I don't know how some of this fic's logic works, so this is partly me experimenting with my writing lol. I think I started this like a year and a half ago?
There is crying, coming from the Jotun temple. Odin pauses. It sounds just like a child, so scared and so young, so like Thor that the sound strikes mercilessly at his heart.
He walks cautiously towards the sound—after all, there may still be enemy soldiers lurking around—and enters with Gungnir at the ready, except there is no threat, not really. The baby cries and cries on the altar all alone, tears trailing down its face, and as Odin creeps closer and closer, he wonders who his parents are, why he was left here, if he is cold in this desolate environment.
The baby's heritage lines are very distinct, Odin notices. But he is very tired, and very weary, and his tired and weary mind are not able to connect the dots at this point in time, are not able to connect those lines to those of his enemy.
Still, he cannot simply take a child. His parents may be looking for him; his parents may care for his wellbeing (they do not). If Thor were to be taken away from his arms by a stranger in the dark of night, he would experience much grief.
The child stills when it catches sight of him, and then it smiles, tears forgotten. Odin sighs. "May the Norns take care of you," he murmurs, for only the land and the snow and the old sacred temple to hear.
Then, he turns and walks away, his footprints and the faint aura of his ancient magic the only indication that he was ever there.
When he reaches the Asgardian palace—reaches home—again, Eir ushers him to the Healing Halls even though he insists the missing eye is no problem, that Frigga is a more than adequate healer, that he just wants to see his son, sleeping safely in his cradle. His bones ache, his shoulders carry an unbearable weight, and he is not as young as he used to be.
But with his only son in his arms once more, he feels no regret. Asgard and the Nine Realms as a whole are safe, and that is all he can hope for.
Unbeknownst to him, the baby Jotun dies a cold and lonely death, in a land that had scorned him even before his birth.
Thor is still a child when he sees the boy run down the hall. "Hey! Come back!" he says, running after him and turning a corner only to find out there was no boy after all.
He sees the boy more often, after that, often enough that he knows he has dark hair—almost black, really—and very pale skin. He seems both younger and older than Thor at the same time, in his appearance and in the look in his eyes, respectively, and that is a paradox that Thor's mind has seen fit to accept.
The boy never talks to him, which just makes Thor look for him harder. He is an enigma, someone none of the palace people have ever heard of nor seen, even after Thor gave them very vivid descriptions, in his very esteemed opinion.
His mother enthusiastically talks to him about his "new friend," though, which is more than fine, even after Thor insisted to her that he is not a friend at all, that he doesn't even know the boy. His father, on the other hand, mutters something about "imaginary friends" and "bad habits," so Thor chooses to ignore him on this very important matter only.
"Who are you?" he asks the boy one afternoon as he passes by once more. The boy turns back for but a moment to glance at him, a wan smile on his face, before running off again. Thor lets him, as he has many other times, because he isn't entirely sure the boy is real.
Thor only knows how to be a child and not how to be a future king, which would normally be fine, but his father has high expectations that he wavers under because he doesn't have anyone to lean on for support.
Not here (not alive).
He is curling up in a corner of his room, burying his face in his knees in a very unprincely manner, when a voice comes out of the blue. "Are you okay?" it says.
Thor looks up with wet cheeks and wet eyes to find the pale boy with dark hair crouching in front of him, visibly concerned in a manner reminiscent of his mother. From this distance, he can see that the boy has reflective green eyes that seem to see more than they should. "No," Thor responds after a few seconds, clearing his throat awkwardly due to the croak in his voice. He has no dignity to this shadow of a boy. He has nothing to lose in not appearing strong.
"That's okay," the boy says simply, moving to sit on the ground, legs crossed in front of him. The angles of his jaw are sharply defined, but still softened by baby fat. He can't be physically older than Thor. Thor does not know what to make of him.
"What's your name?" he asks, sniffling a little, lifting small hands to wipe his tears away. He pauses for just a moment when the boy furrows his brows and reaches out as if to stop him, but the motion is aborted halfway there.
"I'm Loki," he says simply, "and I know who you are. But that doesn't mean you can't cry. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
"Do you cry a lot?" Thor asks, still a child in need of companionship, in need of the knowledge that he is not alone.
"Oh, all the time," Loki answers with a small smile. It was supposed to be a reassurance, that is clear, but Thor only feels a growing sense of concern, as if this boy has seen things Thor will never see.
Loki has seen the depths of Hel.
He cannot fully remember what he saw there, only feels the remnants of darkness and evil and an ancient power dealing its cards.
But he escaped, somehow. He has returned to the mortal realm, though not unscathed, and not unchanged.
Loki never touches him.
He flips through books and opens doors and runs thin fingers along Mother's daggers, but he has never touched Thor, and Thor has learned to associate him with the cold rather than warmth.
He corrects Thor on his sparring form, but unlike Thor's tutors, he never nudges his arm up or back straight, just verbalizes his thoughts in a manner so elegant that Thor almost envies him.
