I sincerely apologize for the long wait! It took me forever to complete this chapter. It's a pretty long one, and I hope you found it worth the wait. If you enjoyed, please drop a comment telling me what you liked— thank you very much for reading!
Day Three
Loki is dreaming.
Blessedly, Loki is unconscious; after the first few hours, his body had given out and now he is inside his own world. Loki takes stock of his surroundings. He is standing in a dense wood, forested with mostly fir trees and evergreen trees. There are a few inches of snow dusting the ground and the treetops. Loki could hear the chirping of various birds, and the occasional crunch of an animal stepping in the snow. The shadows are lengthening; it seems to be late in the day. The sun is hidden behind a layer of wispy, pale grey clouds.
All of a sudden, Loki remembers a story that his mother had told him and Thor when they were small. The story was about a wolf and a fox. The wolf was large and golden-furred, and the fox was small and lithe and black.
As Loki remembers the story, it starts to take shape around him in his dream-world. The skies clear, turning into a brilliant blue, and the clouds disperse. The shadows vanish; bright sunlight streams through the foliage overhead. Loki turns in a slow circle and feels a rush of air next to him. He whirls to look and sees the wolf from the story. He is beautiful; he is large, well past Loki's waist, and his warm, reddish-golden pelt is glossy and sleek. He runs past Loki again— paying no attention to him— and Loki can see the muscle rippling beneath his pelt.
A moment later, the fox follows. Much smaller— only reaching perhaps Loki's knee— his coat is sleek and black, and his muzzle is long and pointed. He runs with grace, but without the same streamlined strength as the wolf that has just gone by; the wolf has a dexterous force about him that the smaller fox lacks.
Loki knows how the story continues, and he watches with some interest as the events unfold. The golden-furred wolf is leading a pack, all of them running, their footfalls sounding clearly in the snow. The fox trails behind, doing his best to keep up with the pack.
Suddenly Loki's vision shifts, and now he is watching from high above; he can see for miles. The lead wolf's golden pelt is still clearly visible. He is bringing the pack toward some large animal— prey, Loki knows, that the pack is hunting. The wolf is speeding up now, running faster and faster, and then he leaps and slams into his prey. It stumbles. The wolf attacks, then, fighting with all of his strength, and Loki is amazed despite having heard the story many times before; somehow, hearing about the wolf's prowess and seeing it resonate very differently.
Almost singlehandedly the wolf manages to topple and kill his prey. The fox has barely arrived at the scene when he finishes. The wolf stands triumphantly, his muscles clearly defined under his glossy, lustrous pelt, his mouth open, panting slightly. He turns his head to meet Loki's gaze and his eyes are blue. That throws Loki off, for a moment, because as far as he is aware wolves' eyes are usually a yellowish-brown, and he has never seen a wolf with blue eyes. Yet here he is, and there is no mistaking those blue eyes; they are not merely blue, but blue beyond belief, blue like the sky just after a storm had cleared, sparkling like an ocean in the afternoon sun.
They look very familiar to Loki, but he can't quite put his finger on why.
Then the wolf turns and the spell is broken. The pack starts to eat; the fox is shoved out of the way by several of the larger grey wolves. The leader, seeing this, snarls at his packmates. He shoulders them aside to make room for the black fox, who looks up at the golden wolf and churning in his eyes is a mix of emotions that Loki knows very well.
The dream shifts, and now the pack is running, and this time the black fox is keeping pace with them, even if he is in the back and the golden wolf is in the front. His paws are sure— though not as sure as those of the rest of the wolves— and his black coat has filled out. He looks less scrawny, less weak. He does not look like the wolves, but he seems to have grown into a look of his own.
Loki watches the group run, barking and howling with delight as they close in on one of their prey.
The golden wolf is in the lead, as always, and now the day is slowly disappearing and his beautiful pelt is reflecting the light of the dying sun. He begins the fight; his pack falls upon their prey and then all Loki can see is a blur of red-gold, grey, and black. For a long moment, there is silence, except for the wolves' low growling and the shuffle of paws in the snow.
Then Loki hears a shrill cry, too shrill to possibly be one of the wolves. Loki can't see, but since he knows the story, he knows that it is a cry of pain and that when the wolves clear away, there will be—
The wolves clear and Loki sees the black fox, lying on his side, blood pooling on the ground beneath him. It trickles in rivulets down his legs and side, staining the snow. He is panting heavily and whimpering softly in agony and fear.
The golden wolf bounds forward and nudges him gently with his muzzle. The fox tenses, then freezes. The wolf crouches next to him and pushes his black paw with his nose, willing him to move. The effort is in vain. The fox whimpers, then goes still.
