Disclaimer||Obviously, I don't own anything. Frankly, I don't want to. Everything Marvel has done with this so far has been perfection.
A/N: Personally, I am not very well informed with all of the Sciences of Asgard, and the names, and the traditions, so I improvised.
-Please excuse any grammatical errors.
-Please review, it would make my day!
His body was covered in white.
His eyes were gently closed.
His room was sorted with small herbs, hidden fragrances.
"Don't want it to start smelling." They said.
Thor spoke with alcohol on his tongue and grief coloring his eyes.
But at least he smelled like the herbs in Loki's room.
At least he never left.
Numbly he regarded Loki's stilled form.
The sheets were tucked up to his neck, the pale column of skin almost as white as the fabric about him. Thor felt empty. He felt hollow. He reached up his hand, his fingers caressing the skin of Loki's forehead gently, lovingly. His skin was ice cold, the pink in his cheeks had begun to fade to a chilled blue. When Thor cupped the Jotun showing skin it didn't fade like it used too.
It remained.
A permanent growing blue. But Thor found that he didn't mind it. If anything he found it endearing. With a trembling hand he raised the bottle of wine to his lips, barely feeling as the bitter tang of alcohol slithered down his throat. He stayed for a while longer, regarding Loki's wax like complexion, his lifeless drained face. A choked sound formed in the back of Thor's throat but he swallowed it down thickly with drink.
He had run out of tears to shed. All he could do now was drink into oblivion. It was in the early hours of the morning when Thor stumbled from Loki's room, having run out of wine and seeking some more.
His head throbbed, his body felt rugged and tingly, and his vision seemed to make double of everything. He nearly fell down the steps twice, and once he had to bend himself over to hurl into a nearby golden pot.
The servants that still were awake refused him any more alcohol and told him he should return to bed, he could barely walk straight. His tongue was heavy in his mouth and when he tried to move it no words came out. Two serving men attempted to drag him back to his room but he shoved them harshly aside, staggering away with a crude choice of words. His chest felt painfully tight so Thor collapsed himself upon the stairs by Loki's room, and he closed his eyes to try and dull away the throbbing of his head.
He didn't realize when another body sat beside him, small fair hands handing him a goblet of clear water. He drank it without hesitation, trying to rid the dryness that had become his throat. The water helped his head minutely, and his fingers had stopped their tingly. But they still trembled, and there was nothing the water could do to help that-he wasn't shaking because of the alcohol after all.
"I am terribly sorry for your loss." A sweet voice whispered, close to his ear and Thor blinked to right his vision as he opened his eyes. He recognized the woman next to him and he gave a grunt of recuperation.
Hestia didn't look too sorry.
No one who told them they were did. They sat in silence for a while as Thor drank the last of the water, and when he had finished he passed the goblet absently to Hestia once more. She took it silently, blue eyes glowing like jewels in the dim candle lit hallways. She swallowed before she spoke next.
"My lord, if you don't mind me asking, why did you…" She seemed to trail off, suddenly uncomfortable with her next question. Thor was too drunk to try and guess what she would ask. So instead he just stared at her in a bored sort of gaze.
"…Why did you, um, kiss your brother?" The words were awkward and tense, and Thor couldn't help but throw back his head in a bellow of uncoordinated laughter. His voice carried eerily erratic through the golden halls, and Hestia looked on in confusion as his laughter slowly faded out.
"He is not my brother of blood." Thor offered, words slurring and he smiled a lopsided grin afterwards, as though he had just given Hestia the perfect answer. She studied him for a moment, hands tightening white in her lap.
"Did you…did you love him?" She whispered voice cracking slightly and when Thor turned to her again her eyes were misted over, tears threatening to spill over their edges. Thor found himself startled and very confused by her reaction, so he tilted his head and nodded.
"Yes, I…I still do. There is nothing past about it." Her countenance seemed to crumble then, loosen about the edges, and Thor watched as she nodded and stood to her feet.
"You best rest, my lord. Sleep will do you good." And Thor watched as Hestia hurried from the hall, heels clacking against the golden floors as she departed. Thor stayed seated for a while before sleep really did sound like something he needed, and staggering he flung himself into his room and onto the ground.
He missed the bed by a foot.
"Have you eaten today?"
A soft voice implored, sounding impatient and utterly soft in the direction of the doorway. Thor swallowed gruffly, the wine falling down his throat thickly. It went straight to his head. He couldn't think straight.
"The door was locked." He scoffed, eyes turning to address Sif's form. She was all blurry…He blinked, trying to straighten his vision, and when that didn't work he slumped his back against the side of his bed in defeat.