Loki is good at observing. He knows more than Thor does. Thor has learned humility from this.
Thor has also learned not to mention Loki's existence to anyone, not even Mother, not after Father threatened to have his mind examined due to his so-called vivid hallucination of a boy who does not exist.
But Loki does exist. He's right there in front of Thor's eyes.
It clicks, one day, that perhaps Loki is a ghost. "Sure," Loki responds when he asks. "You could call me that."
It is the tone Loki uses when he thinks Thor will not understand.
But Thor is past childhood now, and he knows more than he did before. Or, at least, he thinks he does. "You can tell me," he insists. "Explain who you are. I care, I want to know." Earnest, as only a youngling can be.
"It's a horrid story," Loki responds after a minute of silence—Thor has almost forgotten what he had asked in the first place. "I wouldn't want you to know." He doesn't even know the full story himself.
"Okay," Thor accepts easily. He trusts this ghost, this remnant of a living being, his confidante and only true friend. He reaches out to place a hand on Loki's shoulder, and is delighted when it lands. "I'll be here when you're ready to tell me."
"I- I never said...you're the one who isn't ready," Loki stammers out, slowly reaching up to hold Thor's hand in his own, marveling at the warmth a living human being can emanate. This is perhaps the first time Thor has seen him caught off guard.
He smiles at him. "Don't worry," he reassures Loki. "I'll be here."
Then comes the time of experimentation.
Eventually, they determine that Loki is invisible to all but Thor, and anything he conjures up as well. Anything he touches that already existed can still be seen, and he uses this advantage to great glee.
This involves levitating things to instill fear in others, and throwing conjured apples at Thor's head when he is talking with other people and can't react to apples that aren't actually there.
Loki is a prankster, Thor learns, mischievous and cunning but so smart. He helps Thor cheat on exams sometimes, but not all the time because he still cares about Thor's education, even when Thor pouts at him, pleading with his eyes.
Loki rolls his eyes during those times. "You have to learn to be independent and do things without me," he always says, and Thor relents because there is a sinking, foreboding feeling in his stomach that won't go away.
This is how it works: Loki takes care of Thor, and Thor takes care of Loki.
Loki helps Thor in his studies, and tells him funny jokes nobody else can hear when he is bored. It gets him in trouble in class a few times, when he bursts into laughter for seemingly no reason, but Thor is ultimately grateful for Loki's presence. Many of his friends have siblings they can simultaneously annoy and play with at all hours of the day, and Thor feels that being an only child would be lonely if it weren't for Loki. (He is not an only child.) While Thor has grown into a fine warrior, he occasionally needs somebody to watch his back, in which case assassins and bandits alike will find themselves flung to the ground by an invisible force with perhaps a hint of green. But as Thor nears adulthood, he begins to insist more and more that he doesn't need protecting. (He does.)
(Loki sometimes feels that serving Thor is his only purpose in this mockery of life.)
Thor helps Loki hone his own fighting skills. They spar, in the middle of the night when nobody is around, because it would otherwise be odd to see the Crown Prince of Asgard fighting with the air. Loki can touch nobody but Thor—the ragged sound he made when his hand had passed through Mother's own will forever haunt Thor's mind—so Thor makes up for it with extra hugs that Loki melts into every time.
(Thor does not question Loki's presence in his life. It just is.)
They grow apart as they grow older. Loki spends more and more time alone, probably reading his books, or exploring the world, or observing other people.
Thor does not know. He does not ask. He hasn't yet noticed.
He takes Loki for granted, and Loki tries. He tries not to be jealous of Thor's companions, who are truly living, or his father, to whom he is always trying to prove himself and his worth.
Loki cannot afford to take anything for granted. There are many things he can only want but never have. His entire life, for one. His entire existence was decreed by the Norns long ago, and he can't help but be angry at them for this curse.
It is not a curse, they say, or said long ago (time is meaningless in death).
Well, it certainly isn't life like you had intended, Loki wants to argue back.
There is purpose in this, they always reply. There is meaning in this.
Wind rustles through his hair. A green leaf flutters to the ground. He does not quite know where he is. He does not care. He always returns to Thor eventually.
Do not lose hope now, they say, and Loki wraps his arms around himself, closes his eyes, and tries to listen to (tries not to envy) the blissfulness of life.
"We're brothers, right?" Thor slurs out, one arm thrown over Loki's shoulders as they walk back to the palace from the tavern. He doesn't much care about being seen like this. Anything unusual can be blamed on the mead, and he knows Loki will take care of everything.
"What?" Loki says, and Thor feels him stiffen under his arm. He frowns through the buzzing in his brain.
"We're brothers," he states. "Always thought of you as one."
"Not...biologically," Loki says in that neutral tone of his.
