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Part 8 of Oneshots
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Published:
2014-02-19
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2,841
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1/1
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Running After My Fate

Summary:

Thor decides to take back what he has lost after Malekith wreaked havoc on his family and his world.

Notes:

Endless thanks to Goose for beta and to Caroline for her comments and help.

A short, rather indulgent thing. I wanted to focus on Thor's growth mostly, hence the character study tag.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Thor's knees hit the stone floor softly as he lowers himself with slow dignity. He takes one shuddering breath to centre himself, head bowed low. His right arm moves almost without his command, depositing Mjolnir ceremonially on the ground beside him. The dull thunk, followed by a gentle simmering of vibration through his fingers, is what rouses him and he raises his arms to pull his helmet off, setting it down as well.

 

And then he finally looks up, facing his father.

 

 

Thor has to meet the severe, slightly disapproving look Odin is giving him, no doubt a result of his antics on his way to the throne. He barely remembers what he did, tossing his hammer in the air like a child and teasing the crowd recklessly as he tried to hide his trepidation. That happened years ago.

 

He meets his Father's gaze seriously for a while, but his eyes are almost immediately drawn to his left, where his Mother and Loki are standing. His heart beats faster, painfully so. He told himself he was prepared and yet the sight of them, of his family whole again is almost too much to bear.

 

“... my heir, my first-born,” Odin is saying, and Thor's eyes are on Loki. It's hard to believe he never noticed this; Loki's jaw clenches at Odin's words and he looks at his feet, seeming every inch the petulant child. And he looks so young. Thor's chest aches.

 

And Frigga.

 

She is calm and smiling. Beautiful and alive.

 

Where Thor came from, they are all dead. His entire family.

 

His Mother, slain by Malekith. Odin, slain by Loki. Loki, slain by the Einherjar when they discovered he was not Odin, but merely an impostor; an usurper in their eyes.

 

It was just that, standing over Loki's dead body, just half a minute late, unable to save him, again, that Thor snapped. He tore the head right off the man who ran Loki through, not caring that he was in the right, defending Asgard and his fellow soldiers.

 

He had held a month long vigil over Loki's body then, and when the moon turned and Loki still didn't live, Thor walked to the roots of Yggdrasil itself where they drank from the well. He searched and bargained and fought until he was finally here, in his past where things were yet possible to mend. Or so he had thought.

 

As Odin talks, Thor subtly rediscovers this world. He is a god, young and strong and mere years should have no effect on his flesh, but he still feels fresh and pain-free in this body. The air smells clean. Thor would like to imagine it's because of his Mother's gardens, blooming on the other side of the palace, not abandoned and decaying as they were where he came from.

 

It almost surprises him that even his friends look different, and it shames him he didn't know how much they were burdened.

 

He is so immersed in thought that he almost misses Odin's untimely pause.

 

“... I proclaim you-”

 

He draws his attention back to present quickly, fixing his eyes on Odin.

 

“Frost Giants!” Odin breathes and Thor rises, Mjolnir in hand. He opts not to look at Loki as he runs down the stairs to join Odin and Thor and the three of them head towards the vault. He and Loki fall into step side by side, lagging respectfully behind Odin and Thor finds Loki's presence suffocating.

 

In the vault, they find dead Jotnar as well as Einherjar, and Thor's gaze lingers on those men. He wonders if they are the first victims of Loki's ire or if there were many more before, undiscovered.

 

Thor doesn't remember exactly the conversation he and his Father had, but judging by the stretched silence, he was the one to speak first.

 

“We must find the breach,” he says, and a phantom chill runs down his spine. It's done. He's changed the future. This was his first true act of defiance towards their fates.

 

In the corner of his eye, he sees Loki looking at him, but he doesn't dare face him, fearing he does something untimely. Instead, he waits for Odin to finish perusing the Casket and turn around.

 

“Yes, we do,” Odin nods and Thor thinks he can hear a hint of surprise in his Father's voice.

 

Why did he try to crown me when he knew how I was?

