A/N: I wrote this a while ago, and I kept meaning to revise it, but it finally became apparent that that was never going to happen. So hear you have it, a little piece imbued with TDW-trailer-caused brotherly feels.
Thor is constant.
Unmovable.
No matter what happens, he never changes, not really. He is sure and steady as the rising sun, arrogant and impulsive, strong and powerful, charismatic and authoritative, kind and loyal, deeply loyal.
Not even Loki could change him and once upon a time he played silver shadow to the golden prince and loved him, took comfort in the fact. No matter what outside forces fluctuated and shifted around them Thor would always be there, to pick him up, to become entangled in harebrained schemes, to rescue and be rescued.
Thor was his rock.
But the days grew long and bitter and Loki didn't want to be a shadow anymore, only the light was dazzling and warm, everything he was not, it burned him when he tried to touch it, and Asgard too would go down in flames if he did not keep Thor off the throne, but he had not planned for this, for his brother to wage a personal war but he should have -
- and then the ice and the cold and the howling wind stole his soul.
He was mercury, quicksilver, the rising tide, cloud tumbling over a barren moon, and Thor paced on Midgard as constant as ever but he didn't deserve it, Thor had caused this, it was his fault everything was his fault and how was he so damn invincible and so damn lucky, everything was handed to him he had it easy and he never saw and never heard and how was it he was so much better, so much stronger kinder warmer better and he didn't even have to try (of course, of course, Loki knows now) and I'm not your brother I never was.
Loki fell into the abyss past endless chasms and burning velvet, fell and fell and changed.
Thor did not.
Thor reached out to him, gave him a chance, begged him to turn back. He was the only one. Everyone else was perfectly willing to believe that the old Loki was dead, gone, or maybe the old Loki never was and this twisted creature had lived there all along. And what Thor promised, it was bright and beautiful and so, so out of reach. His brother was a fool, a pathetic fool, and his promises and light and love were nothing Loki wanted, and Thor needed to get outoutoutgetaway or maybe Loki would remember, maybe he would be forced to see, come face to face with everything with frosttrustlieslovestarsandburningdarkandevilthings -
- and a knife between the ribs, the push of a button and the drop into wind, these were so much easier, so much easier, so much better never to see his face again.
But Loki failed.
The glass prison shot up and kept him.
Thor didn't come, and didn't come, and didn't come.
Now they are face to face.
Now, if any, is the time for truth, but Loki isn't telling.
(how can he, when his own mind is a tangled mess, a maze, a ball of thread with nothing on either end)
And Thor has changed. His face is like stone, voice a scalpel. He has lost all hope, all faith, all love. If you betray me I will kill you.
And for just a moment Loki can't do it. Any of it. Not anymore. For just a moment his world bends and curves alarmingly around him, he's done it, he's broken his brother but there's no happiness in it now and did he ever expect there to be and why did he, why didn't he, he had so many chances and if not even Thor can believe what hope is there for him -
And then he shuts down everything, again, before the thoughts can overrun him and spill out of him, tear into the outside world for all to see, internal organs on display.
Well, he thinks, you've done it. You've convinced him of the truth, that Loki Odinson is dead and gone.
He offers what passes as a smile, leans forward, cants his head.
"Mmm. When do we start?"