A/N: OH MY GOSH THE FEELS. THE FEELS! Thor: The Dark World was MAGNIFICENT, and when I thought *spoiler alert* that Loki died...I sobbed until I knew he didn't. (Sidenote, I rarely cry in movies...this time, though? SOBBING). I was inspired at 1 in the morning by the last line of this fic, and decided that it needed to be written. Its driving force is the overwhelming Feels of a Loki-loving fangirl (who has, of course, a soft-spot for Thor as well).
Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I owned Marvel, Loki would be in Avengers 2-and would have his own franchise.
He died with honor.
The small comfort falls heavy and fades fast. It is, perhaps, the first time Thor hopes for trickery and deception.
Surely, it is just another layer to Loki's plan. It must be. He cannot bring himself to think of his brother's pale face paler still, draped in the grey of death, with the words "I'm sorry" still clinging to his icy lips.
Loki is many things, but he cannot be dead.
I have hope…hope that there is some other explanation—
That he still lives.
But if that is true, then who is his brother? Another mask, another sleight-of-hand. If Loki lives, he is more lost to Thor than he ever was before.
Betrayal, many times over.
With a sinking heart, Thor wonders if the masks are all that remain…that beneath them lies nothing, no trace of the brother he still loves.
I'm sorry…
It may be that the apology was for more than death.
The thought is but the ashes of a flame of hope, but it is all Thor has.
And from the depths of his mind rises up the memory of the only time Loki ever truly let him in.
Remembering, he wonders if the moment he saw his brother most clearly was when he commanded him to cease the illusion, when he witnessed the depths of his brother's self-imposed tragedy in a room of shattered comforts, with nothing more broken than himself.