Tite: The Sound Of Silence

Rating: T

Warnings / Tags: eventual Tony/Loki, major character death, temporary character death, canon typical violence, fix-it fic (sort of), Odin's A+ parenting, Loki's children, Loki-centric, dream sharing, Loki feels, Thor is not stupid, Thor's a good brother, dream walking, manipulation, Isle of Silence, Infinity Gems, Norse Mythology, slow build, canon au

Summary: "It isn't your time to enter my gates," Hela tells him, gesturing to the grey landscape around them. "You must go back." -Or the one where Loki dies -but not really- because his mother needs him to save his fool of a brother. Again.

Chapter 1: Illusions

He can hear the crunch of Thor's footsteps as he rushes to his side, rocks skidding from his path. He can hear his brother's desperate "No, no, no," even as it echoes through his head along with the dying screams of the Kurse. And oh does it echo, like the screech of his fa- Odin's ravens, like the silent scream of the Void. Then Thor's there, lifting his head and silencing the noise, one hand cradling his neck in a way that's achingly familiar, in a way that he would despise if he wasn't burning up inside, while the other presses to his wound. He shouldn't be dying.

Not this quickly.

But the Kurse's blood -from the sword, from the monster's wound- has lit his flesh on fire in a way that his magic is scrambling to rectify. He knows it won't be enough and he knows that Thor knows it too, because his voice is already tightening with grief when he says, "...you fool, you didn't listen!" Thor is jostling him in a way that should hurt but doesn't. Leave it to Thor to roughly cradle somebody while they're dying, he thinks bitterly. And he is dying, he knows that for certain now.

His magic is raging within him like a tempest, trying to repair the damage even as his skin goes ashen. It had done the same when he was within the Mad Titan's clutches, when the Other had brought him to the brink of death only to be brought back, again and again. It's draining him much too fast now and he knows he should calm it, should focus it on his wound instead ofeverywhere like an all-consuming storm, but it's all he can do to say, "I know. I'm a fool... I'm a fool."

And oh, he is. A fool for ever believing that he could have been more, that he could have ever been anything more than a puppet. To Odin, to Thanos, to Fate. Oh how the Norns must have laughed at the prince that believed he could be a king, at the Jotunn monster that had been hidden inside an Aesir shell for a thousand years. Such a fool...

"Stay with me." Thor commands, no, pleads as he reaches up and smacks Loki's cheek. It get's him to focus enough to know that he's shivering now. And then he's apologizing. For nothing, for everything, for his jealousy, and his spite, and his tricks. For his lies, always half-biden on his tongue. His breathing is loud and thunderous in his ears, so much so that he almost misses Thor's near-silent "It's okay." Then his brother repeats himself, only louder this time. "It's alright. I'll tell father what you did here today."

It's both the right and wrong thing to say, because Loki could care less what Odin thinks (I could have done it, father!), but he also knows what Thor means with his statement. You won't be forgotten. It brings him back enough for his voice to remain steady when he next speaks. "I didn't do it for him."

Thor's eyes search his, jaw clenching as his hands tighten into Loki's clothes. He waits until he knows that Thor has found what he's looking for, that Thor has really heard him for once.

Then, and only then, does he let his eyes slip closed.

...

When he opens them again, he is met with grey. Grey clouds, grey skies, grey everything. He knows almost instantly where he is and while a part of him is relieved, another part sends his parting words to the Kurse back at him. See you in Hel indeed, he thinks as he slowly stands. His pain and the all consuming flames of his death are gone, but so is his magic, and he can't help the not so fleeting surge of panic that washes through him at the hollowness it leaves. All his life he's had it singing within his veins, ready for use in tricks and protection alike, and the fact that it's so utterly silent now makes his lungs tighten within his chest.

Righting himself, he takes a steadying breath of stale grey air and begins to walk. He has no purpose in mind, but he knows that his daughter will hear the echoes of his presence soon enough. He won't wander alone for long, he knows. And he doesn't, for a figure becomes apparent through the fog, stride full of all the grace and power of a queen.

"Hello daughter." He greets as she comes to stand before him, her black hair shining even in the nearly non-existent light. Her skin is mottled with different shades of grey, something normally seen as ugly, but something Loki has only ever seen as beautiful. She reflects the world around her, dead but still thrumming with life.

"Father," She holds her hand out to him. Or no... Not to him. To Frigga, who comes to stand beside her grand-daughter. He moves to embrace her but she evades him, stepping just out of reach. A flash of hurt goes through him before he can mask it and her mouth turns up into a small, sad smile.

"You cannot touch me while you are here. It would break your soul's tether to your body and bind it here instead."

