CHAPTER 2
When Loki woke the next morning, Thor was gone again. The morning light poured in through the window on his right, and Loki looked around at the room. It was like a Midgardian hotel room, he saw. From where he lay on the bed, he could look straight across at the door, and then to the left of that was the corner of the room with a couch and a corner table and lamp, and then following the next wall there was a small kitchenette, and then the door to the bathroom. A small table and two chairs sat in the center of the room.
Not much. But enough.
At least it was private.
There was the sound of voices outside the door, and then a gentle knock, and then it opened. Loki saw a long hall stretching away, away, walled on the left and windowed on the right. Two guards stood on either side of the door, their backs to him.
Maamen had a large bag draped over her shoulder, and she smiled when she saw he was awake, and shut the door behind herself. "Good morning."
"Good morning."
"I think you can have something a little more substantial than broth, today." She said, crossing the room and pulling the bag from her shoulder. She set it on the kitchenette counter and pulled out some small parcels. "Something still easy on your throat." There was the clinking of dishes as she readied a tiny skillet and a tiny sauce pan on the two-burnered cooktop. Then she turned and walked over to him. "How are you feeling?"
Loki swallowed experimentally, and tried moving his limbs and head a little. "Better." He said. "Surprisingly." He pushed up, wondering if he could sit, and found that the ache of his body was far less. But his muscles shook, still weak, so weak, and Maamen quickly put her hands around him and helped him, adjusting the pillows so that he could lean back.
"Better?"
He nodded. "I am still weak." He admitted, glancing down at his arms sharply, frowning.
"Yes, well, you were dead and frozen for almost six years."
He shot a look at her, but she was back at the stove, warming the pan, filling the pot with water, opening packages and throwing some herbs and spices and a couple veggies in the sizzling pan. She hummed as she worked. "Did you see your brother last night? He came in late."
"Yes." Loki adjusted the sheet and quilt over his legs and laid his head back on the pillows with a sigh. "He looked surprisingly healthy for someone who'd spent all day in the Arena."
He was watching her from the corner of his eyes, but she was still humming and mixing the veggies and seasoning the water in the pot, adding red flakes and a spoonful of what looked like dehydrated yellow something. The water soon began to boil, smelling like chicken, and she opened the last package and threw in what looked like noodles.
"Maamen, what does he do there? What deal did he make with the Grandmaster?"
She sighed, her head dropping, and then she turned. "Loki," she said. "You know how much the Grandmaster loves new and unusual things. Your brother's powers are certainly new and unusual. And he is nearly indestructible. People still talk of the fight between him and the Green Champion. So rather than waste such a contender in the regular fights, the Grandmaster asked him to be the entertainment. They can do almost anything to him, and he does not injure. His lightning is more impressive than the fireworks." She smiled. "Do not worry for your brother."
Her words were meant to make him feel better. They should have made him feel better. It made sense. It was logical. It fit in with what he knew of the Grandmaster. But there was a sadness in her eyes that belied her smile, and Loki wondered if he was getting the whole truth.
The soup was delicious. Simple, with it's few veggies and soft noodles, but the broth was flavorful and a little spicy, and did wonders for his throat.
He still slept a lot. Floating frozen through space for years had done nothing for his strength, and he found that his muscles had far to go to regain his former abilities. But Maamen was pleased, and thought that in another day or two he could start doing some exercises. Asgardians, she commented, were certainly a hardy and quick-healing breed.
He didn't bother to correct her.
This time he was awake when Thor arrived, about a half hour after the sun had set. The mumbling of voices alerted them to his arrival, and then the door opened, and he stepped in, head hanging, shoulders weary. Loki's gaze sharpened, flickering over his brother.
Armor, similar to what he had worn before, but – if Loki was any expert – completely useless. It was for show only. Thor's hair was completely messed up. Something was dried and crusted on his cheek and neck, but Loki couldn't tell what it was.
Sensing his brother's gaze, Thor looked up, and the weary expression was immediately gone. He smiled, and stood at the foot of the bed. "Loki! You're looking well."
Loki stared at him. "You're oiled."
Thor glanced down at his arms, spreading his fingers, the light reflecting on his skin. He grimaced. "Sweaty and gross." He corrected, and stepped back. "I'm going to take a shower," he said, and began edging his way to the bathroom.
Maamen nodded, her expression quiet. "I left a change of clothes in there for you."
Thor gave her a quick smile, gratefulness in his eyes. "Thank you." He murmured, and disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking shut.
Loki immediately turned on Maamen as she stood, looking down at the carpet, a soft breath leaving her. She shot him a smile, straightened her shoulders, and rubbed her hands on her dress. "Well," she said. "I'll get him something to eat. He must be famished. Do you want something too?" Without waiting for him to reply she stepped to the kitchenette and began bustling.
It was a good forty-five minutes before Thor emerged from the bathroom, clean and fresh, steam puffing gently out and dispersing as soon as he opened the door. His face was red from the heat, and he shuffled in slippers and his pajamas to the cooktop. Sniffing deeply, his eyes closed. "That smells good."
