A/N: So I know I said I'd continue with the Peter internship thing, but I'm just going to make that an independent fic. As for the time of this next chapter? No clue! After Ragnarok I guess, but Odin's alive, Asgard exists, and Thor knows Shuri. It's pretty AUish. This particular chapter battles some racism issues because I think they're really important. Yes, I'm bringing politics into my fics, but it's pertinent and if you have a problem, suck it up.
Your brother can't save you this time.
That one phrase had managed to throw Loki completely off guard. Yes, he was well aware that he was alone in this fight; he had made sure of it. Still, knowing that his brother didn't have his back worried him greatly. What if he was wounded? Who would schlep him back to Asgard, muttering light-hearted insults the whole way? Who would destroy all the enemies in one fell swoop and stand triumphantly in front of him? Without the assurance of Thor, Loki felt defenseless. Regardless, this train of thought was futile. He had procured this entire plan so that he wouldn't be saved by Thor. This battle was supposed to prove his worth; the worth that he had tried to prove time and time again (met mostly by failure). He needed to show the world that he was a strong Asgardian warrior and above his lowly Frost Giant heritage.
A large fist flew towards Loki's face, snapping him abruptly out of his tumultuous daze. With no time to spare, he jerked left, feeling the air be displaced beside his head.
"I said," The tall Vanaheimian growled, his voice scratchy and intimidating, "your brother can't save you this time, god of mischief!"
"I don't need him." Loki bluffed, keeping his voice cool. "I am the price of Asgard. You can't defeat me."
The Vanaheimian chuckled maliciously and swung at Loki again. "You aren't Asgardian, now are you?"
Clenching his teeth, Loki thrust his dagger deep into the enemy's chest. The Vanaheimian's eyes widened in shock and fear as Loki brought his face close to his. "You don't know who I am."
"But I do." He croaked out, wincing from the exertion. "We'll meet again in Hel, Laufeyson."
The enemy's last words sent shivers up Loki's spine. He knew. He thought, glancing at the myriad of enemies in front of him. Do they all know? Does everyone know who I am? He shook his head, as if to clear the thought from his mind. Filled with new uncertainty, he charged ahead.
Most of the enemies were weak foot soldiers who were incapacitated with minimal effort. Still, minimal effort added up; Loki hardly noticed the strain as it added up slowly, too gradually to process.
Ultimately hoping to show-off, Loki used his magic liberally, creating quite a show. Flashes of green erupted all over the field as he zipped from location to location, taking enemies down in any way possible. Some were stabbed, some completely drained of their energy, some set on fire, and some transformed into small, harmless woodland creatures. As time went on, the number of bodies on the ground increased, as did the number of bunnies and chipmunks.
Unbeknownst to him, his breathing became gradually more rapid and the sparse color drained slowly from his face. Loki was beginning to wonder why some of his spells seemed weaker and why it took more effort to create illusion that should be second nature. Glancing down at his leg, he noticed an open wound that hadn't healed itself. Blood was trickling freely from the gash and pooling on the ground around him. How hadn't he noticed? Brushing off the concern, he focused healing magic on the wound, closing it in seconds. Quickly after, his vision began to undulate slightly.
It's no big deal. He assured himself. I have more than enough energy to finish this. Loki charged again, ducking under punches and throwing his knives with pinpoint accuracy. More enemies fell, creating a carpet on top of the grass.
Standing back, Loki admired his handiwork. The carnage in front of him was sure to earn him more than a pat on the back. Perhaps people would talk about this battle.
Did you hear what the prince did yesterday? Loki imagined the civilians saying. He took out an entire force of hostile Vanaheimians single handedly! His father must be so proud.
Unconsciously, an illusion of the scene formed in front of him. Suddenly, the image of the civilian woman flickered out like a snuffed candle. Loki felt a pang of exhaustion reverberate through his body, forcing him to his knees. The wounds he had received stopped healing and his breath accelerated to a rapid pace. Beads of sweat trickled off his brow as he began to panic.
What's happening?! He thought fervently, his mind and vision swimming. I shouldn't have gone without Thor. He realized his mistake far too late. Though he didn't want to require Thor's assistance, he knew that he needed it; desperately at that.
Without warning, a blinding white light touched down feet behind Loki's crouching figure. Too disoriented to process what was going on, Loki scrambled messily to his feet, clutching his dagger, ready to fend off any incipient enemy.
"Brother, what is this madness?" A familiar low voice implored, placing a hand on Loki's shoulder. "You look terrible."
Loki squinted at the form in front of him, his vision still swimming dangerously. All he could make out was a blurry head of blonde hair and some type of red cape. He sighed in relief, knowing who was standing in front of him.
"It took me ages to find you!" Thor chastised. "By Odin's beard, what were you doing?"
Loki shook his head mutely, far too exhausted to say anything. Still, he had overexerted himself by using too much magic before; this level of exhaustion was unknown to him. Numbly, he leaned all of his weight onto his brother, exhaling in relief.
His brother always had his back.
Thor stifled a chuckle as he surveyed the battlefield. Loki had done a rather good job dealing with the Vanaheimians, but it was obvious that he had attempted to show-off a little too much.