Thor sends him a wide smile. "Doesn't matter. You could be- you could be my mortal enemy and you'd still be my brother." He does not know why that makes Loki stiffen further. "But you're not, so you're the best brother." They quiet as they reach the palace and sneak to Thor's room. In another life, maybe, Loki would have a room next to his, because they would be brothers and brothers always have adjoining rooms so they can sneak into each other's beds and tell each other stories late into the night.
"Thank you, Thor," Loki murmurs after he has set Thor down. He takes off Thor's boots and throws a blanket over him, purposefully covering his head. Thor scowls and shoves the blanket down with a wild hand.
"My coronation's tomorrow," he tells Loki, as if Loki hadn't been there when Father had announced it.
"I know," Loki responds, brushing Thor's hair back from his forehead.
"Gonna be King tomorrow."
"I know," Loki responds in that same soft, sad tone of voice, frowning at something Thor does not understand like he always does.
"Don't think I'm ready," Thor whispers, a closely held secret.
"You're not," Loki agrees, and the truth does not sting when it comes from his brother, because they are brothers. They help each other out and protect each other and are partners in crime, and Thor does not know what else constitutes a brother. "But I'm going to help you get there...Brother."
(Thor does not remember this conversation in the morning, but Loki does.)
The plan backfires spectacularly.
Thor was supposed to have a level head. He was supposed to agree not to go to war with Jotunheim, demonstrating his maturity and worthiness to one day rule Asgard after his delayed coronation.
He was supposed to have been smart, for once.
Loki may have made a mistake in assuming so.
"You buffoon," he says scathingly. "You didn't listen to me."
"Please, Brother, I've already been scolded enough," Thor says tiredly, one hand resting on his head as he lays on the Midgardian bed far too small for his frame.
Loki does not shrug off the title. It feels nice, like it means something, like he means something, though he does not know what. No matter. He hasn't the faintest idea what to do now.
"What's happening on Asgard?" Thor asks him.
"Your father is still very unhappy with you," Loki states dutifully.
"An understatement," Thor mutters.
"He has been scolded very thoroughly by the Allmother. Honestly, it was very entertaining to see, though the circumstances are not ideal."
He does not refer to them as 'Father' and 'Mother'. Brothers are there for one another through thick and thin. Brothers do not need to share parents, especially when one of them inadvertently left him for dead.
He hasn't entirely forgiven Odin for that, but he has never shown scorn towards the Allfather, because Thor knows nothing.
"You're kinder," Loki observes.
"What?" Thor says.
"You've been softened by that mortal of yours. Jane Foster, was it?"
Thor smiles, and Loki tries to smother the spark of jealousy inside of him. (Isn't it natural for brothers to be envious of one another?) Yet another person Thor cares for who is worth more than Loki, worth more than him thousands of times over, worthier because she had lived past her first few days of life, and Loki hadn't.
(He had been too weak to.)
(You were too strong to, the Norns counter.)
(What is that supposed to mean?)
"She's lovely," Thor says.
"I know," Loki agrees, objectively so. Foster is intelligent for a Midgardian, utterly curious about the worlds beyond her realm, aware of her ignorance and seeking to rectify it unlike her peers, who prefer to bask in their lack of knowledge instead. Loki can appreciate a learner.
Thor frowns in thought. "Do you think Heimdall sees me talking to you right now?" he asks.
Loki shrugs. "He's never noticed before."
"He's never said anything before," Thor points out. "There is a difference." His perception is already clearer, a mere week into his exile. But then: "He should have seen the Jotuns coming." He says it with a sudden anger, and Loki struggles not to flinch, because, for all Thor knows, he has no reason to flinch.
"The point wasn't the Jotuns," he says helplessly.
Thor's anger is overwhelming. "They deserve to pay!"
"You were supposed to be better!" Loki tells him, stepping closer. "If it were any other people who attacked Asgard, would you have acted as rashly as you did?"
Silence usually means no answer, but Loki reads his brother's face, and he knows.
"Thor," he says, breath catching in his lungs, as if he needs it.
Thor shakes his head. "You're supposed to be on my side," he says. "You've always been on my side."
I've always been by your side, Loki thinks. There is a difference. "Brothers fight," he says wryly. Would Thor consider him his brother, if he knew?
"I can't forgive them," Thor says.
"You can."
"They don't deserve it."
"Why not?" Loki counters. They've always been like this, the two of them, building on (tearing down) the other's words.
"They are- evil, the bane of existence! They are—"
"Like me?" Loki says, blurts out, really.
"What?" Thor asks, utterly confused.
Loki closes his eyes. "I'm a Jotun, Thor. I'm a part of that accursed race, or so you call it."
"No—"
"Yes. And your father killed me, during the last war between Asgard and Jotunheim." He opens his eyes and laughs bitterly. "Your father left me to the cold, left me for dead on that barren world, a world that wouldn't have been barren if it weren't for the war. A world that has its own unique culture, even if you choose to ignore it. A world full of intelligent people, not just savages."