Maamen looked proud. "It's your favorite. I made plenty of it, so eat as much as you want."
He smiled and put a hand to his stomach. "When will it be ready?"
"In a few minutes." She waved a hotpad at him. "Go speak to your brother. I'll bring it to you."
Thor reluctantly left the steaming, good smells, and wandered over to the bed. His eyes brightened when they locked on Loki, and he smiled, sitting down on the bed. "You look better and better every day!"
"Of course I do." Loki retorted. "Though I do wonder when I'll ever be allowed to leave this bed."
Thor's eyes crinkled, and Loki shot him a glance from the corner of his eyes, and carefully kept his mouth still. They both knew he was still so weak he could barely make it to the bathroom, but he had made it today, on his own, and it was embarrassing how triumphant that made him feel.
But Thor looked so tired. There had been little light in his eyes when he'd come back, but now, sitting at Loki's side, some of the light had begun to prick back into his eyes. Loki kept staring at them, wondering if he would ever get used to the mismatched colors, and thinking that somehow – he frowned – somehow, it suited Thor.
The scarring didn't. But there was not much to be done about that.
"You, however, look awful." Loki said.
The corner of Thor's mouth twitched up, but he didn't respond as Loki had thought he would. The snort was only somewhat humored, and the drop of his chin and flicker of his eyes the opposite of his usual flash of mirth and resounding laughter.
"Yes, well," he shifted, hooking a leg under his knee. "It was a long day."
"Really? With no Hulk to batter you, I'm surprised."
"It was not… difficult." Thor said, and looked up and smiled again. "Just… long."
Loki opened his mouth to say more, but there was a clattering of pans and then Maamen turned around, chest rising with a forced breath, and she smiled at them both and held up two plates. "Supper is ready."
Loki watched his brother in the dark, curled on his side, arm tucked under his head, a mirror image of Thor. Except that he was propped up on his elbow.
Thor's shoulders rose and fell, gently, rhythmically, his lashes dark against his cheeks.
Thanos had won.
And then Thor and the Avengers had undone the Titan, and destroyed him.
He was sobered by the sacrifice made by the Man of Iron. He hadn't particularly like the man – of course, he didn't particularly like any of them, except for a grudging respect of the one called Banner – but he knew the pain and resignation of realizing that the only way for everyone else to live was to die. He could respect that. And he could look at Thor, and see the wear and tear of the years in his face, on his form. There was a softness to him that hadn't been there before.
After supper Maamen had left them, and Thor had told him, in grandiose and humorous style, of his five-year descent. Loki had laughed at first at Thor's description of himself, but then he'd stopped. It wasn't funny. He'd stared at Thor, listened to his exuberant tone and his hearty laughter, and seen the lines around his eyes and the shadows hidden deep within them, and his heart had ached.
The last decade had been anything but kind to his brother.
In a moment of weakness, he'd reached out, and covered Thor's hand with his own, fingers tight. Thor's voice had stuttered to a stop, and he'd stared, his eyes filling and a muscle in his jaw suddenly popping.
"I'm sorry." Loki had whispered.
Thor had raised his eyes and met Loki's, the green gaze hard and un-mocking, serious and knowing, and his face and eyes had reddened and he'd flashed a grin. He'd swiped a hand at his cheek. "It's fine." He'd whispered, and grinned again. "You're here now." He'd said, and clapped a hand over Loki's. "That's all that matters."
"I'm still having a hard time wrapping my mind around that." Loki had pulled his hand free and leaned back against the headboard, cushioned and propped with pillows.
"Well, you did make me a promise."
"The sun has yet to shine on us both, brother."
The smile and the light had fallen from Thor's face, and Loki'd wished he hadn't snapped. He didn't know why he'd suddenly felt irritated and angry, why Thor's absence when he woke every morning bothered him so much, but it did, and he had.
Now he looked at his sleeping brother, and his mind was racing. There was no one big thing, but a million small things, things that probably meant nothing, were nothing, but somehow the collection of them made him uneasy.
Thor's face twitched, his brows pulled together, and a foot shifted under the quilt where Thor had buried himself.
"What deal did you make, Thor?" Loki whispered.
When he woke the next morning, Thor was gone again. Loki stretched his arms and legs, and was pleased to not feel weak. He swung his feet to the floor and stood up. His legs were steady beneath him, and when he walked it didn't feel as though he had weights dragging his steps.
In another few days, he would be sufficiently recovered for them to leave. He did not deny that the thought relieved him, for he did not want to stay on Sakaar any longer than they had to. A feeling, a need to leave, to get away, had been filling him since yesterday, and he had been surviving long enough to trust his instincts.
Maamen came again that day, made him breakfast, chatted about some of the goings-on of the tower, of the games, and anything else. She asked him for more stories about himself, of his adventures, of his life, and she was cheerful and humming.
Loki knew her well enough now to know that much of it was forced.
But she always brushed aside his questions and moved on with a practiced ease that he found disturbing, frustrating, and impressive.