Sif walked in carefully, leaving the door open a jar so that the light from the hallway shone in. There was no light in Thor's room.
"You have been occupying this room for the past day, Thor." Sif urged, eyes taking in Thor's sunken appearance, pale skin, hollowed eyes. Red eyes. Raw from the excessive use of depression. When Thor didn't answer, didn't do anything but down his last cup, Sif bit her lip in frustration. This wasn't the soon to be king, this wasn't the warrior, the strong man, she once knew.
She had heard about what Thor had done to Loki, how he had kissed him on his deathbed. Rumors were always false but…something about this one gnawed her alive. The words were parasites, an irritating itch, and the more she tried to ignore them the more persistent they became. But she wouldn't ask him to confirm or deny them yet.
Not when Thor was already so broken.
"His body is cleaned." Sif tried; hope making her voice appear light. "Odin has suggested burying him under the apple tree in Frigga's garden." This seemed to spark something in Thor's eyes, an urgent light, and with a slurred, "Repeat that" he stumbled to his feet. Sif stepped back warily, the smell of wine and sweat hitting her full on. She crinkled her nose at Thor's disheveled appearance, at his predetermined lack for treating himself to a bath. She swallowed before answering.
"They wished to bury Loki's body in Frigga's garden-"
"No." And Thor spoke this word so steadily, so clearly, that Sif was taken aback. She searched his face with confusion, trying to read how his emotions turned so rapidly. His eyes had lost their hazed appearance; his hands had ceased their shaking.
"Thor…"
"No. He will not be buried there." His voice had its deep rumble back, its bolstering vigor, and when he stepped by Sif and out the door she could do nothing else but follow. Thor's steps were hurried and not exactly straight but he managed to not fall down the stairs and to keep his swaying to a minimum. At least he had some of his dignity left. Sif walked briskly behind him, following his every move cautiously so that if he showed any signs of falling she could catch him before he hit the ground.
He headed straight to Odin's throne room, and Sif did a hasty, uncoordinated bow as she saw the All Father sitting in his golden seat. His expression didn't change as he regarded Thor, who stood before him with an empty goblet and flushed complexion.
"I do not want Loki buried here." Thor stated, not bothering with any sort of formalities. "I want to take him to Midgard for his burial." Odin opened his mouth to speak but Thor continued, "Do what you will with his body for a day. But afterwards I will bury it on Midgard." Odin's eyes scanned Thor's countenance with sympathetic, pitying eyes.
"You are too absorbed in drink to speak properly."
"No, I am too absorbed with drink that I can speak properly, and I hold to my words, Father. Loki found a home on Earth, and I wish to lay him to rest there." Odin's one eye regarded his deeply, and suddenly the All Father looked much older than he appeared.
He rose slowly from his throne, descended his dias to stand before Thor. His son reeked of alcohol and grief, but his eyes were clear and his posture straight. Blue eyes bored intensly into Odin, making his insides twist slightly with guilt and exhaustion. He sighed simply, nodded, and bit his lower lip in thought.
"What was Loki to you, my son?" And Odin watched as Thor stiffened immediately, eyes falling to look anywhere but his father's face. Odin nodded, sad desperation clouding his expression as he turned to sit upon his throne once more.
"I thought as much." He murmured, voice heavy and disappointed, and Thor felt his heart sink into his stomach, shrivel up and burn with all the alcohol he had consumed. There was a heavy silence, a stiff, uncomfortable one, and Sif had the desperate urge to run.
She wanted to leave, she truly did, but her feet ground her stubbornly to where she stood. She watched Thor sadly, confusion spiking inside her like a flame, but she held her tongue and instead let her eyes wander to where the All Father was seated. He looked so old, old and tired up there on his throne, and Sif wondered distantly how long he had left. When Odin spoke next it was with a heavy heart.
"Do what you will with Loki's body. Asgard holds no celebrations for murders." Thor's jaw clenched harshly, teeth scraping roughly over each other as he fought to hold his tongue. In his pitying state of not truly being sober his attempts at keeping silent were unsuccessful.
"Do not speak of him in such a way. He was lost, and you, Father, did nothing to ever help him. You neglected him coldly and from the beginning you were hard on him. Do not speak of his wrongdoings in his time of death, because if you were half the Father, or King, that you claim to be you would have realized by now that his death, along with the deaths of others, is your fault."
Thor's words hung like lightening in the still air, churning and fighting, and Odin sat in muted shock as he stared wide-eyed down at Thor. The thunderer simply nodded and strode roughly away, his footsteps echoing about the hall in luminous, rebellious pride.
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