New fic! I watched the Avengers because my job was playing Captain America and it was like "Well, it's not bad, so I'll watch the Avengers!" You'll notice that this fic isn't about the Captain. Loki stole my heart and plotbunnies with his prettyness and woobieness. After watching the Avengers, I loaded up Thor and ogled a lot. Then I plotted. Then I wrote! And here this is.
Eloquent, I know. I loved being in Loki's head. I hope to finish this soon. Loki's head is so awesome. The snark! The wit!
So, warnings. For Thor, this takes place directly after the ending of the movie. I don't think the Avengers is going to happen because of it. For Tales of the Abyss, I think this shall be a rewrite with Loki in the party being his awesome self. Not many events should change, though - Loki's just... there. I don't plan on doing a play-by-play rewrite because of this. Probably just key scenes? Who knows.
The usual goes on: I don't own Thor, or Loki, or Tales of the Abyss. The former belong to Marvel and Disney, and the latter belongs to Namco Bandai. I don't want any money for this. Just reviews. Please review!
"Hey," a loud voice demanded. Something prodded Loki's shoulder with impatient force. "You there. You a new servant or something? You're not supposed to be sleeping in the garden. My father's going to punish you."
The words took forever to make any sense in Loki's head. They dragged through the muck that his thoughts had become. "And where is this garden?" he found himself asking. He didn't even open his eyes to do so. Even the bright red that was all he saw was hurting his head. His heartbeat was a thumping counterpoint to the stabbing pain that lanced between his ears.
"Come on, you can't expect me to believe that you climbed a wall that I've never even been over, then fell asleep in a garden, without knowing where it was." His shoulder was poked again. "Now get up, or I'm going to tell my father on you."
How had he gotten here? Loki tried to think back, but all he got was throbbing pain and darkness. Before that voice, whose owner he still didn't know, there was nothing. He didn't even know how he knew his name.
He was Loki, and his memories went back for only two minutes. It was as good a place to start as any.
"Your father might not approve of you talking to strangers," Loki pointed out. He finally dared to open his eyes, but as he expected the light only intensified the pain in his head. All he saw was blinding white until his conversational partner leaned over to block it. It was a relief.
"If you're a servant here then you're not a stranger," the boy said cheerfully. "I've never seen you before but we have people coming and going all the time." His shoulders slumped. "Except me. I'm never allowed to leave."
Information. It helped Loki paint a picture – as pitiful as it was. This boy, with his red hair hanging into Loki's eyes and his white jacket that really wasn't doing his headache any favors, was the son of someone with money or power. It didn't answer the important questions, like where he was or how he had arrived, but any information was something.
"I don't know what I am," Loki answered honestly. The boy leaned out of his line of sight with a huff.
"Well, if you're not a servant, I guess I need to call the guards. You'll be thrown in prison for breaking into Duke Fabre's manor, interrogated, and probably killed," the boy said cheerfully. "We don't really like intruders here. Especially if you're from Malkuth." The boy put his hands behind his head and looked down at Loki. "You're not from Malkuth, are you?"
A place name. That was good. Loki added that to the growing pile of knowledge. An enemy, if the boy's tone was any indication. Even implying that he was from Malkuth was not conducive towards his continued existence.
Yet without any other knowledge, Loki didn't think he could come up with a plausible excuse as to why he was in this boy's garden. Perhaps he should claim to be a servant? It would allow him some measure of cover until he could get out and figure out where he was. Maybe outside this garden was the clue he needed to trigger his memories.
He pushed his torso upright and couldn't contain his groan of pain. His chest felt like something had pounded on it with a hammer. He fought to keep his breathing even lest the boy ask more questions. Loki had enough questions of his own.
"That didn't sound good," the boy noted. "You sick or something?"
Sick in the head, Loki thought wryly. "I was lying down too long," he lied. "My muscles are stiff." His whole chest was stiff, every breath wanting to tear a whimper from his throat.
The boy obviously didn't believe it but he waved his hand away. Uncaring, perhaps, or not wanting to comment – Loki didn't care either way. Now he could look around and see where it was that he had awakened.
Green met his eyes. Healthy plants invaded his view. Trees arced above him, not enough cover from the sun that kept sending pain lancing up and down his skull. The grass under him was soft, dotted here and there with the occasional dandelion. Somehow Loki knew they were supposed to be weeds, but the yellow petals enticed him.
Loki blinked. He knew the yellow flowers were weeds. Aside from his name and how to speak, it was the only bit of knowledge he had that the strange redheaded boy hadn't told him. He held that close to his heart – if he knew one thing, maybe there was more locked in his head. It was a hope.
"So, really," the boy asked, and Loki turned his attention to him. The boy was a teenager, somewhere between fifteen and eighteen years old, with red hair that teased his waist. His green eyes were clear and pure as they studied Loki intently. His outfit was simple – a white knee-length jacket, tan pants that were loose around his knees and tight to his ankles, and gloves that covered his wrists and palms but left his fingers free.