And the pain that that statement brings is quickly overridden by confusion. "Am I not yet bound to this place?"

"It isn't your time to enter my gates," Hela tells him, gesturing to the grey landscape around them. Loki tears his eyes away from Frigga, wishing that he could touch her -just this one last time. Frigga nods and his daughter's eyes are alight with wisdom when she turns to him. "You must go back."

Back. Back to Asgard with its golden halls and its people who had despised him even before he fell. He rounds on his mother angrily, voice so bitter that he's nearly hissing. "Is it truly my destiny to wile away the rest of my existence in a cell on Asgard?" She would deny him peace, here in Helheim with his daughter, peace away from the wills of others, always trying to control the would-be king.

Frigga's hands rise as if she wants to comfort him like she did when he was a child, when she would cradle his softer, smaller ones in her own. "You are destined for great things, my son. Never forget that. I have woven the treads of fate, watched them as the slipped like silk through my fingers. It is not your time, not for a long while yet." She pauses, lets out a soft gust of breath into the air around her. "Your father will not be happy with Thor once he returns from his quest. He will need you there, like he has in the past."

"And why should I care-" He begins but Frigga silences him with a stern look.

"He is your brother, Loki." Is all she says and his lips press into a thin, unhappy line before he nods. Her fingers intertwine as she lets out a nearly imperceptible sigh.

Turning to Hela, he hears a quiet "Be safe, my son" as his daughter presses her lips to his forehead. Good-bye mother, he silently replies as darkness overtakes him once more.

...

Asgard is quiet and calm when he returns. There is still destruction in nearly every place he looks, but there is no longer a battle. He takes the guise of an Einherjar (takes a moment to feel his magic rush through his veins with a sense of euphoria) and makes his way to the throne room. Odin is alone, his usual retinue of guards either dead or looking for Thor. He goes with the latter, because there aren't nearly enough bodies to confirm the former.

"There's no sign of Thor or the Aether. However, we found a body..." He lets himself trail off, eyes downcast in a show of subservience that burns him to his core, and shifts as Odin turns toward him.

The All-father's next word is but a whisper: "Loki." For a moment he thinks that Odin has seen through him, has looked into the heart of him and seen the fallen prince beneath. But then, "Where is he?"

Smiling to himself, Loki drops his illusion and steps forward. "Here."

There is a knife in his hand with a mere flick of his wrist and he reaches forward and grabs the staff just as he drives the blade's sharp edge into the gut of the man that he once called father. He briefly wonders if this is how his mother died, trusting in Thor absolutely even though it only led to her death. He watches Odin fall and plucks Gungnir from his grasp with ease. He tries not to think of letting go and falling down, down, down into the Other's clutches.

"Loki... My son," Odin gasps and Loki clenches his fingers around Gungnir to keep from rending the world apart.

"I am NOT your son!" He spits, and watches as Odin's eye goes wide and misty. It reminds him bitterly of when the king had fallen into Odin-sleep and left him to rule over a people that hate him. He didn't want the burden then and he doesn't want it now. He doesn't want to be the ruler of a stagnant civilization of gods that would love nothing more than to see him burn. But this time, there is something that he needs to do before he can find peace. He can't have Odin ruining things, now can he?

Raising Gungnir, he brings it down with a crack and watches as the columns, once rubble, now move to stand tall and golden once more. When he looks, Odin's body is gone. Casting an illusion of his father upon himself, he turns and leaves the hall. He means to visit his son, knowing that he may never have the chance to see him again after this day. No one stops him, no one dares come in the way of the All-Father. Out of deference to his grief or his power, Loki does not know, nor does he care.

When he reaches the royal stables Sleipnir is quiet, perfectly still with his head held high as he awaits orders. Like a proper war-horse, Loki muses. Sending a brush of magic out, he greets his son and lets his eyes bleed to familiar green. The change in him is instantaneous, muscles quivering in excitement as he tosses his head and whinnies. Loki shushes him, a soft "Be calm, my son" falling from his lips as he steps into the stall. Sleipnir's massive head bows and he bumps it against Loki's chest in greeting.

"I have missed you too, dear one." He murmurs as he strokes his son's mane. "I have been away for too long, longer than I had ever hoped to be parted from you." Which is true. Sleipnir is the only one of his children that he can visit with near enough frequency, unlike Jörmungandr who is bound to Midgard until Ragnarok is brought upon them. Or Fenrir, whom is so much like Vali, a wolf, broken and bound for the purpose of the Aesir. Or even Narvi, forever beyond even Hel's reach, slaughtered by his brother when Loki had failed to protect them both. He knows it was not his fault, but the grief he felt at the time, the grief that he still feels over the loss of his first born sons has never quite diminished. It was the guilt that had driven Sigyn away when they should have stayed together for strength. It was the same guilt that had seen him into Angrboda's embrace, to bring three more children into the world that had taken his firsts away.

