Chapter One: Asgard Falls.
Destroy this city of delusion
Break these walls down
I will fight
And justify my reasons with your blood.
City of Delusion, Muse.
Damn your love,
Damn your lies.
And if you don't love me now,
You will never love me again.
I can still hear you say:
"You will never break the chain."
The Chain, Fleetwood Mac.
Introduction: This fic contains: scenes of torture, violence, death, [child] abuse, graphic injuries, drinking, and language that would make your mama wash your mouth out with soap. Depending on demand or lack thereof, there might be lemons. General content ranges from light, fluffy, and humorous, to dark, angst-ridden, and hurt/comfort-esque. The ratingmay go up. Also, the pairing is Loki/OFC, so if you have a thing against original characters, you should probably back away very, very slowly. You should also back away if lyrics/quotes/music at the beginning of each chapter bothers you, because I do that.
Warnings will be placed on each chapter for your convenience.
This takes place after Avengers and Iron Man 3, but before the rest of Phase Two. I've kind of fudged the established timeline of Phase Two, to be honest. As far as spoilers go for The Dark Worldand The Winter Soldier, there won't be any until much, much later, towards the end of the fic.
Projected length is about 40 chapters; however, this is definitely a variable. I'm not exactly sure how long it will be. It might be more, it might be less, but at least forty is my goal.
Author's Note: If you made through that entire Introduction, I applaud you. Welcome! I hope you're here to stay. This is actually the second version of this chapter that I've just recently rewritten – so whether you're a newcomer or an old friend, I hope you enjoy!
"There is no version of this where you come out on top." Tony Stark swaggered closer, his gaze critical.
Clever, clever boy – Loki almost grinned. Such a tool could be beneficial to him.
Unfortunately, the Man of Iron was impervious to his scepter-related wiles.
Damn.
Plan B: defenestration.
.oOo.
The golden halls of Gladsheim sang with the lilting, disjointed tattoo of chains as Loki was led to the throne room. He went along with a triumphant, shining grin that unsettled anyone his entourage marched by.
"It is almost as if he is happy to be a disgraced criminal," he heard one maid whisper to another in passing. His skeleton grin grew in berth; if they only knew.
At last, they came upon the Allfather. Drivel was exchanged between himself, the Allfather, and the Allmother [not my mother], foolish words that he used only in interest of keeping up his façade; silly, childish words that he couldn't be bothered to remember.
Then he was sentenced to the dungeons – unsurprisingly. Before he was led away, however, he offered one last witty barb that he simply couldn't resist.
"Hip chains?" A light smirk played on his thin lips. He fanned his palms out. "Are these truly necessary, Allfather? Do you expect me to break my bonds with pure sensuality?"
If Odin Allfather blushed ever so slightly, no one uttered a word. Then again, the look on Loki's face said enough.
.oOo.
Loki stared at the white walls of his prison as though he were waiting for something. Perhaps he was. Perhaps he wasn't. He would never tell.
"My hair has grown long," he remarked amicably to a passing guard. "Have you noticed? Do you suppose the length makes me look too feminine? Shall I cut it?"
The guard kept a stoic face and moved on.
Loki gave a long-suffering sigh. "If you don't answer me, I will have to assume the worst!" he called.
No answer.
He toyed with the ends of his hair contemplatively. Yes, he decided. It was too…soft. Too pretty. And with no facial hair to speak of, it truly did give him a woman's visage. As soon as he was freed from this Hel-hole, the hair would be the first change he made.
Ah. Speaking of which, he had been waiting.
He would be waiting for a long while yet.
.oOo.
And then, one day, the wait was over.
The familiar scent of smoke and rot filled Loki's cell. He breathed it in deeply, reveling in the unadulterated power that came with it. Swiftly, before he could even stop to consider, his teeth ripped a gash in the silken flesh of his palm. Tainted blood dribbled down his fingers and to the pristine floor, where the crimson liquid began to move of its own volition. Like a serpent, it slithered across the ground and began to rapidly burgeon in size.