"Really what?" Loki returned. He looked down at his own outfit – black leather edged in green, bronze bracers on his arm with intricately detailed engravings. His boots were the same, though they came almost to his knees. It surprised him that he hadn't known what he was wearing. Then again, when he thought about it, he didn't even know what he looked like.
What sort of person didn't know that?
A person who woke up in the middle of a garden with no memory, Loki supposed. He couldn't ask without making his lack of knowledge obvious. So, a mirror later, then. Hopefully with no one to see him.
"Who are you?" the boy asked.
A question Loki didn't know the answer to. Of course. At least he could somewhat appease the boy's curiosity. "Isn't it rude to demand someone's name without giving your own?" Loki pointed out.
"Isn't it rude to sleep in someone else's garden and then talk back?" the boy asked. "I could call the guards any minute, you know. They're definitely going to lock you up. You could be trying to kidnap me again."
Then Loki wasn't the first intruder in the garden. Despite that, the boy made no move to act on his threat. His face showed only curiosity.
"I'm Loki," the one named finally said. He was reluctant to give that little bit of information out – now the boy knew as much about him as he did. Now that he'd given it there was nothing he could do and he pushed the discomfort aside. "I do not know how I arrived in your garden. All I know is that I awoke when you poked me in the shoulder."
"Where were you before?" the boy asked.
Loki frowned at him. "I gave you my name. It is only courteous to reply in kind."
The boy scowled. "Geez, you're as annoying as Guy. My name is Luke, all right? Luke fon Fabre."
Luke. The name didn't ring any bells, but Loki nodded anyway. "Well then, my dear Master Luke, I don't know where I was before."
"Don't say my name like that," Luke grumbled. "It sounds like you're mocking me."
Loki resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Perhaps his tone had been mocking. "My apologies, Master Luke. That was not my intent."
"Good," Luke huffed. "Now what did you say? You don't know where you were before?"
Loki shook his head. His instincts were yelling at him to lie, though he didn't know why. He ignored them – without offering a little truth he would never get any information. He needed as much as possible to try and piece things together. "No, I don't. My first memory is of you and this garden. Where I was before is as hidden from me as my own identity. When I told you my name, I imparted to you all the knowledge I currently have."
He expected Luke to scoff at him, or call him a liar and then summon the guards. He didn't expect Luke's scowl to soften in understanding. "I see," the boy said softly. He crouched on the grass next to Loki and studied his face intently. "You can still talk, so at least you're better off than I was."
Those words told Loki so much. "You lost your memory before," he stated. "Did you ever get it back?"
Luke shook his head. "Nah, I had to relearn everything. Natalia keeps pestering me about some promise I made before I lost my memory and it's so annoying. I wouldn't mind having my memories back, but it's been seven years." He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. "I don't think they'll ever come back."
"My memories are lost forever?" Loki asked. He hadn't meant to say it out loud. His tone of voice made him cringe – it was quiet, meek, lost. Luke patted him on the back in a gesture that was evidently meant to be comforting.
"Eh, if you lost them then they weren't that important. You'll make new memories." Luke straightened and brushed grass from his pants. "Now come on. You can't sit there all day. Even if you were an intruder, it's not like you can do what you came to without knowing what it was. I'll take you to my father and we'll see what happens."
Loki climbed to his feet – his chest was not happy with it and his legs felt like jelly. After one wobble he forced his legs to lock and his chest to operate normally. He had no memory and was at the mercy of a stranger. He would be damned if he'd show any other weakness.
"You look like you're about to fall over just from breathing," Luke muttered. "Just don't fall on me. Now come on. As long as you're with me you shouldn't be bothered by the guards."
The walk through the manor was long enough for Loki to look around and get an impression of the place he'd ended up. It was modest, no gold or silver adorning the doors or walls. It was large enough that it housed a small army of servants and maids, all of whom shot him odd glances as he passed. Most of the maids and a few of the servants took one look at him and then blushed and hid their faces from view.
After a few minutes of this Loki scowled. It didn't look as if they were cowering in fear. "Why do they keep doing that?" he demanded of Luke.
The boy shrugged. "Hell if I know. Girls are weird."
No obvious wealth, but the way Luke carried himself and the amount of people working for his father spoke of power. Loki ignored the swooning women and men as he went through what he knew so far. He had no memory, he was in the garden of a powerful man, and the son of that man didn't seem to think him a threat. Rather, once Luke had learned of his amnesia it seemed the red-haired boy felt like he needed to help.
It annoyed Loki, for some reason he didn't quite understand. He wanted to figure this out on his own. It was his mind, his memories, that were gone. Why did Luke think he could help?
Yet if Loki tried to turn Luke down, there was every possibility that Luke would summon the guards he could see dotted in corners and along hallways. There was no way Loki could begin to unravel the mystery of his identity from the inside of a jail cell.
It was that thought that kept Loki silent as they rounded a corner. The guards stood at attention while Luke pushed through the set of double doors at the end of the corridor and gestured for Loki to follow him.
