Thor was relentless. Everywhere Loki turned the Thunderer was there. If it hadn't been directed at him, Thor's persistence would have been amusing. But since it was, the pursuit was anything but.
"This is hardly a difficult concept to grasp," muttered Loki has he stalked through the house, Thor trailing after.
"A Norn visited you, Loki. There had to be a reason for it." Thor kept right at his shoulder as Loki descended into the great room and threaded his way through the furniture.
"Of course there's a reason," said Loki, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm just refusing to share it with you." He reached for the glass doors to the porch only to have Thor's hand above his head holding them fast. Turning, they were face to face, eyes locked in stubborn opposition. The familiarity of the gesture stunned Loki and he broke contact first with a jerk of his head. For a moment he'd felt the urge to fall into old habits and childish taunts so well played out neither he nor Thor had to think about it.
He would insult Thor's helmet or unkempt hair. Thor would return with mocking jabs about his horns or fastidious nature. If it went on for too long it would eventually end in the kind of name calling they had still whispered to one another at state dinners to earn disapproving glances from Frigga. Loki would call Thor a troll and he would call Loki a cow.
The weight of how easy it would have been to travel along such well worn paths gripped Loki's heart with thorns. For that one instant it was as if nothing had changed between them. There had been no fall. No Chitauri. No fate inescapable. Just Thor, like there'd always been—stupid, stubborn, overbearing Thor.
Loki ducked away and headed for the front door. Shadows cut through the warm light of the high windows as the sun caught the vast beams running overhead across the vaulted ceiling.
"What has she said to you?" asked Thor. He'd stopped a few feet behind Loki, bathed in the sunlight.
Loki paused and tilted his head in thought without turning around. "She came to tell me why I'm a monster." The words came calmly, without malice or pain. "I was right, you know. I was always meant to be the villain to your hero." He turned without leaving the shadows. "I am not your brother, I never have been your brother, and I never will be," said Loki, anger tightening his words like a spring wound too far. "You do not know what I have seen, what I will do." His lips pulled into doleful smirk, "If you were wise you'd kill me where I stand."
Thor bridged the gap between them, cupping Loki around the back of the neck with one massive hand. "I have never been accused of being wise." He gave a mournful smile. "There is such poison in your heart that you see nothing but evil, remember nothing but darkness. I remember fighting and playing and laughing side by side. Is that not something worth seeking again?"
Thoughts swarmed behind Loki's eyes. "And what if I did? What if I desired to recapture this utopian fantasy you've concocted of our childhood? What then?" Danger lurked in the undercurrents of his tone, though the surface was calm. He pulled away from Thor's hand. "Would I return to mother's loving embrace? Would the All-Father suddenly look on his wayward son with pride, develop an appreciation for guile, lies, magic," there was the faintest flash of teeth between his twisted lips, "Frost Giants."
Loki felt the control sliding away, the mania creeping into his voice. He didn't care. Padding back and forth, every muscle coiled to the breaking point, he continued to speak, "Would it all be forgiven? The patricide, attempted genocide, murder of the crown prince—non-permanent though it might have been. And then there is your precious Midgard." He gestured expansively. "Or did you forget the invasion? The screaming of a people wholly unprepared. Your helpless innocents whipped into terror. How many deaths will it take? How much blood must I pour out before you give me up for lost and see me for what I am?" His voice quieted suddenly, "and am fated to always be."
A great hand dropped onto his shoulder. "I see you, brother. And I wish that I had seen before. Why are you so desperate that I hate you?"
Loki stiffened. Is that what he wanted? To be hated? He tilted his head to the side and conjured up a sly smile. How was it that Thor had actually been perceptive? "Oh, but I count on that unending, misplaced belief that I can be saved—your hope will be your perpetual downfall."
"What I hope is that you will leave this madness, but I am not fool enough to trust you."
"It seems you can be taught after all." Loki's smile faded. "This is not a path I can leave now that I have set foot upon it. Ask your Widow—she understands, though, she chooses to lie to herself."