The golden wolf presses his muzzle into his side and shoves him, as if he could reinvigorate the animal. Loki watches, jaw clenched, as the wolf continues to try to help the smaller fox.
When he pulls away, his golden muzzle is stained with scarlet blood and his eyes are sad, and once again, why is that so heartbreakingly familiar? The wolf starts to howl— and in his voice is such fury, such grief, and Loki covers his ears to stop from hearing that noise because it hurts him somewhere that he hadn't thought he could feel anymore.
The dream shifts again, only this time it takes longer, and colors are moving and changing all around Loki. The cornflower-blue evening sky deepens to a star-strewn black and all around him the shadows lengthen into true darkness. The moon rises into the velvet sky, shining brightly overhead. For a long moment there is nothing but the silvery darkness all around him; then it clears, and by the light of the moon Loki can see. Loki holds his breath because he remembers the story very well and he knows what happens next; the black fox returns and is reunited with his wolf and then they are happy.
The black fox is padding toward the circle of moonlight on silent paws. He is taller and thinner, and his black pelt has lightened to a dark smoky grey color. His muzzle is longer and his muscles and bones are sharper, more defined.
The fox steps forward and, bathed in moonlight, looks silver. Loki watches carefully, but there is no sign of the golden wolf. He frowns. In the story, the golden wolf re-met the fox. Loki's eyebrow furrows.
There! The wolf is approaching. Loki can't see him very well, but he can see the gentle glow of his golden fur.
The wolf pads into view and Loki's breath catches in his throat.
His golden fur is marred and torn and his muzzle has been raked over so many times that it is covered in scars. His tail is limp and ragged. His fur, once so beautiful, is now split by dozens of cuts, both old and fresh. One long scrape across his flank is still bleeding. He turns his head and Loki sees, suddenly, that one of his blue eyes has been gouged out.
Loki's stomach turns over.
The wolf stumbles forward toward the black fox, clearly in pain. His legs are shaking. Loki watched, his heart in his mouth. He stares at the fox, seemingly unable to grasp what he is seeing.
There is a mix of emotions churning the fox's brilliant green eyes. He stares at the wolf with a mixture of disgust, pity, and shock, and also sorrow.
The wolf lays his head at the foox of the black fox and whimpers softly.
Loki woke up breathing heavily, the image of the wolf, scarred and ragged, etched into his mind, unable to forget the intensity of the wolf's single blue-eyed gaze.
Thor had spent hours, the previous day, trying to fix their ship. He made no progress; he was no technician, and even simple repairs were beyond him. Red-eyed and knowing that he would get nowhere, eventually Thor had laid down and fallen into an uneasy sleep.
When he woke he looked over and saw that the couch was empty, and he remembered what had happened to Loki. He drew in a deep breath. Thor, he told himself sternly, now is not the time to go to pieces. Now is the time to get up and see what you can do to fix this.
He was just so very angry.
Thor got to his feet and made his way toward the fuel lines. The pirates had cut the fuel lines, he knew, but what that meant in the context of the ship was beyond him. There were deep gouges in the wall and he could see the broken lines, spilling liquid fuel all over the interior of the ship.
Thor didn't have any idea how to fix it, and he could feel himself starting to get angry again. Don't, he ordered himself sternly. Focus. Punching another hole in the wall won't help anything and do you really want his blood on your hands again.
Thor cut off that train of thought.
What he needed was to contact somebody. Stark probably knew how to fix it— if it was fixable. But the pirates had taken out the navicomputer and the comms, so he couldn't contact Earth from the main console. Thor was alone, with no supplies and no experience and on idea how long the pirates would stay in their own ship nearby. They could jump into hyperspace and leavy at any second and then Thor would have no chance of ever finding Loki, much less rescuing him. Thor knew how large the universe was. It was ridiculously large. It was so large that most human brains couldn't even comprehend how large it actually was. No, if Thor wanted to get Loki out, his only chance was to do it before the bandits jumped into hyperspace. But the ship was leaking fuel and the navicomputer was offline, so there was no way to pilot the ship anywhere.
As these thoughts occurred to him, Thor had been moving about the cabin, absentmindedly cleaning up and sifting through the mess. He made his way toward the barracks. The bed was mussed from Thor's sleeping on it, and he tidied it as he went through possible courses of action.
But, try as he might, Thor could think of no action to take except to try to repair the ship himself. He had very few options, none of them good, and he had no way to know how long he had until the pirates— and Loki— were gone forever.
That thought settled over Thor like a foggy, depressing cloud.
There is no way Loki can be gone forever. Not when I've just found him again. That's not possible.
Thor's hand closed on something.
It was Loki's personal console, which he had used to contact Strange, and it was still functional.