Sleipnir butts his chest again, drawing him from his thoughts. His large, equine eyes stare at him unblinking and Loki sighs. "I must leave you once again, after I have seen to your grand-mother's wishes. She wants me to save Thor from her husband's wrath and I had half a heart to decline, but" He pauses, searching for the words. "I do not despise Thor, not as much as I want to, not as much as I once did. He is still rash and arrogant and too much of a fool, but he... He is no longer as gullible as he once was."

Pressing a hand to his son's cheek, Loki presses a spell of safety into the horse's flesh. "I will see you again." He tells him and can only hope that his words hold true.

...

When Thor comes, he is once more in the throne room, standing with Gungnir in his hand. Thor kneels before him, a gesture that makes an internal part of him smile. "You once said that there would never be a wiser king than me," He begins and Thor's brow knits in confusion. "You were wrong. The alignment has brought all the realms together; every one of them saw you offer your life to save them." He pauses for a moment, long enough to mentally run over his next words. "What can Asgard offer its new king in return?"

"My life." Thor tells him, just as Loki knew he would. His voice is solemn as he stands. "Father, I cannot be king of Asgard. I will protect Asgard and all the realms with my last and every breath, but I cannot do so from that chair. Loki, for all his grave imbalance, understood ruling as I know I never will." At that, Loki tilts his head. Maybe Thor has grown more to understand the world, after all this time. "The brutality, the sacrifice, it changes you." Thor drops his gaze, seeming to pause to gather his words. "I'd rather be a good man, than a great king." He finally says, and my, how his brother has matured.

But still, "Is this my son I hear, or the woman he loves?" He can't help but ask and Thor's reply throws him, makes him sigh and look down at the staff in his hands.

"When you speak, do I never hear mother's voice?" And Loki is sure it was true once, when Odin had held council with both his sons and assured them that they would be great, that they were born to be kings. His mother had said the same many times over, with a gentle smile on her face as she guided him through his spell-work. "This is not for Jane, father, she does not know what I came here to say. Now, forbid me to see her, or say she can rule at my side, it changes nothing."

Loki sits, leaning on the throne for support more than anything. He does not know what he would have done if Thor had accepted, how he would have kept up this farce with him still here, but now he does not have that worry. And if Thor has his way, he never will.

"One son who doesn't want the throne, another who wanted it too much." He sighs. "Is this to be my legacy?"

Thor's face shutters, eyes growing dark for a moment. "Loki died with honor." Loki raises a brow. "I shall try to live the same. Is that not legacy enough?"

He gives a small nod, eyes once more going to the staff in his hand. There was once a time when Thor would never had said such things to his father, when he would have done anything to be worthy of the throne. But now, now he defends Loki, despite all he's done to him, to Asgard and to Midgard, to the realm he had vowed to protect with his life. Now he offers up his hammer, something Loki knows he was never himself meant to wield.

"It belongs to you, if you are worthy of it." And when Thor meets his eyes, he is no longer the pride filled child he once was, nor the angry man that stood outside his cell and spoke of trust.

"I shall try to be."

Loki shakes his head. Not such a fool, not anymore. "I can not give you my blessing, nor can I wish you good fortune."

"I know," Thor nods, turning away.

Loki should let him go, he really should. "If I were proud of the man my son has become, even that I could not say." And there goes the truth again. Last time Thor had acted against Odin's wishes, he had been banished and stripped of his immortality. He now knows that Frigga was right in sending him back; who knows what punishment the king would have thought up next.

"I would speak only from my heart." He continues, offering Thor a smile as he turns back. "Go, my son."

Thor dips his head, a smile barely lighting his face. "Thank you father." And with that he's gone.

Loki waits until he's out of sight before letting his illusion fall, a smile playing across his lips. "No, thank you." He says, and the great hall is the only witness to his words.

...

If there is one thing that Loki quickly learns, it's that ruling is a tedious, fury inducing thing. Not only must he orchestrate the rebuilding of Asgard after the invasion of the elves, but he must attend to the people. The guild-masters and the smiths, the masons and the guards, the lords and ladies, all vying for advise that they really didn't need, if only to get a chance to speak to the king.

Tedious, his mind snarls as he half-listens to a healer and a seamstress bicker over plants that the other could use in her own craft. He thinks of Frigga, of how she would have been here to advise and mediate if he had not told the Kurse where to find her. Resisting the urge to drum his fingers on the arm of the throne, something he had done once like a bored child in his lessons, he brought the staff down to the ground with a satisfying crack. No power was emitted with the action but the women fall silent immediately.

