Written while listening to "Echo and Shadow" by Jason Walker.
Emptiness.
That all he felt. As if something inside him had broken. He felt like a music box that could no longer play its song.
Just empty.
Wide eyed he stared at the man that was supposed to be his lover. The man that had whispered words of love and eternity into his ear hours ago. That had claimed him as his in the safety of his rooms a million times.
Thor.
And now, here he was, standing in the doorway, his hand still on the handle of the wooden door, watching as his brother looked back at him in utter horror, while some woman covered up her breasts with a blanket.
"Ah.." his voice sounded foreign even to himself, too flat, without any melody or tone. "I am sorry, brother. I will return later."
The sound of his brother calling his name sounded too close and too far away at the same time as he pulled the door shut.
Away, he had to get away, far away as quickly as possible. He would not be able to bear his brothers presence. Couldn't take the sound of his voice. He wouldn't survive if he saw his brother now.
His legs moved on their own, carrying him away from Thor's room, and back into the hall where the feast was still going on. He walked to his chair, mechanically sitting down, grabbing a cup of wine, throwing his head back as he drank down its content.
"Loki." His father scolded quietly so that only his youngest could hear. "If you want to improve your skills with the sword tomorrow, you should not be drinking. Hel knows you do not do well with it without a headache."
"Yes father." Loki answered quietly. Again. This emptiness. Just when he had almost regained feeling, when the pain of his love's betrayal had started to catch up with him..he once again was not good enough. No..
No matter how great a sorcerer he was, no matter how talented he was at reading runes,I or deciphering codes, or solving riddles. It mattered not that he was one of the brightest minds in the entire nine realms. He was not a warrior. And therefor he was worthless to Odin.
Pushing himself back out of his chair that he had only inhabited for a few minutes, he excused himself for the night, claiming he wanted to be rested for his training tomorrow. His father had brought in Hogun, one of the men that called themselves the Warriors Three, to give him private lessons.
Loki scoffed at the thought. Private lessons, just to ensure he wouldn't embarrass his father. Like a child he was being tutored. Did Odin realize that he could brew a poison strong enough to kill an entire race with one drop, if he poured it into their water supply? Did he understand that he could create illusions that could drive a man insane? That a sword would do no good against him if he was allowed to use his entire magic?
But no. He was supposed to live up to Thor's example, always living in the shadow of his greatness. No one seemed to recognize his talent. See how strong he really was. No one cared to take a second look at the thin, black haired man that everyone considered to be just a little bit off.
Walking through the palace, he wondered why he even tried.
What had his life given him beside of disappointment, anger, and ultimately pain? He would never be enough for Odin. He had hoped that in his love for Thor, in their relationship he would find peace. But of course, his luck had quickly turned on him.
He should have known that Thor would not keep any of the promises he had given him. Thor was many things, but he was not consistent and even less monogamous. How had he been so daft to let himself be wrapped up in the sweet lies his brother spun? Wasn't he the god of mischief and lies?
He made his way to his rooms, closing the door quietly behind himself, throwing up a quick charm against the wood. It would not open to anyone, not if Loki didn't want it to. And right now, he wanted to see no one.
He walked to his shelves, running delicate fingers over the spines of his many books, closing his eyes as he felt the gentle whisper of magic coming from them. Had his entire life be for naught? Had he really made such little impression on anyone? Was this going to be his future?
Did he want to live like this? A constant disappointment? Was this really going to be it?
His brother would claim the throne, he would be king, and Loki would stand at his side and watch as he ruled. And then he would watch Thor become a husband, and then a father, and then, eventually, a grandfather.
Loki couldn't imagine that he would ever be happy in his life. All that mattered to him, getting his fathers approval, his respect, his love.. that seemed so, so far away. And his brothers love? Oh how much Thor must love the trickster to do this to him.
Suddenly, something wet on his cheeks pulled him from his thoughts. He touched his hand to the moist skin, pulling it back to see something liquid shining on it. In confusion, he looked up to the ceiling, wondering if it had somehow leaked.
Then realization dawned. He was crying.
He was crying and he hadn't even noticed. A choked laugh escaped his throat. Here he was, standing in front of the only family he ever had, his beloved books, crying. Because he was never going to be good enough.
Not for his father, not for his brother, not for anyone.
The only thing he would ever be good enough for was his books. How many hours had he spent hidden in the library, caressing the thin pages of his favorite books, letting them teach him everything he knew, whisking him away to different worlds, into different times, all without having to leave the comfortable chair he was seated in.
Pulling his hand back, his gaze swept over every single book he had ever read, contemplating on how miserable his life had always been. By hel, how could he stand alone in his room and still know his best friends close?
He had a father, a mother, and even a brother, but no true family. He had no friends. He only had his books and his magic to chase away his sorrow, to sooth his pain, and lighten his heart.
But even his dearly loved books couldn't make him feel better today. No. Nothing would be able to save him from the crippling, excruciating pain he was feeling now. And tomorrow, he would have to face another day of pain, of disappointing his father, and looking upon the one man he had opened up to, and that had crushed him, like a boot stepping onto an ant.
He couldn't do it any longer. He could not live with his perfect family, and be lacking. Not anymore. He knew that this would be his life. He would always be the odd one out. He would always be different. He would never be accepted. Not for who he was. And he was so done.
He halted his thoughts for just a second. Was he really thinking about this? Did he really want to follow through with his idea? Was death better than his life?
Letting his gaze travel through his room, thinking back on his life up to his point his decision was easily made. Yes. This would be his end. Now to decide how. He could of course poison himself. But then, most poisons would make him die a slow, agonizing death. No, he did not want any more pain.
He could hang himself, a rope was easy enough to get, or to enchant something to fit his needs. But no, snapping his neck and then suffocating did not sound much better, either.
