When Frigga died, it was as though the Realm was draped in an everlasting night.
Asgard wore its grief like a cloak, enveloped in the horror that their gentle queen had met such a vicious fate. On the day of the procession to Valhalla for all those who had fallen upon the swords of Malekith's army, nigh on every man, woman and child appeared by the water's edge, to farewell their queen or else others among the dead. Among the mourners was the All-Father himself, silent throughout the entire ceremony, but he stood alone.
Neither of the princes were to be seen.
In truth, Thor had intended to, and had ordered his ceremonial armor be polished the night previously in preparation for the public event. However, upon the morning of the funeral, he had found himself so stricken, so overwhelmed with grief, that he could not face the farewell. Besides, the people of Asgard would surely look to their prince seeking comfort, and instead find nothing but despair. It would not do, as he well knew, and so he kept his distance from the entire affair. This was one occasion in which he could not, or perhaps refused to, maintain composure.
Loki, on the other hand - a rogue, a war criminal, and perhaps worst of all, a Jotun – had been locked in his cell, hundreds of feet below the palace. There was no place for traitors at the funerals of heroic dead.
Thor had spent days at a loss, struggling to come to terms with his mother's death. His dreams were haunted by her, so vividly that he awoke in denial that she had ever fallen. From these, he would awaken only to feel the grief afresh.
It was not until after the ceremony, however, that it occurred to Thor that he was not the only man who Frigga called son. What of Loki and his grief? His imprisonment did not change the fact that he had been perhaps even closer to Frigga than he had to Thor himself.
Under such circumstances it would not be right, Thor reasoned, to make his own brother mourn alone.
Thor descended into the chill of the dungeons, striding hastily past cell after cell of undesirable characters, until he arrived before the one he knew to be his brother's. Peering through the dividing wall, his eyes found Loki lying on the lavish bed that had been provided for him – he may be criminal, but he was, after all, a prince – with his arms placed comfortably above his head in a picture of ease. Thor blinked in surprise.
"Back from the funeral, I suppose?" Loki called with no hint of emotion, without so much as a glance in Thor's direction - even for a god, his ears were keen.
"No." Thor replied shortly. "No, I… I did not attend."
The caged man scoffed. "Well, you at least were given the chance, which is more than can be said for various other concerned parties."
Thor awkwardly struggled for words. He had known, of course, that Loki would not be granted an invite to the ceremony – Odin would never revoke a sentence for such a purpose – but Thor had not protested the fact. A small part of him, a minute, foolish fragment, was spiteful towards Loki in light of the sorrow he had brought Frigga in her final days. After all, had he not decided to become a war criminal, she would not have had reason to worry so deeply for him, imprisoned as he was in the dank dungeons below the city. Thor knew this to be unjust, for if it were not this matter over which Frigga had fretted, it would have simply been another, for neither of her sons lived uncomplicated lives. Nonetheless, Thor had accepted Odin's declaration that Loki would not be in attendance at Frigga's procession, a fact that the god of thunder now regretted deeply. How could he have denied his brother such a thing out of a foolish whim?
"I am truly sorry, Loki, that you were not able to attend the funeral." Thor apologized earnestly.
Loki laughed derisively, rising to face his brother with a look of derision.
"What makes you think that I would have wanted to?"
His words cut through Thor like a blade, cold and sharp and stinging.
"You do not mean that." he reproached, voice wavering very slightly.
"It astounds me that you still have the audacity to presume to know me." Loki returned, with still the same humorless smirk on his face. "You do not know me, you have no concept of my motives or means or desires. Has time not shown you this, or are you yet too ignorant to acknowledge it?"
"I know you well enough to see through this façade. This foolish trickery." Thor replied evenly. "If nothing else, I know that you loved Frigga. The way that you spoke to her with such adoration, the bright gleam in your eyes when you saw her, those things were not feigned. You are mourning her loss, you are reeling from it, and I see in you the very pain I too am feeling – "
"You think that we are alike in our suffering?" Loki spat, recoiling in fury.
"Of course." Thor stated determinedly. "She was a mother to us both, was she not?"
"Perhaps, but not in equal measure."
Thor frowned in confusion.
"Fine, allow me to explain it, seeing as you are too ignorant a fool to comprehend it on your own," Loki added snidely. "Since the very moment of your birth, you were loved and doted on by the entire kingdom. But what of the second son, the runt of the litter, the Jotun?"
"You were raised in equal manner." Thor disputed.
"Out of duty, not out of care. Had I not been a supposed son of Odin, they would have paid no more attention to me than they would an insect." he said, the words bitter enough to turn milk sour. "Mother was the only person who ever showed a scrap of interest or concern in me. In your world, she was but another orbiting moon; in mine, she was the sun. You always had your admirers and your comrades. Without Frigga, I had no one."
"You had me." Thor interjected quietly.
