Disclaimer: I do not own the Marvel universe. Thor Odinson and Loki Laufeyson are not my characters, neither is Steve Rogers. Also, this oneshot is based more on the movie version of the characters than that of the comics. Enjoy!
"Loki!"
He was always grasping for the mischievous god, always reaching out, arms wide open, hands ready to grasp at those slimmer fingers of his; and he seemed to perpetually be a second—no, a fraction of a nanosecond, really—too late. Always, Loki's pale fingers would be a hair's breath away from grazing against his own tanned ones. Always, Loki's splayed hand would be just too far out of his reach, and always, always, always, he would watch as Loki fell away from him, the younger god's face contorted with what he could only see as being complete and utter heartbreak.
"I swear to you, by the sun that breaks over the golden pillars of Valhalla, I will protect you against all the dangers that our universe can and will create."
The oath still rings in his ears, even to this day; a constant reminder of the failure he'd become in the wake of the sacred oath he'd laid out. It mattered not that the words were that of a child's promise, surely not one he could be liable to truly keep, not at the tender age at which it was made and the unexpected occurrences of life after the fact. It mattered not that Loki had paved his own path, and that his was this dark, destructive route so seductive that even the Silvertongue fell victim to its advances. What mattered was that he, Thor, the mighty son of Odin and heir to the throne over Asgard and its dominions; had not been able to keep a simple promise—a promise to keep his only brother safe.
The fact that Loki was not his brother by blood had no meaning to the God of Thunder. The fact that Loki had chosen his fate by his own hand deterred him not. The fact that Loki, upon their encounters, spewed his words of hatred and anger did not seem to raise any need for the young God to halt in his attempts. Not even the fact that everyone who claimed to love Loki, even the father who had saved the babe from a terrible fate in the war-ridden Jotunheim, turned their backs on him—of course, their mother was exempt from this, if anything she tried to help Thor more than anyone else—did Thor find any reason to stop trying.
Thor could not help this.
He loved his brother, irrevocably loved Loki, despite the trials he had put him and his friends through—both human and Aesir—and only wished to see the day when Loki's eyes would no longer burn with the hatred of a thousand suns and the anger of a million armies. He wished for the days of simplicity—when Loki was on his side; mischievous, devious and sneaky, yes; but still on his side. Oh, how he longed for those days, when Loki's smiles would sing with sincerity, when Loki's nose would be between the pages of a newly-found text, when those emerald green depths of his would be alit with amusement and genuine happiness.
How could he have not noticed the subliminal changes in Loki, he couldn't help but ask himself. How could he have not noticed the jealousy that grew in his brother's eyes whenever he had spoken to him, which he noticed now with alarming recollection? How could he have not noticed the biting nature behind Loki's smiles and grins, their insincere happiness burning their mark into Thor's recollection and smearing the goodness of the memories he kept?
It was his own fault, he decided, that he hadn't noticed any of this in Loki. He had been too busy in his own legend, too fascinated by his own capability, that he was blinded to the rest of the world around him. Swallowed by his sinful pride, Thor became ignorant to all that surrounded him, not just to Loki, but to his own self. He had lost himself in his strength, in his fame, in his drink, in his food, and in his women; he would admit it. He would also admit that in this mistaken part of his life, he had committed many wrongs, wrongs that would've had anyone else besides him severely punished. However, he always seemed to be able to get away free of blame, free of punishment, for the simple fact that he was the Odinson.
Loki was Odinson in only name. Though unintentional, Thor could now see the errors in his father's attentions to Loki. He may have claimed Loki as his son, but it was clear that Loki was anything but. Though treated not as a prisoner of war for the naked eye to see, Odin did treat him as he was—as the Laufeyson, as the runt Frost Giant he had stolen from their race, the heir to a violent, frozen wasteland of a planet that Loki himself was bred to hate by no one else but Odin.
It was such an unforgivable evil, to make one hate from which they came. Despite this, Thor placed no blame on his father's own well-intended, yet misguided actions against Loki's heritage. No, he blamed himself. No one else.
"As your brother, I swear I will protect you, Loki."
Almost as if he's right before him, huddled in that same darkened corner of his bed chambers, Thor can still see the centuries-young face of the child god Loki; can still find the fear that could only belong to the youngest of children: the fear of the monsters that lurk in the darkness of the shadows, and, just as clear as it was on that very day, Thor can see the immediate and indisputable look of faith the young trickster willingly gave to the elder boy.
He can see Loki's eyes fill with admiration at his brother's fearlessness from that day that the Allfather put him through the first public trial of his Becoming—his trials towards earning the rights to become the future king of Asgard—in his tender "teenaged" years, from that fleeting glance he'd stolen at his family's place up in the high stands of the nobility; pride filling his eyes as Thor faced the beast of the challenge.