"How do you know that?" Thor asks, hushed.
"I suppose I'm self-aware," Loki says manically. He is a ghost, a shadow of existence; he does not know why he is like this. "But I've forgiven your father, do you understand? I was barely a child when I passed, and I still forgive him for all of his sins, and all the blood on his hands. Does that not mean something to you, that forgiveness across this divide is possible, especially when his terrible act cannot be reversed?"
Thor is speechless. Loki has never rendered him speechless before. "Norns," he says.
Yes, Loki is tempted to say back, the Norns did this to me, and I may not blame your father but I sure do blame them.
"I'm sorry," Thor says after a few moments. He's never apologized to Loki before; Loki has never deserved an apology before (he doesn't think he has ever deserved anything before).
Change is slow, but eventually, Mjolnir rises from the sand.
"Why are we like this?" Loki asks. "Why am I like this?" I hate being like this, he does not say.
"I don't know," Thor answers under the Midgardian stars, before they are whisked away, back to the land of Thor's birth.
You were not too weak to survive, the Norns say, on the cusp of Life and Death. You are just strong enough for what will come.
What will come? he has to ask, on the border between Hel and the mortal realm.
Dust and death, death and dust, they answer, and then he knows no more.
Thor visits Jane intermittently via the Bifrost throughout the months after his banishment. Father has not brought up the subject of another coronation. Thor is secretly glad.
There comes the time when Midgard is attacked by the Chitauri, led by a figure named Proxima Midnight. Despite his father's protests, Thor is compelled to help protect the planet of his love. In the process, he meets others he thinks he could call friends.
Loki is a near constant presence, sometimes lurking in the background, sometimes not, eyes haunted, arms held behind his back in that distinctive way that tells Thor he is wringing his hands but trying not to show it. "There is a larger threat behind this," he tells Thor, unusually cryptic. And, after the fight in New York ends, "This is only a battle in the war. You haven't won anything yet."
"What are you talking about?" Thor asks him, utterly exhausted.
"This was only a means to an end," Loki murmurs back, and then he disappears again, off to wherever to spy on whoever. Thor doesn't know, and he doesn't think he ever will know. Loki doesn't let him in on a lot of things, especially when he thinks them too dangerous for Thor to be involved in.
"Ghosts can still be hurt," Thor had said once in a stubborn fit of concerned anger.
Loki had just laughed. "What can be worse than death?" he had asked.
And now there are creases around his eyes, around the corners of his mouth, in the furrow of his brows, not from laughter but from stress, and it feels like he's aged a millennium when Thor wasn't looking, never mind that Loki no longer lives, that his heart no longer beats, that it has been a long time since he has drawn breath in his lungs.
But Loki still does not share, and Thor does not ask. He doesn't feel entitled to, not anymore.
The shadows have grown under Loki's eyes.
He still accompanies Thor on most of his travels, though, which is...it means something. Thor does not know what. He wishes Loki's support did not have to come at such a cost.
When Jane is infected by the Aether, she points in Loki's direction, and Thor does not react to his presence after centuries upon centuries of practice.
Still, "Is he okay?" Jane asks. Loki blinks in apparent surprise.
"Who?" Thor asks, playing dumb.
"The dude in green standing behind you."
Thor looks dutifully towards where she is pointing. "I see no one," he says, trying to sound unconcerned.
Loki sends him the glare that says, you are not being as subtle as you think you are. Or perhaps, in this case, you have always been such a terrible liar, Thor.
Jane sends him an equally unimpressed glare. "He's right there," she tells him.
"Your eyes deceive you," Thor tries. Nobody can say he is not resilient.
"I think the ruse is over, Thor," Loki says dryly, and then he turns to Jane, gives her a dramatic bow. "Greetings, Jane Foster!"
"Hi?" she says, waving awkwardly.
Apparently the Aether allows its hosts to see through the fabrics of reality.
Or something along the lines of that.
Loki knows more than Thor does.
They are now on the ship to Svartalfheim. Jane is resting in the back and Thor and Loki are sitting at the helm. Thor eyes Loki and tries to understand him. It's not supposed to be this hard to understand one's own brother.
"Foster will be fine, I'll make sure of it," Loki tells him.
"That fills me with relief," Thor admits, "but she is not the only person I am concerned for."
Loki sends him a wry smile. "I am rather concerned for you," he says.
"I'm fine."
"Right."
"I am."
"Your mother was murdered," Loki says quietly, almost reverently. His eyes trail away from Thor's and back to the stars above. They are different than the ones seen from Asgard or Midgard, and Thor can't help but think that they used to shine brighter when Mother had been around to tell him about them.
Now, he only has Jane and Loki. One who won't live long enough, and one who has already died.
Thor clears his throat, tries to blink away the moisture in his eyes. "I know," he responds, voice rough.
"She loved you," Loki tells him.
"I know."