Conviction rang through Thor's words. "Even the most horrible of roads can be turned away from. The only question is whether you have the strength to do so."
His words were quite as he vacantly followed the path of dust motes through the sunbeam. "What would be the point, Thor? It changes nothing. It cannot undo what I have done." He shook his head. "We are at a standstill until I am sure the magic in Book has quieted and faded beyond all possible harm." He padded past Thor to perch on the edge of Stark's favorite chair. "And when that time comes you will attempt to return me to Asgard, I will make a daring and brilliant attempt at escape, but in my disadvantaged state will likely find myself back in an even deeper and darker prison. There I will rot until true madness claims me." He sank back in the chair, seemingly at ease. "That is what awaits me."
Thor remained silent. Heavy distress crouched on his shoulders, stooping his broad frame. This quiet unnerved Loki.
"What's this? No words of comfort? No promises of reprieve?" The playful mocking in his tone sounded hollow even to Loki's ears. He leaned forward, in sham contemplation, hands clasped. Thor may not have been the one known for his words, but neither did that mean that he was particularly known for being silent.
The Thunderer gave a slow shake of his head. "You are for the dungeons. I would give much to unwind these past few years. But you have earned far worse than you will receive."
"Give the All-Father some credit." After his little surprise about where exactly Midgardians thought Sleipnir had come from, Loki had looked into some of the myths the Northmen told about them. Few were particularly complementary and the one detailing his ultimate punishment dredged up memories that made him ill. His skin prickled at the thought of serpent's venom and isolation. He just hoped Odin never looked to Midgard for ideas. "This last escapade has likely earned me quite a bit more than a mere dungeon cell. I am a prince after all—there ought to be some kind of special treatment for that."
"I do not know what you imagine, but even if Father were—in rash anger—to sentence cruelty, Mother and I would never allow it. Even if you are locked in the depths of Asgard, you will not rot, nor will you be alone." Thor beamed. "I will come to see you."
Loki blinked. Thor actually seemed serious. Perhaps he would come—for a week, until he forgot or had better things to do. Then he would have to suffer the golden prince no longer, left to his neglect and solitude. "You assume that I would wish your presence."
His massive shoulders lifted in a shrug as a mischievous glint entered his eyes. "Then I would sit across from your cell and tell you all that you were missing—or simply wait until you wished to fill the silence."
Loki believed him. Thor meant every word of what he was saying, at least right now. A hollow yearning seemed to open within him. It was too new, and too strange for him to say what it meant. But some part of him wanted Thor's words to be true. His cynicism scoffed. Could this really be the same self-absorbed Thor he had always known?
"What has that mortal girl done to you?"
Thor merely smiled back, "What has your human child done to you?"
A/N: Upon consultation with my best friend (the Gryffindor to my Slytherin), I've decided to go ahead and keep these two shorter chapters separate and perhaps expand the next one a touch. I've got a conversation I think will fit well there…
This was another place in the story that I wrote well be before TDW. After the "Now you see me brother," line, I may or may not have been grinning like an idiot—A) because it was an awesome scene with great insight into both characters, and B) it basically canonized a theme I was already playing with in various places throughout the story!
And with this chapter we have surpassed Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card in the word count. Huzzah! Everyone, celebrate and congratulate yourselves for sticking with a fanfiction that is the size of a decent length novel. I swear we won't be reaching War and Peace levels of length (I leave that up to Ninepen and Beneath)…but I make no promises we won't reach Dickensian lengths…
Next Week: Loki's conversations with the Norn continue to be frustratingly enigmatic. And Loki begins to reap what may well be a bitter harvest.
QuiltedRose49: I had wondered if it was someone who had reviewed before since the cadence seemed somewhat familiar. And you do well to wonder about where the issues of predestination vs. free will may fall—we shall see where it goes.
Silver Frost: Yes, abandoned stories make me sad as well—though I completely understand why it happens. There is perhaps nothing worse than reading a story that is very well established and then it just ends. So never fear!