Okay, so I recently - *ahem* *cough* yesterday, - sat down and watched The Avengers. Like many before me, I fell victim to Loki's charms almost instantaneously and decided that it was a character that I really wanted to explore.
Now, I'm fairly certain that this sucks so feel free to hate it, but I thought I'd have a go anyway. See what I could do.
Enjoy. It probably won't be very long.
Disclaimer: these characters do not belong to me, unfortunately.
It wasn't, to clarify, even remotely, a fall from grace.
"Cheer up, brother. No need to look so pitiful."
Let's face it, he isn't called the God of Mischief for nothing, and surely no-one could actually have been so foolish as to think that he wasn't going to adhere to the title.
When he was younger the pranks were small and inconsequential, nothing too remarkable, but as his magic grew stronger and Loki's resentment towards Thor simmered ever-constantly below the surface, it slowly turned a lot less harmless. So much so that, well, in his need to remove himself from the God of Thunder's shadow, Loki almost destroyed that dismal place they call Earth.
Calloused fingers wind around his elbow and hoist his scrawny arm into the air, scrubbing his armpits with the utmost care while Loki merely watches. Unblinking and impressively detached. As if it were happening to someone else.
"It saddens me to see you so troubled," Thor adds.
Loki grunts, a breathy equivalent of an eye roll, but otherwise remains impassive.
It would be nice if he could muster a sneer for his comically sanguine brother, but alas, he is much too weary. His limbs, burdened with great lethargy, are anchored in place by this insufferable delicacy thrust upon him, and Loki feels a curious sense of emptiness settle into each and every one his pores as Thor washes down his pathetically weakened body calmly and with clinical precision.
It is, in a word, humiliating, for the villain who once plotted world domination.
Loki of Asgard, as he'd declared so conceitedly in the past, as if that meant something, of any value - raised as a prince with no knowledge of his true heritage, who was later driven to insanity. Or so… many presume.
"Come on, chump," Thor coos with a warm smile, if you would believe the giant capable of such indignity. "Grant me one of those delightful smiles that I have missed dearly. It has been…what? Three days? Any longer and I am afraid I will suffer withdrawal."
It's a lousy attempt at lightening the mood, an embarrassing excuse for a joke.
Loki glares - minus some of his usual heat - but Thor merely grins widely, as if he actually expects to be mimicked.
It's sad, really. And if there is one thing Loki does not do, it is sad. He'd always regarded it as an odd, whimsical emotion. One he did not need to see or experience.
"Please, Loki," Thor then frowns, even as he pours water down his brother's spine and proceeds to pat it down with a cloth. "Talk to me. Say something, please."
Loki pouts.
No, it clearly says. Leave me alone.
He turns his head away and stares fixedly at the tiled wall. And if his brother were to look carefully enough, - though acuteness has never really been his forte - he would be amazed by the slight quivering of the younger man's chin.
With an oblivious sigh, Thor returns to the task at hand.
The water is cooling fast, scarcely lukewarm at this point, and it will soon be time to get out.
Loki has been dreading that moment since the second he got in.
Is it not enough that he was stripped and bathed? Now he must be dried and clothed by a man who only weeks ago had been his enemy but now occupies the role of caregiver, whilst his legs are consumed by tremors at the very chore of staying upright and his arms dangle limply by his sides?
It is wrong. Yet he has done much worse.
Loki flicks his eyes to his brother as Thor brushes some wandering hairs from his sticky forehead and again, quietly observes. At first, Thor was unsettled by this, disturbed by the vacancy in his features and the lack of superior smirks or sharp insults that have been replaced with distant stillness. The intensity, the unrelenting silence, it gave him shivers. Now, however, he forces himself to ignore it, because otherwise he might forget that it is in fact his brother amongst the strangeness.
Besides, it is rare for Loki to do… this. But when he does, it lasts for days.
The others, they say that he is sulking, that it is part self-preservation, part stubbornness, and have now dubbed it his, Time Out.
And no matter what, it is elicited by the same old thing. Time and time again.
He retreats inside his head and he won't come out until the spell… until it…
Thor grimaces, a slight twisting of his mouth for an instant, but Loki catches it and one brow twitches in what Thor has come to realise is a reserved frown.
Loki does it again - this time asking, what is it?
Thor finds it funny that this is how his brother opts to communicate when in Time Out rather than simply voice what he is thinking. But maybe that is just him. Perhaps Thor himself should take note of his younger brother's tactics. He has been told, politely of course, once or twice, that he is far too loud for his own good.
Thor shakes his head. "It is nothing. Don't worry about it."
Loki rolls his dulled, green eyes, but Thor is just pleased to have a reaction. Any reaction.
"Alright, alright," he smiles faintly. "I will tell you. But, I warn you now, you aren't particularly fond of the subject matter."
The God of Mischief inclines his head in an impatient, Yes, I understand. Get to the point.
With another deep sigh, Thor states with a trace of defensiveness, "I was merely pondering the ins and outs of the spell."
Loki stiffens.
"Yes, I am aware well of your displeasure," he says tiredly. "No need to make that face. It has been three days, though, so I was wondering…" Thor winces and casts his eyes to the ground.
It's silent for a few heartbeats.
"You-you were wondering when I'd crack," Loki finishes cuttingly, the harshness of his words losing some of the desired effect when his voice breaks from disuse, and speechless, Thor's gapes at him in astonishment.