The sun finally set. Maamen made supper, prepared their plates, left Thor's on the counter. They ate, and waited.
"He's late." Loki said, pacing, his eyes sharp and on the door.
Maamen said nothing, pushing around the last bite of her food.
Finally they put away supper, and washed the dishes. Loki was feeling frantic, but Maamen hushed his worries and said that she was sure Thor was fine, that he had just been held up. Perhaps by fans. But her eyes were pinched and her mouth dropped low and grim.
She had to leave. She had other duties, things she had to do at the infirmary, and reluctantly she bade Loki goodnight.
When the door clicked shut, Loki swirled around and began to pace like an animal, his hands opening and closing, his heart racing.
There was nothing he could do.
He checked the bathroom, the light left on by Maamen, and he noticed the neatly folded pajamas on the sink counter, and the bottle of healing ointment, smelling of herbs used for pain relief.
Loki returned to the room.
At last he sat down on the bed, his hands clasped, his elbows resting on his knees. He was tired, exhausted, reminded again that though he was recovering he was not yet fully recovered. But he was stubborn, and refused to go to sleep.
The darkness surrounded him, broken only by the soft, warm glow of the wall lights that mimicked the light of lanterns.
A sound rustled in the hall. Something brushed against the door, the handle shook, turned, opened. Thor leaned against the frame with his one hand, the other pushing the door open, his head down, his legs shaking. His breaths came tightly, and when he took a step a sound escaped, a sound he quickly bit back, so obviously trying to be quiet because Loki was supposed to be asleep.
Loki shot to his feet as Thor shut the door, saw his slow, dragging, painful steps, his hands clutching the wall, the couch, sinking to his knees with a child-like whimper, and then a harsh swallow, still trying to be quiet.
He was on his knees, catching his brother's face, holding him under the arm, hissing his name as Thor dragged himself forward on his hands and knees, agonizingly, his teeth bared and his eyes squeezed shut. Towards the light of the bathroom, his arms shaking.
"Thor… Thor…"
"Bathroom." Came the choked reply.
Loki helped him, supported him, smelled thick, heavy scents, felt something dry and crusted on his skin, saw the skin of his face pulled so tight and his teeth bared, clenched, his eyes almost disappeared in the lines of pain. The corners of his mouth were dry and cracked, and hard, sharp fury was rising through Loki's core, drawing his brows, brightening his eyes, but Thor would not answer his hissed questions, his single aim the bathroom door. Once there he grasped the frame and pulled himself free, spinning around, blocking Loki's entrance, hunched in on himself.
"I'm fine." He gasped, and smiled, his hands shaking on the frame and on the door, slowly closing it against Loki's protests. "I'm fine – I'll just be a minute."
The door closed. The lock clicked.
It was an hour.
Loki listened, sitting on the bed, frozen. Listened as the water ran and ran. Listened to sounds of pain, muffled though they tried to be. Listened to retching. Listened to the water running again. And again.
At last it grew silent. At last the lock clicked, and the door slowly opened.
Loki was instantly on his feet and across the room, catching Thor under the arm, guiding him to the bed. He smelled of water and soap, his hair damp against Loki's cheek. His body shook in Loki's grasp, but he was silent as they made their way to the bed. With a grimace Thor caught the mattress and lowered himself down, crawling to his side, turning and sitting back, leaning his head against the headboard. His entire body sagged.
"What happened?"
Thor breathed deeply, his eyes closed. "Long day."
Loki's face was sharp. "What more than that?" he growled.
Thor sighed and opened his eyes and looked at him. A smile shot across his face, and he slapped a hand on top of Loki's. "Nothing, Loki. I'm fine." He said, and kept smiling. "Just a harder day. More difficult crowd."
Loki stared hard at him, a rock growing inside his stomach, a knot of fear and horror and fury.
Thor bore no gladiator wounds. No scratches or scrapes, no bruises, no dirt.
"What have you done?" he hissed.
Thor looked at him and frowned. "What?"
"What did you do for me?" He was accusing, needing to know, angry at the many different kinds of deals he could imagine Thor making for him.
Thor saw the train of thought, read his anger, understood, and the smile dropped. His brows dropped. "Loki, you're my brother."
"That's…!"
"You traded the tesseract for me." Thor said, his brows still low, his voice even lower. "You traded you life for me."
The sentiment, the inflection, the meaning behind the words made Loki's chest and eyes grow hot. Thor was not arguing with him, merely reminding him of what he had been willing to sacrifice for Thor.
The understanding was clear.
But Loki's heart still broke. "There are two Arenas." He whispered, lips thinning, his eyes betraying him with their heat and moisture. "Which one have you been talking about?"
Thor's brows were still low, his mouth soft and unsmiling. Then he swallowed, and his bright smile filled his face, his hand lifting and clapping on top of Loki's, once, twice, and again. "Oh Loki." He breathed, and his smile was wide and his eyes shimmered as they looked at his brother. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine." He broadened his smile, even as a tear slipped out. "I'm fine."