"She used to come into your bedroom, late at night," Loki murmurs, sharing stories nobody else can. "I'd be reading a book in the light of the stars on your balcony, and sometimes I would hear the door creak open, and I would turn around and there she was." He is reminiscing as much as Thor is; this is for him as much as it is for Thor. "She'd sit at the edge of your bed, sing lullabies to you or recite poems, and I'd listen, too." He looks down for a moment, smiling just a little. "I know it was supposed to be private, but sometimes it would seem like she was talking to me, too." His voice wavers, and he looks up at Thor, meets his gaze steadily with tears in his eyes that he won't let fall, unlike Thor, whose cheeks are already damp. "You were her pride and joy," Loki whispers, almost nostalgic in the gentleness of his voice. "Out of all the constellations in the sky you were her favorite."
Thor laughs. "I'm not a constellation in the sky," he protests.
"You know what I mean," Loki says, smiling back. But then the happiness in his eyes fades. "She knew about me," he tells Thor, "did you know that?" Thor shakes his head. No, he hadn't known, but maybe he'd suspected. "I was in a corner of the library, reading alone. I tried to stay still, didn't flip a page lest she'd see, but she eyed my spot on the ground anyways and slid her eyes purposefully away, towards the window where you can see the sparring grounds, because you were there, and she just stood there for a few minutes, and I just watched her for a few minutes, but eventually she stepped back and thanked me quietly for taking care of her son." Loki sniffs, face scrunching up with the effort of holding back his tears, and because he has always been successful at hiding his emotions the tears still do not fall. "She knew," he says, voice catching a little. "And I could do nothing for her."
"You did your best," Thor says desperately, heart aching for this side of his mother he had never got to know, because there are some parts of your parents you should never get to know. "We all did our best."
"But it wasn't enough." Loki frowns, looking away, and his eyes are distant, shadowed by knowledge Thor will never comprehend. "Nothing is ever enough."
Thor refuses the throne. "I'd rather be a good man than a good king," he declares.
Loki secretly thinks that good men make the best of kings.
Loki's magic has always been a distinctive green, but his illusions and the shimmer of it reminds Thor perpetually of his mother. "I observed her often," Loki admits, and Thor does not need to know more.
Anyways, the point is that it has been two long years, and Thor should be finished with his grief, but the pain still feels fresh and new every time he is reminded of it.
(Would he feel for his father in the same way? He doesn't know. He doesn't want to find out.)
He distracts himself with missions, with protecting Midgard and exploring the galaxy. Stark holds a party at his tower one night, and Loki genuinely laughs for the first time in a very long while.
His laughter is at the expense of Thor's dignity, but Thor thinks he can forgive him just this once.
"Rogers can definitely pick up Mjolnir," Loki tells him.
"Shut up," Thor mutters back.
"What?" the others say.
"Apologies. I was speaking to myself."
Loki snickers behind his back.
When they are almost run over by Ultron's robot army, a wave of green magic washes over them all. It tingles over Thor's skin like a light, warm hug, but it forcefully pushes the robots back, giving them the upper hand.
He looks around for a glimpse of his brother, but sees no one.
When the team remarks on the unusual occurrence later, Thor says nothing.
They are dancing around each other, the two of them.
Loki tries to balance his secrets with his trust in Thor. Thor tries to balance his relationships with the living and his relationships with the dead.
'Tries' is the key word.
"You don't need me, do you?" Loki whispers one sleepless night on Thor's balcony. The Asgardian night is quiet, for once, almost peaceful. Loki wishes he could be at peace.
"What do you mean?" Thor asks, voice rough from exhaustion. He sits on the ground, back against the foot of his bed, watching Loki from out of the corner of his eye. A puddle of moonlight falls on his bedroom floor, only interrupted by Loki's shadow as he sits watching the stars with his back to Thor. Thor wishes he would turn around.
"It's silly," Loki mutters.
"Not to me," Thor says earnestly.
"I'm so selfish."
"No, you're not. What are you talking about?" Thor has no idea where this is coming from. He wants to see Loki's face, wants to read his eyes and gauge his honesty. The unsaid things between them have become overwhelming. (Loki will not turn because he does not want to see Thor's face, does not want to see Thor's eyes harden as he finally realizes what has been plaguing Loki for a very long time.)
"You can take care of yourself now," Loki says, voice wavering just slightly, the wind from outside rustling his hair even though, for all intents and purposes, he isn't actually there, and that's the root of the problem, isn't it? Loki doesn't physically exist (and it scares him). "What's the point of me? What is my purpose? Why am I here?"
"To protect me and be by my side, like you always have," Thor says, as if it's that simple, and to him it might be but not to Loki, never to Loki. Loki has always overthought the simplest of things. Being a ghost gives one an eternity of time to dwell on things.
"Perhaps when you were but a bumbling child tripping over his own two feet," Loki considers, "but not now. You've grown to be a good, capable person."
