The Hardest of Hearts
His feet dangled in nothingness, one hand forcefully gripping the shaft of the sceptre, the golden rod the only link between him and oblivion. Above him, face downwards, hung Thor, teeth bared in a bloody grimace as he exerted his prodigious strength. And finally, above them both, stood on the fractured remains of the Bifrost, stood Odin Allfather, his white-knuckle grip on Thor's ankle securing them both to Asgard. They hung in a long chain, a woven thread made up of Odin's grasp of Thor's leg, Thor's grip on the sceptre, Loki clinging onto the end. Tacked on, badly woven in, forever the afterthought.
"I could have done it, Father!" Loki cried out, "For you! For all of us." Desperation coloured his voice, desperation to be heard, to be understood. The words were a savage unveiling of the emotions that he had, until now, kept carefully concealed, hidden. He wasn't called the Master of Illusions for nothing.
He gazed upwards, every emotion showing nakedly on his face, giving over to a vulnerability he had not dared show since he was a child . He looked past Thor's bloodied face, ignoring the pity that tinged those pure blue eyes. A thought occurred to him suddenly. How many times had it been like this? Thor above and him below? Thor in victory and him laying battered and bloody on the floor. Would their father play the part he always had before?
"No, Loki."
If Loki had not seen the Allfather's lips move he would have missed the words completely. Even as the words cut him to the heart he waited for more, hopelessly waiting for a reassurance, an explanation. But there was nothing. Odin was playing his role perfectly, re-enacting a scene that had appeared too many times over the course of Loki's life. Once again he was denied, scorned, put down.
His heart hurt so much he feared that it would implode within the confines of his chest, tiny icy shards, to be driven into the softness of his internal organs, killing him slowly. Every emotion ran off his face like water off oiled leather, leaving it blank and still. He took a last look at Odin's face, searching for the same thing he had been searching for since he was a child; love, acceptance. As always, there was nothing. Why would there be? Loki was not his son; he was merely a war trophy, a political pawn that was no longer of any use. He was of no use to anyone.
Thor must have sensed what he was about to do, the intuition born by years of living and fighting by Loki's side, and his eyes widened in horror. "No. Brother, no!"
All it took was the slightest relaxation of his hand, a loosening of long, delicate fingers. The sceptre slid smoothly from his grasp and he fell, silent and still, backwards into the void. A flare of pain came from somewhere as he heard Thor's desperate howl, for he had loved Thor as a brother… once. Before this nightmare had begun. Before his life had been exposed as the ugly, monstrous lie that it was.
He watched Odin's face for as long as possible, until the airless currents of space spun him around to plunge him head first into the dying portal. It was only then, as he fell away from everything he had ever known, his heart shattering in his chest, that he allowed himself to scream.
A/N Hey everyone who read this! Firstly, I would just like to thank you for reading; this is my first Loki fic and I'd love to know what you thought. Tom Hiddleston's performance in 'Thor' was just so heart shatteringly beautiful that I wanted to write a piece describing some of the inner turmoil Loki might have been feeling.
There is a distinct possibility that I will expand upon this and make it a fiction describing the journey Loki went through to change from the Loki we see in the last scene of 'Thor' to the Loki we see in the first scene of 'Avengers'. However, I am currently committed to finishing a big story for another fandom so it may not be for some time.
Please throw a review; it would make my day!
Until next time!
Libz