Loki Falling
Chapter 2 – The Desperation of a King
Loki sluggishly rose from his crouched position. He felt unsteady, the understanding of his unique situation overwhelming him.
He looked back up to the barn that he had been striding towards before his memory was restored.
'I must get to shelter' he quietly muttered to himself. Aware that he needed to formulate a plan, needed to comprehend what it meant to be a twin of one's self. His legs moved unsteadily towards the decrepit building.
The sky darkened, the air growing cooler and starting to gust. A thunderstorm was building and it appeared as if the lightening was going to hit nearby. It seemed bizarre to Loki that a storm would develop so fast.
'Thor?' He heard the name softly escape his dry, thin lips.
Loki's confusion was quickly replaced by a compulsion to reach his brother.
'Not my brother' he chastised himself sternly. He sighed as he realised that petty squabbles didn't matter currently. 'But, he might be able to help me, although, he might not want to'. It had been less than an hour since he had tried to kill the Asgardian. However, the idiot fool was always ready to forgive and trust him, and trust Loki needed right now.
Loki held his pale hand palm up, looked down and muttered a few words. A golden arrow shimmered in his palm pointing him towards the source of his desire. He closed his fist firmly and with a determination borne from his adrenaline he took off across the meadow ignoring the screaming coming from the muscles in his body.
Stumbling over the uneven terrain he wished that he had enough magic to transport himself to Thor directly. The lightening was striking all around the next field, channelling to a single point. That must be where Thor is, Loki thought abruptly. He pushed his long legs to take him faster and spurring himself on towards the hedgerow separating him from Thor. He calculated the angle, speed and push he would need to clear the hedge and as he reached the lift off point the lightening merged together in one place and a loud crack pierced through the air.
He felt the top of the hedgerow brambles catch the bottom of his coat, and hoped to the Allfather that he wouldn't be caught up and fall badly from his leap. Thankfully, the grasp of the weeds was pitiful and he landed successfully with a blond god in his sights.
'THOR!' he shouted as loudly as he could towards the figure.
It was too late. Thor had started whirling his hammer, determination etched on his face, signifying his launch into the firmament. The noise of the hammer drowned out Loki's desperate attempts to get his attention. All too soon Thor had been pulled up and was no more than a dot in the sky.
'Skreyja bacrut' Loki hissed to himself as he bent double gasping for air. His lungs were on fire. He had never known his body to be so week. A brief sprint should have not left him so far out of breath or his body so drained. He collapsed forward onto the dry ground, the smell of scorched grass filling his nose causing him to retch. His empty stomach heaving painfully as only bile came up. The acids burning his throat leaving him feeling wretched and hideously tired.
The sky darkened again and Loki looked up hoping to see Thor coming back. Hope formed in his chest that Thor had heard his cries and had come back to help his brother.
'Not my brother…' he slurred. He tried to chastise himself again as the light dimmed to dusk. Loki's eyelids felt heavy and he realised that the sky wasn't darkening but his vision. Blackness enveloped him and Loki passed out curled up in the meadow.
Authors note - I obviously own nothing, Marvel owns everything.
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(Skreyja bacrut means Incompetent asshole in norse)
