Fraternal Bonds
A Thor: The Dark World Fanfiction Story

Chapter 1/12

It had been about three weeks since the disgraceful vanquishing of Malekith at the hands of his mother and yet Thor could not understand while she still doted over Loki as if he were made of glass. Son though she may think he is, he was an adult and it was improper to coddle a full-grown man with a fate he must face alone. It only increased his displeasure that his said Jotun "brother" was also a criminal, one whose prime punishment had been underhanded and battered his own relationship with earth.

Malekith's arrival, while it had provided much knowledge into Loki's reasoning, had set certain individuals on the path of "overlooking" Loki's deeds. His once-brother had grown with a slyly built mind, and a tongue that could make even the most powerful of kings fell under his manipulation. Usually his victims remained ignorant to his influences, merely impacted by his delicately carved speeches and patterns. It made him difficult to trust, to believe and it had effected his life even as a child.

His ability to speak freely was a weapon, and giving him unchecked reign was dangerous.

But none had listened to Thor's words on the matter.

Frigga had stated that Loki was tortured for her sake, she had told him of the horrors he had endured and the sorrows that he had faced to protect the one he called mother. She had confided to him that she suspected that there was more to Loki's invasion that met the eye, which perhaps he was not wholly responsible for the deaths that fell due to it.

That it was possible that he had been influenced by a more powerful and outside force.

That hardly shoveled away the blame in the eyes of the Crown Prince.

The hope in her voice killed Thor, as he did not wish to be infected by it, to be burdened with the same curse upon his mind. He had had so many friends hurt because of Loki's actions, he had seen so many brave and innocent people die during his time on Midgard. He could not and would not allow the precious hopes of his mother to convince him, even while the told her otherwise to placate her heart. Having such ideas were dangerous and if proven false, could allow Loki the chance to harm innocents again, and that was not something Thor was certain he was willing to risk.

He could not believe her, even as he saw the damage of Malekith's work on Loki's weary form.

He would not believe.

Because, if he truly allowed himself to look over his emotions, the thunderer was afraid to confirm the things the queen spoke of. He was terrified that perhaps he had misjudged, that perhaps it had truly not been Loki's intention to cause harm to Midgard. He was afraid to believe because if he did, it would shatter him.

The heartbreak that would follow such a conclusion would devastate him.

He had already considered the possibility and had to reject it merely due to the thoughts that piled within his mind.

Why couldn't I protect you? Did you call for me? Was it my cruelties and rejections that caused your madness? What did they do to you? How much did they break you?

The Crown Prince was a coward, and he admitted it to none save himself and it was only quick, passing and dismissed thoughts that held this information. If such ideas were to be truth, than he would have to admit that Loki was indeed entitled to his tidbit of insanity. The dark prince had always been intelligent and it was easier for Thor to believe that it was his internalized hate and jealousy that caused his sibling to snap.

But where was such hate birthed from? My failures to guide you? My waving-off of your presence for the purpose of pursing my own needs, forgetting yours?

Thor may have learned self-control and compassion during his banishment on Midgard, but he was still unable to take blame for his actions and it was something he tried not to consider. He was a victim of self-righteousness.

So Loki took the brunt, just as he always had when Thor could not be burdened with blame. Thor placed all the issues upon his head, purposely blinded himself to the damage he had inflicted by being inconsiderate and with a lack of sacrifice. He had to be right about Loki because, in the end, he couldn't accept that he was the cause of all the destruction and hurt that came forth from his own cruelties to his brother.

It was that need for his own assurance that led Thor to be uncharacteristically cruel in his speech, in his very judgments of his once-brother. He had degraded him, abused him where it hurt the most and he knew would leave a wound. He had tried to ignore the look of shock and ultimate betrayal on that tired face at each carefully worded spear as it plowed through ribs and into the pleading heart. He had disowned him, knowing the harm he could cause.

Ignoring the agony in those eyes had been the hardest.

Mother had to be wrong.

Yet every moment, every event he saw Loki, his conscious screamed at him for his deeds, told him he was at fault.