An immense figure of blood rose from the ground slowly. Features were carved into the solidifying mass as though chiseled by an unseen hand: first the bald dome of the head, then a small, wickedly curved nose, a pair of slammed-shut eyes, a long mouth, a prominent chin marked with vertical lines, and an open helm framing the face. The blood oozed down his face, leaving the pale violet skin unsullied, until it shucked away completely and disappeared.
The eyes of Thanos snapped open, revealing irises of luminous blue.
"Laufeyson." The purr that came from the mouth was deep and sibilant. "You have served your King well. Lord Thanos always rewards loyalty." One massive purple hand followed the length of Loki's jaw, tilting the chin up. "Now, tell me: where lies the Tesseract?"
Overwhelmed by the sheer choking power in the room, Loki fell to his knees in near-supplication. "In the armory, my Liege," he answered breathlessly, "along with the Infinity Gauntlet."
Thanos made a grunt of pleased approval. He withdrew his hand and paced the cell, arms clasped behind his back. The shadows of the room seemed to pool about his feet and writhe in his wake. "Good, very good. Did I not assure you that this ploy would work, little frost giant?"
Guards scurried to and fro outside, raising an alarm. Fools.
"It worked beautifully, my Lord." Loki's face was upturned in fervent admiration.
A chuckle echoed in the air. It sounded like worlds being ripped from seam to seam. "Come, little one." Thanos beckoned with a single crooked finger. "Let us paint this realm in fire and blood, brand it with our names, as a warning to any who would dare cross us. And then," a slow smile crept across his face, "then we rebuild it as the worlds fall at our feet."
The air in the cell gathered together before rushing violently outward, blasting apart the walls and freeing the two occupants.
Loki laughed.
.oOo.
In the city at the base of Gladsheim, a young girl tugged at her mother's skirts.
"Momma, look." With the hand not occupied by her favorite cloth doll, she pointed to the sky, where something glowed. "What's that bright light?"
"It is the sun, darling, you know that," her distracted mother replied as she tried to choose between two less than edible-looking apples.
"No, Momma, that light." She carefully moved her doll from arm to arm and pointed more urgently. "The gray one. It's getting bigger."
"What?" Her mother looked in time to see creatures begin to pour out of the hole in the sky.
Screams and fire rent the air.
And somewhere on the ground, trampled, singed, and torn, lie a cloth doll.
.oOo.
When Thor heard explosions and the unmistakable sounds of battle and death, his first instinct was to valiantly defend his people. After all, the safety of Asgard was more important than his own.
It was a naïve notion, surely, but noble, and good, and Thor was nothing if not noble and good.
He never made it to the battle. He was instead waylaid by his mother.
She was dirty and bloody, hair matted on one side, dress ripped, and her hand was folded over a bloody gash on her right side.
"Mother, what – ?" Thor reached for her, only for her to swat his hands away.
"Don't worry about me," she gasped, "there are far more pressing matters at hand."
As if to illustrate her point, a thunderous boom shook the castle.
"What's happening?" Thor asked, voice considerably meeker than it had been before.
One half of a wan smile flickered across her mouth and ran away. "When you were a child," Frigga began in the hushed, metered tone that had lulled him [and Loki] to sleep so many times, "the harbingers of your nightmares were tales Dark Elves and Frost Giants.
"In the days of my youth, our nightmares were far more sinister. More potent, if you will. And the greatest nightmare of all was the Mad Titan." Frigga fixed him with a meaningful gaze. "His true name cannot be uttered aloud, for they say that his name gives him power. In stories, he is called the Titan of Death, or the Mad Titan, or any other number of variances, but the tales all agree that he isn't supposed to be real. But he is, and he is laying siege to our kingdom."
Thor swallowed as his stomach dropped to somewhere below his feet.
"Yet there's more." Her eyelids fluttered, her breath came tremulously. Her bloodied hand pressed closer against her stomach. "I know not how this came to be, but your brother is working in tandem with him."
