The sensation of walking through Loki's memories was like wandering through a museum and simultaneously watching a movie projected everywhere at once. It wasn't a precise process. Finding one memory, one moment, in hundreds and hundreds of years, when neither brother was entirely certain what they were looking for, took time and trial and error.

And then Thor realized that one memory wasn't the problem. There was a sickness in Loki's mind that extended far beyond the moment where he'd let go and let himself fall. It polluted the strands of memory like poison, and poison was always placed deliberately. It lay like a cloud of smoke over his brother's life, almost as far back as their childhood…and to the exact moment that the Hulk had bashed Loki repeatedly into the floor, finally ending his mad dreams of conquest. After that, there were only tendrils, only scars, and Loki's mind had grown clearer by the year. The sight of all the damage that had been done only made the signs of healing all the more gratifying to see.

But even the thickest smoke could only obscure. Seeing with fresh eyes, Thor was not fooled. Beyond that, even beneath the pall of poisonous manipulations…differences remained between how he saw the world and how his brother did.

For the first time, Thor saw himself as Loki saw him…and saw his brother as he saw himself.

In Loki's eyes, Thor was a titan that shined like the sun. He was glorious and strong and wonderful and terrifying, a figure of protection and warmth and safety as well as a figure of vengeance and fire and pain.

He cast a very long shadow.

In Loki's eyes, he himself was a shadow, a featureless shape black as the deepest cavern in a cave. Except for his eyes, which shifted between the familiar green and the cold blue and even occasionally flashed red.

Thor's fresh eyes saw a hundred little slights that Loki had born, each too slight for his brother to think worth mentioning on their own for fear of mockery from everyone around him. He saw a thousand little cuts that had wounded his brother over years, piling on top of one another, until Loki had been all but choking on blood and asking for help had been impossible because to open his mouth was to drown in scorn that hadn't been entirely imagined.

He saw Loki become more and more an insubstantial, silent, disregarded thing, darker and more subdued by the year, saw how he became Thor's shadow and the entire world failed to see him unless it was Thor they sought. The people around him, the very people who were supposed to love him, were the ones to shove Loki deeper into the dark.

He saw Loki shatter into pieces upon learning the truth about his heritage – "I am the monster parents tell their children about!" He saw how Loki put himself back together, his proud, stubborn brother, and he saw all the many ways Loki did it ever so slightly wrong, so that what came up from the Vaults was his brother twisted and broken and irrevocably changed. Thor thought of all the ways things might have gone differently if Odin hadn't already been exhausted, if Mother had been there, if Thor had never agreed to go to Jotunheim…


It was raining. He could hear the fat drops pounding against the roof of the plane as they flew, hear the wind rushing by in a screaming howl outside. But that was fine, that was fine, it didn't mean anything, it was just a storm, things were going well and there was…

Lightning flashed. He saw it out of the corner of his eye, outside the cockpit window, and Loki jumped where he sat, feeling his heart constricting in his chest. There was suddenly too little air in his lungs and a roaring in his ears. No no no no no

"What's the matter?" He looked up in surprise, fear, to see the man in the strange suit of armor, looking archly back at him. "Scared of a little lightning?"

Loki found himself torn between the desire to laugh and sob. Instead, he just focused on keeping his voice as level as he could, too proud even now to let these miserable, wretched humans see him shake. "I'm not overly fond of what follows."

That was an understatement so great as to be almost a falsehood in its own right, and then there it was, a rolling clap of thunder that he felt shake the walls at his back, and in it, Loki felt something in the fabric of the world change, a shivering frisson of fear down his spine.

He knew what was about to happen a second before the plane jerked under the force of something landing heavily on the roof. The humans were chattering in surprise, but it didn't matter, none of it mattered, because he was here and Loki had nowhere to run. The safest place for him was in this plane, because outside was the storm, and the storm was his

And even that wasn't safe, because nowhere was safe from him. There was an unholy rending sound of metal tearing through the cabin, and Loki knew that he should run, get ready to fight, stand, but he felt as cornered and trapped as a rabbit before the wolf, because the hanger door was being wrenched open and outside was the night, the storm, him

Thor strode forward, and Loki found himself grabbed in a grip of iron. Limbs heavy with shock and fear, useless and weak and pathetic as he was, he felt himself being dragged to the edge and no no no no no not again…

He fell.


Do something, Loki screamed at himself. Do something, say something, stop this! Your silver tongue is all you have, it's the only thing you're good for, this was your fault! You started this, you have to stop it!

Watching Thor and Odin argue as fiercely as any two combatants he had ever known, the king and his best beloved son, even opening his mouth was suddenly harder than anything Loki had ever done before. He managed it, just once, even as he felt about to be sick with the tension thrumming through this room and his own fear of what was about to happen.

