A Way We Go
Chapter 1:
"You should have come to me sooner."
The words are said with vicious anger, voice trembling uncharacteristically with barely suppressed emotion.
His back is turned towards him, slim shoulders hunched in shaking tension, arms crossed over a thin, thin chest and head slightly bowed.
He sees the curtain of black hair drape loose, and for some reason it is that, above the rest of his brother's haggard and emaciated appearance, which reminds the thunderer of just how far Loki has fallen.
Loki, who had always kept his own personage immaculately ordered and clean. Always ridiculously well groomed, putting the elder Prince to shame in such matters of personal care.
He now stands as a homeless man, unruly and disheveled.
He is too thin.
He has always been too thin.
But it has grown worse this past year, for the younger Prince's refusal to eat at all, spare the bare minimum to keep from dying and suffering the humiliation of being force fed.
The sharpness of his features has increased tenfold, it seems, with the gaunt, sunken in appearances of his cheeks and eyes.
And what tattered clothes he wears hang on him in loose swaths of fabric, barely staying in place.
The faded green, knitted tunic slips dangerously to one side, threatening any moment to slide completely from Loki's left shoulder and expose the pale skin to open air.
His pants sag almost indecently low on skeletal thin hips.
And Thor wonders how it is the man he once considered his best friend and brother is going to help them at all, given how weak he now appears.
He looks so, so weak.
Thor stares a long moment at the trembling form before him, through the barrier of pure, magical energy.
He knows it is this brightly lit cage which is, in part, to blame for Loki's state.
It is suppressing his magic. And Loki's magic is his life.
Without it, he withers.
… Without it, he dies.
Thor had told himself at the beginning of this imprisonment, he wouldn't allow himself to feel sorry for his brother.
That he deserved this, and more, for what he had done.
Looking at him now, Thor finds it difficult to hold to that commitment.
"I could not trust you." The god of Thunder at last deigns to speak, stepping closer to the barrier.
He can feel the pull of it against his own magic, a rush of lightheadedness taking sudden hold, and he feels slightly sick.
… To be constantly surrounded, constantly immersed in it…
"… Could not trust me." He hears Loki whisper in echo, and watches as the younger god's hand curls to fist, pressed against the wall he faces.
Watches as he leans his forehead to it, the trembling in his frame growing more pronounced.
"… Could not trust me," he repeats. "and now our Mother…"
He freezes, a harsh shudder working through him before abruptly he pulls rigidly stiff.
Thor hears a shaking breath escape past his lips, and he frowns.
He had not expected this.
… Had not expected anything but cruel amusement and mocking jibes.
He swears now Loki seems on the verge of tears.
"The Queen is dead." At last the trickster goes on, voice more steady, yet still wavering, as though he's gotten hold of himself only just through great effort. "You should have come to me sooner!"
Thor swallows thickly, shame and regret lifting like bile into his throat, and he presses it down, telling himself it is only a trick, only Loki's hideous talent of inciting and planting thought and emotion in his victims.
"We thought we could defend the palace, at least." He tries to defend. "We thought we could beat them back."
And finally it is Loki turns, more swiftly and precisely than Thor thinks should be possible for someone so physically frail.
And there is pure rage in his red rimmed and glassy eyes.
And Thor realizes with a shock the younger Prince is holding back tears.
Loki, who has in the past year become nothing but hard lines and poisonous barbs, and brutally cutting insults.
Loki, whom everyone believed had become nothing but purely mad and black of heart, incapable of any, true emotion or sentiment.
Incapable of love.
Everyone but Frigga.
Their Mother.
Their Queen.
She alone had come to him every day in this place. Come to see him.
And always would she return, even as he sent her away with vicious words and vows of disownment, denials of their having left any relationship at all.
She would return, and say to him he was loved, again and again, until even Loki's hardened outside had begun to soften.
And in these last weeks, before the invasion, Frigga had been so happy, so overcome with joy in reporting that her son had begun to open up to her.
Had begun to talk, and that more than just hate filled vitriol had emitted these last days from his lips.
And it was in the last night, the day before last, Frigga had come from her visit in tears, and both Thor and Odin had asked with angered dismay what Loki had done to her, and she had shaken her head and said…
"Nothing. It is not anything he did to me. It is what they did to him. Oh, my boy… my sweet boy…"
And then she had broken into inconsolably sobs and excused herself to her chambers.
What Loki had told her, only the two of them knew.
And now…
Only Loki knows.
Only Loki…
Whose face now twists in fury as he steps with rapid determination towards the barrier, and for a moment, Thor is sure he will attack it.
But he pulls short, inches away, glaring at the elder Prince, hands clenched at his sides in fists.