His heart ceased beating. His ears roared. His mind scrambled for purchase against the onslaught of no-how can this be-why Loki-
"Thor." His mother's voice was an anchor, dragging him back to solid ground. "Thor. Look at me. Focus on me. Thor, darling, concentrate."
The white noise in his head dissipated. For all this breathlessness, Mjolnir certainly must've just hit him with the full force of her fury.
[Perhaps the largest hurt was that Loki's betrayal did not surprise him at all.]
When Thor spoke again, it was with tired resignation. "Not that I doubt his involvement, but how do you know?"
Frigga searched his gaze for a moment, her lips pursed. When she spoke, it was with the whip-sharp, critical, acidic tone that she reserved for giving lessons to her two rowdy boys. The sound forced Thor back, many years ago, to the cusp of adolescence, when his mother gave him more tongue lashings every week than he'd received in his entire childhood. "So quick to give up on your brother, Thor?"
Thor felt that was unfair. She had just told him that his brother was a traitor, and yet now she was reprimanding him for believing it? His jaw worked soundlessly for a moment as he struggled for a proper response and found none.
Her eyes slipped shut, and she gave a labored sigh. "Forgive me, dear," she murmured, smiling wryly. "We're in a rather tense situation, aren't we?" As if on cue, a small group of Einherjar rushed past in a clatter of armor, weapons, and hurried orders. Thor tensed, ready to follow them. Frigga grasped his hand, stroking her thumb against the inside of his palm comfortingly, arresting his movement. "We don't have much time left. I know that your brother and the Mad Titan are in cohorts because I happened upon them in the throne room." She grinned, though it was more a baring of teeth that a smile, and it was an expression so reminiscent of Loki that Thor shifted uncomfortably. "The encounter was not pleasant on their behalf. But that is not important. I have a plan. It shall require your full cooperation and…I do not think you will like it."
And she told him.
His backlash was instantaneous.
"No, Mama, no." His voice cracked at his slip of the tongue. They both pretended not to notice. "You cannot expect me to…I could not…no." His grip on Mjolnir was white-knuckled. "What of you? What of Asgard? It is my duty to protect you. This is…this is home."
["But won't you miss us while we're traveling, Mother?"
"Of course, darling, but this is home. I know you'll always come return to me."]
She shook her head as he spoke. "Thor, Asgard falls today, with or without you. This attack is unprecedented and brutal. We cannot win." Her hand tightened on his until she held him almost as tightly as he held Mjolnir. "My duty as a mother is to protect you. My duty as the Allmother is to protect the Nine Realms. If you fall with us today, so shall the Realms. I cannot allow that. If you leave Asgard now, you can warn the other. You can amass an army, you can gain allies…you can save us. But you can't do that from here."
His bravery fled on the wings of the swiftest crow. His mouth went dry. "Mother, I –"
Frigga framed his face with her palms. "I believe in you, my son," she whispered.
Slowly, he nodded, retrieving the splinters of himself that had scattered to the wind. "Where do we start?"
She smiled warmly, fully, in triumph and in eagerness. "There you are. Now, we'll need to get to the armory…."
.oOo.
The Warriors Three [and Sif] were fighting a losing battle in the center of Gladsheim.
"Where do you suppose Thor is?" shouted Volstagg, swinging his axe and cleaving through three Chitauri cleanly. Unfortunately, he'd overestimated the amount of force he would need, and his axe bit into the wall behind him. Fandral fought on his behalf as he attempted to free the weapon.
"Honestly, I have no idea where he is!" bemoaned Fandral as he wildly waved his sword about. A sword, it turned out, was not exactly the best weapon for fighting five Chitauri at once. He ducked as Volstagg freed the axe and swung it around. "Do you, Hogun?"
"No," grunted Hogun the Grim as his mace collided with the skull of a Chitauri.
