The Gap
spockjasperlokizukowriting
Five- The Messenger
The warehouse was darkened, the night outside shading away the windows lining the upper, arching ceiling. Frameworks of metal webbed above the messenger's head, his footsteps echoing across the concrete as he pressed forward, chains and hooks hanging down, crates stacking in towers around him. He wove through the path, his hat low to cover his eyes. After all, he was just a messenger- his identity was irrelevant.
He promised himself just this in that dark building that night- he would only do what was necessary. How did that old proverb go? Don't kill the messenger.
Especially after hearing the news he had to bring.
Two guards formally dressed in tuxedos stood outside of the office area as the messenger climbed the stairs, shrugging his coat tighter over his shoulders while they gave him piercing stares behind their glasses. His breath became visible before him once more, the temperature dropping as he rose.
One held out their hand as he approached the top floor. He stopped as if on cue.
"State your name," the guard asked, voice deep and foreign.
"I have none," replied the messenger.
"State the state," the other guard questioned, not turning his head.
"The state of the ice on the tundras of Jotunheim is cracking under pressure," the messenger answered, a devilish grin easing across his expression. "The All King Laufey will want to hear this."
"The King is not taking visitors at present," the first guard explained, voice cold as he clasped his hands before him. "Leave with your business and come back in time."
The messenger growled. "The news I bring cannot wait another millennium! Perhaps the name of Asgard rings a bell? The prophecy of the coming of Ragnarok? Midgard cannot have wilted on your sense in just this short amount of time! Let me talk to the King!"
The guards gave each other a small look before turning back to him, looking down on his strong figure.
"We'll speak to the King," the second one acknowledged, turning into the shaded room and shutting the door behind him, the dark windows tinted and unyielding to the messenger's mortal eyes. Magic pulsed in tender currents in the air, strong auras battering him from every direction, tension increasing.
After a small beat of silence, the second guard come out, keeping the door open as he gestured inside. "The All King Laufey permits your presence," he commanded, stopping the messenger only to warn, "Make it quick."
The messenger didn't nod but only ducked inside, the room bigger than he had expected, and darker. The icy floors and snowy ceiling made him shiver, but he didn't remove his hat. He kept his hands relaxed at this sides as he looked to the darkened back of the room, not seeing the All King, but knowing perfectly well that he was there.
A dark voice whispered from the other side of the room. "What business brings you here?"
"My liege," he greeted, bowing his head. "I bring news of the prophecy. The ancient prophecy."
"What of it."
"The events...sire... They're beginning to unfold," he continued, halting as he tested the grounds on which he stood.
"What events?"
"The coming of the union, the joining of two hearts-" he paused, swallowing in the agonizing silence, "-sire, they've...they've met."
Something rustled, movement cascading as something shattered, ice breaking and the dark voice thundering, "NO!"
"My liege," the messenger continued. "There...there is a way to reverse the process."
The movement ceased, silence once again consuming the room as the dark voice asked, "...How..."
"Sire, only the stars have told me of the union," he confessed. "But, the stars also tell me otherwise. I know not where this has happened, but a sun converges between the two lovers, the two harbingers of our destruction. Sire, a death must happen. A close one- close to the girl. It's the only way!"
"Find them!" ordered the voice, a tall, strong silhouette appearing out of the dark. "Find them! And destroy this at any means necessary- your powers, your gifts! Odin curse the day I have to do anything myself to amend your doings! End this now! While it still bears young! END IT!"
The messenger kept his head bowed, but grinned maniacally. "I... I understand, sire." He knelt to the floor, one hand steadying him as he gave a small laugh. "Your will is my command."
THOR
Thor ran up to join his younger brother and his side, clapping his brother on the back as he let loose a bellowing laughter, strutting through the ice while Loki only gave him a raised eyebrow. Snow fell around the two brothers, the Warriors Three and Lady Sif already disappearing into the culdesac.
"Well, brother, what do you think?" he asked proudly, holding his chin back.
"Think of what?" Loki replied, keeping his gaze averted while Thor bade himself a hero.
"The girl! Isla Selvig!" Thor clarified indignantly. "She's a wonderful girl, isn't she?"
"I couldn't say so, I barely know her," Loki pointed out. "And as do you."
Thor shook his head and laughed. "Nah, tomorrow morning I aim to change that officially." He winked at his brother. "Perhaps you'd care to join me?"
"Wasn't it you that said only two weeks ago that social interactions were not my forte?" Loki reminded, flexing his fingers while Thor hugged his arms to his chest, indifferent to the weather.
"As silver-tongued as you are, brother, you're right as always," Thor admitted. "I am clearly the proper choice to walk the fair maiden to the bus-stop."
"Why are you so keen to be her friend?" Loki asked as Thor observed his reflection in a neighbor's front window.
"Why aren't you?" Thor countered. "She's smart, kind, and uncommonly pretty for a mortal. Do you argue with any of those virtues?"
