Author's Note: Follow-up and sequel to "Faithfully Yours, Loki Laufeyson", and this wasn't even going to get written, but hey. A couple reviewers gave me the idea to answer Loki's letter. So, if you don't read that, this likely won't make sense to you. Rated for slash and pseudo-incest because, let's face it: They're not related. Enjoy. 3
Dearest Loki,
For years, I always believed you to be the more intelligent of the two of us. You were always smarter, always ahead in your lessons. Always teaching me and trying to catch me up because, let's face it, I was slower than you. No matter how hard I tried, I could never wrap my mind around half of the concepts we were taught. But you could. I admired that in you. It is true many warriors mocked you for your intelligence and magic, but believe me, I did not. I never could. Every day I spent with you in the library, trying to make sense of the simplicities you could, I grew to realize you had a gift I did not. The magic was one thing, but being clever is something no one can learn. You have to be born with it. And you were.
But in this matter, you are either stupid or blind. I do love you. I always have. You claim to spend most of your life following me, and perhaps you did, but mine was spent turning to see if you were there. You were the only consistent thing in my life when we were children, but now, you act as though that doesn't matter. How can you? How can you take the beauty we had and slander it? I understand you are hurt, Brother. I do. For you to assume I do not because I never said the words to you is ignorant. How could I not? My friends were all rowdy, rough, calloused boys who never cared for another's feelings unless someone cried and one of us was going to get in trouble. Then, we cared. But you were far different from us. You were quiet and reserved and graceful, and you went out of your comfort zone time and time again to help those you loved. It's in your nature, though I'm sure you would like us to believe it's not.
I was stunned when I discovered that you had lied to me. That Father lived, and Mother did not forbid me from returning home. When you came to me at the S.H.I.E.L.D. camp and spoke to me and told me goodbye, I loved you for it. You were there to comfort me and give me a proper farewell, and it was more than I thought I deserved for all of the trouble I caused. But when I thought about it after the fact, after you left us, and I realized you were not even there to tell me the false events you concocted. You were there for Mjolnir. And you couldn't life it because you were not worthy. If it was not for that hammer, Loki, I would have died. The Destroyer nearly killed me, and you sent it after me. How could you do that to me if you love me? How could you beat me and attempt to kill my friends and still claim to love me?
You wanted to kill Jane to spite me, to hurt me. How could you do such a thing? How could you attempt to wound me in such a way? I did love her because she was there for me when all I had and all I had ever known was gone. Had you had anyone to reach out to you when you discovered what you were, you would have done the same, and I would not have begrudged you for it. You say you are living with Eric? Talk to the foolish boy about his own trouble with love and how much hell he is going through because of it. Talk to Steve and his affection for his best friend. Talk to the hawk-eyed man about how he felt when you nearly killed the agent he loved. How could you do that? Did you want him to suffer because you did?
So many of your mistakes you attribute to this lack of love you feel you are not receiving, but how have you reacted when I reached out to you? I tried to rescue you from the others, to bring you home to Asgard, and you would not have been punished. I would have protected you from Father until he realized you needed nothing more than companionship to heal your wounds. And I held you, Loki. You dangled above a black hole, as Jane calls it, and I held the staff and begged you not to let go. But you did. You let go of it and of me and of Asgard, and now you accuse me of being the one who did not love you.
I knew how you wept in the gardens when you thought no one was coming to check on you. I came. I sat in the bushes not far from where you wept and listened, and my heart ached because there was nothing I could do. Nothing. If you were so wounded within, you should have come to me. I always listened. I might not have always understood, but I would have understood, and I would have wrapped you in my arms and assured you that I loved you, and this would never have happened. But you never did. You never came to me. You never came to anyone. You just assumed we would all understand and punished us when we did not. Well, I cannot take the blame for your mistakes. I refuse to. But I will take the blame for not telling you that I loved you more often. And I will take the blame for using your magic and your wit to keep myself out of trouble or get myself into it. Because I did. And it was wrong.
