Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot (the original part).
Author's note: Basically I'm treating the live-action movie Thor and the animated film Thor: Tales of Asgard as in one continuity, whereas the reference of other Norse gods is based on the Marvel comics and on the myths but rather loosely.
Dreamland
1.
Gods dream to prophesize.
They dream of things yet to come, be them the demise of gods themselves or the destiny of mortal men. Inevitable future unfolds itself in their dreams before it's woven by the Norns into the web of fate.
And there are other times when the gods dream like mortals in Midgard, when the dreams are of things that have passed, or that will never come to pass.
Thor was having one of such dreams.
In his dream his shoulders were not as broad, his size was not as big, and Mjolnir was yet in his possession. The days were still young, and the afternoon sunshine was too bright for any shadows to exist.
Thor stretched out his limbs in a lazy yawn. He'd just put up a good (training) fight with the Einherjar, Odin's guardsmen, and the audience had rejoiced in his victory. It was a satisfactory sparring exercise, with him not missing any of the targets, and none of accidents had happened, accidents such as the sword's grip slipping out of his hand.
It was perfect. A definite proof that he was one more step toward his goal: to become the best of best, the greatest warrior ever told in the tales of Asgard.
He closed his eyes, feeling proud of himself. The grass underneath his body felt as soft as the sheets on his bed. Sunshine caressed his face as a mother's gentle fingers, while the breeze was pressing kisses to his long blonde hair like a gracious lover.
He was content, mesmerizing himself in this after-exercise trance. No one would come to disturb the prince of Asgard in his "me-time"-
A shade blocked out the sunshine just above his head.
Of course, unless it was the other prince.
"What brought you here, brother?" Thor asked without opening his eyes. He did not need to look to tell it was his brother. Loki always had this refreshing scent that reminded Thor of fresh mint and morning frost. He could tell it was his brother among all the living beings in all the nine realms – mind you, the younger one excelled in shape-shifting – and thus being able to find him whenever others had failed.
The shade did not move, nor did it speak.
Thor opened one eye to check, and caught his younger brother gazing down at him intently.
"What's in your mind now?" He asked, being curious as to what Loki was up to this time, hopefully not another prank that would eventually turn into a punishment that they both had to share. Although, truth be told, he did enjoy the last one on Freyr. He had this fantasy-made-grudge against the Vanir god, all because the wars between the Aesir and the Vanir were so great in the tales but, alas, they then had decided to cease fire long before young Thor was able to honour his name on the battlefield. Freyr and his twin sister Freya were exchanged to Asgard as part of the truce, yet there was still this "my side, your side" going on among the godlings. Provoking Freyr would not wage a war against Vanheim, unlike their last expedition into the land of Jotunheim. Father would only see this as a harmless child play.
Perhaps Loki had just come up with some brilliant idea to try on poor Freyr. That thought excited Thor. Sitting up abruptly, he almost hit his brother in the process.
"What is it, Loki? I can smell your mischievous plan when you have one. Spill your beans." Thor brushed back a lock of blonde hair from his eyes and grinned at his younger sibling. "Or will you rather keep staring at me in this eerie silence of yours?" At that, he thought of another possibility, and the smile wilted into concern. "Please don't tell me it's Amora again. She did not just turn your tongue into stone, did she?"
"Nay," the younger prince finally broke the silence, "I better the enchantress in the art of sorcery." He said in his low, scornful voice, "In fact, none in this realm can best me in the dark arts."
Thor shrugged. Not many in this realm devoted themselves to the practice of magic, anyway. Asgardians were born fighters. They treasured bravery, sheer force, and honour over cunning tricks, and tricks were an important component of magic.
"'Tis good, brother, " he commented offhandedly, "although I'd rather you spent more time in the training arena with me than alone in your temple, reading books and playing water." He chuckled and gave his brother a jestful punch on his arm. Loki flinched at the pain and muttered under his breath. Then his gaze was upon him again, green eyes gleaming in an unfamiliar way to Thor. He stopped laughing, looking confused.
"Brother, what is it with you today?" He asked unsurely, "You're not yourself."
"I may not be," Loki admitted, "and we're in the dreamland. It explains all the weirdness you are about to encounter, but that's not important." Then he drew one step closer to Thor, who by this time was already standing tall. A shorter stature he had, the younger one had to look up to the God of Thunder. "You are not the age you think you are, as I'm not mine. Think beyond this time, and ask me the right question."
Thor furrowed his brows in hesitation. "I don't understand…"
But he did. He knew what his brother was talking about yet refused to accept. The look on Loki's face was speaking of the same.
He diverted his blue eyes and looked elsewhere, anywhere but his brother.
"Let me have peace in my dreams, as it is but the only haven left for a god," Thor's younger self spoke in a much older, tired voice. "Loki, you have plagued my mind in the daylight. Leave me to my solace in the long nights."
His brother just snickered.
"Why, was I ever so kind?" His thin lips crooked into a wicked smile, "My dearest brother, my love for you is too deep that it is impossible to not miss you. My sole thoughts of you brought me back from Hel so that I shall be your company once again, in your dreams. "
The mention of the Underworld surprised the blonde one. He glared at Loki; anger and something else welled up in his chest.
"Is it another trick of yours?" He looked almost in fury, "Mayhap you are lost in one of the nine realms - and I promise I'll search for you once the Bifrost is mended - but Hel it should not be. 'Tis not time for you to be claimed by the Mistress of the Netherworld. The end of us is prophesized to come with Ragnarok, not now, not soon."
Loki shrugged, "It was a long way down, anyway. Just be glad I was able to land in one piece from that trip through a black hole," he waved his hand dismissively, as if talking about someone else's story. "Hela accepted my trespass just fine. In fact, I would say she's quite enjoyed me as a guest in her hall. It has become increasingly rare that others show me such appreciation, for which I'm contemplating to linger on maybe a while longer."
"But you are NOT dead." Thor insisted, not seemed to have registered the major part of Loki's point. Now it was his turn to gaze upon his brother intently. Loki seemed to waver a little under his assertive glare, but soon came back with a sneer.
"What do you know, thunderhead?" He teased, "Are you saying this just so you can feel less guilty? Are you this unbelievably arrogant that you think you, the Mighty Thor, can deny Hela's will like no other beings in the nine realms?"
"No, brother," Thor said softly, "It is faith I speak of, that you're able to trick your way out of whatever predicament that's bestowed upon you, and you will come back from the fall no matter how hard it gets. You are, after all, a god like me. We are of a species that simply don't die from a fall."
Loki paused for a brief moment before he put on his smirk again. "It is certain that your naivety has out grown my speculation, but it is enough of your ignorance for one night. As the day breaks, I'm afraid it is time for me to return to the realm of eternal darkness." He smiled, arms opened a little as if expecting an embrace. "Farewell, brother of mine. I should say my benediction here but, since you know me as me, we shall skip to the next part."
"Huh?" was the only syllable Thor could make out before he was shoved back. He lost his balance as the grassland beneath him trembled and broke into million shreds. Before the black void consumed him he called out to his brother, only to see the other was standing by the edge, arms folded, face bland. Green eyes watched placidly as he fell, and the thin lips mouthed a word that no ears were allowed to hear.