The emerald eyes that once projected intellect, wittiness and pride were dulled, purple bags cupping beneath them in a stark explanation of nights where sleep was lost to the terror of nightmares. His shoulders were no longer straight and firm, royalty flowing in the air about him as an aura of his dignity. Ever had Loki contained an atmosphere of hidden pleasure at what the world birthed and bloomed, so innocent and yet so intense. He had been fragile and whole, a man with flaws, but not unknowing of who and what he was. Now there was only uncertainty in his look, hesitation and the features of one who had lived far too long with no release from the everyday torments he faced.

One who had been tortured endlessly.

That was not the Loki he had grown up with.

It was a picture Thor could not stand to look at, guilt and hurt sinking their claws into his soul. He avoided Loki, spending his days with Sif and the Warriors three as he tried to quell the knowledge that, once again, he was abandoning his once-brother to loneliness, the same crime that resulted in their current situation. Still, he tried to find other amusements to distract him from the facts. He had seen Loki look to him longingly as he passed by, quickening his steps to avoid the sight of pure pity begging to be understood. Yet even as he did so, he felt the gaze of sorrow burn into his back, scarring his being.

Loki had even tried to converse with him in his room once, knocking timidly on his door, the out-of-character behavior of it throwing the golden prince far off of his current comfort zone. He had approached him as if to reconcile and Thor had had no desire to hear it, cutting him off before anything of value could be said.

"Thor? Are you busy? I was hoping to talk to you abou-"

"I have things to do Loki, go find some other victim to toy with for your pleasure. I will have no part in it!"

The agony on the second prince's face was blatant, a truth far to present to say it was not so. He had tried, desperately, to start again, as if to make the prospect of speaking with him more promising. He had been so persistent in his tone. But his efforts had been brutally shot down, leaving him shocked.

And Thor had known it would bruise something that was already so beaten.

"Please, Thor, I will only take a few moments. Just a minute. I had hoped-"

"I have no time, Laufeyson, now be out of my way before I call for the guard!"

It was the use of his birth father's name that did it, that sent a very subdued Loki from his room after a few moments basking in the cruelty of what had been voiced. With a passive 'very well' he had fled and the "pride of Asgard" let him go. Thor had known it was heartless, torturous even, but he had not been able to bring himself to listen. Instead he had fled to the distraction of Sif's companionship in riding Asgard's plains, pushing away the pulsing image of Loki's hunched figure as he ran from him.

The hidden silver tears had made no impact upon him because he would not allow it.

Images of his little brother as a child were banished and he looked elsewhere to remember.

But Thor, unsurprisingly, did not find the solace he usually gained in Sif's company, as she was far more perceptive than most tended to believe. It had not gone unnoticed to her, his odd behavior, his forced will to keep content and unlike most, she was unafraid of voicing her observations. They had a long friendship, built on spoken truths and this issue was no different.

Even as they saddled to ride for the afternoon she kept glancing at him, firm, stark and completely aware. He could never escape her perceptive mind. He tried to ignore her as they set off, but keeping to such a pathetic plan was without point.

In the end, she was almost second to Loki's talents and just as he had fallen often to his not-brother's demand for recognition, he fell to her, helpless to reject the situation.

"You're only hurting yourself, Thor." She said after they had ridden long enough that Asgard's walls were no longer able to be seen in the distance. "Whatever issues you bear with Loki speak them and move on, for these pretenses will not last. You shall lose control soon."

Thor raised a golden brow at her, lips thinning from the smile they had once formed.

"There are far too many to consider, Sif, and I cannot speak them all." He grit his teeth, his fists clenching around the reins in his hands. "Loki's presence is unsettling, and it….disturbs me. Nothing more."

Sif scoffed at him, blunt and brushing his words away with a firm wave of her palm.

"Loki has always been unsettling, that is not the problem." She turned a hard look on him, ignoring his comment of dismissal. "I have been told that he seeks you out, as if asking for but a moment of your time. They say you send him off, sharp and quick, only to turn about and smile."

"Do you seek to defend him, Sif?" Thor accused, halting his horse. "He deserves this situation, garnered it with his own incompetence and greed. Do not coddle his name."

Sif's face darkened at his words, rounding on him with her horse and leaning forward so that her black hair tumbled over her leather-clad shoulders. He eyes were bright with judgment, but it was not like her to act viciously without call.

"I defend nothing, Thor, not his name nor his deeds. Loki is hardly to be considered a victim in this case." She spat, scowling. "In all honesty, I believe the jotun to be little more than a viper. There is no love lost between he and I."

