Hi, I saw Infinity War and I'm Not Okay and I have to let it out before I move on to anything else.
It would be some time before they reached Nidavellir. Thor decided to use some of it to mourn.
He didn't know the names of everyone on the Statesman. He didn't even know how many of them were still alive—Thanos had implied it was a half, but with the ship having been blown to pieces, that sounded too optimistic. So Thor quietly bid his farewell to them all, speaking every name he could remember, and then, at the very end, adding a prayer for those he had never got a chance to know.
But when he was done, there was still one name remaining.
Thor found it strange. He'd mourned Loki before. If anything, it should get easier with time. But it didn't. That was worse, much worse than before.
Because unlike the previous times, he couldn't go home and grieve with the rest of his friends and family. He had no home anymore, no friends, no family. Unlike the previous times, losing Loki had left him completely alone.
He wanted so desperately to have hope. To expect that in some time, he would see Loki again, having cheated death one more time, because he'd managed to do it twice, so why not thrice? But if Thor had had any hope, it had died the moment he'd heard Loki's neck snap, seen his lifeless body fall to the floor, sobbed into his still chest.
Midgardians had a saying: 'third time's a charm.' But that was no charm, that was a curse. And there was no way to break it. No way to undo it. Thor could only mourn now, he owed Loki that—and this was also the only thing he couldn't bring himself to do.
To mourn Loki now, to pray for him, would be to accept that he was dead, and even though he'd admitted it as a fact before, even though he'd explicitly told Gamora that Thanos had killed his brother—
This was something he couldn't do. Not when there was no one else left, not when he couldn't even share his grief with anyone.
But he had to, he had to. Even if it pained him, even if it would rip a hole in his heart anew, even if it would only make the feeling of loneliness even more crushing.
He died a hero, Thor thought, forcing himself to find anything that could make it hurt just a little less. He died as a Prince of Asgard. He died as a son of Odin. He died as my brother. He died trying to save us, to save me—
He died. He died. He died.
Thor wanted to burst into tears. To fall to his knees and scream Loki's name, to apologize for being unable to save him, to plead for him to come back. But he couldn't even do that, his anguish still overwhelming, but in a different way now, no longer raw and hot, but solidified and heavy. It turned him into a statue, unmoving but brittle like glass, barely keeping itself from breaking into thousands of pieces.
Standing in front of the pod's viewport, he kept staring out into the darkness of space encrusted with stars. Loki's body was out there somewhere. Thor wondered if he could go back to recover it.
Not now, of course. There was no time for that, and to make a detour to just to retrieve a corpse would be unreasonable in the greater scope of things. Which didn't really deter Thor from at least considering it. The more time passed, the less chance there was to find him. It was possible it was too late already. It most certainly would be after everything was over.
Thor didn't want to think that he might never find him. He wanted Loki to have a proper funeral. He wanted to kiss Loki's forehead before sending him away on his last journey to Valhalla.
Or maybe Loki had dissolved into golden dust by now, just like Odin had. Maybe his essence had already spread across the universe, leaving nothing behind.
All of a sudden, Thor wished he at least had some keepsake. A dagger, a strand of hair, anything. But all he had left were memories—over a thousand years worth of them, so precious but intangible. Unable to be touched, to be held, but at the same time the only thing he could hold on to right now. Memories of Loki fighting by his side, playing with him, teasing him, of Loki alive, up to the last few minutes that now seemed to have been both a lifetime ago and just a moment before.
I assure you, brother, the sun will shine on us again.
But now Loki was gone, beyond the reach of any sun. And with his death, all sunlight in the universe had lost its warmth for Thor.
He almost wished he'd perished as well. If he couldn't have protected his people, couldn't have protected his brother, he'd rather have died with him. But that would've only made Loki's sacrifice utterly pointless. For Loki's sake, in memory of him, Thor had to carry on. Find a new weapon, defeat Thanos, punish him for what he'd done and stop him from inflicting the same suffering on anyone else.
And afterwards?
Thor wasn't sure if he cared much about afterwards anymore. But right here, right now, he cared. He still had something to do. And he could only hope he was strong enough to achieve it.
But how could he expect to be strong enough to beat Thanos if he wasn't even strong enough to mourn Loki?
Do it, he implored himself. Do it for him. For yourself. You may not get a chance later.
He opened his mouth and closed it. He didn't want to say it. He wished he could just pretend Loki had survived, that he was hiding somewhere else, somewhere safe, even if they would never see each other again. But that would be an insult to Loki's memory. That would diminish his sacrifice. Loki deserved better than that.
Thor closed his eye, trying to focus on a memory.
I, Loki, Prince of Asgard... Odinson… the rightful King of Jotunheim, God of Mischief... do hereby pledge to you my undying fidelity.
He knew now that those words hadn't been meant for Thanos.
His grief shifted, loosening its paralyzing grasp, and scattered all over his body, freezing cold. Thor wrapped his arms around himself, but it didn't make him feel any warmer.
"Farewell, brother," he whispered, and as soon as he did, he started to tremble, tears he thought he did not have anymore welling up in his eye. "I hope—I hope you found your way to Valhalla. Thank you for everything you've done for me—and I'm sorry, Loki. I love you, I love you so much—" He paused. Suddenly it was hard to breathe, every intake of air like an icy spike stabbing his lungs.
"I'll do my best," he choked out with difficulty, his fingernails digging into his arms, but he barely felt the pain. "But please—please watch over me. Guide me." He bowed his head, tears trailing down his cheek. "I cannot do it alone."
I'm with you, he could almost swear he heard. I will always be.
Thor chose to believe he did.
Nope, still not okay. *goes back to crying in a corner, wrapped in a blanket, before embarking on a search for fix-its*