Notes: When I should be working on other things, I am prone to getting random ideas that sidetrack me for a little while, and that's what happened here. Also I blame comics on my dashboard and people enabling me into things by promising me tears. I like tears.
I may be a bad person, but I do not feel bad.
(The only thing I'm sorry about here is that I didn't manage to get some creepy selfcest in here as well. Hey, project for another time.)
There was someone skulking around the palace, and Loki was becoming increasingly certain that they were following him.
He hadn't gotten a good look at them yet, and they were using magic to hide themselves that he hadn't quite puzzled out. He knew it was there, could feel it itching at his teeth, but whoever it was, they were good. Better than he was, and Loki resented that.
He did the best thing he could think of under the circumstances and led his tail on a meandering path through most of the palace while he pieced together a snare for whoever it was, only to find that once it was ready and he'd found a secluded passage to spring the trap, there was no sign of the intruder.
The hair on the back of his neck prickled a little, uneasily, and Loki narrowed his eyes. Briefly, he considered going to find Thor, or Odin perhaps, to express his worries, but he dismissed the idea at once. Even if they believed him…most likely it was nothing, and he had no wish to look the fool.
He rocked back on his heels and forward on his toes, and then strode back toward his rooms, keeping his stride swift but not rushed and all his senses attuned to his surroundings. He noticed nothing out of the ordinary, but rather than reassuring him, Loki's instincts only began to hum more acutely. He turned down the hallway to his rooms, picking up his pace, already flipping through the books he could check, perhaps a scrying, or…
At the door to his quarters Loki reached out to key the spell that would let him in, and found it had already been triggered. He pulled his hand back with a sharp exhalation, feeling a twinge of annoyance, because there was only one other person the seal would allow through, even if it left him with burned fingers. A compromise, after much debate.
"Thor," he said, pushing the door open, "I am not in the mood to-" Thor wasn't lounging on the couches. Or standing by the window. Or prodding at delicate materials on his desk.
Loki wheeled as the door slammed closed, knife already in hand and moving, but he froze midway through the motion.
It was his own face looking back at him, leaning against the wall with his hand on the door, shimmering magic sealing it closed.
But at the same time – no, the details were all wrong, but even as he recovered motion and lunged the other flicked a hand and the knife he'd been holding just - vanished. Loki jerked up short. That shouldn't be possible, he'd spelled those, no one should be able to work magic on them…. He braced himself to defend, but his doppelganger didn't make an offensive move, just stood there, regarding him in silence.
Loki's eyes flicked to the door, wondering if he could break through whatever spell this – other had used. The corners of his mouth turned slightly upward.
"By all means," it drawled, "try whatever foolishness you are considering. I'm a great deal stronger than you are."
Loki's skin crawled. It was his voice, but that was wrong too, strange and somehow different, and it was like someone had tried to recreate him from a painting that had been done a few shades too dark, except the skin was a little too pale and everything else a little too thin and sharp. He tried frantically to think of something like this, if he'd heard of anything similar, but all the cases he could think of didn't seem quite right and there was…
Keep it talking. Whatever it is… Loki made his posture relax and straightened. "Well. I suppose there's no point in my fighting, then, is there?"
Its mouth stretched into a grim approximation of a smile. "I might find it amusing."
"I doubt I would." Loki thought of the window at his back, and took a careful step like he was moving toward one of the chairs. "What are you? Some kind of construct? It's very elaborate, but the details are a bit off, I'm afraid."
"A bit off," it echoed, and made a queer, unpleasant sound that it took Loki a moment to recognize as a laugh. "I suppose they are, at that."
Loki reached back in his memory for a spell that might serve as a distraction. If he could get to the window and shift… "So," he said, conversationally. "Is it you that was following me? You were doing fairly well at it."
"Mmm. I was hoping I might be able to follow you to Thor." It shrugged, smile fading back to expressionless indifference. "I suppose I ought to have realized that you would notice." Thor, Loki thought, with a little frisson of alarm, and then reminded himself that Thor could mind himself, and it was him that had to be concerned at the moment.
"Nonetheless," Loki offered, with a charming smile. "I couldn't find a way around whatever you were using to conceal yourself. Impressive." He leaned against the chair, reaching for his power. It regarded him dispassionately.
"You should know," it said, "that the windows are sealed as well. The backlash if you should try to break through would be…unfortunate." Loki fell still, his heart starting to thud a little faster. He kept his face controlled.
"That's not very polite," he said, finally. It smiled, just a fraction, in a way that didn't touch cold, green eyes – his and not his in a way that made Loki's stomach churn uneasily.
"No," it agreed. "It is not." It took a step forward, and Loki made himself hold his ground, the words to summon another knife already on the back of his tongue.
"What are you?" Loki asked, again. "And who made you? There is no one in Asgard as gifted with seiðr as I am."
"Indeed there is not," it agreed. Loki narrowed his eyes.
