Loki was not afraid of the dark. He hated nights, because darkness meant sleep and trying to sleep meant his thoughts would whisper and slither and slip around until he wanted to scream, but he had never been afraid of the dark.

He had never been afraid of the dark, because darkness was only what one cannot see, and to be afraid of the unseen is to be afraid of the unknown. If anything, he mused, Loki loved the unknown too much, much more than the known, harsh, reality, which was much too inflexible and rarely kind. The unknown is infinite possibilities, it is the future, it is stories that have yet to be created and tricks that have yet to be played.

The unknown was the thrill of waiting near the doors of the armory, his foot cramping after being twisted so long as he waits silently, carefully, trying to avoid the crunch of fallen leaves, with numb fingers from gripping the door frame too tightly in anticipation, waiting to hear the wail of the first guard to fall of their definitely not glue covered saddle when they attempt to dismount.

The unknown was flinging himself off a cliff to test a new spell, with the icy wind rushing through his hair and only the words in a dusty old tome written by a mage long ago to guarantee his change into a bird an inch above the ground.

The unknown is laughing as he soars, giddy with the realization that he can go anywhere in this form, anywhere in all the nine realms, and nobody can stop him. Nobody will know it's him.

Loki loved the unknown because the unknown was infinite possibilities for chaos, the realities of the future spread out ahead of him, the sequences and stories and words all scrambling over each other in a mad dash to exist and with only a word, only a suggestion or a nudge, Loki could make them real.

What were lies after all, other than stories that have yet to become real?

Maybe that's why the library was so empty and cold. They locked all the stories away.

Loki looked up

You must be truly desperate to come to me for help.


Loki loved the unknown as he loved high places, as he loved his million nooks and crannies in the uppermost shelves of libraries, on the swaying top branches of trees in mother's garden, in the nooks carved beneath the terraces of the abandoned watchtower on the west wing.

He had always felt safer being up high, and as such has always sought it out. His brother and the warriors three had teased him for it, saying he was as flighty at home as he was in battle, but the advantage of sitting up high in the shadows, of observing the patterns in the movement of crowds below and hearing all the tales that would never be spoken if he was on the ground made it all worth it

Loki loved high places, because they were freedom, they were the opposite of tight uniforms and disapproving gazes, the antithesis of the punishment after a well-crafted trick. High places were the ability to disappear too fast for anyone to catch you, they were the brink of danger and running along rooftops, one slip away from tumbling into empty air. They were as close as Loki could come to taking flight, for the long years before he learned to truly fly.

The wind screamed past them like trails of ice.

"Are you MAD?!" Thor screamed.

"Possibly" He replied.

Probably.


Someone was screaming at him.

He was being shaken. A million voices hissed and slithered in the background.

YouwillnevergetawaycanthelpThorwhat

Who was shaking him?

focus

Is that why he felt so shaky?

Thor was shaking him

Thor was saying something.

Thor?

….and talking….saying…. yelling. Thor was yelling.

-Thor-

He heard himself respond.

It was not important.

Why - was - he - here – again?

The tesseract

His brain was full of static.

Thor had gotten louder.

-home-

Idon'thaveonekickedoutabandonedbetrayed I don't have a home.

Why am I - here

"Listen here Brother"

Something slammed into Thor

"I'm listening?"

He was on top of a rock. Interesting. Craggly.

How did he get here

blueblueblueEverythingHurtswhereamigoingwhat

He was on a very high rock. Loki loved high places, because high places were the unknown,

dontthinkdontevenTrytothinkYouWillNeverGetAway

The unknown was safe, it was chaos and freedom

Freedom is life's great lie