He can see the excitement in the youngest Odinson's eyes as, for the very first time in his centuries, the two stood side by side, as both warriors and brothers both, on the battlefield of Nidavellir, defending the Dwarves against the dreaded fire elementals that had been threatening their colony—and marking Loki's first time in a world both far and close.
He also remembered—very, very clearly—that deep sadness and pure hatred that had ripped through those very same green depths of Loki's upon the Bifröst, and those unforgettable words that had cut through Thor deeper than any blade cast from any of the nine worlds' strongest metalloids: "I never wanted the throne; I only ever wanted to be your equal!"
Truthfully, he hated remembering the anger-ridden words that the younger had spat at him, but almost like a penance, they seemed to run on loop in his mind, constantly replaying itself, over and over, until Thor was sure he would go mad with the guilt created by it.
He hadn't intended to make Loki seem like anything less, truthfully; but even he would admit, even to himself, that in his centuries of life, he hadn't done anything to make him seem like anything more. It had begun with an innocent childs' promise, but it had morphed into something horrid. He had begun to treat Loki as the Allfather treated him—with a deep underestimation and lack of understanding. He'd never believed Loki could be any sort of threat, least of all to himself, because he'd long since caged Loki in the role as the weak little brother.
In his blindness, he'd missed that Loki had become so much more than that.
All he'd seen was a playful trickery and sly sarcasm. He'd missed the beginnings of that evil that had plagued Loki's heart, he'd missed that development of a strength unique to Loki and Loki alone, and he'd missed that as Loki grew up, he'd missed that as Loki grew up, he became less and less of that little boy hiding from the monsters in the dark, and became more and more like those very monsters he had once cowered from—more and more like those creatures he'd sworn to protect Loki from.
"Thor."
The god blinked, mind snapping back to attention as beheld Captain Rogers, his bright blue eyes reminding Thor of the clear waters of Asgard in that they easily betrayed all that the good captain was thinking—currently, worry; worry for not just Thor, but for the entirety of Midgard's races.
"Hmm?" he responded civilly to the old soldier, eyes flicking back to the image of Loki on the monitor before him.
He still stared at the camera.
As if he just knew Thor was there, looking at him, reaching out to him a second time.
Fingers grasping.
Arms wide.
Swiping just a few millimeters wide of Loki's pale hands, watching as his brother fell into the abyss of Yggdrasil's embrace.
And then—ever so teasingly—Loki smiled.
A mocking mirror of the smile he himself had made multiple times before the crowd at the steps of Valhalla—a floating, victorious smile. Even never having seen it himself, Thor recognized it with stunning recognition, even with the biting, sarcastic edge that Loki gave it, laughing at Thor even through the cameras.
As Thor's guilt ripped through him, he could swear he heard Loki's twisted, amused laughs of insanity—all Thor needed to hear to tell just how much he'd failed Loki, how much he'd failed the little brother he had sworn to protect.
"As your brother, I swear I will protect you, Loki."
The young Loki of his mindscape gives him a shy smile, shuffling closer.
"Thank you," he whispers as Thor pulls him in close, arms wrapping around Loki's smaller body, "Thank you, brother. I love you."
Jeg elsker deg også, min bror.
I love you, too, my brother.
This is so NOT Naruto. I just... I have no inclination to work on my stories. Just... none. I mean, I have, but... I'm just going through a weird time right now. My sort-of-boyfriend left for basic training and I've decided that I didn't want to be a sort-of-girlfriend anymore. He cares about me, but I just don't like how nothing is official, and that while he captivates a lot of my thoughts, I'm pretty sure I'm in none of his. So I stopped talking to him. But I really miss him. And worry about him. And all that shit.
And so that's the reason I can't write Naruto fanfics. Believe me, I tried. I couldn't even work on my original works. BUT!-always a bright side- I was completely able to work on Marvel universe fanfics! Weird. But I'm not arguing. Better than nothing.
Lemme just say that I am a HUGE Thor fan (no, I would not marry Thor). I even love the movies, even though they have a bit of free adaption to them that should piss me off. I just... Thor IS my favorite hero, and Loki is my favorite... anti-hero? lol. He's not truly evil, I don't think, but he's not exactly all good. He's a villain with the capacity of doing good, he just chooses not to sometimes. Hiddles there gets him right because he is REALLY underestimated, by everyone, especially by Thor. Now, Loki, I would marry. lol, I'm joking.
OR AM I? xP
Lol. I couldn't find any Norse, so I used Norwegian. Hopefully you don't mind. Effect still the same, kinda. Norwegian is an offshoot.
I hope you enjoyed! Please, feel free to leave a review! I'd like to know how it makes others feel... :)