Author's Note: First off, don't come at me on the eye color—I wanted it brown so I made it brown. Second, just picture the ages I give as general guidelines for picturing the characters, because I know their years are weird and not the same as ours. Third, I'm new to the fandom and literally wrote this in one day after watching Thor all the way through for the first time last night (part of my chronological MCU journey), so bear with me. For now, this is a oneshot, but I might flesh it out and make it multichapter once I've finished my current WIP (a Marauders fic—if you don't know what that is, be grateful you're not part of a fandom where every character is canonically dead). Anway, enjoy (or cry-whatever floats your boat)!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the rights to the MCU
She stood in a snowy clearing, the frost biting at her cheeks and numbing her exposed fingertips.
"Breathe in," a voice rumbled from behind her, right by her ear. Her father. His large warm hands covered hers as he steadied her arms. "And hold."
She sucked in a deep breath and held it.
"And...release."
The arrow, aimed and guided by her father, though shot from her bow, hit the edge of the target with a resounding thwack.
The sound caused her eyes to snap open and she found herself staring at the vaulted ceiling above her. Her bedchamber seemed to expand around her, the ceiling stretching away until she was nothing but a tiny, vulnerable ant alone in a vast, dark space. At nine years old, Else was of average height, but of slight figure, and her massive bed had always dwarfed her.
Else was an ordinary child. Her parents had died years ago, and though her memories of them were hazy and the pain had faded to a dull ache, they still haunted her dreams. Elisabet Nielsdatter was an ordinary name, fit for the ordinary child that she was. Or had been.
To be taken in by the great Odin Allfather was a privilege and a miracle. She never could quite figure out how it had happened. She remembered with startling clarity the day she had arrived, her small heart beating fast with overwhelming awe and fear. Odin towered over her, immense and terrifying, his single remaining eye seeming to penetrate into her soul. And though Frigga was kind and gave her all the love she could ever ask for, she couldn't replace the mother she'd lost.
Then there were the princes. Though both near enough to her own age, to Else they were full of a power foreign to her, far above and beyond anything she could ever hope to be. Their eyes possessed a knowledge that aged them far beyond her mere six years.
And so little Else had spent her days curled up in the empty expanse of her new bedchamber and cried herself to sleep each night.
It was one night, nearly a week after she arrived, that her chamber door creaked slowly open. A pair of large brown eyes peeked through the crack, lit by the dull yellow glow of her lamp. Too startled to continue crying, she stared back. A head of tousled black hair and a narrow, angular face poked through the doorway.
"We're playing hnefatafl," the boy whispered. "You want to come?"
Wordlessly, she shook her head. A strand of matted blond hair fell across her face.
The boy pursed his lips. "Ugh. So I snuck all the way over here for nothing?"
Frozen in place, Else finally found her voice. "I'm sorry," she managed, barely audible.
The boy frowned, confusion scratching its way between his dark brows. "What for?" He shifted, causing his head to bob up and down in the small space of the open door. He didn't wait for an answer. "Just one game?" All the while blinking his big brown eyes at her like a lost puppy.
By this point, her tears had dried stiffly on her face. Slowly, Else uncurled from her spot on the bed, and hopped down to join him at the door.
"Good." A sharp little grin crossed his face, and he grabbed her arm. He dragged her down the hallway faster than she was prepared for. If anyone had been awake, they would have heard the distinct pattering of two pairs of small bare feet on sleek marble.
In the chambers down the hall, illuminated by warm orange lamplight, the taller, golden-haired brother waited for them.
"I still don't see why I couldn't come," he whined. "I want to see her rooms!"
"It's just one of the old vacant ladies' rooms. You've seen it a hundred times," the dark-haired boy replied, settling down across from his brother. "And besides, you're far too loud."
"I am not!" His indignant words, closer to a shout than a whisper, provided evidence to the contrary.
"Hush!" The smaller boy turned to Else. "In any case, I am Loki, and this is Thor, my brother."
"She already knew that, dāræ!"
Loki shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not."
And so they began to play. Else learned later that hnefatafl was supposed to be played by two people, and that they had somehow rigged it for three to include her.
"Careful," Loki stage-whispered to her behind his hand, after one of her few well-played moves, "Thor gets angry when he loses." This earned him a glower from his brother. There was very little explanation of the rules, and Else, who knew nothing of the game to begin with, lost terribly. She later suspected that Loki threw the match to keep Thor happy, for in games of strategy, the smaller brother was always the more adept.