"You're also a good, capable person," Thor tells him. "Don't say otherwise."
Loki laughs mirthlessly, and it is not a pleasant sound, grating at Thor's ears and causing his chest to tighten. "Am I my own person, though?" he asks. "How can I be myself if everything I do is for you, and I'm not- I'm not being bitter about that, I'm not. I want to keep you safe; I care about your wellbeing. But sometimes I feel like that is all I am."
"What can I do to help?" Thor asks desperately, but it is barely louder than a whisper. He knows there is nothing he can do, and what confirms it is the sight of Loki's shadow trembling on the ground. Thor does not dare look at Loki himself; he fears what he will see (a broken man, a figment of a life).
As if Thor had said nothing, Loki continues. "The Midgardians call this an...existential crisis, I believe, or a mid-life crisis, but I don't believe that term applies to one with no life to speak of." He stands up, walks to the balcony railing and leans his elbows on it. He looks down. The ground is so far. He could fall and nothing would come of it. "The Midgardians do have such a peculiar outlook on life," he says into the night. It doesn't matter how loud he is; nobody will hear but Thor. "They believe that people live past their deaths through the memories of their loved ones." Loki breathes out, closes his eyes, tries not to think too much about it as he speaks it into existence. "Who will remember me after you die?" he whispers. (Here is the issue at hand: Thor may not need Loki anymore, but Loki will always need Thor.)
"You don't need to be remembered," Thor says, for once surprisingly adept at reading him, or maybe Loki's shields have faltered tonight and he just needs someone to see him. "I don't think you're scared of not being remembered. I think you're scared of being alone, after..."
Thor still does not know what to do. But he's trying his best.
"That's in the future. For now, I am here," Thor says firmly, though the statement seems to do nothing. He walks towards his brother and wraps Loki up in his arms. Loki shudders and goes still for but a moment before he holds onto Thor even more tightly, and Thor pretends not to notice the tears soaking into his shirt. "I'm here," Thor whispers, blinking away tears of his own.
He doesn't know if it means anything. He hopes it does.
Life moves on, for both the living and the dead.
Loki tries less to hide his magic on Thor's missions with the Avengers after Tony comments on Thor seeming to have a guardian angel following him around.
Thor had watched Loki try to hide his smirk, even though only one person could see him, and had responded with, "Perhaps not a guardian angel."
"What should I call all these magical interventions, then?" Stark had asked, waving vaguely in the air.
"A demon," Loki had answered promptly, for only Thor to hear.
"An angel is fine," Thor had said, and smiled brightly as Loki scowled.
Natasha definitely knows something is up, but Thor can keep secrets, too.
"Not very well," Loki mutters.
"Not everyone can live up to your standards, Brother," Thor responds dutifully.
Loki sends him a wicked grin, which tells Thor he is about to make a terribly dark joke. "How about dying to my standards?" he asks.
Thor groans. "Loki," he says.
"What?"
Nothing. Thor likes seeing him happier. It's nice while it lasts.
Father falls ill. His breaths are labored as he lies on his deathbed, and Healer Eir says there is nothing physically wrong with him.
Perhaps it is grief, perhaps it is guilt, perhaps it is just old age. (Perhaps the Goddess of Death has taken advantage of his weakness and grasped hold of his soul.)
Whatever the case, Thor sits in a chair by his father's bed and holds his hand in both of his own, heart in his throat. He has never liked to see others suffer, least of all his father, who is supposed to be strong and firm and overbearing and most of all alive.
"She is coming," his father croaks out, and Thor does not see Loki, who stands by his side, pale at Odin's words.
"What?" Thor asks, almost frantically. "Who is she? Are you talking about Mother? Do you...do you see her?" Please don't go, the child in him wants to say. He had not been the best father but he had been Thor's father, and he had cared, and that means something, it must.
"Thor, I'm sorry," he says.
Thor grimaces. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Father," he says dutifully. "Please, rest." It pains him, this pains him. (At least Mother's death had been quick.)
Father's gaze trails to Thor's side, and Thor watches as Loki stiffens and raises a hand to Thor's shoulder, squeezing tightly for both of their comfort. His face is tight, more grim than usual.
"Father?" Thor asks cautiously.
"I'm sorry," his father says to the ghost at his side. "I left you to die in the cold." Thor can feel Loki trembling now. "You've grown into a fine young man."
Loki chokes on a breath. "I- I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago," he says. "The Norns had plans for me." (He still does not know exactly what they are.)
Odin must be close to death, if he can see him so clearly.
"In another life...in another life I could have...perhaps...raised you as a son," the Allfather murmurs, "as Thor's brother."
"Thor is my brother," Loki says firmly. This is the one thing he is most certain about in this cursed existence. "And I am his."
"Good," Odin says softly, closing his eyes and slumping against his pillow.
