He stands at the very edge- as close as he could get without pitching forward- studying the oblivion below and around him, an obsidian darkness speckled with paint that are the stars and galaxies near and far. They encased him like a cage; each blink of light filled with life and a wonderful potential to be great- yet somehow, as he stood on the crumbling ruins of the bifrost- surrounded by the nine realms and Asgard in all its glory reaching for the same stars behind him, he's never felt so alone; as if there was a weight that has been lifted from his set shoulders, and a part of him has been ripped away from his being. It felt so discomforting, the feeling that has been left behind, as if who he was has has been molded and twisted, turning him into an inconsistent shape that was not an improvement of his former self. Tiny, glittering, fragmented pieces that had once belonged to the bridge shudders under his weight before they, too, followed down the path his brother had traveled when he fell below, his betrayed eyes still never ceasing to haunt him when he'd realized the truth of what Loki had done, by letting go from the one thing that could have saved his life.
Long he stood there, searching for some sort of answers to his unasked questions, searching for some sort of hope that his brother, lost somewhere in these lights, was also looking at the sky and wondering about the well being of his older brother, not bitterly scorning him through a misled mind for his mistakes and faults. He waited and waited for what felt like an eternity, fearing, dreaming, daring himself to hope that there was some way to pull him back from the edge of the abyss, some method in which he could implore his brother to forgive him of his negligence of the time spent they have spent together and simply be Thor and Loki, rather then Thor against Loki- or even Loki against the Nine.
Yet it was much more difficult then convincing Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, for, truly, he understood his brother. He's come to recognize his flaws and fears and dreams- or so he had led himself to believe. For most of his life, he has trained himself on how to fight, how to swing a weapon and how to defend himself in his vulnerable places when on the attack. Loki, he knew, had a much more sophisticated style- using a mixture of daggers and magic to defend himself. Day after day his younger brother would lock himself up in his room, books overflowing his desk and bed while others laid open and scattered across the floor; and hour after hour he would stick himself to his mother's side, eagerly drinking up any knowledge that she was willing to share with him until Thor came along to peel him off his mother's side, begging for him to play. Those well written and eloquent books had crafted a clever and sharp witted boy; quick and deft with his tongue that had often spun shrewd justification in an effort to keep them out of the stern and disappointed gaze his father would give them after they've been particularly mischievous. For Thor, well chosen words and finely woven wordplay never came easily- he was too honest, too blunt to be conscious of what he said- what hope was there to convince his dear brother to return home? To a place he no longer felt as if he belonged? He had tried so hard to grasp some semblance of approval from Odin, he never saw the love that their mother had given them, the love that Thor has given him.
The God's lips were a thin line as he shifted his weight to one leg, the soft rustling of the crimson cape the only thing that was heard as his hand worked the handle of Mjnoir, as constant movement as he twisted the shaft around and around in the palm of his hand, weightless under his hold- compliant. It gave him comfort. Little of it, but comfort nevertheless.
'Do you see him?'
The words shot through the air in a low murmur as he heard the approaching footfalls of the guard. Turning a blue gaze to the man armored in gold, he noted the absence of the sword that often accompanied him wherever he went- the key that held the bifrost in his control. Had Loki been there, he would have laughed, scorned him at the light pitch in his voice as he asked the question, daring himself to have some sort of faith in his brother's return. Yet the kindling fire was too weak, made of thin twigs of a daydream and a wistful hope- it didn't take much to be dissolved into nothing more then smoke and ashes as Heimdall turned those knowing crimson iris to face him, a somber expression hanging on his face before following Thor's line of sight just moments ago. He didn't speak right away, and the time spent in silence allowed the pit in the young prince's stomach to sink further, coiling inside into knots as he glanced at his boots and back ahead, uncomfortable. He didn't need to hear it, listening to the words that answered his inquiry he wasn't surprised, yet there was no time to suppress the lift of his heart at the question, and as quickly as it ascended, it plummeted, crashing into silence like the waves that washed over the Asgardian shores.
'I do not, but your brother has always been clever enough to conceal himself. He does not wish to be found, and you'll find it hard to search for him when he wants to remain hidden,' came the reply, steady and sure- the prince couldn't help but latch on to the warm tone despite how the truth burns him. His brother, hidden from searching eyes, could be anywhere- slinking in the darkest crevices of time, waiting for something worth reaching out for the taking. He deserved better then some cesspit filled with wicked intentions, somewhere where he was alone to fend for himself.
Yet even so, he found it difficult to simply let himself believe they would never see each other again. They were siblings bonded through blood, victories and loss- entwined tightly together by their childhood memories and love- or rather Thor's love. He could be sure that even with all the darkness that has tainted his brother's mind, by whatever truth he's learned from Odin, that even he couldn't deny Asgard as his home. The garden where they often ran laps during training, the lake where they often sneaked out to have lunch and avoid their mother, the halls where they laughed and played when everyone else was too busy to give them the attention that their precocious mind desired, and the grounds where they wrestled after a nasty spat. Even with all the accusation that spewed forth from a tongue dripping with venom, the prince couldn't being himself to broach the idea that they've come to a point where there was no return.
Loki would return to a home that had been searching for him since he has left, a home that never gave up on him regardless on if he had believed they did. Loki would find his room in the same condition he had left it in, arrive at the front door and see himself greeted with his friends and family- the ones that loved him so dearly despite all his past actions and decisions.
'He'll return. Or I'll find him. I won't stop searching.'