He had never realized that there were so many ways to end someones life. Drowning was an option, but chances were he'd pass out before he could finish the job, or his body would react on adrenalin, forcing him to find oxygen. So again, not an option.
A sword to his stomach would have done the job just as well, but then, that was also painful, and he did not want something sticking out of his body while dying. And he would have to pierce through his body if he wanted to really die. Chances were his magic on the doors would fade when he did it, and if someone found him in time, they would save him.
No, he needed something slow, but painless. Something that would allow him to concentrate on his charm long enough until it was too late. He would have to drain his body from its essence.
Now that the how was decided, he needed to decide where. The tube would have been nice, watching the water mingle, but the heat of it could make him pass out sooner than he wanted. So that was out of the question.
The bed was his best choice. He could surround himself with things that were meaningful to him, and at the same time keep eyes on the door, just in case someone tried to come in.
And so he went and gathered his most favorite books, and a few trinkets he had gathered on his many adventures with his brother. As much as he hated him for what he had done tonight, he knew that he would always love him, until his last breath. Having something that reminded him of the thunderer would sooth him. And he wanted to be calm.
Placing them neatly onto his bed, he also decided to dress into something more comfortable. He was surprised that he did not feel more unsettled at his nearing death. Wasn't that what people were afraid of? Dying? But no, he was oddly at peace with the fact that he was going to take his life. As if what was coming would be his relief.
He was now dressed in a light, soft tunic, the pants he was wearing being his normal sleep wear, but they were wide, not as constricting as the ones he wore during the day, and if he was going to blow out the flame of his life, he didn't want to feel constricted. He thought about having a last meal, but he wasn't hungry.
"Do I need anything else?" he thought aloud, looking over the bed before nodding with approval. He had done well. Loki snorted at the thought. Yes, for once in his life he had done well. By preparing his death.
Loud knocks on his death pulled him away from his task for a moment.
"Loki!" his brother roared, obviously furious. Had he been knocking before? Loki hadn't heard anything. "Let me in! Loki!"
The trickster decided to ignore Thor. He would no doubt try to explain, where there was nothing to explain. He had slept with someone else after promising him love. Promising him everything he had ever wanted. And then he had taken it away, just like that.
Nothing the thunderer could say would make this better.
Settling down onto his bed, he leaned against the soft pillows, stretching out his legs, making himself comfortable.
"Loki! For the love of hel, open the damn door! What are you doing in there?!" Thor cried out once again, and once again Loki did not care to open the door. Not yet. He would let his brother in, just in time to see him die. For now, all he wanted was to pay Thor back. To make him suffer. And watching his brother die over something he had done would definitely do that.
Now, all there was left to do was to actually take his life.
Pushing back the sleeves of his tunic, he ran his hand along the prominent blue line, that was his artery. He would have to cut both open. Then, if he waited for a while, he could open the doors, let his brother in, and slip through his fingers.
Closing his eyes, he summoned his magic. His skin started to open, from elbow down to his wrist, cutting open the arteries on both arms. The pain was, thankfully, bearable.
He heard Thor knocking against his door, over and over, expecting the outcome to change. That the doors would open. Loki chuckled as he imagined his brothers outraged expression, hammering against the door, calling out for him.
Turning his gaze to his arms, he was fascinated with how quickly he was shedding blood onto the covers of his bed. He was getting cold. He wanted to cover himself with a blanket, but his arms would no longer move.
It'll be over soon, anyway.
The thought comforted him. It was getting harder and harder to keep the spell in place, and as he started to get dizzy, as his vision blurred and black spots appeared, he decided he was far enough gone to allow his brother inside. Even if he got a healer, they would not be able to save him. Not anymore. His mind was hazy as he lifted the spell, feeling a small surge of energy returning to him.
The doors burst open, and Thor was standing in the middle of his room within seconds, blue eyes searching for his brother. The reaction as they finally caught sight of him made Loki laugh.
Thor had dropped his hammer, eyes going wide, jaw dropping as he froze. It was such a ridiculous sight to see his brother this was that Loki couldn't help but chuckle, despite starting to feel nauseous.
"Loki.." Thor whispered before rushing to his brothers side, strong hands trying to apply pressure on the wounds that were simply too big to be covered, even by Thor's large, broad hands. "Loki.. What have you done.. This.. This is madness!"
"Is it madness, Thor?" Loki whispered, closing his eyes. His mind was slowly slipping into oblivion, a much more comfortable place, he found.
"Loki, why did you do this?" Thor asked, his voice strained, strong hands pressing down onto the tricksters arms. "HEALERS!" he yelled, tears running over his cheeks as he did. "Guards, get the healers, now!"
"Crying, brother? Really? Are you going to mourn?" Loki asked, his tongue feeling heavy, his words lazily slurred.
"You will not go. I will not allow it. Loki, you cannot die on me." Thor whispered, leaning down to press his lips forcefully against his brothers. His stubble scraped against Loki's skin, but it didn't tickle as it normally did. He could barely feel it. "I love you!"
"Enough to sleep with another." Loki whispered.
"I did not.. I did not know what I was doing! I was not myself!" Thor insisted, but Loki didn't care. It made no difference. Not anymore. He was fading, and where ever he was going already felt peaceful.
"Tell father that I am sorry. For being such a disappointment. Tell mother I love her." Loki answered instead. "Tell mother that I am sorry for what I have done."
"You can tell her yourself. And father was never disappointed in you!" Thor replied, turning his head to look at the open door. "Where are the healers?!"
"Thor." Loki breathed, pulling his brother's attention back to himself. "Know that I love you. And that I did this because you broke my heart."
And then it was darkness.
The End