From that point forward, Else gained two brothers. Brothers, though being the term most often used to describe their relationship, was not quite right. There would always be some invisible barrier, drawn by blood, between them. She could sense it. So, "best friends" was perhaps a more accurate term.
Three years later, Else threw off the bedcovers and slid to the floor. She shivered as her bare toes touched the cold marble floor. It was autumn now in Asgard, evident in the heavy chill that blanketed the halls of Valhalla. She was reminded of the snowy dream, mirroring the nip in the air of the waking world. Dressed only in her thin nightdress, Else crept out of her room and down the hall. She passed Loki's chambers but was stopped only a few steps later by a slurring whisper.
"Else?"
She turned to face a bleary-eyed Loki, black hair mussed and rubbing sleep from his eyes in the doorway. "Can't sleep." She shrugged. She continued down the corridor, and soon heard the soft padding of his feet behind her. Opening the doors to Thor's bedchamber, she saw the blond boy sprawled across the massive bed, snoring fit to wake the dead. Quite literally.
With some effort, she shoved his body aside, forcing him to take up a more normal-sized area. He grunted but didn't wake. Without a word, she crawled in next to him, feeling the bed dip and creak when Loki rolled in after her.
She glanced over at him, sharing an almost-smile. She settled into the warmth, the cold uncertainty of the dream melting away. A rustle, and then his hand slipped into hers with a squeeze that said more than words ever could. He'd told her once that he dreamed of a strange family, another life. The bedchamber no longer felt so huge, and she no longer felt so small and insignificant, curled up between the two boys. She had them, and that was enough.
As the years passed, Thor grew rougher and louder, though he retained a gentle streak when it came to Else. Despite their similar ages, she would always be his little sister. Loki grew quieter and more cunning. While Thor took on more responsibilities and grew in confidence, Else and Loki were left to their own devices. Something grew between them, pulling and stretching like a tether-something built of curiosity and shared glances, of knowing another as well as oneself. Two heads, one blond and one dark, were often seen together plotting some new mischief. Often an accomplice to his pranks, Else was always the one to apologize first, even when Loki himself refused to. She couldn't count the number of times she'd kept her mouth shut for the boy or covered for both boys while they ran off together against their father's wishes.
She recalled a certain instance, twelve years old, where a perfect opportunity to play a trick on Thor had arisen. Loki turned to her and opened his mouth. She knew that look.
"No. Absolutely not."
"But I need your help." His brown eyes pleaded with her. She could never say no to that look, and he knew it.
She sighed, resisting the magnetic pull for a few seconds longer. "Alright. Fine." She was rewarded with his signature pointy grin. Of course, it was she who was tasked with placating Thor afterwards (although she had to admit the look on his face had been worth it).
At fourteen, the gap between the brothers grew, forming an invisible barrier like that which existed between her and them for as long as she'd live in Valhalla. Only, this one was born of two entirely different ways of seeing the world. Thor now ran with a rowdier crowd, gaining his own group of warrior friends and amassing the people's favor like gold. Else and Loki, both on the smaller, less aggression-prone end of the spectrum, tagged along for their adventures, but she could sense the distance between the brothers widening, and it broke her heart. It was at fourteen that she asked Thor to teach her to fight. She thought if she could understand both of them, maybe she could bridge the gap.
"I want to learn to fight."
"Are you certain? It won't be easy."
"Yes. Can you teach me?"
Shocked at first, Thor skeptically accepted the job of training her. Totally unused to the warrior's lifestyle, she was an inept student at first. She struggled with power, having never been naturally strong. Gracefulness came easier afte.r the mandatory dance lessons she'd taken part in. Thor turned out to be a surprisingly patient teacher, at least between bouts of frustrated roaring. But he calmed easily, and his steady hands guided her tirelessly through exercises and drills over many months. This, she realized, was why she loved her loud, fair-haired brother. And eventually, it clicked.
A few days after the start of her training, she was on her way back to change out of her sweaty clothes. Loki slipped out of the shadows to walk beside her.
"Planning to charge into battle with Thor now, are we?"
She knew him well enough to read between the lines. But this had nothing to do with preference. In fact, it was anything but.
