Deception
His mind reels. His breath falters. He barely hears his brother scream; he barely feels Kurse's grip on his shoulders relax before he tumbles to the ground. As Thor's strong arms wrap around him and lift him from the ashes and dirt, his body transforms into a vortex of suffering.
Remember who you are doing this for.
The words play through his mind as his vision blurs. As his body violently begins to tremble. As he fights for every breath.
Remember who you are doing this for.
He tells himself this as his flesh becomes clammy. As his blood runs cold. As he desperately calls on strains of basic magic to repair the gaping hole in his gut.
Remember who you are doing this for.
The vague image of a regal, raven-haired man sitting on a golden throne flashes before him, his long fingers wrapped around the base of a golden scepter. A nefarious smirk stretches across his alabaster face, ascendancy plastered boisterously over his countenance.
Remember who you are doing this for. Remember, remember…
Through clouded eyes, he can barely see the silhouette of his brother hanging over him like a dark storm cloud.
"You fool!" Thor thunders. "You didn't listen!"
"I know," the reply is a little more than a gasp. "I-I'm a fool… I—" A pause. "I'm sorry… I-I'm sorry…"
You're a talented liar, brother! Thor had once scolded him. Always have been!
Though his face is twisted in pain, his conscience is grinning wickedly. And I always will be, Odinson.
He can feel the spell he cast beginning to repair his mangled flesh. A smile, cleverly disguised as a grimace, stretches across his face.
Remember who you are doing this for.
"I will tell Father of what you did today."
He takes a deep breath. "I… I didn't do it… for him…"
He feels a few of his brother's tears spill onto his neck, chilled nearly to ice by the wind. He shivers as they slide down his back, illuminating the grimace that is still tattooed to his face. His outward appearance is the embodiment of suffering.
But his conscience is laughing in triumph.
The pain stops.
The wound closes.
Insolent oaf, he inwardly flouts.Of course I didn't do it for him. And it wasn't for you either.
You think I just saved your life.
How… quaint.
His lets his head sink into the crook of Thor's elbow, and his eyes close for what seems to be the last time.
And when the god of thunder's deafening cry of despair echoes across the wastelands of Svartalfhiem, the god of mischief fights back a victorious smile. After what seems like hours, he feels the prickle of dirt, ash, and ancient debris under his back as Thor's arms gently slip out from under him. Slowly, the crunch of the Odinson's boots fades into the distance, snippets of a solemn conversation between him and the Midgardian traveling with it.
They're gone.
He is alone.
And his plan has been set in motion.
He smirks triumphantly. The fools…
The image of himself in the throne room returns to his mind. His voice, seductively soft, bounces from column to golden column, contorting the words that his mind has been previously repeating:
"Remember, Loki, you are doing this for me."
.