about the whole thing for the time being. Thanos was rising. The Stones were being chased for the most inglorious purposes. Loki waved his hand, the shattered wine-soaked mess against the other wall reverting itself into the pristine setup it was before upon the table. He threw back on his disguise before striding from the study.
He had work to do.
By the way, no, I don't actually think of Thor as a bad person. It's complicated.
Leave a review, if you please, to tell me if this was a hit or a miss. But as always, still, thanks for having a read :)
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