Loki now laughed, openly and more coldly than ever.
"Oh, yes, and fine company you proved to be."
"Well, if what you say is true, I am all the more sorry that you were not able to pay your respects to her at – "
"Do you not understand, you imbecile, that I did not want to attend her funeral?" Loki snarled, his pale cheeks blotched with angry crimson. "I could not care less about paying my respects. She is gone, Thor, she is dead, and no heartfelt gestures can amend that. I did not want to farewell her, I wanted it so that I would not have to."
Every cell in his body seared as though on fire, it burnt in his lungs and his throat and his heart. The shock grief and rage he had suppressed for days now came bursting out of him with all the force of a supernova. Without realizing it, he was on his knees, his legs unable to support his weight any longer. Suddenly it did not matter that Thor was just paces away, and Loki made no effort to hide his pain from the man. What did it matter if Thor thought him weak? The only thing in the Nine Realms that was of any important was that she was gone, irreversibly and irrevocably.
Why did you leave me?
He so wanted to yell, to shout until his voice was hoarse and his throat in shreds, but his body refused to do anything but tremble.
Do you not know that I still need you?
He felt her absence, but it was the opposite of that – the loss of her was not absent but present, painfully, unavoidably so, like an exposed nerve. He reeled from the loss of her, as if she had been a part of him torn carelessly away. He was alone, so utterly and pitifully isolated, like a lone rock amidst an arctic sea that thrashed against him, grinding him away into nothing.
Why did his chest heave for breath, desperate to gain air, to live? Frigga had been the stitches binding his wounds, and without them, he felt himself agonizingly tear apart. There was no point in living any more, no point in enduring the darkness and pain and fear. At best, death would bring them together once more, or at worst, end his suffering.
Either of these seemed favorable.
Thor watched from behind the shimmering wall of his prison as his brother trembled, panting for breath, tearing into pieces from the core out. He wished that he could rush to him, hold him tightly to his chest like when they were children. It would be Thor's turn to lie, to whisper to him that everything would be fine even though he knew it would not. But he was trapped, as far from his brother behind now as they had been when Loki had fallen into the void. A moment later, Loki swayed on his knees and fell, colliding with the iridescent wall. Unable to gather the energy to move, he remained there, half-slumped against the glass-like divide.
"Loki." Thor murmured, his voice cracking, but the god of mischief did not move so much as a hair to acknowledge him.
Frustrated, he beat a fist against the shimmering wall, and received a sharp shock in return for his efforts. Thor jumped back in surprise, his arm smarting painfully as though struck by lightening, and he realized that such a sensation must be coursing through Loki's entire body, slumped as he was against the barrier. He made no indication of feeling it at all, or if he did, such was his apathy that he could not bring himself to react.
"Loki, please." Thor begged, unsure even of what he was pleading for.
Perhaps he simply wished for them to share their grief, as if out of the hope that such a thing might diminish it.
"There is no need to abuse yourself, Loki." Thor stated gently, attempting to regain some authority in his voice. "Remove yourself from the barrier, brother. You are in enough pain already."
A dry, retched sob escaped him, and had Thor not known it to have come from his brother, he never would have guessed that such a silver tongue could make so piteous a sound.
"Please, allow me to help you. You are not alone in this – "
This statement finally evoked a response, and Loki reared to face him, his hair a black tangle, his green eyes narrowed in scathing and hatred and despair.
"Who is the liar now, brother?" Loki snarled, his words beyond seething in their wildness. "If I am not alone, I pity the man who is, for surely it is not possible to feel more alone than this."
Thor had no response, no words that could comfort such hurt. He had thought his own grief to be overwhelming, but his anguish was a speck of dust in the shadow of his brother's sorrow. Loki settled back down against the barrier, again without so much as a whimper of discomfort.
Is it even possible to be so broken, Thor wondered, and yet not break?
Though he knew of nothing that could relieve his pain, Thor could not bring himself to leave his brother in such a state. He sat down on the cool stone, a mirror of Loki's position on the other side of the divide, and then leant against the barrier. Immediately the sharp, singeing pain coursed up his body, like a hundred tiny electrical shocks, but he ignored the sensation.
As though sensing his brother's presence, Loki's eyes flittered open – and, upon registering the sight of Thor leaning against the shimmering wall, let out a yelp of shock.
"Get back, you fool!" he hissed, eyes wide in alarm.
"Why?" Thor retorted, not moving an inch. "If you have no regard for your wellbeing, why should I have any for mine?"
With a scowl, Loki shifted back slightly so that he was no longer in contact with the barrier. Thor did the same.
"Why is it," Loki returned, almost gently. "That nothing ever lasts? Except for us, I suppose."
He laughed, but it was a miserable, hollow sound.
"I would rather suffer with you than suffer alone." Thor returned.
Loki's lips curled into what could almost be deemed a smile.