It was a promise he'll gladly make again and again.
When Thor looks at his brother again, truly, looks at his brother, he is reminded of their aimless wanderings when they were young, so very young. During a brief but exhausting game of searching and finding, Loki had cried when he was found by his mother and brother hours after they had played, no longer wanting to continue such a horrible game. His older sibling, who had become distracted and wandered off as they were hiding and seeking, had forgotten about him until hours later, where, after a panicked search and a crying fit with his mother, the blonde would return to see a small figure huddled in the corner, thin arms wrapped around himself as his pale face pressed against the emerald linens of his shirt. As he crouched, a teary face rose to greet him, a lost, betrayed expression laid bare for oceanic blue eyes to soak in.
But now, Thor could hardly catch the emotions that swirled inside like a concoction that Tony Stark often makes when working in his little underground lab in his home by the beach. He saw betrayal mixed in with vengeance and loathing, with sadness and pain. Where laughter lines should be there were ones made from scowling and frowning too much and too often; where eyes had once glinted with dark playfulness there in its place were slitted eyes filled with mistrust,screaming of deception and manipulation. Where his features had been soft with a growing desire of knowledge, his time spent away from home has broken something within him, like clay the surface of his skin had dried and long since hardened and cracked where his true nature could be seen between fissures of his steely resolve- he was wild and foreign, forged from his own hatred of himself and the world around him. He wasn't someone Thor recognized.
Yet he found some hope as he held tightly to his brother, his hand folding along the sharp lines that made up the back of the trickster's neck as he pulled him forward, begging for him to stop. He didn't miss the flash of movement as his kin's drawn and pulled muscles slackened for the barest hint of a second- almost tempted to think about giving away this desire to rule and find comfort in his homecoming. It almost allowed him to dream of things returning as they were- as brothers, as princes of Asgard; as mischief makers and rulers, as conquerors and friends. As sons of the king and queen, who didn't love him any less for his deeds. When they were young, Thor always apologized when he made a mistake that hurt his brother in any way- and Loki had always forgiven him. He desperately cherished the prospect that he could apologize and somehow mend this damaged relationship, and receive another chance like the ones his brother had always so easily given him before.
Though, as quickly as the curtains were pulled back to reveal the brother he had grown up with underneath it disappeared, and those damned lips curled into a smile, control reigning in his unwanted emotions and pulling it out of Thor's sight, replaced with a smile of absolute malice. His voice shifted and he stepped back slightly, twitching in the hold of his older brother's as he answered back, playing his hand to win- to eagerly seize what he had accepted as his right.
'Listen well brother-'
The words never left his lips as he was ripped away from the cliff, limbs flailing and his body falling askew as he landed hard on the ground. Rolling to his feet, he stands and faces the man wearing the suit made of metal before flickering upwards to check for his brother's presence, who has made himself comfortable as he stared back, that delicate smile still stitched on his lips with no real intention of leaving his face. Angry and frustrated, the God of Thunder turned to the one who had interrupted him.
'Do not touch me again,' he warned. It was unfinished business. He knew that he didn't have the time to fight when his brother was walking about, free to do as he wished as the tesseract's location remained unknown, his mind thirsting for the singing of victory, lusting for the power to rule as he once has done in Asgard.
There were moments, while fighting his brother every step of the way to convince him to come home, that he feared he had lost his brother within the madness of his own troubled mind. That there was no way, staring into those emerald eyes and razor sharp smirk that adorned the face he's come to know so well, there was nothing but absolution in ruling Midgard, as if he reached out and his fingers danced through empty air and dark smoke- designed to give him the illusion something was there. Maybe, he feared, maybe there was no recognition. There was nothing more then a need to kill the ones who has been by his side for all his life in order to stand on his own and not in a shadow as he had fervently claimed he had been.
But it always came back. Even the trickster, in all his mastery of lies and slander, couldn't hold the truth when it wanted to find its way out, and each time Thor saw it it brought him a sense of optimism that kept him trying, grabbing the slippery ledge over and over to try and successfully reach the top. Like a starved man searching to pull air into his lungs, that look haunted Loki every moment- the unseeing and unfocused eyes as he took in the truth of what he had done to atop the Stark tower, the only tear that could be shed just before he dove the silver dagger home at the opening of Thor's armor, the sun glinted at the gold that was strung around his neck and wrists couldn't even pull Thor's attention form the way his brother silently held him under scrutiny, muzzled like a criminal that everyone had deemed him to be. No matter what he did, Thor couldn't ignore it as he sought to take his brother home and face justice. The lives taken he had taken and the war he had lost meant nothing to the soon-to-be-king as he stopped and matched his gaze with his younger brother, every time sensing the vulnerability that showed itself when they challenged each other, reflected each other, mirrored each other.
Facing Loki, he reached out, fingers searching the side of face, pressing lightly against the surface of the muzzle as it looped around his his head. Around him, the guards worked to replace his chains designed for transporting into one that would allow them to lead him to the throne room for sentencing. His gaze was searching, forlorn but wordless.
'I'll always find you. Across a million universes, I'll look for you no matter where you go. You're my brother, Loki. I love you.' He turned and trudged away before he could see the amused expression along with the seething rage under the calm surface of pale skin that his brother offered as a response to his words- his promise.
A year later, Thor finds himself searching for Loki once more. A promise unforgotten, along with a new promise to avenge what they both had lost.
'Now you come to see me, brother.'