Through Yggdrasil's Branches
Summary: It seemed that even through the winding branches of Yggdrasil they would always manage to find each other. Two times Loki and Thor are born brothers— and one time they are not. Loki/Thor friendship
A/N: I know that when people usually write about two characters finding each other through life's cycle it's usually done romantically, but I wanted to try something different :P Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little oneshot!
Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, and Tragedy
Rating: T+ for angsty!Loki and angsty!Thor
Disclaimer: Thor/Marvel/whatever else Loki and Thor appear in, I do not own.
(" 'Tis time to tell, on turf as I lie,
felled by the sword, what fate was ours:
unlike our lot in life hath been,
to Hel fare I while whole thou livest.)
The first time they are born it is as humans living on the brink of war.
In the cramped darkness of another boarded house, huddled around a single dying fire, two youths scramble to conserve heat. Chilled fingers reach towards the crackling flames, cold breaths intermixing with the heaving silence. Smoke fades through the crumbling chimney, vanishing into the cold night air. Moments pass as the brothers listen for the tell-tale sound of armored footfalls against pavement.
There is nothing but the biting howl of the wind. It shutters against the weakened frame of the moth-bitten house, groaning through the night. The boards creak with every step as the dark-haired boy shuffles closer to the heat, settling beside the blonde. Thor releases the hammer, placing it behind him before turning to his younger brother. The gentle flicker of the flames cast shadows over his face as he speaks.
"Loki, do you think they have finally gone?" For the first time in years since start of the war there is hope laced in his baritone voice. Loki feels no pleasure in smothering it out.
"…For now. But they will be back. They will not stop until we are all dead."
Thor's eyes darken as his gaze travels back to the flames. "I know…"
The words ring hollowly through the house (not a home—that place had long since been destroyed).
.
.
"Loki! You traitor!" The words burn his tongue, his throat, his whole body as armored men roughly lead him away. Thor can just barely make out the sneering grin of his brother among the crowd of people.
"Goodbye, brother…" He says, turning against the flow of people, a flash of green in a sea of silver and black.
Thor roars again, fighting vainly against the soldiers. One soldier swiftly knocks him out with the hilt of his sword. The blonde falls to the ground, blurry eyes just catching a pool of crimson. There are screams. And then silence.
.
.
When he wakes, it is dark.
Despite the throbbing pain in his head, Thor stands, shakily making his way to his feet. Bodies litter the floor. The castle hallway is silent, save for the blonde's slow steps.
"Loki?" He calls out, voice echoing throughout the hall.
A small chuckle follows. "I'm over here."
Thor runs towards the familiar voice, finding the emerald-eyed youth lounging against a marble pillar. He keeps one hand pressed against his chest as he speaks, pain apparent in his eyes.
"I could hear your snores all the way from here."
"Loki, why did you—"
The dark-haired man shakes his head, removing his hand to reveal crimson. Thor immediately rushes over, applying pressure to the bleeding wound.
"Stop, Thor. It's not going to help anything."
"Why? Why did you do this?!" He brings the crumpled form of his brother into his lap, still vainly pressing his fingers against the wound.
"D-don't you remember? The king always goes to greet the prisoners. Turning you in gave me ample time to acquire weaponry as well as the element of surprise…" His voice faded as he spoke, green orbs flickering shut.
"No! Loki, stay with me! Please!" He tightens his grip on his brother, vision growing bleary with tears.
The dark-haired man brings a bloodied hand to Thor's face, giving a weak smile. "Don't be sad. We've won. The king is dead. You can hope again."
"I don't care! I don't want any of that if you have to die!"
Loki chuckles. "How selfish of you, brother. The land can once again be peaceful. I don't mind if I have to sacrifice myself for that."
He lets out a few more painful gasps of air, willing his lungs to continue functioning as the first of Thor's tears fall onto his face.
"I'm sorry, Thor. So sorry that I couldn't—"
"Be quiet, Loki. I'll tell everyone what you've done here today. You'll be a hero."
The pale youth gave one final grin, closing his eyes. "I don't want to be a hero, just a good brother…"
He did not open his eyes again.