He's just so flamboyant. Thor thought hoisting Loki onto his back. As he lifted the god, he noticed a strange blue tint to his hand. He must have used a lot of magic. Thor surmised. Loki must have been utterly drained if his subconscious illusion was beginning to fade. Thor knew Loki would loathe being taken back to Asgard, where everyone would see his Jotun form; the only other option was to bring him to Wakanda, where Shuri would be able to treat him better than anyone else.
Holding Loki tightly, Thor stepped back into the bifrost landing zone, raising his hammer to the sky.
"Heimdall!" He exclaimed, "Send us to Wakanda!"
The rainbow light touched down, enveloping the brothers in its brightness. Thor felt his feet be lifted off the ground and hurtled through space.
Seconds later, the light faded away, leaving Thor in the middle of bustling Wakanda, still clutching Loki. Thankfully, the palace was easy to spot, being located in a highly visible part of the city (the fact that it was the tallest building in Wakanda helped as well). Quickly, Thor made his way to the building, dodging the busy civilians that flooded the streets.
Without as much as a knock, Thor heaved the heavy front door open and walked straight up to Shuri's laboratory.
"Princess, I need your help!" Thor announced, standing in the doorway.
Shuri looked up from the papers she was previously staring at and took in the image before her. "Wonderful!" She exclaimed happily (whether it was feigned or not, Thor was unsure), "More broken white boys for me to fix! I should start a business!"
"Actually," Thor interjected, "if you look at him now, he's rather blue."
"Indeed." Shuri agreed, raising an eyebrow. "Last I saw him, he was rather white. Is this normal?"
"This is his natural state."
"Then why don't I see him like that normally?"
"Well," Thor started, trying to explain the situation to Shuri, "the people of Asgard view his form as monsters. His people are the subject of many scary stories. Some of the dislike towards his people is warranted, since they did try to destroy our world as we know it, but Loki personally has done nothing to harm the Asgardians-" Thor stopped himself. "Okay, he's done a couple harmful things, but he did that in his Aesir form, so that's beside the point."
"Okay, okay," Shuri stopped Thor's story, "I get the gist. Anyway, I like your accent, where you from?"
"I thought you knew?" Thor looked perplexedly at Shuri, "I'm Asgardian, and All-speak should make it so that I don't speak with an accent to anybody."
"Agh, you old people are so useless." Shuri shook her head, "You're supposed to say 'I'm Liberian' and then I reply 'oh sorry, where you from' in a whisper. Let me just heal your brother already."
"I'm not that old!" Thor whined, "I'm barely 1500."
Shuri looked at Thor with a perplexed expression. "You know what? I believe you. Place Loki on the operating table; I have work to do."
He picked up the other god with one arm and placed him on the table with surprising delicacy. Without a second to waste, Shuri got to work.
Within minutes, Loki's face began to look less pale, a vibrant blue color returning rapidly. Soon, his eyelids moved slightly as did his fingers.
"He's waking up!" Thor observed, leaning over his brother, "Hello Loki!"
Loki stirred more, his eyes slowly opening. Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position on the metal table.
"Thor." He mumbled, his voice slurred. "Where am I?"
"Wakanda, brother." Thor replied, placing his palm on Loki's neck. "You really overdid yourself back in Vanaheim."
"Indeed." Loki nodded slowly. As per tradition, he brought his hand up to touch Thor's. Once it was in his vision, his eyes widened and he jumped backwards in shock. "What happened to me?!" He cried, "This isn't right! I-I can't feel the magic?! Where is it?!"
"Calm down." Shuri attempted to place her hand on his shoulder, but it was slapped away before it could make contact. "I blocked your magic temporarily. Retaining the subconscious illusion was making it very difficult for you to heal and replenish the rest of your magic. It'll probably start working again in a half-hour or so."
"No! I can't look like this! Please, I beg of you, bring it back!" Loki's voice was full of fervent panic; his whole body shook in fear.
"Why do you hate your real form so much?" Shuri lowered her voice to a more comforting, conversational tone.
"It's so loathed back at home. I'm nothing but a monster in their eyes."
"It's been like that for my people too." Shuri nodded in mutual understanding. "People hated us for a skin tone. They thought we were dirty, dumb, and unworthy. It was ridiculous really; what does your skin tone or appearance do to influence your mind or heart anyway?"
"It's different."
"Hardly. People on earth still haven't really changed. There's still so much hatred towards black people, but in more subtle ways. Look, I'm not telling you that you have to leave this room in full blue-ness, but I don't think you should be afraid of who you are. You're you and that's all that matters."
"No matter what form you inhabit Loki, you know I will always love you." Thor assured. "Remember when we were children and you went a straight decade as a beautiful young woman? I supported you then and I always will."
"Must I stay in this form?" Loki looked worried.
"Nah. You'll be able to look white again in like ten minutes. I'll grab you a coffee in the meantime."
"It is an incredible beverage, brother." Thor nodded, his eyes glowing with the intensity of a thousand suns. "You must try it."
"I suppose I shall." Loki agreed, looking at himself in the mirror on the opposite wall. Instead of flinching, he nodded thoughtfully and experimented with hairstyles that fit the blue horns on his head. He doubted that he'd be confident enough to leave Shuri's lab in his Jotun form, but at least he wasn't afraid anymore.
A/N: Well, that's it! Credit to my best friend for the prompt!