Thor wasted no time in typing in Tony's name. For a tense moment there was no answer; then Tony's face, complete with his half-beard and tired brown eyes, appeared on the screen.
"Thor?" he said incredulously.
"Tony," Thor mumbled, and in that moment he was so relieved to see the face of Tony Stark, even though he was frowning deeply and clearly exhausted, he forgot about feeling angry.
Tony's frown deepened. "What's the matter?" he asked.
Thor drew in a deep breath. "Loki," he answered. "He's alive and he needs rescuing."
To his credit, Tony accepted that news with grace, pausing only for the barest moment to take it in. His breath hissed out between his teeth. "Okay. Loki's alive."
"Again," Thor said.
Tony's brow furrowed. "Thor, where are you?"
Thor sighed. "Trapped on a spaceship. We were attacked by space pirates. The navicomputer is down and the fuel lines are cut, and Loki is on their ship, to be sold as a slave. I don't know how long the slavers will stick around, but I have to repair the fuel lines and get navigation and communications back online. Otherwise he'll be dead. Again." Thor had to force his hands to unclench.
"Okay," Tony said, drawing out the word. "Let me see the fuel lines. That's your biggest problem right now."
Thor got to his feet and carried the handheld console over to where the wall had been torn. He let Tony inspect it, and for a moment there was silence. Thor's thoughts were racing and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears.
"Let me see your plumbing," Tony said.
Thor snapped out of his musings. "The plumbing? Whatever for?"
"I think you may be able to use it to repair the fuel lines," Tony replied cryptically in his tinny voice.
Thor took him to where the plumbing supplies were kept. Tony mused to himself for a moment, then laughed aloud. "The pirates failed," he told Thor. "They cut the fuel lines, but do you see those? Those are meant to fix plumbing fixtures, but they'll work for your fuel lines."
Thor smiled even though he didn't feel like smiling. "Except I don't know how to repair anything," he pointed out.
Tony waved this aside. "If you listen to what I tell you, you'll be fine."
So Thor found the proper plumbing supplies and went over to where the fuel lines had been damaged, all the while clenching and unclenching his fists in an effort to stop himself from exploding in a fury. He knew that it would help nothing to be angry.
"Now, start taking off the damaged pieces," Tony instructed. Thor went to comply. It took him a while, and under normal circumstances (what were normal circumstances? Thor had to think about that one) he might have been inclined to start a conversation with Tony. As it were, he worked without speaking, unwilling to talk any more to Tony than necessary for fear of lashing out at him.
Tony had no such qualms. "How did you end up trapped on a spaceship?" he wanted to know.
"Strange and I were going out to visit another planet," Thor grunted. "Loki showed up and I found out that he had been back, and living with Strange, and Strange never told me."
"Loki probably asked him not to," Tony pointed out reasonably. Thor didn't reply. He didn't feel like listening to Tony's rationality.
"Where's the doctor, then?" Tony wanted to know.
"He left," Thor replied shortly. "He teleported back to Earth but is, right now, apparently too wounded to make a portal and take us back. Either of us." He wrenched the damaged piece off of the fuel line. "What's next?"
"Take the spare pieces," Tony told him, "and screw them on. Then secure them with those."
Thor went to do what he had instructed, and silence fell again. Thor's hands were shaking. He had to try several times to put the spare parts on, because his hands were shaking so badly that he kept missing. It was not out of fear, though, and he knew it.
This was not lost on Tony, who frowned deeply. At first he said nothing, then—
"Thor, why are you so angry?"
Loki's first instinct would have been to deny it. This never crossed Thor's mind. He was silent for a moment, then said, "I don't like being helpless."
"But you're not," Tony said, and why was that man so irritatingly intelligent? "You're fixing the ship right now. Soon enough, you'll be able to go after him."
Thor started securing the spare parts on one side. "If he's still there."
Tony waited, and out of the corner of his eye Thor saw him fold his fingers together.
"Strange knew," Thor said suddenly. "He knew that Loki was there. He knew that Loki was alive. He knew that my brother was alive when I was going to pieces because I thought he was dead and he said nothing. To anyone."
"He wasn't doing it to hurt you," was Tony's quiet reply. "Stephen doesn't want to hurt anyone. He only wants to do what's best."
"For who?" Thor challenged.
"Everyone," Tony responded. "Stephen can see billions of possible futures, Thor, and he has to make a choice about what will be best for all of the people around him."
"Who gave him the right to decide what is best for anyone?" Thor snapped.
"When he became the Sorcerer Supreme," Tony told him sharply. "You can't seriously be blaming Stephen for this." His tone softened unexpectedly, but then Tony's emotions always came and went quickly. "Tell me what's really bothering you, Thor."