Sif, as usual, was doing the best at holding her own. A trail of corpses marked her path through the Chitauri horde. The Chitauri, although stupid, knew well enough to target the biggest threat, and so she was fighting the most. Still, this was what she would generally consider a piece of cake, if it weren't for the fact that every time her double-edged staff cut through a swath of the foul creatures, another group took the place of the last. "Thor is most likely in the castle," she shouted, slicing the throats of seven Chitauri in one cruel swoop. "The shields are down, and these beasts are – "
Sif was cut off as one of the invaders set fire to a fruit stand, and suddenly everything was on fire.
She growled.
Just her luck.
It was then that she saw the child.
Years later, Sif still would not know how it came to be that there would be a parting in the horde in just the right the place, a lull in the noise of battle at just the right moment, allowing her to hear the woeful cries and see the little girl they belonged to.
She was not the only one to see the girl. A Chitauri soldier turned, took aim.
Sif acted quickly, diving forward and shielding the girl with her own body. The laser-like projectile from the soldier's gun grazed the left flank of her head. Her ear went dead. She smelled burnt hair. She didn't have time to fully take stock of her injuries, however, because the projectile that had grazed her had landed a few feet in front of her, and emitting a beeping noise that was increasing in tempo.
"Hel," Sif snarled, lurching to her feet, lifting the little girl with her. Her searching gaze found the door, left ajar, to an underground cellar beside a burning wine store. She barely managed throw herself and the little girl inside before an explosion rocked the ground. Panting, Sif slammed the doors shut against a raging inferno and locked them. The cellar fell into darkness.
Sif collapsed, coughing, and exhausted.
In the square, the last three best defenses of Gladsheim lowered their weapons as they were overwhelmed.
.oOo.
In the throne room, Loki ruminated.
Loki and Thanos were discussing battle strategies above a conjured table when Queen Frigga entered. As soon as she saw that the object of her search was not there – the king, no doubt – she fruitlessly attempted to retreat. However, Thanos had already seen her, so the endeavor was a splinter of a moment too late.
"Ah," purred Thanos, "Frigga. How pleasant it is to finally meet you, albeit in less than pleasant circumstances. I have heard much of your prowess, you know." A lecherous grin hinted at the side of his square mouth. Loki looked on as Thanos folded his arms behind his back, approaching the queen at a leisurely pace that said he found no threat in her. "My, you are a lovely wisp of a thing, aren't you?"
Thanos reached towards her, his hand unfurling with the laconic grace of a spider stretching his legs. Frigga snapped into motion and skittered backwards into a crisp battle stance. Blades, golden and sharp, formed in the circlets of her petite hands.
"You'll not lay a hand on me, titan," she spat.
Thanos tilted his head to the side curiously. "How quaint." He chuckled harshly. "Your fire amuses me, little queen. Tell me, will you watch your kingdom fall from the confines of a cell, or shall you watch it burn with us?"
Time stood still for a fraction of a moment.
Loki held his breath.
Frigga snarled, an ugly expression that had no place within the aristocratic details of her overall countenance. "Not even when Hel freezes over."
Her attack was only a flicker of movement. If Loki had blinked, he would have found himself wondering how her blades could have moved from the staunch defensive position she had been holding. As it was, he was still unsure how this came to be.
She had been obviously been aiming for Thanos's throat, with deadly accuracy borne of the millennia she had spent honing her art. Frigga was agile, and strong, and fatally accurate.
The problem was, Thanos was all these things, but more. Thanos was more agile, and more strong, and more accurate.
He stopped the path of her blades with only the tips the index fingers of his two hands. "What a pity," he mocked.
He grabbed the blades with his bare hands.
Pulled.
Down Frigga went, sprawling on the marble floor.
Loki watched impassively. Somewhere, deep below the surface, in the catacombs of his mind where no thoughts lingered, a small voice whispered of unease. A small voice said, "this is not right. This must stop."
Loki paid it no heed.
Thanos wielded the blades, spinning them in his hands. He sneered. "Asgardian blades. So pathetic. So…flimsy." He crushed one in the palm of his hands and scattered the dust across the floor. The other transformed. The ochre metal melted away, leaving not a sword, but a dagger, cut of jet black stone and carved with wicked, unfriendly patterns. "This, however, suits my needs nicely."