As you longed for me, I longed for you. The women who threw themselves at me were ignored and brushed aside in favor of me lying in bed alone, thinking about you. I longed for the nights you would have nightmares because you would come to me, and for a precious moment, I would be able to hold you and protect you. Keep you safe. And you let me. You laid your head on my shoulder and laid in my arms and let me hold you, and all was well. All was always well when we were side by side. The sons of Odin. But not now, I suppose. The son of Odin and the son of Laufey, and there is no shame in being his son. You are not your father, Loki, and you never will be unless you had continued on the path you did.
You say you do not want to come back to Asgard. Then so be it. I will not make you return when it is clear you fear Asgard this much, but I will come to you. I must. Do you know what my home has become since you left? It is no longer home. No longer the golden realm, the eternal realm, the one I have come to after every battle and every adventure to rest in. I am restless. The beds are hard as stones, the blankets are as thin as stretched cotton, and the sunlight blinds me. It is as cold and empty here as it is on Jotunheim, and so I wonder if that is what Asgard will become. Frozen. Dead. I sometimes wonder if it was as beautiful before you came because I am beginning to believe Asgard was never beautiful until the little prince from Jotunheim came to join us.
You were so young you could not remember, but you took your first steps holding onto my hands for support. I was young, then, too, but I can still clearly remember it. I was trying to get you to walk, as all of us did, but you never listened to them. You listened to me. So I took both of your hands in mine and pulled you to your feet, and you walked. And when I let you go, you walked because you wanted to reach me. And you did. Your first word was my name. Always following me. But I still looked back to make sure you were there. I didn't know what to do, but knowing you were at my back, giving me support, was what I needed. What inspired me to grow and become the man I am today. Perhaps I am still heavily flawed in your eyes, but I believe I'm doing better day by day. Better still when you are at my side. I wish you were here now, in Asgard, but I will remedy that because I firmly believe we belong together, and we always have.
If you asked it of me, I would kneel at your feet and swear fealty to you. I would give you my crown and serve as your general or advisor or even servant if that was what you wanted. If I am deemed fit to be king, I will fall to my knees and declare you true ruler of Asgard because you are. You are the beauty and the intelligence and the compassion that Asgard needs even though you hide them deep inside of you as if these beautiful qualities were something to be ashamed of. As if being a Frost Giant was something to be ashamed of. You are unique, fair, and beautiful. You always have been. It was a wonder Father did not realize his mistake in choosing me as king long before the Jotuns attempted to take the Casket back. And you should have been king that day, and be king now, and be king forever. You have what it takes to rule, and had you truly conquered Midgard, I do believe you would have been an excellent ruler.
I want you, Loki. Only you. I have been given all else I thought I wanted, and none of it has satisfied me. I have had women throw themselves at me, have had a kiss from the mortal I thought I loved, have had our father's favor and all of Asgard bowing at my feet, and it means nothing to me because you are not here. When we feasted in honor of my return, the food tasted like leather in my mouth, and the wine was bitter. You were supposed to be there. To be at my side, smiling that quiet smile of yours as you watch the others behave like imbeciles the further in their cups they got. And you were not. How I missed you. I missed the shock of seeing such deep green in all of the golds and reds and silvers, smelling your peculiar wintergreen scent so fresh and alive, catching your gaze and watching you roll your eyes because one of the warriors was acting foolish. Most of all, I missed watching you trace little designs on the table, of birds that would fly to my plate or deer that would peer across the tablecloth.
So, I will come to you, Brother, because I have asked too much of you in our lives. I will leave the crown and the finery and the people who expect me to be king, and I will do it for you because I love you. I will come to Eric's apartment even though I hate the dreadful blue color of his walls. And I will kneel at your feet and beg for you. Like a common Midgard man, I will beg you to take me back into your life, into your arms. I will swear fealty to you because you are my prince, my king, and I will swear to protect you all of the days of my life. Because I love you and only you, Trickster. I love the boy who held my hands and learned to walk. The one who tried time after time until he could say my name. The one who was not afraid to come to me after a nightmare and let me hold him until his tears were dried and his eyes were closed in sleep once again. The one who rode into Jotunheim with me. The one whose fearful eyes peered up at me as he dangled on the edge of death.
You may not believe me, Loki, but I would not have let you go.
Forever Yours,
Thor Odinson