"I know I'm not a warrior like Sif, and I have no intention of ever being so," she told him matter-of-factly. "But it can't hurt to be prepared, can it?"
"Prepared for what, exactly? I should think you would be perfectly safe within these walls."
Else stopped mid-stride and turned to face him squarely. These things were best snuffed out before they began.
"Look, I..." she struggled for words, prompting a raised eyebrow from her companion. How to describe the indescribable sense that she was the only thing keeping the three of them from breaking apart? How to explain the heaviness that had settled across her thin shoulders. "We were inseparable, you and he and I. I thought perhaps if I could...if I could know both of you, I could bring us back to how it was." Unexpected tears prickled in her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to clear them.
Loki stared at her silently, a strange look in his eyes that she couldn't quite read. She reached for his hand, but even that simple gesture had a new awkwardness to it that hadn't been there when they were just children. For the first time, she wished she'd never grown up. She dropped his hand.
"You're still here." Pressing her fingers to her heart, she ducked her head and strode away.
It was at sixteen, when that small, fearful girl was growing into a young woman, that Loki began to master magic. Else would normally have been suspicious, but it was one of the few candles he could hold to his brother. She could give him that, couldn't she?
"Else," the voice was low but cut across the dimming twilight of the empty corridor with ease. Else glanced around, looking for a pair of familiar dark eyes. "Over here."
She finally spotted him, tucked away between a pillar and a tall golden statue. She smiled and hurried over to his beckoning arm. Without warning, that same arm suddenly shot out and curled around her waist, sweeping her into the small space and pressing her body up against his. A startled squeak escaped her while her stomach swiftly rose and dropped. He just grinned wickedly down at her. She swatted at him. The fox.
She took a step backward. "What is it, then?"
"Watch this." His body flickered for a moment, then suddenly vanished. Else blinked in shock.
"Is that awe I sense?" His voice came from directly behind her, right next to her ear. She jumped and whipped around, bumping her elbow on the column in the process.
"How did you do that?" she hissed, rubbing her elbow.
He quirked an eyebrow. "Magic."
Nights became weeks and weeks became months, and so passed countless moments tucked away in corners and empty rooms as he showed her things she realized he must have been practicing for years before.
"And...there." A flick of his wrist, and a ball of pale green light appeared and hovered over his palm. With his other hand, he grasped her wrist and pulled her hand into the narrow space between them.
"Like so..." he guided her hand through the motion, a crackling energy seeming to travel from his hand into her forearm. Flick. Her palm and fingers glowed with a faint purple hue. She gasped, flexing her fingers to see if the light would vanish. It remained. He released her wrist, and still the light remained. Hesitantly, she reached for the green orb that still hovered above his outstretched hand. It dissolved at her touch allowing their palms to meet and combining with hers to light their faces with a soft, pale blue glow. Their foreheads nearly touched as fair and dark heads bent toward the light. She looked up at him, the light reflecting in his eyes and giving them the liquid quality. A faint smile grazed his lips, one which she echoed.
The shadows cast by the light settled in the hollows under his eyes and cheekbones, sharpening the angles of his face. Her breath hitched for a split second. It was times like these when it hit her that her adoptive brothers were gods. Though right now, in this moment, "brother" was a term more wrong than it had ever been. It was not enough.
Those moments came to an abrupt end one day, when Thor came across them. They had done nothing, but the jokes began anyway. It started with a stupid song that he and his friends created, which bordered on suggestive. He apologized soon after, but the damage was done. Loki disappeared into his quiet, brooding mind, and though he still treated her with the same friendly familiarity, something had changed. He never sought her out again.
So that girl who was almost a woman grew up. And she no longer fancied herself in love with a trickster god and a prince, or perhaps her love for him only grew along with her-for that boy with the large, knowing brown eyes.
He stood before her now, a man.
"Did you do it? Did you let the Frost Giants in?" Was I not enough? For her heart was breaking again.
Author's Note: So did he, or did he not? Who knows. (Me, probably). FFN did something weird and deleted my previous A/N, so here it is. Hopefully I'll be able to come back to this sometime and delve a lot more into their characters. I'd probably end up with an AU, since Else would have some effect on the original plot. Reviews would be extremely appreciated-besides the fact that they're encouraging, I would love some feedback that I could incorporate into my next fic. Thanks for reading!