"Father?" Thor whispers. He does not want to see him go. So many things have changed in his life, and his father hadn't been perfect but he had been constant and that had been enough. Please don't leave me.
"Thor, my child, please forgive me."
"There's nothing to forgive," Thor says, trying to tamp down on his anguish. He needs to be calm for his father. His own weakness can't be the last thing his father sees.
"There are always more things to forgive," Odin murmurs weakly, eyes opening just slightly. He lifts a shaking hand to cup Thor's cheek. "But you are one of the few things in my life I do not regret."
He closes his eyes at the same time Loki does, because Loki recognizes the pull of death by now, the dark aura of it that will not take him no matter how much he tries.
But Thor does not. Thor continues to call his father's name, continues to shake him gently, trying to rouse him from an endless sleep.
"Thor," Loki croaks out, his brother's name getting stuck in his throat. "Thor, he's gone."
"No," Thor whispers, and perhaps it does hurt more, because Odin hadn't been perfect but he could have, had he had the chance. (Perhaps it hurts more because the grief is fresh.)
There is a disturbance in the courtyard. The grief will have to be buried. They have work to do.
"I recognize you," Hela (Thor's sister?) says, pointing one of her swords at Loki, which Loki does not appreciate, not at all. "How? Who are you?"
Thor stiffens, and Loki sighs. They had not come back from Sakaar for this.
"You're pointing at air," the Valkyrie says helpfully.
"I am not," the Goddess of Death responds. "Would you like to see him too? I can make that happen very easily. All you need to do is impale yourself on one of my blades."
"Uh...no thank you."
Asgard is destroyed.
(Before then:
"I must summon Surtur," Thor says. "Asgard is the source of her power. If we start Ragnarok..."
"You're insane and delusional," Valkyrie hisses. "First you're interacting with people who aren't there—"
"Excuse me?" Loki asks, seeming to be genuinely offended.
"—and now you want to burn Asgard, the planet you came back to save?"
"Asgard is a people, not a place," Loki says regally in a deeper voice, trying to imitate Heimdall.
"Asgard is a people, not a place," Thor repeats dutifully.
The Valkyrie sighs, resigned. "If you say so," she tells him, and him only.
"You distract her," Thor mutters quickly, eyeing the evacuation efforts at one end of the bridge and Hela at the other, "and I'll sneak into the palace to summon Surtur."
"You'll die in the explosion, you idiot!" Loki hisses. "I'll summon the damn fire giant. At least I can teleport off the planet before it explodes."
"Are you sure?" Thor asks, concerned, but Loki has already disappeared.
"Insane and delusional," Valkyrie mutters.)
(Afterwards:
"He apologized," Thor says quietly to the seemingly empty room.
"He did," Loki responds, shimmering into existence with a flash of gentle green beside Thor.
"It doesn't feel enough."
"When is anything ever enough?" Loki asks. Loki has always challenged him. He has only learned to appreciate it now.
"Did he know his children would start Ragnarok?" It is a rhetorical question; he just wants to know Loki's thoughts, to hear Loki's voice.
"Sins of the father, Thor," Loki intones. "This was fated since the beginning of time."
Thor looks around the room, at the small space, at the dust on the furniture. "Everything's changed," he says.
"Not me," Loki says. Thor looks up at him, and Loki gives him a small smile. "Not me," he repeats.
Thor looks down after a few moments, brushing nonexistent dirt from his clothes. "You'll be here?" he asks.
"Of course."
"Thank you," Thor says, trying to infuse all of his love and care into those two words. There will be time for more.
"Of course," Loki says again with a wider smile. "Now let's go claim your throne, my king." He gives Thor a mocking bow.
Thor rolls his eyes. "None of that," he says. "Norns, I already feel uncomfortable as it is."
"Heavy is the head that wears the crown," Loki intones.
"Stop quoting Midgardian literature."
"Apologies. I'm not the one dating a Midgardian."
Thor rolls his eyes again, and then, after a moment, says, "We're equals. Remember that." He hopes Loki does, but he will never be sure.)
Loki's eyes widen at the sight of a large ship descending upon them with concerning speed. He is wringing his hands together, and Thor reaches out to still them. "What is it?" he asks.
"You don't understand," Loki tells him, squeezing Thor's hands desperately.
"You're right, I don't understand!" Thor says. He has never understood. "But that's because you haven't told me anything!" Loki has never told him everything.
"I failed," Loki murmurs. "I should've stopped this."
"What are you talking about?!"
Loki gives him a small, wan smile. "It's too late," he says, and Thor does not like the simplicity with which he states that.
"We don't have the Tesseract," Thor chokes out, but he has a feeling it is of no use. "It was destroyed on Asgard."
"Perhaps not," Loki murmurs, for Thor's ears alone. "Perhaps not."
"Why did you do it?" Thor asks in the aftermath, chaos all around him as half of life falls to dust.
Loki appears with a faint flash of green directly in front of Thor, and they face one another, surrounded by death.