"Father," Luke said before Loki was through the door, "I found this man in the garden."
Loki sighed and shook his head. There were better ways to start an explanation. "Master Luke, if I might explain?" he suggested.
"Explain what?" Luke shot back. "You don't even know how you got there."
"That is precisely it," Loki agreed. "I don't wish to end up in your father's dungeon. Allow me to explain what I can."
He turned his attention to the senior Fabre. He was older, as was expected with a son Luke's age, with brown hair flattened around his head by the hat he wore. He eyes were hidden by the long strands. His clothes were strangely formal, gold and brown robes over a pair of brown pants.
"Explain quickly, intruder," Fabre ordered. His voice was deep and brooked no nonsense.
Loki sorted his thoughts. "It is as your son says, Duke Fabre." Luke had mentioned his father's name in the garden, now that he thought of it. Nobility, then. "I found myself in your garden with no memory of my arrival. I have no memory of anything save for my name. I am Loki. Beyond that, my identity is as much of a mystery to myself as it is to you." He bowed. "Please excuse my intrusion. Not having any memory of trespassing still does not forgive it."
Fabre humphed. "You're the most polite intruder I've ever met," he said wryly. "So you have no memory? You can still talk and understand us. When my son lost his memory we had to teach him everything from scratch. How to walk, talk, everything."
"Father!" Luke burst out. "Don't talk about it like that. It's embarrassing!"
"It is what happened, Luke. I'm just puzzled at the differences in your amnesia and his." Fabre frowned. "So what is it you intend to do, Loki? Without your memory you can't hope to survive in the outside world. Do you even have any gald on you?"
"Gald?" Loki asked blankly. He searched his pockets, ignoring the way both Luke and the elder Fabre tensed up, and found nothing.
"It appears not." Fabre rubbed his forehead.
"Can't he stay here?" Luke asked. "Just for a few days? Maybe his memory will come back by then." He glanced at Loki hopefully. "I mean, I thought he was a servant. Can't I use him? You sent Guy off to Malkuth for an errand and I'm bored."
To become the plaything of an idle child was not what Loki had in mind. There was nothing else he could think of to be doing – the elder Fabre was right. He had no way to survive in the world he didn't remember.
Fabre scowled. "Luke, you already have Guy. There are plenty of maids to satisfy your whims until he returns."
"Yeah, but you're going to have him doing stuff anyway." Luke waved his hand. "He's not exactly a guest. You're going to have him working to pay his board, and to keep an eye on him. Why not let him keep me company?"
"Son, keeping you company is a full-time job in and of itself," Fabre noted.
Working. Loki rolled the word around in his head, let it call forth images. He didn't know what he looked like so in his mind's eye he substituted Luke. He imagined Luke bending over and scrubbing floors. Luke on chairs dusting the many pictures that dotted the manor.
It didn't sound like an appealing action at all.
Yet, unless Loki… worked, he would be put out. He wanted to see the rest of the world, find his memories, but without money he had a feeling that things wouldn't go well.
He didn't fancy starving to death in the streets.
So, work.
"I will do whatever it is you ask," Loki said humbly. "It is the least I can do to offer you recompense for my trespass."
"He's a lot more polite than Guy too," Luke said cheerfully. "So what do you say, Father? Can I use him until Guy gets back?"
Fabre sighed. "Very well. Leave us for now, Luke. I need to brief Loki on his duties."
Luke left without another word. Loki watched him go, then raised an eyebrow at the elder Fabre. "He seems to be a handful," he noted.
"Yes. He is not permitted to leave the manor and it wears on all of us." Fabre shook his head. "However, he is now your handful. He found you, so I do believe you owe him a debt."
Loki bowed his head. "Of course, Duke Fabre."
"Your duties are simple: Keep Luke entertained. If he wishes to read a book you will fetch it for him. If he wishes to spar, you will don protective gear and let him beat you up. I have a seventh fonist who can patch you up afterwards, do not worry. Your most important duty, however, is to keep Luke in the manor."
It was simple enough. "If I might ask, Duke Fabre, why is Luke not permitted to leave?" Loki asked innocently. Information was key. The more he had, the more he could work with. Maybe, if he had enough information, then he wouldn't need his memories.
Fabre waved his hand. "We don't allow Luke to leave because, seven years ago, he was kidnapped by Malkuth. When we found him had had lost all of his memories due to the trauma. If he left, he could be kidnapped again and this time he might be killed."
"So you imprison him here for his own protection," Loki mused. When Fabre opened his mouth to protest, Loki quickly bowed. "My apologies, Duke Fabre, I spoke out of turn. Thank you for the information. Now, should the young Master attempt to coerce me into allowing him to leave, I am thusly warned."
Fabre grunted. "Your duties will start immediately. Go find a servant's uniform and then go find Luke. A maid will take your clothes to your room. When Luke falls asleep later, I will have you escorted there."
"Thank you, Duke Fabre, for your hospitality." Loki bowed again and left the room.