"Then why do you address my deflection of him?" The golden prince inquired of his friend, blue eyes filled with confusion. "If not for his wellbeing, then why?"

"So it is true?"

Thor glared.

Letting out a tired sigh, Sif straightened, sitting still and direct in her saddle as she looked off into the distance, studying the mountains and trees with a fierce and weary look within her chocolate orbs. A frown graced her features and she took a deep breath before returning her gaze to Thor.

"As a warrior I swore myself to a code of justice, Thor, one that vows to act and force my conduct into that of an objective eye. With Loki, I know he is not without his blame, but as Volstagg said, neither are we. I accept this, though I do not feel acceptance towards it." The woman's shoulders drooped a bit. "My treatment of Loki was jealous and foolish, my words often as sharp as my blade and I never saw him as my companion, though I think at one time he had desperately wished it of me. My neglect and that of many others pushed him into a dangerous isolation, one which caused him to question everything and gain a critical outlook. He does not trust anyone besides Queen Frigga and he most definitely does not trust himself. I know not if his corruption was of my own lack of consideration or his own madness. But Thor, if you harbor anything against Loki it would be better to be direct and honest, leaving him without question as to what is and where you stand."

Thor set his jaw, his mind wandering to the pathetic image of the man who he had once called his kin. Regardless of his outcome or Thor's involvement in the making of his vulgar insanity, the truth stood that Loki had made his own choices in his demise. In good faith, the reasoning behind the crimes made no difference to the guilty, for that path was not forced and nor was it instigated by anything other than free will.

Why then, should Thor feel an urge of any kind to still the worries of his "brother's" madness, of his broken and corrupted being?

He huffed, snapping the reins to force the horse forward again and Sif followed his lead, keeping pace and trotting beside him.

"Why should I yield my silence for his own sake?" The mighty prince drawled, voice heavy. "Would it not be justice for him to suffer in his fears so?"

I will not speak to him, for to face him would be to face the truth.

My play in his devastation.

Sif gave him a meaningful glance in the corner of her eye before looking ahead once more, hair bouncing with the steady thrum of her beast's tread. Her sharp jaw ground together as a habit when thinking and she hummed her answer gently, but with all the firmness of a warrior's friend.

"Loki may be lost to us, but despite what he is now, once he was of us. To leave him so distraught, especially in the state of his current mental condition, would be cruel." She slid a caring hand down the horse's mane, her fingers passing through the thick hair as the animal bucked its head back slightly in delight at the treatment. "I know not of you, but I have no desire to become a sadist for the sake of my own pride. To reach some sort of balance within yourself with a great adversary or fear is vital to all of us. I speak not of peace, but of an inward knowledge. Speaking with Loki will hurt you both, but I would consider it a necessary evil. You must be yourself and not two-faced." She glared at the golden prince with a playful smile. "And I will not have this mockery of a prince any longer. The Thor I know would never listen idly to one of Fandral's pursuits of a maid without challenging or pestering it with his own talents at wooing."

Thor laughed lightly, a wide and wry grin crossing over his mouth. It was true, most of his dashing friend's stories were absolutely outrageous, even for his taste. A fine overexaggeration of the slaying of a beast or vanquishing of a foe was always humorous, but Fandral's tales were so farfetched and fantasized that it wracked even his scale of storytelling. Often many came to listen just for the fantasy of the thing, at least when Loki was not spinning his own silken tales to amuse. Fandral's makings were so very incredible, sometimes it made ancient warriors teary-eyes with laughter or shame for the future generations.

Still, it was a better topic than that of Loki.

"Aye." Thor agreed. "Those stories are insufferable."

Sif smiled gently before her face became serious again. It was obvious that she took notice of his change in manner, trying to draw her away from her point. However, she knew him too well to fall for it and Thor had never been an excelling liar anyway. The warrior maiden was certainly not lacking in intelligence.

"You will talk to Loki, yes?" She inquired sternly, eyes losing their soft humor. "Even though it may be uncomfortable?"

Heaving a defeated sigh, Thor took stock of his choices. Sif would pester him consistently until she had seen that he had done so, as her concern for Thor was birthed through their long and true friendship. Her stubbornness would not allow him any escape. But…he had no wish to confront his sibling once again. It was too soon, regardless of the time that had passed. Thor would never be ready to stand before such a conversation without rage or guilt biting his soul.

