So…uh..*cough, cough*
Guess what I watched?
THOR THE DARK WORLD WAS SO EPIC AND AMAZING AND I DON'T EVEN ASLDKNBOIEN ;LKBN'ALWOIE' OPBJN'ALKWEN 'POBJ[AOWEJ' LKNB'POE OAJLNBPOEJ'!
Moving on.
Loki has always been my favorite; and Thor the Dark World…it just…*dies*
SO MANY FEELS.
It was so much better than the first Thor (no offense to anyone who like the first one more; this is my personal opinion)! The plot-line, the depth to the characters, the plot twists, Darcy and the intern, Loki…EVERYTHING IN THE WHOLE MOVIE….
At this part of the movie, I was shaking the person next to me (don't worry; it was a friend!), because she had told me that Loki wasn't going to die (like, several times). And so I was all like:
"YOU TOLD ME LOKI WASN'T GOING TO DIE!"
I almost cried.
Anyhoo, here's my take on what Loki's thoughts might have been during his "death" scene and the moments right before then.
It's in Loki's POV, by the by.
God bless and have a great day (or night)!
Weakness.
I don't have any weakness! I cannot be weak!
Weakness was foreign to him.
Sentiment…
There was no such thing as "weakness" for him. He had estranged himself from weakness years ago; why should it affect him now?
He slashed his way through the group of Dark Elves that were closing in on him. He could hear the battle raging between Thor and the Kursed.
Lies, betrayal, chaos; all of this came easily to him. Hadn't he acted the part of deceiver so convincingly mere moments ago? It was as easy to him as breathing.
"You still don't trust me, brother?"
"No; would you?"
"No."
But weakness…
Weakness wasn't.
So why now?
As he struck down the final Dark Elf, he scanned the surrounding area, trying to see where Thor had gone to. He could hardly believe what he saw.
He could feel it; all the countless years of pent-up weakness within him unleashed, going straight to his heart.
Thor didn't even have his hammer with him. The huge, demonic beast was towering over the Thunder-god, pounding him into the dirt.
He grabbed a large spear from a nearby Elf and started towards Thor, gaining speed as he came closer. All the while, it was as if he were in a dream: it was as if he were watching himself do his actions. He wasn't even really thinking.
"What makes you think you can trust me?"
"I don't. I used to have hope that my brother was still in there, somewhere. That hope no longer remains."
"I DON'T HAVE A FATHER!"
"Your father."
"And am I not your mother?"
"…No, you're not."
"Hello, mother. Have I made you proud?"
Suddenly, nothing seemed to matter. It didn't matter that he was from Jotunheim. It didn't matter that he had lived a great part of his life being fed lies about who (and what) he really was.
"We fought together. We played together. We grew up together. Do you remember none of that?!"
"I remember living in a shadow. Living in the shade of your glory."
It didn't matter that Thor was destined for kingship, and he was never meant inherit a throne.
It didn't seem that Thor could take the next blow. The great Thunder-god was going to perish.
It didn't matter to him that "weakness" had overtaken him, was fueling his actions. Save his sworn enemy? It would be more like him to accept a chance at Thor's defeat with open arms.
He had reached top speed. His eyes narrowed; for a moment, the green was replaced with red orbs, focused on his target.
But he had eyes only for Thor.
Thor, rightful King of Asgard.
Thor, Thunder-god.
Thor, the enemy of Loki, son of Laufey.
"I wish I could trust you, brother."
Thor…Brother of Loki.
He thrust the spear forwards, embedding it in the Kursed's back. The horrible monster screeched in pain. He walked in front of the monster, looking the beast straight in the eye.
All of these thoughts (and more) raced through his mind in an instant. He was so full of them; they threatened to burst from him. Now was not the time to express sentiment. He had to make sure Thor was alright, and that this heinous enemy was brought to justice.
"This plan of yours is going to get us killed."
"Possibly."
He had almost expected death. It didn't mean that he was ready when it came.
All previous thoughts vanished in a blur of pain. The Kursed snarled at him as it pulled him onto the spear sticking out of its mutilated body.
He wasn't invincible. He wasn't indestructible. He wasn't as powerful as he had tried to make himself believe.
Even in the midst of his pain, he was determined to have the last say in the battle. He threw himself off of the spear, his pale hands feeling for the wound.
In the end, everything he had ever been was a mask. A lie. An illusion.
"See you in hell," he spat at the monster before him. The Kursed screamed in agony as it was sucked into the vortex. It vanished into nothingness.
This…this was what lay under his bravado. He was lost, shaking, wounded, scared. He was a terrified little brother who needed a hand to hold, a comforting word.
He needed simply to have someone there.
He felt himself being lifted gently. The next thing he saw was his brother's face.
Not the god whom he had been fighting against and hating all these past years.
"I missed you too, brother..."
His brother.
"You fool! You didn't follow my instructions."
"I know…I'm a fool…"
He was nothing more than a frightened fool. Everything he had ever done seemed to flash in front of him.
"He killed eighty people in two days."
"You threaten my planet with war. You talk about peace, and kill because it's fun."
"...There will always be men like you."
So much red.
How was he supposed to make for all of it?
"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"
What else could he say?
"I'm going to tell father all that you did…"
He couldn't help the faint laugh (or, at least, the attempt at a chuckle) that passed from his lips. The blackness crept up his face, mirroring the black that was filling his eyes.
"I didn't do it…for him…"
He hadn't done it for his father.
He hadn't done it for the throne (he would never have any throne now).
He had done it for his mother.
For Frigga.
For Thor.
For himself.
He made a few more shuddering gasps. He was trying to hold on for as long as possible. There was so much he still wanted to tell his brother. So many things he wanted to make up for. But time was against him.
He was going to die.
His eyes closed slowly as whatever demonic poison on that spear-head took him.
He had died because of his weakness.
Weakness that he had hidden from everyone (including himself) for so much of his life.
"You are so perceptive of everyone but yourself."
In this time of his death, the moment of his greatest weakness…
Loki had never felt stronger.