"Beat them back?" He asks with incredulous disgust. "They fight near solely though means of magic, and you, what, believed yourself capable of countering such skilled sorcery? You and your ilk know nothing of magic, Thor. There is not one among the mighty warriors of Asgard who may call themselves versed in the dark arts, save the All-Father and myself. And with Odin having fallen so conveniently into the Odinsleep, there is but me! And you come to me only now?! Only after it is too late!?"
Thor steps away, taken aback by the verbal assault being laid at his feet, at how cruelly Loki finds and picks at his guilt.
"You have given no indication of your willingness to help defend your home." He counters, almost desperately. "I did not believe you would."
Loki's face falls, expression going blank.
For a long moment, he stares back at the older god, unmoving.
Until at last, he turns silently away, moving sluggishly and slow across the cell, his back once more to him.
"… And once more your arrogant assumptions lead to us our dooms." He mutters, too softly for Thor to hear.
Thor watches him for a time, uncertain of what will happen now.
If Loki will listen, if he will lend his aid to their cause.
He sees his brother lift a hand, wiping it across his eyes, and he knows he wipes tears from them.
The thunderer feels his stomach clench in nauseating regret.
"… There is another reason brother, why I did not come to you." He says softly, eyes drifting to the stone beneath his feet.
"Claim not your familial ties to me, Odinson." Loki says back, voice low and hoarse. "I am not your brother."
It is a denial he has since grown accustomed to. A repeated refrain from Loki's thin lips and each time delivered in his most elegant and even tones.
If ever Thor thought he might change Loki's heart in this before, that hope has now dwindled and burnt itself nearly out.
He does not think Loki will forgive him now.
Not for this.
Not for their Mother…
He ignores the rejection and continues on.
"He who leads them Loki." He says. "He who led the invasion and slew our Mother in cowardice, cold blood…"
At this, Loki straightens, body stiff and taught as the string of a bow. Anticipating release…
Thor hesitates a brief moment, wretched and cruel memories crowding his mind, torturing his already anguished soul.
"It was Malekith." He says, and then falls silent.
Loki says nothing for long, drawn seconds.
But Thor can see the tremble return to his limbs.
Can see the strain of keeping himself still, of keeping himself planted.
The tremor builds, washing through him like some fragmented wave, and Thor forces himself to keep his eyes on his brother, to keep watch.
Until finally he hears Loki choke out, voice harsh and ragged and rough.
"The Accursed?" He asks, and it sounds not like him.
Thor nods, arms folding.
"Yes." He confirms.
And there it snaps, a roar the likes of which Thor has not heard from the mischief god in many a century, tearing from his throat.
A howl of such overwhelming rage and dismay, it withers the heart and leaves him feeling breathless and trepid.
Loki lashes out, slamming his fists against the white stone wall before him, hard enough that cracks fissure through it and race upwards, towards the ceiling.
He pays the price, the wards taking affect and ripping with renewed vigor at his magic, no longer simply pressing it down, but stealing it from him and siphoning it off.
Loki gasps, white hot agony coursing through his insides and overwhelming him in moments.
He crashes to his knees, hands raising of their own volition and gripping the sides of his skull with enough force to turn the knuckles purely white, and he gasps again, as though he cannot breathe.
"Loki!" Thor steps forward, unable to help his concern.
But Loki gives no reply, sat holding his head and shaking violently for long, endless moments, before at last, whatever pain he is experiencing seems to dissipate, and he slumps forward, entire body seeming to deflate as he sags against the same wall, slight tremors still working their way through him, breath heavy and uneven and quick.
Thor feels himself overcome with the desire to go to him, to hold him and comfort and chase all his hurt away.
He tries to remind himself Loki brought this upon himself.
He tries to use reason.
But it is hard.
Seeing his little brother, suffering and in so much pain.
And with the name of he who drew the outburst, hung between them like a wraith, reminding Thor of his own miserable failure to protect the one being he had sworn on his own life to always keep safe.
Malekith, the Accursed.
The Dark Elf.
The half-breed abomination who had, so many centuries past, captured and tortured his little brother in ways Loki had refused ever to speak of.
Only the condition in which they had finally found the second Prince to tell them of what he had suffered.
And Thor still feels himself grow sick with the memories.
Loki, beaten near to death, pale skin invisible beneath the thick swaths of blood, hair sheared near completely from his scalp and face broken and swollen beyond recognition.
And worst of all, what had been unmistakable signs of his utter degradation and humiliation. The thievery of his dignity.
And it had been Thor's fault. His.
For letting the elves separate him from his brother, even as he hears the echo of Loki's voice, calling out to him to stay close and guard his back.
For seeing too late the focus shift almost entirely onto the second Prince, the attacks turning and centering on him solely.
For it was Loki alone who had been keeping their forces at bay. Who could counter their spells and render their own magic useless. For none among them, though they prided themselves on their mastery of seidr, could match the trickster god in pure talent and ability.
And they had seen, to make any success of their campaign, they would need to remove Loki from the battle.