He'd barely gotten one word out before Odin looked at him and growled in anger and that was all it took, whingeing coward that he was, and Loki felt his mouth slam shut of its own accord and silence take him. Even now, even in this, even in words, he was so pathetically weak that Father didn't even want to waste the time of letting him speak.

Maybe it would have made a difference. Maybe not. Maybe he could have at least fallen with Thor. But by the time Loki properly realized what was happening, the burst of sheer power from Mjolnir to Thor threw him back and kept him away and all he could do was watch as Thor, confused and afraid and cast out, was thrown back through the Bifrost and across the vast, vast, endless darkness of space, out of reach and gone while Loki could only watch helplessly.


What was Thor doing?

Loki stared at his brother where he stood, floundering and apparently helpless, in the steel trap meant for the monster even now rampaging through the doomed ship. Except Thor wasn't helpless, Thor was never helpless, he'd cracked the damn wall with one blow of Mjolnir and another would finish the job. Why wasn't he making it?

Was he afraid? Afraid to face Loki? So scared that he would rather plummet to the ground thirty thousand feet below? No, Loki thought with a rush of anger in his heart. Not scared to fight me. Scared to hurt me. He remembered the last time they'd fought, where however savagely he'd attacked, Thor had blocked his blows, however much he'd tried to hurt, Thor hadn't hurt him back. Glorious, magnanimous Thor, showing such mercy and restraint towards his foes…

Or maybe he just hoped Loki would show mercy.

The thought almost made him smile. None had been shown him, and so Loki saw no reason why his brother should be so fortunate. No mercy, no forgiveness. Let him know how it burned.

Now you'll know, Loki thought savagely. What it's like to fall.

He hit the button, and knew that the sight of Thor's eyes, their expression of mingled fear and pain and betrayal, as his brother fell out of sight, would stay with him forever. It had been like looking in a mirror.


Whatever happened next wouldn't be his fault. He'd only meant to disrupt the coronation. It had been Thor's choice to act like such a raging barbarian, Thor's choice to shout and stamp his feet like a petulant child, to throw a tantrum in the feast set for his honor, and now it was Thor's choice to go to Jotunheim and cause even more trouble.

Let him. Loki could only do so much to keep his rampaging brother in line. He meant to stay here, out of the way and out of trouble. He'd even tried to sooth Thor's wounded temper, it wasn't his fault that his brother had taken that as approval.

A small, utterly childish part of him whispered, as he saw Thor go to work marshalling his warrior friends, exulting them to battle and glory, that it really didn't make a difference what he wanted or would do in any case. Thor was long past the point of dragging his younger brother along on his adventures. Have you forgotten all that we have done together, Thor was asking, his back to Loki.

Loki hated himself for falling into step behind them, anyway, as they marched out of the hall together. Even insinuating himself where he hadn't been asked but at least hadn't been strictly forbidden was better than being left behind.


And then Thor saw that night at the broken Bifrost that had changed the fate of worlds. Thor saw that night for the first time as Loki saw it, as Loki had been made to see it even if he knew now that it had probably taken so very little encouragement.

The force of the explosion left Loki's ears ringing. The world had gone white, and left spots dancing in his eyes as his vision slowly returned.

Every inch of him felt bruised, but Loki nevertheless tried to push himself upright. He shook his head dazedly to clear it, and as he did so, realized he'd landed at the edge of the Bifrost, perilously close to going over. Just scant inches more…

And then Loki looked, really looked, at where he was and what was around him. His heart leapt into his throat, his mind spun with disbelief, because Thor had really done it. The…fool had actually broken the Bifrost. Its shattered, jagged, broken edges were close enough to reach out and touch.

And for what? For Jotunheim? For the giants? For monsters?

Thor had been the one to break the peace in the first place! Why did he get to condemn the giants to death and then turn around and declare them worthy of life?

He didn't understand, and no one was explaining! It certainly wasn't because of him, what he was…

Loki made it to his feet, shaking his head to try and clear it. He found himself looking out over the edge, so close, so perilously close to that long, endless fall, and he staggered back in fear. His mind was such a whirl, trying to process what had happened, what it meant, that he didn't realize Thor was behind him until his brother grabbed the hand holding Gungnir and twisted hard enough for Loki to cry out in pain, feeling his bones grind together. The great spear clattered to the ground at their feet. Loki whirled with a desperate snarl, bringing his other hand around, but Thor took the blow without flinching and left Loki doubled over and wheezing with a hard blow to the stomach.

This wasn't right. Thor wasn't supposed to be this strong, Thor wasn't supposed to hurt

"You fool," Loki heard himself growl, in between struggled gasps for breath. "Do you have…any idea what you've done?"