He-he's talking. Already.
In a pretty awkward scenario - yes, Thor is equally discomfited - where it is least likely for him to do so.
This cannot be good.
"Oh, don't fret, dear brother," he says bitterly. "I'm not going to do anything rash quite yet. Couldn't have that, no. I am enjoying bath time far too much. It would be a shame if I were to suddenly become some clingy, whimpering mess," Loki spits. "Now wouldn't that be inconvenient? Why, I'd miss out on all of the fun."
"Brother, stop!" Thor suddenly reaches out and pries his fingers from where they grip the side of the tub so tightly. "You're going to hurt yourself if you keep this up!"
"Ah, yes," he inhales sharply. "Because I am so fragile now, aren't I?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, you are," Thor retorts angrily. "So give it a rest!"
"No! Let me go!" He struggles against his brother's grasp. "Get your meaty paws off of me!"
"Not until you quiet!"
"Argh!" His breathing is already laboured, chest rising and falling quickly, and he is beginning to feel light-headed. "Fine," Loki snaps. "Whatever. We all know what's going to happen soon enough anyway."
Thor freezes.
Aw, crap.
"Loki-"
"Save your words of comfort for later, Thor," he bites out and to his horror, tears spill over his sunken cheeks. Loki swiftly traps one with his fingertips and holds it out for inspection. Eyeing it warily.
What better sign of weakness?
All anger draining from his body, he slumps. And with his voice small and uncharacteristically defeated, Loki murmurs, "You're going to need them."
Before…
With an unforgiving push, he stumbles into the great dinning hall and for the first time, Loki feels a little ill at ease.
Nevertheless, he clears his throat and forces composure as he slowly becomes aware that the hall is far from empty and with their narrowed, unforgiving eyes, the people of Asgard, with whom he had grown up and been respected, gaze upon his gaunt, withering form.
"Oh, great," Loki mutters. "An audience."
Seated on the throne is Odin, one eye poring over him with noticeable distaste. To his side, Loki is startled to see Frigga, but she refuses to look up from the hands folded on her lap, which disconcerts him more than he cares to admit.
And then, of course, there is Thor.
Standing tall and proud, but with a lenient expression of kindness unlike anything Loki could have foreseen. In any case, he is the one who dragged him here. Shouldn't Thor be pleased to see that justice is finally being delivered? That Loki will pay for all the lives that have been lost?
It is confusing, that is for sure. But Loki cannot afford to fixate on that right now. There are far more pressing matters. And if anything, he'd like to be the one to begin.
With a wicked smile, he addresses the man he'd formerly called father.
"Well done, old man," he drawls in that subdued, acerbic way of his. "I dare say you pulled it off. That's an Midgardian turn of phrase, by the way. Encountered it on my travels." His tone is wonderfully demeaning as he elucidates mellifluously, "It means that your hope of intimidation has indeed been satisfied. I am positively cowering."
The trickster stands straight with his shoulders squared in defiance and yet somehow he manages to maintain an effortless air of flippancy.
Loki is neither concerned nor cowed.
No, the God is above all of that. He is beyond caring about the outcome of this modest gathering. Live or die, it no longer matters to him. There is no need to fear.
"I am pleased to see that you are in good spirits, boy," the All-Father muses. "One would have deemed it much more wise, however, to remain a touch more docile. At least when in the company of those who determine your fate, would you not agree? Decisions are such temperamental, trifling things, after all." He appraises the lesser God with a frown. "I could always change my mind."
Loki leans back, eyes slimming in amusement as a small smirk grabs hold of his lips like a hook - tugging and tugging, before levelling into an expression of playful glee. He wets his lips, green eyes dancing.
"No," he laughs. That soft, purring half-laugh. "No, I would very much doubt that. This-" despite his chains, Loki flutters one hand in an overly nonchalant, light-hearted manner, "-this castigation, if you will, has been…" He rolls his eyes in the back of his head as though judging his next words, mouth somewhat open. Meeting Odin's exasperated gaze without so much as a flinch, he carries on, "Well, it's been painstakingly considered, has it not? Trivial, maybe. Interchangeable…? Not so much."
Thor sighs. "Brother, if you would please stop antagonizi-"
Loki swivels around so fiercely that the God of Thunder takes an involuntary step back.
"I am not your brother!" he barks at once, face contorting with a rather feverish and unnerving rage as his veins pop up from under skin that is so flimsy and pallid in colour that Thor is unreasonably alarmed that it will split from the pressure. The slight gagging is a little on the over-dramatic side, although he is hardly surprised. "I am monster. A thing of nightmares. And you, everyone's favourite golden-boy," Loki scoffs, voice glaringly scathing as his lip curls with disgust, "You are Heir to the throne. The almighty Thor." Breathing hard, he pauses and spits through gritted teeth. "You and I? We are nothing to each other, understand? Are you really so dim-witted that you have forgotten?"
"THAT IS ENOUGH!" Odin booms, his fisted hand striking the arm of the throne with an ear-splitting thwack.
The room is silent you could hear a pin drop.
The only sound the rattling of Loki's chains as he shifts his weight with irritation and huffs.
"Now," the All-father continues, his hardened jaw just daring the trickster to interrupt, "Let the trial commence."
"If you must," Loki blows out a breath. "Might as well get it over with."
In hindsight, he really does regret his off-handedness.
Thank-you for reading. Please let me know what you think.