And so they had swarmed him, redoubling their efforts to split he and Thor apart, to put space between them and rob him of the thunder god's protection.
And Thor had let it happen. So consumed in his own lust for battle and blood.
He remembers hearing Loki cry out for him, to come to his aid, and not listening, not heeding the plea, too absorbed in crushing skills and shattering limbs with his hammer.
He had turned only in time to see Loki disappear beneath a crush of bodies, and then an explosion of white, blinding energy as he was whisked away from the field of battle, to where, Thor still knew not.
He remembers having searched frantically in the melee and chaos for his brother, and afterwards, after what remained of the Dark Elf forces had been beaten back, through the piles of dead bodies which lay strewn across the blood soaked field.
He hadn't found him.
For three months.
He hadn't found his brother.
And never did.
Loki had found his way back to them, somehow. He had escaped, and oh Gods, Thor still recalls, when he had returned, his little brother had barely clung to life. Starved and ravaged and hardly even coherent. He had stumbled into the city, nearly naked save a crudely fashioned skirt, braided from straw, clearly by Loki's own hand, bare feet shredded and bleeding from having walked Norns knew only how many miles over unforgiving mountain terrains and fields of ice, littered with shards as sharp as steel.
And now, when Thor had seen who led the invasion upon Asgard's gates, when he had seen the split scheme of color which played upon the Elf's cruel face, he had thought "no", and there had been the horrifying fear replaying itself, over and over, in his mind.
What if…
What if he found Loki.
What if he captured him again.
What if, what if, what if…
And he had thought then only to keep his brother from this battle.
He had pushed the possibility from his mind.
And for that, they had all paid the price.
"I will destroy him."
He's pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Loki's voice.
And at once, the younger god is straightening, pushing himself to his feet and standing.
"I will end his very existence." He goes on, and it sounds more as though he is talking to himself than Thor. "I will…"
"Loki," Thor starts, frowning. "I had feared, after what he had done to you…"
"It matters not what he did to me!" Loki snaps, turning finally and pinning the crown Prince with a withering gaze.
Thor hesitates.
"He is more powerful now Loki." He warns cautiously. "Much more."
And Loki sneers with absolute disregard.
"I was more powerful than him then, and I am with certainty more powerful than him now! I will end him!" He repeats, and there is such conviction in his voice, it sends an unwelcome chill down Thor spine.
A moment passes, the two brother's staring back at one another intently, Loki anxious and unstill. Thor contemplating and concerned.
"… If you aid us," he begins at last. "if you help Asgard to defeat this enemy, you will be pardoned. Your imprisonment lifted and your freedom returned to you."
"I have no need of your empty promises and placating enticements Thor. I care not whether you permit me to remain outside these four walls. I ask only you let me out now so that I might take my revenge. Do what you will with me afterward, but allow me this one need. I will kill that half-breed bastard and his army with him, this I swear."
Thor knew it was foolish on his part to hope that Loki might come to their aid for the sake of the Realm.
Loki had grown well beyond caring anymore how the Aesir might regard him, and he knew his brother remained here only by force. He felt no attachment, no kinship any longer with this place or its people.
Still, he had hoped, and it hurt no less to see those hopes dashed.
It was revenge his brother now sought.
No sense of duty.
Whether revenge for himself, or their Mother, or both, it mattered little.
Loki would have it.
Thor gave a nod, stepping forward to undo the barrier which kept his brother trapped and restrained.
"I will escort you to your rooms, where you may prepare." He says, pressing his palm flat against the device, situated to the stone wall bordering the energy. He feels the current of magic, reading his print, identifying him.
With a shimmer, the magical barrier dissolves, and Thor steps forward, holding out a hand for Loki to take.
Loki ignores it, tilting his head down the hall, indicating Thor to lead the way.
Thor's hand falls limp to his side.
Standing this close to his brother now, his wasted form seems only more obvious.
He looks so small, and Thor feels his heart drop as he stares down at the younger god.
How had he ever come to this?
Proud Loki. Strong Loki. Brilliant, shining, excellent boy, filled to brimming with life and energy and passion.
"If you try anything…" Thor begins to warn.
And Loki shakes his head.
"I know already." He says. "Only it is you who fails to comprehend the hollow nature of a threat if fulfilled I would welcome with open arms."
Thor says nothing to that.
Only gazing into the unflinching eyes of his brother, a sense of inconsolable dread working its way through the pit of his stomach, even as he at last turns and leads them from the place.
/
AN: Hey guys! So, obviously, this story follows some imagined path of how Thor 2 might go, just based on rumors of what I've heard and all that jazz. Jane Foster will be showing up next chapter, and what her relationship with Loki entails remains to be seen. It could develop into friendship, it could develop into romance. I can't say for certain right now. But they'll be plenty of interaction betwixt them.
Let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoyed this start!