"But your magic doesn't feel Vanir or Alfish. That's why I noticed it, because it…" Loki stopped. His door only opened to two people – himself and Thor. His knives were spelled so he was the only one who could use seiðcraft on them. There is no one in Asgard as gifted as I am. Indeed there is not. His heart started to thud in a different way and he looked back at its face, the nightmare reflection of his own with everything filed away but hate.
It spread its hands and bared its teeth. "Don't you recognize me? Come now. I'm disappointed."
No, Loki thought, that's not what I am, but the detail, too precise and at the same time too wrong. The magic that felt like his. Just like his.
"Not what you expected?" The bitter, brutal note of mocking in its – in his voice – made Loki want to flinch. "What did you think you would be – a great hero, like your brother? Right hand to the King of Asgard? Beloved as he is beloved?" It – the other him – took a step forward, head cocking to the side. "Is that what you thought would happen?"
Loki felt the nervous urge to lick his lips but pushed it down and set his jaw. "So you're – what, my future self?" He summoned his most patronizing smile. "So you can…let me guess…tell me to do this or that to change the future? Because if you're me, I'm guessing that you know how well giving me an ultimatum is going to go."
"I considered it," the other Loki said, a strange glint in his eye for just a moment. "Just as I considered simply killing Thor here and now. But…no. I changed my mind."
Loki raised his eyebrows, deliberately casual though he could feel his muscles winding tight. "Oh? Are you going to sit down and give me a nice talking to about our life?" His heart thudded loudly against his ribs. "Because – not to give offence – but you look like you could use some advice." He paused, and then added, "and perhaps something to eat? I'm not entirely certain of the ettiquette for hosting oneself…"
Loki just saw himself move, but not quickly enough to counter the punch that slammed into his solar plexus fast enough and with enough force that he hit the floor on his back, gasping for air. Before he could get his wind back, one booted foot landed on his chest, just enough weight on it to compress his ribs. "You entirely fail to mask your fear," he said. "I frighten you. And no wonder. Look at you. Was I ever such a pathetic whelp?"
Loki felt a surge of anger and moved, wrapped his hands around his doppelganger's ankle and yanked sideways, using the weight of his body to throw him off balance. He went down hard and Loki rolled to his feet, his chest still feeling tight, and flung a binding spell at himself. His double evaporated it with a gesture that Loki noted with a sinking feeling (stronger than he was now by a lot, when was he going to learn how to do that?) but Loki lunged to close the fight, not giving him a chance to attack again. He tried to think quickly, but it was hard to make his brain focus when it was his own face – all wrong – and his own moves and his own body but older and taller and faster-
It didn't last long before he was pinned against the wall with a hand around his throat, chest heaving and staring into the grim, hate-filled eyes of his future self, looking at him with complete and utter loathing.
"Why do you hate me so much?" Loki pushed out, and he laughed, harsh and grating.
"Why wouldn't I? Look at yourself. What is there? You are everything I had to shed to become what I am."
"Seems to me you're not doing very well for yourself," Loki said, over the little voice in his head that told him it would be smarter not to, and the fingers around his throat constricted until his eyes bugged and he clawed instinctively at the arms holding him, but his nails couldn't get a purchase in skin.
"You're small. Pathetic. Weak and so willing to fall for the lies all around you because it is what you want to hear." His lips peeled back from his teeth again, and Loki could feel his head getting light for a moment before his fingers loosened only to drag him away from the wall and slam him back into it again. "You know nothing of the world, you know nothing of the rot that lies here-"
"Get off me," Loki snarled, and brought both his hands up blazing with fire to grip the arm holding him. His future self let out a sharp howl quickly cut off and let go, but only to grab his right arm in one hand. Loki didn't let go quickly enough to escape the sharp motion that shattered something in his wrist. He yelled, hand falling away, and then his double was simply beating him, blows on his head shoulders chest, a knee to his stomach. He tried to fight back but his right hand was spikes of agony and he didn't understand-
His other self grabbed a handful of his hair and dragged him up to his knees from the floor with it, staring down at him with contempt and something far more violent, something dark and dangerous and mad that made Loki's skin crawl. "You thought I came here as a warning for you?" he said – it said, Loki wanted to think of him as it, not as himself – and laughed, high and shrill. "It doesn't matter. Do you understand that? You think you have choices. You have none." He shook Loki like a ragdoll, hair tearing from his scalp. "You're already walking the path that leads you to me."
"I can decide what I'm not going to be," Loki said, because all he had left to fight with was words. "And my only criteria right now is that it isn't whatever you are, because-"
His future self hit him and Loki's left side went numb all the way down. Its eyes were blazing, wild with a frenzy that Loki tried to recoil from but only hit the wall.
"You can't get away from me," he almost screamed. "Try all you want to – it doesn't matter what choices you make, it doesn't matter what good you try to do, you will always end up like this, you will always-" He punched him again and Loki felt his nose crack, his vision filling up with red. "No one cares what you want! No one cares for you!"