"Impressive." Frigga clambered unsteadily to her feet and staggered backwards. "But I've fought creatures whose might impressed me more than yours ever could."
"Is that so – "
Thanos was never to finish that sentence for, as he began to speak, Frigga threw out a squall of flame that swept over both he and Loki in a wall of blazing light and licking heat.
Loki cried out, and felt the slightest respite –
Thanos let the dagger fly –
Frigga bit out a muted keen, plaintive and barely audible over the roar of the fire –
Thanos inhaled deeply, drawing the entirety of the conflagration into his mouth and swallowing. His mouth and throat glowed like a furnace for a moment before the light died out.
Frigga was gone.
Loki tapped his bottom lip with the edge of his nail. He mentally crawled out of his musings and sighed.
Frigga's refusal simply lacked logic. What kind of ruler did not want power? What kind of ruler would rather burn for nothing than rule something?
[After all, power is everything. Power is blood and bone. Power is the air that puts breath inside of body.]
To not want power was to not want life.
No, it did not compute.
But if he continued to wade through such mundane thoughts, he would miss the dungeon-bound procession.
Naturally, it began with Odin. The Allfather, bedraggled and surly and secured in chains, was paraded past by an entourage of Chitauri. His glare was sour to start with, of course, but when Loki barked in mirthless laughter from his position at Thanos's right side, the glare darkened further.
Next came the Warriors Three, without Sif, which was…suspicious. Loki made it his first priority to track her down, lest she cause problems. She was wily, that one. The thought of her attempting to unsettle his rule rankled, especially since she had been so openly rebellious when he had been legitimately crowned. Yes, she would need to be taken care of.
The procession continued. At least two dozen Asgardians from all walks of life were brought past. They were all accused of the same crime – resistance – and all were guilty in the eyes of the law.
After all, Thanos explained, power was not born of leniency. Power was taken.
Just the thought made Loki shiver in pleasure.
At last, the line of prisoners ended.
Loki ground his teeth together.
Where was Frigga?
Where was Thor?
Thanos made a small, impatient noise in the back of his throat. "You," he barked, beckoning to his left, where The Other stood several stairs below Thanos and Loki, "report, now, ingrate."
The Other hastily stooped in a half-bow of fealty. "Yes, ah…" His hand went to his bandage-clad temple and massaged tenderly. "The Chitauri say…ah…" There was his smile, filled with triumph and pointy red teeth. Even now, it made the hairs at the back of Loki's neck stand at attention. "They say that they have caught another, by the weapon's vault. It is large and carries…a hammer."
Loki nearly purred as Thanos carded his fingers through Loki's hair roughly. "You see, child-king? All is well. Snaring the she-cats will be a simple task. Women are simple creatures, after all. Well placed bait is all it takes to reel the she-creatures in."
There came the great clamor of doors opening, and Chitauri chattering, and the grunts of a prisoner dragged along against his will.
They came, draped in tassels of blood and sprinkled with flecks of gore. Thor's shaggy yellow head hung limply on his neck. The Chitauri yanked him to a stop in front of the throne. The Chitauri both hissed in their rough, native language. By the time the Alltongue had snatched the word and made it say "kneel", the Chitauri had already kicked Thor's knees out from beneath him and yanked his head backward.
Thor had baleful eyes only for Loki, eyes that searched, and searched again.
Loki stood, gracefully, as if he was moving through water. He smiled, not nicely. "You won't find it." Step. "That thing you're looking for." Step. "The brother you once knew." Step. "He's gone."
Thor blinked, the corners of his mouth twitching down sullenly. He looked to the floor.
Loki patted his head in patronizing consolation. He beckoned to the Chitauri. "Come. He has a room waiting for him in the detention level."
With his hands folded behind his back, he drifted with a lilting step that danced his weight from foot to foot. The Chitauri took turns shoving Thor along in his wake.
The doors of the subterranean dungeon loomed ahead. Loki pressed the heavy doors inwards with a delighted spring in his step. The dry air and smell of Chitauri pressed against his nose heavily, but he ignored the discomfort. He gave a sweeping bow to Thor.