Turning to the guard positioned at the nearest column on his right, he inclines his head toward the women. "See that the healers get what they need from the shares, then give the rest to the seamstresses." When the cloth-worker opens her mouth to speak, Loki leans forward, Odin's eye studying her for a long moment. "Surely the health of Asgard's people matters more than a bolt of vibrant cloth."

The woman flushes, but doesn't dare protest as the guard leads them away. Leaning back again, Loki taps his fingers once, twice on the throne and refrains the urge to sigh. Tedious. The remainder of the day -no week- continues in such a manner, but despite the squabbling amongst the Aesir, he's able to set the first steps of his plan into motion.

He sends the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif on an errand to deliver the Aether to a man he met long ago in his travels. He knows that the Collector will keep it safe, just as he plans to keep the Gauntlet safe. He can't remove it from the Vault, for such an action would raise suspicion, which he can't afford even if it is the easiest option. No, he leaves it where it is, but spends a full night weaving a tapestry of protection wards around it. It glows briefly as the spells take hold, power thrumming through the air in a way the makes the two guards shoot each other cautious looks. He ignores them and reaches a hand forward, feeling the blanket of magic for imperfections and smiles when he finds none. The spell cannot be broken, not by his death or by anything of less powerful significance than that of an Infinity Gem. It will do.

He repairs the city and palace next, and begins the restoration of the broken Bifrost. Within days Asgard is once more the pinnacle of the Nine, rebuilt better than it ever was before. He cannot avoid Heimdall in all his work, but the Guardian of the Realm Eternal does not interfere. He knows not whether the Gatekeeper knows of his ruse, but if he does, he has not seen fit to stop Loki. The trickster muses about this as often as he is able in the interim of days, with Hunin and Munin perched about his shoulders as he prepares. They are silent as well, bound to their King Regent, even if the title came about by nefarious means.

The last of his tasks is to meet with delegates from a select few of the other nine realms. It's mostly polite chit-chat and hearsay, a few even going so far as to compliment him for raising such a fine prince as Thor. Veiled, of course, and wrapped in enough political silk that he can feel a headache forming, but still something that he finds immensely amusing. Not that he lets it show. He brings up an alliance, a way to bring all the Realms together in a time of need, and the delegates nearly shiver at the chance, like hounds on the scent of a hare. They agree, eager at the chance to get favor from the man that holds power over their Realms in a way that their own Kings and Queens never will. They give their fealty readily enough, whether out of fear or agreeance, he cares not.

The only surprise of the everything comes from the tendrils of a spell that he had weaved around Odin's rooms. It's meant to alert him of any intruders, no matter how heavily they may be masked from such spells. The alert from his magic rings up his arm like an electric shock just as he's musing on whether to cause a bit of mischief to liven up an otherwise dull feast. He clenches his fist for a few seconds to banish the feeling and stands up. Excusing himself with a few choice words, he makes for his room and waits until the door is firmly locked with a whispered spell before letting his illusion drop. Only then does he turn to the intruder in his chambers. "I have to admit, I expected you to take a little bit longer to wake up this time." He tells the All-Father as he makes his way to the far side of the space, Gungnir in hand.

Odin's eye narrows as he follows the movement. "No matter how much you claim to not want the throne, you always manage to prove yourself false." The king tells him and Loki smiles, sharp and glittering like broken glass.

"You could say that I had an errand to run concerning Thor." He returns and Odin's expression shifts from calm to anger in a moment as he steps toward Loki.

"What have you done?"

"Nothing that I wasn't told to do." Loki says, not bothering to reestablish the distance between them again. "Don't worry father, your son is safe."

Odin makes to grab him and Loki slips from his grasp like so many shadows, appearing half the room away with a laugh. "Do not play games, Loki." Odin warns, a power reverberating within his words that sends Loki's laughter to a bubbling halt.

"Forgive me, I wasn't aware that the fate of the universe was a game to you." He clucks his tongue in a disapproving manner, like a nurse with a babe. "There are no games here Odin; there haven't been for a while. I rebuilt Asgard to withstand the power of a Titan, just as it will need to do in the near future. I do not need you interfering now of all times." And with that he reaches forward, a spell humming along his lips to send Odin back into sleep, but it never lands.

"It is not I who interferes," Odin snaps and swipes Loki's hand aside with surprising strength. There is a flash of white-gold-green, and a scream of rage, then all is silent.

Odin stands alone.

A/N: And there it is! This chapter is mostly exposition, but I promise things will pick up in the next chapter. And we might get a bit of Tony! *cough**cough*