"No wonder," Loki said, spitting blood, "if this is what you're like with everyone you know," even as he knew all his flippancy was just making it worse, but he couldn't do anything else. His back hit the wall again, and his teeth rattled.
"Do you think they have ever loved you?" He hissed, right in Loki's face as he gasped for air. "Do you think they will ever see you as anything other than Thor's shadow? Nothing you do is good enough. Nothing." He pulled Loki away from the wall and slammed him back against it hard enough that stars popped behind Loki's eyes. "Odin cares nothing for you, and why should he, useless, puling wretch, do you know what they say about you? What they call you behind your back?"
Loki gritted his teeth, forced out, "It doesn't matter."
"Oh, of course not," the other Loki said, his voice lowering to a malevolent, terrible purr that made Loki's skin crawl, and how did this happen, how did he turn into this – "because you have Thor. But you do not. Thor isn't yours, you fool. Thor cares for nothing but himself." He leaned in, too close, teeth bared and eyes blazing. "Thor hates you. He only loves how much greater he looks in comparison."
Loki bared his teeth back, pushed down the coils of hurt and doubt that tried to grow and tried to claw at the arms holding him. "What happened to you?" he asked, his own voice fierce and cold. "I don't know what you are, but you're not me-"
"I am," his future self said, and smiled, sharp and awful. "And you know it, don't you? You know this is what you are, deep down. You aren't good. You aren't shining gold and righteousness. You are a snake among lions and you know it. You've always been filthy, wrong, different. You don't fit here. You don't belong." His hands squeezed and Loki choked, and then released him and Loki dropped to the floor, coughing. "The rest of them know it as well. They'll turn on you. One day soon." Loki gathered power and flung a fireball, blindly, but his future self simply brushed it aside carelessly. He tried to scramble to his feet, but the other Loki slammed a boot into his stomach and he doubled over on the floor, choking back bile. "Pathetic," he said, vicious, voice vibrating with hatred. "Weakling. What are you good for? What are you worth?"
"You tell me," Loki said, and hunted down a grin that felt faintly mad, turning his head up to look at his double. "If you're me…goes the other way too, doesn't it?"
The sound of rage would have been satisfying if it hadn't been followed with a backhand that sent him back to the floor and then hands dragging him up again, shaking him as his head reeled. "Look. Look at me," his future self snarled, and Loki gathered saliva flavored with blood and spat in his face.
He recoiled and dropped Loki, teeth still bared, and swiped it off his face, but the surprise seemed to have shaken him out of the frenzy of a moment before. He stared down at Loki, chest heaving, and Loki stared back at him, determinedly defiant.
A strange look passed over the other's face, and his expression shifted, relaxing toward something other than rage that Loki couldn't quite read. "I could end it," his other self said, suddenly, strangely soft. "Right here. None of it needs to…it could be over now."
Loki started to push himself up from the floor. "You're – insane," he said, his voice ragged and rough, and turned his head to look at his face, and found it bizarrely calm. Sure. Resolute. He felt a spike of alarm in the moment before he lifted one hand and clenched it slowly in a fist, and his head exploded.
The pain in his head was building, but he couldn't get the air to scream. It felt like a star was imploding inside his brain and all he could do was writhe silently on the floor, every muscle corded tight and body howling with agony and the certainty that he wasn't going to survive this, he was going to die, and wasn't that a paradox? Wouldn't that kill his future self too, wouldn't-
And then it stopped, and it took Loki a moment to realize that he was alone, lying on his floor and choking back faint sobbing sounds. Why stop, he thought dizzily, and then heard the knock on the door and the, "Loki? Is something wrong?" He was faintly relieved that Thor was knocking at all. He'd been burned recently enough to remember how unpleasant it was, then, if he'd simply barged in…
Thor, he's safe, he thought, and then immediately, I can't let him see me like this, I can't. "I'm fine!" he yelled, quickly, though his voice sounded strange, peculiar. "Don't – don't come in, I'm doing delicate work." Loki curled up around his aching stomach and ribs and tried to steady his breathing, head still pounding like a drum.
"All right," Thor said, after a moment. "But mother wants to see you, when you have the chance…"
"I'll – I'll be there. Soon." He needed to clean up. Put his room back in order and work out how he was going to mask the beating he'd gotten. From himself. A faintly hysterical part of Loki wanted to laugh.
He heard Thor shuffle off a moment later, and let out a noise of relief that he wouldn't call a sob. I'm never going to turn into that, he thought, as ferociously as he could summon the energy to manage, and heard, you know this is what you are.
There must be something he'd done wrong. Some error he'd made. Some reason that his future self would hate him that much. Something. Some choice Loki was going to make that had driven him – them – down that road. If he could only think of what it was…what it might be…
What are you worth?
He would just have to be careful. Alert and watchful. The future could change. He would make certain that it would. Make certain that…
What are you good for?
Loki curled his face into his knees on the floor and finally let the tears go.