"Welcome to your new home," he taunted. The lackeys threw the Prince of Asgard into the clean white cell. The energy barrier slammed shut, trapping him inside.
On his stomach, Thor struggled for a moment to place his bound hands upon the ground and lift his body. He coughed once, dispersing a light red mist upon the floor. He seemed to recover as he stood upon somewhat steady legs.
"You've changed," he said quietly, in an odd mixture of childish accusation and hurt.
Loki's head cocked to the side, like a bird's. "Have I, Thor?" he asked. "Or perhaps – perhaps you did not know me as well as you thought you did."
Thor shook his head warily, a halting, wan smile creeping upon his lips. Still, he searched, with blue eyes that jumped from side to side. "No." His wrists twisted in the thick cuffs. "I have known you for as long as you've been alive, Loki. I have known you, and loved you. Am I not your brother?"
Loki barked out a gritty laugh. "No." He wore his teeth in a jackal's grin. "Do you still love me, Thor?" he simpered. "You're more of a fool than I believed you were."
"No," said Thor, honestly. How surprising. "And yes. I don't love what you've become. But I still love you, as any brother should."
Loki sighed, still bearing that wild grin. "Well, brother, if you don't love me now, I daresay you'll never love me again. Now, dear fool…" He turned on his heel, coat flaring out behind him. "I've a kingdom to command, so if you'll forgive me, I really must run. I'm sure the Chitauri will keep pleasant company, however. They've always seemed kind and accommodating, don't you think?"
Step.
Step.
Step.
And then –
Thor began to laugh. He laughed with riotous aplomb, and when Loki turned to lay eyes upon him, he saw that Thor was nearly keeled over from the bucking force of his laughter. "Always – so – quick – to write off – your brother, – aren't you?"
Thor peered up at Loki from beneath his lashes coyly, and now Loki's smirk fell from his face because he made a very, very dire mistake.
He snapped his fingers. The manacles fell from Thor's wrists and landed on the floor.
Not-Thor's lashes fluttered as he chafed his wrists soothingly. "Well." He spoke with a woman's voice. His features seemed to melt away, revealing the woman that had borrowed them. "It took you long enough, didn't it?"
"Frigga," spat Loki, her name becoming an epithet with the nastiest of meanings.
Frigga clapped in a metered, sardonic rhythm. "Very good," she murmured. "You found me out. And it took only my blatantly waving my disguise in your face for you to realize that you had been duped. Tell me, if I had let the lie play on, how long do you think it would've taken for you to put the pieces together?"
All traces of Loki's amusement had fled. "You are an absolute snake," he snarled.
"Mmm," Frigga hummed in agreement. "And you are an absolute disappointment. I thought I had seen the traces of a great sorcerer in you, when you were a child. I suppose I was wrong, wasn't I?" She picked at her nails, unruffled. "You cannot recognize a simple masking spell when it waltzes in front of you."
He slammed his flat palm against the outer wall of the cell. "Silence," he hissed. "I will not tolerate such insolence from my subjects." He straightened the lapels of his jacket. "Now. Tell me what you have done with Thor."
She raised her brows challengingly. "Tut, tut," she admonished. "I seem to remember raising you with better manners than that. You didn't even say please."
Loki closed his eyes and gave a put-upon sigh. "Will you tell me where Thor is, please?" he snarled through his teeth.
Frigga hummed, unimpressed. "No."
Loki threw his hands up in disgust. "Never the matter! I will find him myself." He whirled away in a brilliant shock of emerald green light, leaving the stench of sulfur behind.
Frigga sighed, drooping like a wilted flower around her extensive abdominal injuries. So much magic had strained the healing process. It had taken all of her energy to remain so calm in Loki's presence, and now the effort was taking its toll.
Trembling, she sat on the floor and rested her forehead against her knees and prayed to the Norns that Thor had taken the time and advice she'd given him and left already.
.oOo.