Too many aspects to consider!

Coward!

Speaking of his hate, his distrust and the brutal emotions of betrayal that had led him to believe in the loss of a brother, with Loki, was out of the question. Let him voice the aftershocks, the anger and bitterness that he now always displayed to the fallen prince, but never would he let himself be read again and he was no puppet.

Feelings were a dangerous weakness.

Thor would let him burn as he had himself on the Bifrost that day, mourning the "death" of one who, while he would return, would never be the same. A broken mirror image of who he had once loved.

Once, brothers, but now? There was too much pinned to Loki with definite and unrelenting fault that could not be ignored. The bond between them had been severed upon the coronation day. As far as Thor was concerned, that was the day Loki had truly died.

And that is all the traitor would ever hear from Thor's lips.

"I will think upon it, Sif." He said, attempting to content her somewhat. "Now let us no longer dwell on this, there is more to think on then such sorrowed thoughts."

Haltingly, Sif seemed to find the idea to her blatant distaste, but complied to his wishes with respect and said no more, even if it was obvious to the prince that she was not to be considered satisfied. It was just as well that he had the authority to silence her, for enough of his time and worries were devoted to avoiding talk and thought of Loki. Of course, he was generally fruitless in such an endeavor. Loki would always cloud the back of his mind, screaming and kicking in his sins, in his desperate want for acceptance.

Thor had loved Loki and even if he could not face what he had been degraded to, little more than a jotun runt, that wound would always remain as a scar for a doomed brotherhood.

A brotherhood he begrudgingly missed.

His mind was so contradictory.

"And what have you done with your elf?"

Thor raised a brow at Sif, confusion falling over his face.

"Elf?"

"The one you interceded for in front of your father?" The black-haired woman elaborated. "What have you done with him?"

Ah.

The elf that made Thor recall Loki's past self and urged him to spare the creature.

Once again rounding on Loki, as everything did.

Thor….Thor had forgotten him, that elven captive. Unintentionally, mind you, but the fact still remained that something had to be done with the thing. The prince had saved him from the axe only and soon his father would either demand his death paid or some use to be made of him.

"I am uncertain how to proceed with him." Thor admitted with a frown. "I had him spared in honor of Mother, as a way of remembrance to her had she been lost to Malekith's plans. Given that she survived, I have no clue as to what use to make of him."

Sif glowered at him.

"So he has been imprisoned since the executions, wallowing?" She sighed, shaking her head. "He is probably terrified, expecting the block. Serves him well I suppose, as punishment for his deeds against Asgard."

"Indeed." Thor agreed, apologetic, steadying his horse as it stumbled upon the path and whispering to her. "But it was not my intention to cause him fear, I merely forgot about him."

"Why not have him serve you?" Sif suggested, her tone helpful. "It is a far better existence than wasting away in a cell. He seemed young, there is much he can do."

"I have no desire to enslave him, friend." The golden prince stated firmly, meeting her eyes. "Asgard has forbidden such things and with good reason."

The woman huffed.

"Yet he is too dangerous to let free. He would hunt you down, Odinson, as your father shed the blood of his kin."

"I should have considered these things before sparing him." Thor grumbled, looking to the setting sun, Asgard coming into view just below its brilliant rays.

Beautiful, as usual. The sky painted in blended shades of bright oranges, pinks, purples and blues, swirling out over the heavens. It was far more pleasing in Asgard herself, her golden towers reflecting the beams with a mirrored majestic magic. The various trundles of color reached out like fingers before being lost to the darkness of the void beyond. It was as if the city glowed then, looking every bit the home of the mighty, long-lived Asgardians. Perfection, in subtle degree, was marked upon her buildings as they stood watch and as shelter for their inhabitants.

Aye, how Thor adored his home, so very unique from all the other realms, so very eternal.

Sif laughed, her dark eyes glistening with the disappearing sunlight.

"You shall think of something, my prince, you always do." She reassured him. "You have overcome much, you shall find your way. There is no shame in being capable of mercy."

"You are a wise companion, Sif, and a valued friend."

Smirking, the woman gave no reply, instead striking her booted feet against her beast and sending her into a quick gallop, leaving Thor behind before anything else could be said. She had never been one for touching speeches, preferring to communicate directly. It was a quality Thor respected of her and it was with a smile upon his lips that he followed her.