Loki didn't answer, only gazing straight ahead as they walked through the snow.
Thor snorted. "Thought so."
The rest of the short way was walked in silence as the brother's continued to their home. The house, in itself, as it came into view, wasn't as grandiose as Asgard, their true home, but it would have to do for the meantime. The unfinished business in this realm permitted it so.
Thor only ran through options in his head of conversation to share with Isla the next day, ranging from movies to music to food and to school, interrupting Loki's distilled train of thought for a brief moment as they strode up their driveway.
"Brother, what would one talk to Miss Isla about?" he asked, Loki entering the combination to the garage. "I mean, she's obviously smart-"
"-smarter than you," Loki cut-in with a small smile.
Thor clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth at being insulted. "-and she's a girl, so our opinions clearly differ-"
Loki rolled his eyes as the garage door opened. "Brother, I trust you have all the capabilities in the world to avert your crisis, but quite honestly, I don't think she cares what you talk about, as long as you just talk."
Thor didn't quite understand, but nodded anyway to feign comprehension, following his younger brother through the expansive garage and through the kitchen door, clicking the button to shut it all behind them. Sif's clear, high voice rang out while Fandral tapped at the piano in the living room, filling in for Loki until the youngest son of Odin took his place, graceful fingers dancing along the keys while Sif warmed up for her practice session. Fandral disappeared in the direction of the stairs.
Thor dove into the pantry, pulling out a bag of popcorn and throwing it in the microwave, waiting for the measly seconds it took to supply a decent meal. He glanced to the living room as his mother and father sat in their seats, his mother watching Sif sing with Loki at the piano while Odin contented himself with the latest issue of the New York Times, a large pot of coffee on the table beside him.
Thor trudged over to the red couch closest to him, kicking off his boots and putting his feet up on the coffee table, shoving food into his mouth like he hadn't eaten in years. Practically, the hours felt like it. Fandral whooped from the room underneath the large staircase, the game-room, probably already beating a begrudging Hayden at a challenge of ping-pong. Volstagg was no where to be seen, but another shout from the game-room soon affirmed where he was.
Sif began a holiday melody that Thor didn't care to remember the title of, Loki matching her chords with his own accompaniment, Frigga watching with proud eyes before she turned her attention to Thor. "My dear, how was school?"
"Horrid," Thor admitted. "But I managed."
"Thor met a new girl," Loki said while Sif was resting in her vacant measures, his fingers still busy at his melody.
Frigga raised both eyebrows. "Oh, indeed. Tell me about her," she pressed.
"It's the Selvig's daughter, Isla," Thor explained.
"Oh dear, the Selvigs again," his father sighed from behind the newspaper. "How is she?"
Thor sat forth, eager to share his opinions on her. "She's small, but really pretty! Dark blue eyes and medium curly brown hair!"
"I'm beginning to think you have a thing for brunettes," Odin contemplated while Frigga threw him a reprimanding look, turning back to Thor and urging him to continue.
"Well, she's only fifteen, but she's a junior, so she's smart for a mortal," Thor explained. "She's taking Photography and Art as her electives, but she has Mrs. Spencer for Trig, so that doesn't bode in her favor. She's going to be a great artist when she grows up."
Frigga nodded with a smile. "Sounds like an accomplished young woman."
"And pretty, too!" Thor added once more, prompting an eye-roll from Sif.
"So I trust her day was fine?" Frigga continued, pretending that Sif wasn't stifling laughter, holding her hand over her mouth while Loki filled the room his a melody once more.
"Well..." Thor said. "Apparently she fell down the stairs during passing period."
"Oh dear," Frigga immediately replied, concerned as she stared a her son. "I trust she's okay."
"Undamaged," Thor assured, "but apparently she hated English. She was practically silent throughout the entire bus ride, but was eager to sit with me, which isn't something to lament over."
Loki's fingers suddenly faulted at the keys, missing the chords as if he had lost control of his talent. He then stopped, sighing and turning red, pushing down the cover over the keys and grabbing the satchel he had left at his feet, pouncing from the small stage and immediately bolting up the stairs.
"Loki?" Frigga asked, concerned, her eyes following his trail up and away from company. Even Odin seemed alarmed, letting the magazine fall forwards to reveal his face, his gray eye-patch glinting in the artificial light, his gray hair drawn backwards.
A door slammed from up on the second floor, Frigga flinching and giving Odin a hurt, confused look. "What was that all about?" she asked in disbelief, holding a hand to her heart.
Thor grunted and heaved himself up, resolving to go after his little brother. Running away was not normal Loki behavior, but he had decided that this was a job that he was up to.
"And now where are you going?" snapped Sif, annoyed that her pianist had fled in the middle of her performance.
Thor only gave them a grin and waved. "I brother in need is a brother indeed," he reminded, thinking himself clever for the twist on words as he jogged up the wooden stairwell, striding down the hallway and rounding several corners until he reached the wooden door of his little brother's.