The second time they are reborn it is again on Midgard, but in a quieter, peaceful time. There are no screams, no fires, no clunking battle armor. The war-ravaged fields are replaced by quaint suburban streets and freshly mown lawns. Electricity replaces the oil lamps and fires for warmth. It is a new wonderful, glorious age.
The golden child peered expectantly into the white basinet, chubby fingers reaching for the sleeping baby. His cobalt orbs gazed warmly at his new brother, childish features wide with wonder.
"Is he supposed to sleep this much?" He questioned quietly, squeezing the infant's palm lightly. The raven-haired boy cooed in his sleep, shifting towards his brother. Soft breaths escaped his lips, tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
"Of course, sweetie." His mother affirmed, bringing a tired hand through her own flaxen curls.
Thor hummed in reply, transfixed by the infant swathed in green blankets. He seemed like such a tiny thing, barely the size of his father's hand. Possessing a glowing paleness interrupted only by his rosy cheeks and dark green eyes, Loki seemed much too fragile. Like one of his mother's little china cups that Thor had broken when it accidentally fell from his hands; something that would inevitably shatter no matter how gingerly you held it.
"He'll be okay, right mother? He's just so… small." Thor pipes up again, letting out a giggle as his brother subconsciously tightens his grip on his pinkie.
"Yes, Thor. Believe it or not, there was time where you were this small as well. Besides, Loki will be fine with a big brother like you protecting him."
The blonde child nods in return, flashing a large smile. "I promise I'll keep him safe!"
.
.
Sixteen years later, the words sour on his tongue.
The pale youth is seemingly swallowed by the hospital sheets, burrowed tightly under layers of white fabric. Tubes run in and out of his arms, connecting to a beeping machine. Loki forces a smile at the sight of his brother, raising a single tired hand towards him.
"It took you long enough." His tongue is still sharp as ever, despite the amount of medication flooding his veins. He coughs again, bringing a hand to his mouth. When he pulls it away there is crimson and he grimaces, emerald eyes narrowed in disgust.
"They could at least provide me with better… amenities. Have you tried any of the food? I imagine that even you would find the meals unappetizing. No wonder I keep coughing up everything." He gives another weak grin, smiling to hide the pain that racks his chest. Subconsciously, his fingers dig into the plain fabric of his hospital gown, tightening right over his heart.
"Loki…" Thor starts, moving to sit in a too familiar plastic chair. The green-eyed youth sighs, bleary gaze cast to his brother.
"Stop, Thor. You couldn't do anything about this. Just… stay here, you oaf. Please." He adds, hand outstretched.
The blonde grabs his hand, placing a comforting palm over his cold fingers. "Why won't you let me help you? They've done the tests and I can be a donor—"
"No. I've told you this before. I'll continue to wait. I've been on the list—"
"How long will you wait for a new heart?!" Thor abruptly stands, cobalt eyes narrowed with pain.
"Please, brother." The blonde's voice cracks as he turns away, hands balled into fists.
"…Go. I don't want to talk about this anymore." Loki swiftly replies, looking away.
Thor reluctantly obeys, taking slow steps towards the door, never looking back at his brother. When he makes it into the hospital corridor he lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding.
"Goodbye, brother…" He whispers, shoes clacking noisily against the linoleum floors as he walks down the hall. He would keep his promise.
.
.
"You were always such a fool…" Loki mutters, standing alone in front of the marble slab. It was the first time he was allowed out of the hospital since the operation and he couldn't help but find himself gravitating towards this single spot of land.
The emerald-eyed man frowns at the sight of a withered bouquet, reaching down to pluck it away, but pauses. A sharp laugh emanates from his chest as he picks the flowers away (chrysanthemums, he realized dryly).
"I know you're gone, but it feels like you're always here." He speaks to the gravestone, even though he knows Thor can't hear him.
"Mother and father are really upset about what you did, as am I. You know you were always the favorite— I don't think father can even look at me anymore."
A few drops of rain fall from the grey skies, a gust of wind swiping away the forgotten bouquet. Despite the cold, Loki remains firmly rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze from his brother's gravestone.
"You never would listen, would you? You were always running head-first into every problem, never once thinking anything through. I never even got to say my goodbyes. That's pretty cruel, brother."
There is, of course, no answer.
