Quick fic in response to this photo: under-base . tumblr .com post/32974200837/
Yes, Loki loves to play at being King (he was King, he is King!) and take minimal part in the battle, watch it like sport from the side lines, resplendent in his beautifully engraved battle armour and completely out of harm while his minions fight and die. But Loki has also always loved the fight. (Well, not always).
He loves the adrenaline rush of a near miss, the thrill of primeval satisfaction as he sees the fear in the eyes of the enemy, and nothing has ever tasted better than the sharp tang of victory, smelled better than the bite of salt and copper or looked better than the extravagant scarlet of that most famous of fluids, the essence of life.
Just not on his brother.
Thor suits red, but that red just looks wrong on him. What? No. No no no no... Thor isn't allowed to do that. He isn't allowed to bleed, and drain, and die. That's for humans. That's for the weak and pathetic and inferior and Thor isn't any of those things, Thor is a God, Thor is his brother, his Brother. What does Thor think he's doing bleeding like that?
Because Thor isn't allowed to bleed.
Thor isn't allowed to die.
But Loki supposes that Thor has never done what he's supposed to do. He was never meant to fight the Frost Giants and he was never meant to be Loki's brother and he was never meant to destroy the Bifrost and he was NEVER meant to die.
But there he is. Lying there. On the floor.
(What's he doing on the floor? He's a God, what's he doing on the floor?)
And Loki can't look.
(But he can't tear his eyes away)
And all Loki can think about is how that's his Brother down there.
(Not his blood brother but just his Brother, in blood)
And all Loki can do is watch him lying there through his bright blue eyes.
(But they're green now, they're green again)
And there's nothing Loki can do but be there.
(Feud? What childish feud is this?)
And he is there.
What can he do? His magic was never for healing, he was never interested (why wasn't he interested?) in those branches of magic. All he can do is sit down beside his Brother, and watch as his Brother dies.
But his Brother is still fighting (because that's what Thor does) and Loki can't just see him as having fallen peacefully asleep.
Distantly, as if from far far away, Thor feels more than hears his brother sit down beside him. His head feels fuzzy, his body far too tired to want to talk to anyone today, but this is Loki. This is his Brother.
It hurts now. Thor can feel it and it hurts. And all he can think about is how Loki always had such soft cool hands and that Loki always knew what to do to make it all go away. He can't move, he doesn't want to move, but... Loki.
With a monumental effort, he cracks open an eyelid. "Loki?"
It comes out as a croak, as a whisper. It was never meant to be a whisper.
He'd deny it later (he'd deny all of it later) but hearing Thor's once mighty, booming voice come out quieter than he had ever managed to make it whisper brings a lump to Loki's throat. This time he can actually feel his silver tongue turn to lead, this one time he has no words, there is nothing to say. "Thor." Is all his whispered reply.
He can't bear the way his mighty and yet undefeated (until now, but he doesn't suppose that until later) Brother is just lying here, so helpless and lowly upon the floor in a pool of his own life. And he can't bear how he is just doing nothing to help. There is no helping Thor, he is beyond help now. There is no going back.
And Thor's half an eyelid is cracking shut and there is nothing Loki can do but wrap his arms around his Brother and bring The Almighty God of Thunder up a little off the floor so he is leaning on his little brother like Loki used to do when they were children. Thor's eyes don't open again, but Loki knows his Brother knows what is happening and he knows why Loki is doing it and he knows that this is Loki's way of saying that so much has changed and that Loki is so sorry and that he loves him and that everything is forgiven.
Loki knows this because, even though Thor's eyes are shut, even though his lip does not so much as twitch and no sound has left his mouth but his harsh and ragged breaths, his entire face has changed. He hadn't realised how tired Thor has looked and so conflicted and how much his Brother hurt until it all went away.
Slowly, too slowly and yet not nearly slow enough, Thor's breaths become quieter. They become less; less deep, less frequent, less needed. And both of them know, both Brothers know what is about to happen.
"Brother..." It is Thor. His voice is barely even there and Loki can't even begin to process (never mind deal with) how weak it sounds. Thor is not weak. Thor was never, has never been weak. Even without Mjolnir, Thor has never been anything approaching weak.
Loki knows that these are his brother's last words, and he doesn't want them to be what they are. He doesn't want an apology, a beg of forgiveness, a plea to be brothers again. Because they are. Loki looks down at his Brother (Down? Why is he looking down at Thor?) and sees that Thor's eyes are open again, he sees the silent plea and all the words that his Brother wants to say, words that Loki doesn't need to hear, and tells him that it's okay, that everything's going to be okay.
But Thor's not that stupid, so Loki doesn't say that. He says everything that has to be said. "Brother."
The wears and cares and aches and breaks of a limitless lifetime fall from Thor's face.
Finally. Finally. He needs nothing more.
Innocent eyes full of trust, he looks up at his brother. Loki searches those eyes for pain, or sorrow or regret. He finds nothing. He finds only love, and trust and peace.
And he understands. Finally. He understands.
He gives and almost imperceptible nod. "Sleep well Brother." He whispers softly. Thor nods, letting his head lean back fully onto his Brother's shoulder and exhaling deeply. Calmly. Peacefully.
And Loki knows that he should feel sorrow. He should feel anger and pain and torment and he should scream his brother's name out to the world and sob and curse and wail and be rent through with the agony of loss, but he doesn't. How can he?
What right, what reason even, does he have to feel pain while his brother dies in such peace.
Loki lays his hand softly on Thor's arm, savouring the last moments of what he knows now was the easy part of his life; the sheltered part, the protected part and the part where no matter who he was or what he did, there was someone who loved him. He didn't believe it, he hadn't believed that Thor had loved him. But he knew now, Thor had always loved him. Ne needed nothing else. He'd join him someday.
He gripped his brother's arm tighter and shut his eyes, cherishing and remembering these last peaceful moments before the sky fell down about him.