"What had to be done," said Thor, and his voice was steady and cold. Loki stared up at this man, his brother, a man he'd thought until scant days before that he knew better than anyone.

A stranger's eyes looked back at him, empty of all emotion except contempt. Loki found himself trying to move back, to move away, to run, because he did not know this man at all and he did not know what Thor would do to him like this. He remembered only just in time that there was nowhere to go. But it was too late, it didn't matter, because the next thing Loki felt was Thor's hand around his throat.

The warrior lifted him bodily from the bridge until his feet were off the ground, and Loki scrabbled desperately to find some bit of flesh in reach that was soft enough to tear and make Thor let go. But even as he scraped and scratched at Thor's hand, it tightened, until Loki realized that he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, Thor was choking him, Thor was killing him…

"Brother," he rasped with his last breath. "Please…"

The death grip loosened, until Loki could breathe, just enough for the grey shadows to fade from his eyes. But it wasn't a comforting sight, having vision clear enough to look Thor in the eyes once more. Loki saw then that this wasn't mercy. Just a delay. Just another few moments.

Not very many moments, either, as Thor stepped with slow, deliberate movements, to the very edge of the bridge, and Loki realized with a lurch that there was nothing beneath him but the fall. Loki heard himself cry out in terror, and for lack of anything else to hold on to, he held on as tightly as he could to Thor's hand around his neck.

"Do not," said Thor, in a voice like the rumble of thunder that heralded the storm. "Call me that." Now there wasn't just contempt in his eyes. Now there was something Loki realized with a shiver was hate. He wanted to look away, wanted to hide himself from that gaze, but there was nowhere else to look, nothing else living and alive in the world, it was that or the dark.

Even after everything he'd done, he'd never thought…he hadn't wanted…

How had it come to this point? How could Thor even…he hadn't thought Thor was capable…

He didn't understand, and no one was explaining. And Loki realized with a cold certainty in the pit of his stomach that he'd never have the chance.

"For my father," Thor said, and his voice should not be this calm. "For my mother. For the home you invaded and tarnished, you monster…I cast you out!"

And then he threw Loki into the abyss, and Loki just wasn't strong enough to hold on as he was cast aside for good.

He fell into the Void's waiting, hungry embrace, and he welcomed it.

And then Thor saw some of what happened next. It wasn't easy. It wasn't a clear point in time, and the memories were clouded a bright, cold blue with an influence he still remembered all too well. But the Other had seen no need to obscure these memories. No, it had almost certainly wanted Loki to remember.

His brother had resisted, at first. Broken and lost and thinking himself utterly alone in all the Nine Realms, Loki had still dug in his heels and resisted when he was found and offered the chance of conquest. Even though the undeniable truth of this made Thor so impossibly proud of his brother, it also made it worse, because like this, it meant he had to watch Loki's resistance break.

No, he'd said at first. I will not, I am no one's servant, I do not want, it doesn't matter, you can't make me, you can't, I won't, get out

But here, here was where the Other had gotten its claws into his brother's head, here was where the poison still, even now, lay thick and fast, like a hidden fault-line waiting even now to trip unwary feet, a knot buried deep in weary muscles, the remnants of an old fever in the blood. Here is where that thing had spread its darkness to the rest of Loki's memories, carving into his soul that he was weak, worthless, unwanted, forgotten, cast out, monster

Until Loki's protests and refusals and resistances had crumbled in the face of attacks from within and without, until he hadn't had the strength to disbelieve anymore and yes, let me help, let me strike back, give me the strength, let me hurt them and make them pay, they deserve it, they expect it, let me rule them, I'll do anything, please rule me because freedom is life's great lie

And Thor knew it wasn't that simple. He couldn't help but wonder if the Other could have carved those scars into Loki's soul if the marks hadn't already been there, if he might have better endured were he not already in such pain. If Loki had felt safe enough to reach out, he could have done it when Mother found him.

Instead, at the moment when Loki accepted the scepter, Thor felt only a fierce, howling, painful joy, a rush of it that nearly overwhelmed him…


Writing the scene of Thor gathering the troops before the trip to Jotunheim was especially painful, because I did go back and watch that scene, and Thor really does deliver those rousing speeches to his friends without acknowledging Loki once. The camera work is incredibly well done and evocative.

Beyond that, the implication I was going for here is that Thor was not so self aware back then as to see himself as he really was. It's just that Loki also saw him the way Thor did back then - a glorious, mighty, unstoppable, untouchable warrior. And also that Loki doesn't even remember that night at the Bifrost the same way twice, because the Other is a creepy, creepy bastard.

And I figured it made sense for Thor to have an easier time traveling Loki's mind, because Thor is just more mentally together even without the psychological torture aftereffects involved. At least until he gets to the actual memories of that torture, which I maintain was probably pretty deeply awful.