(One of them is far too familiar with this; the other will have to learn.)
"He was going to kill you," Loki responds, voice small.
"And you saved me at the expense of the universe?" Thor asks, gesturing around at the forest surrounding them, but what he means isn't the forest but the lives lost.
The lives temporarily lost, though he does not yet know, will not yet know for several years.
"Half the universe, Thor, just half," Loki murmurs. It is as much of a comfort as he can muster up.
"Why?" Thor asks, desperation coloring his tone.
"Don't you see?" Loki asks with a mirthless smile.
"See what? Death? Destruction?" Thor asks, voice raised, not seeming to care about being seen talking to air. It's not like anyone would notice, all too focused on their own losses.
Loki shudders a little, suddenly feeling weak, but he manages to stay standing through sheer force of will (and love). "This has been my purpose since the beginning," Loki tells him. If there is one thing he can get Thor to understand, it is this. "To protect you, that is." Thor needed to stay alive to get to this point. What he does next is up to him alone.
"But what good has that done? Thanos won!"
"Thanos was going to win anyways," Loki responds raggedly, stumbling forward towards Thor as if to get him to face the inevitability of it all, the truth of it all.
"Loki?" Thor whispers, eyes suddenly wide. "You're paler than usual, which is saying something. What...?" Loki is shaking, trembling, and Thor tries to grab ahold of Loki's forearms in order to steady him, but his hands pass through. On a second try, they find purchase. "What's going on?" Thor asks, sounding like the child he had been years upon years ago, when they had first met and even before then, when Loki had been too timid to talk to him.
"Thanos's victory is not permanent," Loki tells him quickly. Is this what you had planned for me? he asks the Norns. Predictably, he receives no answer.
"But—"
"Have faith, Brother," Loki tells him, cradling the softness inside of his own heart for one final time. He doesn't think the Norns had planned for this, this fragile love Loki has for Thor. Loki thinks he would have done anything for him even if their lives had not been tied together since before they had been conceived.
"Don't leave me," Thor says, holding on all the more tightly. "Everyone leaves. Please, Loki, Brother, I can't—"
"You can," Loki whispers, trying to soothe him. He brings his brother into an embrace and sheds his tears when Thor cannot see his face. "You are strong and you are brave—"
"No. Why must this happen?"
"You have a kind heart and you must persevere, for your people and for the eventual day when you will triumph over Thanos once more."
Thor pulls away, hands on Loki's shoulders. His eyes trail across Loki's face as if trying to memorize the sight. "Why must you go, though?" he asks. As if on cue, dust begins to swirl around Loki, and though he cannot see it, he knows that it comes from his own self.
The progression is delayed, as if even the Infinity Stones know that Loki is not truly alive.
"A balance, Thor. There must be a balance," Loki tells him.
Thor lets out a shaky breath. "But—"
Loki shakes his head quickly. "You must listen to me, Thor," he says, voice firm, far more sure than he actually feels. "I may be dead, but that does not mean I do not have a soul, and that is why I am still part of this perverse game of chance Thanos has subjected the universe to."
"What?"
"I have a soul," Loki says, and he would laugh, if the situation weren't so dire. (He has a soul!) (He is his own person.) "And the others are not dead. You will find the answer to your victory where the lost souls lie." The Norns will not allow him to be any less cryptic. To give any blatant hints would be to mess with fate, mess with the balance between Life and Death, and even Loki would not do so, even with his foolish sentiment for the living when the living were the ones who had forsaken him in the first place.
"I do not understand," Thor says honestly.
"You will," Loki tells him, fondness creeping into his voice unbidden. He presses his forehead against Thor's and closes his eyes as he prepares to exit the mortal realm once more. "Trust me, Brother. Trust that all will be okay."
This is a lie he does not regret. He does not know what will occur next. He does not want to return to the darkness.
But if Thor lives (Thor, with his warmth and light and willingness to see the best in everyone), then maybe this has been worth it, after all.
"I trust you," Thor whispers finally.
"Then I assure you, Brother," Loki murmurs, one last comfort before the unknown. "The sun will shine on us again."
Don't you just hate it when you're trying to write a wholesome fic with a happy ending and then your fic just ends up writing itself?
Me: okay so I want to write a ghost!Loki & Thor fic about how they're just the best brothers and are always there for one another, even after all these different tragedies and stuff
Fic: sure, but why don't we put some angst in it bc Loki is a ghost who feels like he has no personal autonomy
Me: ok, that makes sense I guess
Fic: and while we're at it why don't we end with Loki dying in his brother's arms?
Me: what?
Fic: what?
LITERALLY the first scene I wrote for this fic was the happy ending, and then I wrote the rest of it and the scenes just...didn't fit together?! So I had to cut it out.
Anyways, feel free to check out my tumblr at h1myname1sv where I do random things and/or leave a comment! Thank you so much for giving this fic a chance!