Thor raised his hand, but before he could knock, a stiff voice snapped, "Go away, Thor. I'm not in the mood."
"What could be more important that a brother's company?" Thor challenged.
"Homework," Loki replied coldly.
Thor sighed and shrugged, deciding to try a different approach. "Don't make me come in there! I'll kick down the door if I have to!" He shook his fist at the door, employing his father's childhood technique whenever they misbehaved.
"I'm not making you do anything," Loki growled. "Go. Away."
"Now that sounded like an order," Thor laughed, testing the handle, surprised when he found it unlocked. He twisted the handle and cracked it open, peering inside, blue eyes wide as he found Loki not doing homework, but sitting barefooted on the bench lined against his front window, gazing out into the street, his arms rested over his crossed legs, avoiding Thor's gaze. His expression was hard, brooding, calculating, as if he was struggling to think, green eyes boiling in heated emotions.
Loki shot him a glare as Thor maneuvered around the trench-coat and satchel thrown across the floor without care, surprised that Loki's fastidiously clean, bare room had anything at all on the floor.
Thor sat down on the neatly made bed, clutching his hands together while Loki gave him the cold shoulder, griping, "I thought I told you to leave me alone..."
Thor shook his head. "I'm known for being stubborn, brother, and I want to know what's going on," he explained, giving his brother a kind smile. "Though you may not want it, I'm offering you my help. What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," Loki snapped too quickly, his face falling as he realized his error. "I... I'm just tired. Leave me alone! I need to think."
"Can I help you think?" Thor asked with a grin.
"No, you of all people can't!" Loki barked. "If anything, you make it worse! How can you help me, the God of Mischief, think when all you have in your head is air?"
"I'm sure there's some lightning and thunder in there as well, somewhere," Thor teased, unaffected at Loki's insults.
Loki clenched the bridge of his nose and groaned, drawing his knees to his chest and letting his head fall forward.
Thor's heart gave a disheartened thud and he sighed, getting up to join his brother on the small bench, the wood creaking beneath the added weight. "Look, brother..."
"Just go away," Loki begged, his voice muffled.
"Are you mad at me? Was it something that I did?" Thor asked, not believing the idea that he could be the cause of his brother's moodiness.
Loki sighed angrily. "No, thickness, it's not you. Just go."
"Then what has made you so angry?" Thor asked, leaning back and giving his brother a raised eyebrow. "You're not being hormonal, are you?"
Loki brought his face from his knees, giving his brother a skeptical expression. "Really, Thor? An Aesir? Hormonal?"
Thor raised his hands in surrender. "We can be teenagers too, brother," he defended as Loki got up and started heading towards the door. "It's a normal part of growing up."
Loki gave him a considering scowl before opening the door and letting it swing open, gesturing out to the hallway. "There. That's your way out. Now go away." His tone was final.
Thor hung his head, massaging his neck as he begrudgingly got up and walked from the room, resigning that no matter what technique he could think of at the present, nothing would get his baby brother to cough up what was wrong.
He trudged back down the stairs, Loki shutting the door once more, but quieter this time. Thor gave Frigga a shrug as she questioned him with her blue eyes, worried for her youngest son. Sif as was indignant as ever, as she had employed a less than enthusiastic and less than talented Volstagg to hammer out the accompaniment to her solo on the piano. Thor swung his backpack over his shoulder and nodded to his parents.
"I must go attend to the disaster that is Algebra homework," he dismissed, smiling at them as he headed back up to his room. His room wasn't nearly as clean as Loki's was, belongings strewn everywhere. He left his door open so that he could watch his brother's room, wondering if the youngest Aesir would ever show himself or admit to needing Thor's help.
Thor smiled as he pulled out his Algebra binder, turning it open to the page of notes Isla and he had dabbled on, the process to the math so legibly written in her print. He clicked on his iPod and turned on his laptop, setting the music to AC/DC, a mortal music group he had decided he liked. He watched the paper and homework before him with a considering gaze, sighing as he succumbed to the temptation of the Internet, promising himself that he would finish it all later.
Loki sighed, running both hands through his hair as he stared at his satchel, his back to the door he had just closed on his brother. Thor's obstinacy had worn on his nerves for long enough. The mere thought of English was driving him nuts- the way he had tried, tried to show her that it was okay, that accidents happen, and that she was forgiven- the way that she didn't seem to understand.
He walked to his satchel and knelt down, unfastening the catch to let the flap fall open, reaching in and drawing on the long, cashmere, red scarf that she had left him with. He would have to find a way to return it to her, but how? She had lied to try and avoid him. She didn't even know his name. He thought briefly to himself that if she knew who he was, who he truly was, she wouldn't act this way.
But of course, she didn't know, and could never know. At this point, it wouldn't make a difference. It would probably only make it worse.
Loki sat back, the scarf tangled between his fingers as he wondered what he had done wrong.