Loki sighs, crouching down to run a trembling hand (whether from the cold or pain, he isn't sure) against the golden lettering.
"I… miss you. And I haven't fully forgiven you for what you've done, Thor. Going behind my back like that, I'm impressed. I never saw it coming."
The lithe youth reluctantly stands as the rain begins to pour. His clothes stick to his skin, raven locks slicked back. Through the heavy rain he swears he sees the familiar visage of his thick-headed brother.
There is a smile, and then he is gone.
The third time they are reborn as gods.
The sun child, born of the Aesir, is given the title god of Thunder. The shadowed child, born secretly of the Jotuns, is given the title god of Mischief. And for a while, they are happy.
Thor, for all his brawns and terse words, and Loki, for all his mercury-dipped lies and tricks, are inseparable. They battle together, play together, learn together. While Thor takes to weapons and armor, Loki studies tactics and magic. And together, they make a threatening team. Joined by the warriors three, it seems that there is no force in any of the nine realms that could stop them… except themselves.
(until they are not all born of Asgard)
The young princes grow much like the great tree Yggdrasil. Slowly, their roots interconnect and weave around each other so tightly that even the truth of Loki's heritage cannot tear them apart completely. Roots are upheaved from the dirt, dashed apart by sharp stones, but the few that remain hold tight, fettering the pair together. As far as Loki travels, whether it be to Jotunheim, Midgard, or the very edge of the cosmos, Thor follows.
.
.
Loki is a breath away from the Void when Thor grabs his hand, anchoring him to the world of the living. It is an all too familiar situation, Thor realizes, straining to hold Loki up from the darkness. The prince is always plummeting down, losing himself in bitterness and wrath.
"Let go!" The forgotten prince of Asgard struggles, emerald eyes cold and narrowed.
"No, brother—"
"I am not your brother!" He roars, digging his nails into the skin of Thor's palm.
The blonde lets out a groan of pain but holds firm, struggling to bring the lithe man back onto the Bifrost. Loki hangs limp, eyes cast to the darkened abyss under him. He had fallen through before, but he had no plans of surviving again.
Broken, he turns to look up at his brother once more. "Leave me, Thor. Go back to your glimmering palace. I belong nowhere."
"You are wrong! You belong with everyone in Asgard. It is as mother said, you are blind only to yourself." The god of Thunder pulls again, bringing his other hand to Loki's arm, steeling himself on the rainbow bridge with his knees.
"W-what are you doing? We will both fall at this rate!"
"I don't care! I'm not letting you go for the third time! I've seen it, brother! The real you is still there. It is broken and shattered, but it lives!"
The silver-tongued prince stills, eyes wide in surprise. The emotion is quickly replaced with indifference as he looks away. "You know nothing."
Using what remaining strength he has, the blonde pulls one final time, falling back as Loki tumbles with him onto the smooth glass of the Bifrost. Both let out shaken gasps before rising to their feet.
Loki recovers faster and brings a dagger to Thor's throat, grinning wickedly. "Wrong move, brother." He mocks, pressing the cold metal closer to his skin.
Thor does not call for Mjolnir; he simply stares back at his younger brother solemnly. "Do it, then. I am done fighting with you. If this hate must end with one of our deaths, let it be mine."
Thor closes his eyes and waits. Seconds pass in a dreadful silence until the sound of clattering metal causes him to open his eyes.
Loki is already walking away, green cape billowing out behind him. "You were always a fool."
Thor smiles. "I know."
The god of Mischief fades away, but not before turning back to look at his brother. For a moment, Thor sees a flash of the person he once knew, until that too disappears into the unforgiving darkness.
But, for once in their great cycle of life, this is not a final goodbye. There is hope for a better future. That in the next five-thousand years, they could once again call each other brother… and friend.
"I do not want to be your adversary, Loki. Nor your slayer." Thor breathes out, walking in the opposite direction towards Asgard.
("Not easy is it ever to know
who will be born his brother's slayer.)
A/N: The quotes are from Hildibrand's Death Song, an old Norse poem about two brothers who die on a battlefield. I thought it kinda fit, so I hope it didn't seem odd XD Anyway, expect many more Thor oneshots from me, which hopefully will not be angsty ^^'
Review?
-Isis