Incidentally, Thor did not do well at taking advice, nor did he do well at retreating from a battle when he was fully able to help. When Loki found him, he was battling a Chitauri squadron just a hallway downwind from the armory. Loki waited in the shadows – rather politely, he thought – for Thor to finish slaying the last alien soldier before he approached.
"Oh, Thor." Loki chuffed. "You're so predictable."
Thor froze at the dreaded sound of his brother's voice. Damn. He began to fumble in his robes, as subtly as he could manage. Considering that Thor had spent his entire childhood stealing treats from the dour pastry chef, he could be very sneaky when need be.
Meanwhile, Loki was continuing his diatribe. "Did you and Frigga truly think that you could pull the wool over my eyes? Me? Lies are my lifeblood, Thor, the bread and butter of my very core, and – what is that?"
Thor flipped the dagger in his hand. The blade was silver and unassumingly plain, the hilt wrapped in worn black leather. The roundel was a single plate of clear crystal. "Why, Loki, I thought you knew of all the weapons in the armory. Didn't you study the armory in explicit detail?"
Loki circled closer, forcing Thor backwards. His wicked blue-and-gold scepter crawled into existence in the palm of his hand. He was cocky enough to not conjure his armor. Thor nearly scoffed. "That one is new," he breathed. An unmistakable lust colored his tone. "Give it to me."
Thor clutched the dagger to his chest protectively, adjusting his hold on it, as his mother had shown him and readied himself. "No."
Loki smirked mirthlessly. "If you do not give it to me, I will be forced to take it from you. Won't that be embarrassing?"
Thor said nothing and slashed the air between them. With a ripping sound, the very matter of the air split apart in a shower of rainbow sparks.
Thor lunged forward.
Loki, realizing what was happening, struck.
A crack echoed in the hall. Thor howled, falling over his injured leg.
Loki reached for the portal, fingers splayed.
Thor somehow tottered to his feet and dove through the portal, destination in mind…
…Loki screamed in rage as the portal slammed shut behind Thor.
.oOo.
Tony and Bruce laughed as the movie they were watching played with laws of science yet again. Bruce was sitting cross-legged in his corner of the couch, while Tony splayed across the rest of the couch lazily. He'd taken the chance to commandeer all of the cushions when Pepper had gotten up for a snack.
They were relaxed, and having a good time, so of course that would be the moment that everything went to hell in a hand-basket.
The air in front of the television pulled apart with a great screech that had Bruce covering his ears and doing breathing exercises.
Something rolled out of the hole in the air.
The tear stitched shut as quickly as it had come.
The something on the floor was…groaning.
"What the hell?" Tony rolled off the couch and inspected the lump of a person, making sure to poke him –or perhaps her – hard.
"Tony…Stark. The man…of iron," panted a familiar a voice, thick with pain. "I need…your help."
"Well," Tony scratched his head. "When you show up like that, I guess so. But it better not be mouth to mouth. I'm a one-mouth man now."
Thor chuckled weakly. "No," he breathed. "This is more of that saving the world business that you told me to leave you out of."
"Mouth to mouth is sounding better. I take it back. Please need mouth to mouth."
Important! This prologue has been edited as of August 8, 2014. All other chapters are in the process of being re-written, so they are very different from this. Please bear with me as I edit this story. Hopefully, it'll be a much better story for all the attention I'm giving these old chapters.
Note: The Chain is sort of my go-to song for any Loki/Thor angsty bro-feel moments. I know what the song is meant to convey, but it always makes me think of Thor and Loki and their tremulous bond as , of course, Loki's statement to "Thor", [Well, brother, if you don't love me now, I daresay you'll never love me again] is inspired by a line from the song. If you'd like to know more about my thoughts on this matter, feel free to ask!
Also, I'm not exactly familiar with Thanos, so I admit that my Thanos is inspired, in part, by Lord Voldemort.
I don't own The Dark Lord, either, just to be clear.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Marvel. Also, I'm not gaining any money from this: only joy.
Speaking of joy, reviews make me absolutely ecstatic.