Thor hesitated, though his hands did not stop moving, repairing the damaged fuel lines. Tony waited silently, content to let Thor speak. Why am I so angry? Thor wondered. Yes, he was irritated with Strange, and he hated feeling helpless, but those weren't the real reasons, as Tony had pointed out. He was furious that his brother was in danger. The image of Loki's finely drawn face, smirking at him, his green eyes wide and bright, stuck out in Thor's thoughts.
He didn't even say anything.
It was that thought that finally clarified what it was that Thor had been unable to put his finger on. "He never even said anything," Thor said aloud. "He came back after pretending to be dead for the third time and he never even addressed it. I didn't expect an apology, but he had nothing to say." He paused. "Tony, I lost my father, my mother, my home, my dearest friend, and my brother. And then when my brother comes back to me, all he can do is make a sarcastic comment and act like nothing's happened. Does he even care? I cried for him. I mourned him three times. I wept over his grave for five years. He is just so very—" Thor hesitated, trying to find the right word — "selfish. He is so very selfish. He doesn't think about anyone but himself."
Tony sighed. "Has he always been like that?" he asked, and the question took Thor quite off-guard. Of course Loki hadn't always been like that. If Loki had always been like that, then Thor would never have loved him in the first place.
Realizing that Tony was still waiting for an answer, Thor said, "He wasn't. When we were younger, he wasn't like the way he is now. He didn't act like a god of mischief. I mean— he did— but in a way that made you laugh, not get upset, and he didn't hurt anybody. He just followed me and we did things together and had fun."
Tony paused for a long moment and ran one hand through his hair before he responded. Thor waited, holding up his hands as if he were working on the fuel lines but too focused on Tony to do anything else.
"Thor," Tony began, "I don't really have a complete picture of what your life or Loki's life has looked like, so this is a bit of a paraphrase, but tell me if I have this mostly right."
Thor nodded.
"You were brought up as brothers," Tony said. "You were brought up in the Asgardian palace. You were gods. You were Asgardians."
Thor nodded again.
"The jotuns were your mortal enemies."
Thor said nothing.
"Meanwhile, you, Thor, were going to be the king of Asgard. Both of you were told this by your father and mother. You were the older brother and he was the younger brother. I can't say I have a very extensive knowledge of Asgard, but it is a kingdom of warriors, isn't it?"
Thor gave assent. "I've finished, by the way," he rumbled.
Tony nodded. "Show me the navicomputer," he said. Thor did so and Tony laughed. "They damaged the screen, but they didn't actually get through to the inner workings of the computer," he said, by way of explanation. "Either this ship is very well built, or these pirates are new."
"Do you know how to get it online?" Thor asked.
"Now that you've repaired the fuel lines, the ship should come back online on its own in eight hours or so, so you should be able to go after Loki tomorrow," Tony replied. He held up a hand to forestall Thor's outcry that he didn't know if the bandits' ship would still be around tomorrow, saying, "There's no way to hurry it along, Thor— you just have to let it be. Besides," he pointed out, "if they haven't left yet, clearly they're sticking around for a reason."
Thor grudgingly accepted this reasoning.
"But I was explaining your brother to you," Tony said. "Let me finish. So here you are over six feet tall, a mountain of muscle, blonde and blue-eyed, the god of thunder, the greatest warrior in the nine realms. And he has none of that. He knows he'll never be king— but more than that— he'll never be you, Thor. You said that when you were children he followed you and the two of you did things together?" This time Tony didn't wait for a response to continue. "Because you are the older brother! He looks at the things that you did and he wanted to do them and be like you because you were the greatest warrior, his brother, the future king. Not to mention that you had a magic hammer that only the worthy could lift, and you could lift it, and he couldn't."
Tony paused for breath, because his words had been tumbling out, running over each other in a desperate attempt to make themselves known. "And then what happens? Then he finds out that he is not your brother. He finds out that he is a jotun, who you have been brought up to hate. He finds out that he is one of those horrible creatures that both of you have fought and killed time and time again. And this, for Loki, is validation that you were always going to come out on top— that you would always be more worthy."
"But I never cared that he was a jotun," Thor protested. "And besides, so what if I was a greater warrior? He could do plenty of things that I couldn't. He's a sorcerer."
Tony shook his head. "Thor," he said, and his voice became surprisingly gentle. "Loki has every reason in the world to feel inferior to you. Can you really blame him for trying to break off from you and try to make his way on his own?"
His words did not leave Thor— not even after he had eaten and showered and laid down in bed to, once again, dream about a man with long, black hair and brilliant green eyes.
Once again, I apologize for the long wait— things were busy in my corner. Hopefully Day Four will be out soon! As always, thank you very much for reading and please give me a comment if you enjoyed!
~ Atticus