 

“They must have had help on the inside, otherwise they never would have gotten this far,” Thor continues calmly, turning to look at the corpses strewn across the floor.

 

“Possibly. I will confer with Heimdall.”

 

And then they're done, just like that. He and Loki are both dismissed so that Odin can deal with the situation. It's odd and familiar at the same time; Thor remembers being denied his part in decision making or problem solving on many occasions. Odin had always cited his inexperience.

 

Thor walks to his rooms, and he is acutely aware of, but pretending not to notice, Loki's presence at his heels.

 

Little has changed about his chambers, and in face of everything that is different, it's a bit dizzying. He pours two goblets of wine wordlessly and takes his own to the balcony, knowing without a fault that Loki will follow him.

 

“Well, that was close,” Loki murmurs. “I can't believe they almost stole the Casket.”

 

“They didn't stand a chance,” Thor replies calmly, and swallows a mouthful of wine. He sees Loki's fingers fidgeting with the rim of his own goblet. Loki's incentive is clear as day to Thor, but the truth is that not even knowing the future can explain to Thor what exactly is going on in his mind. Is it simply jealousy or madness brewing?

 

“I suppose not. Not in such small numbers.”

 

Loki sounds perfectly careless, as if he's just thinking out loud, but Thor knows better and he can't help wanting to see how far will Loki go.

 

“They have no options to send more.”

 

“Yes, I'm sure Heimdall and Father will see to that and then tell us what steps they took.”

 

Thor snorts because that wasn't even subtle.

 

“You are welcome to go join them,” he tells Loki. “Perhaps they would appreciate your knowledge about the paths between worlds.”

 

Loki stiffens and his knuckles turn white as he grips his goblet hard. They look at each other for a moment, but then Thor remembers himself. He has a plan.

 

“I must go see Mother,” he says, clasping Loki at the neck to bring himself comfort. “Thank you for your company.”

 


 

“Thor,” Frigga welcomes him, pleased– if a little surprised− and Thor takes a moment to wrap his arms around her. She croons to him and smooths his hair with a gentle hand, sensing he needs comfort even if she doesn't know the true reason. Thor supposes that to her, he is a child who came to cry about a toy being taken away, but he doesn't mind in the slightest. All that matters to him is her warmth and love, so strongly present and untarnished.

 

“You must be terribly disappointed,” she says lightly as they sit down on a sofa together, facing the open balcony and watching the city stretch in front of them.

 

“What's done is done,” he shrugs. “But I have an important matter to discuss with you.”

 

Her face turns serious and the inquiry in her gaze is clear.

 

“What is it?”

 

“It was Loki who let the Jotnar in.”

 

Her mouth grows slack with shock for a second but then she sets her lips in a firm line, and Thor feels a little betrayed when he realizes she knows that Loki – or his skills, his magic – is capable of doing exactly what Thor just accused him of.

 

“Are you certain?”

 

“I am. It's ironic, isn't ?”

 

“Whatever do you mean?” she asks, placing her palm on his arm, and he is sorry to see the distress she is fighting. This isn't easy for him either. Nothing that lies before them will be.

 

“That he would unwittingly choose to go to his birth father seeking help in his mischief.”

 

Frigga's grasp on his arm turns painful as she squeezes him in her shock.

 

“How do you know this?” she whispers, her eyes misting.

 

“It doesn't matter. What matters is that the longer Loki has dealings with Frost Giants, the bigger are the chances he will discover his heritage in some ugly way. You must tell him. Now.”

 

She gets up and faces away from him. He sits still, waiting. His heart feels heavy, but he knows this is the right thing to do. It must be.

 

Frigga speaks after a while, her voice slightly choked. “I always knew it was wrong to keep it a secret... but it never seemed like the right time.”

 

“It's long overdue now,” Thor says, but keeps his tone gentle. He blames her for nothing and he knows that ultimately, Loki didn't either. Frigga turns to him once more and fixes him with a sharp look, so intense that he almost ducks his head, feeling like a scolded child. But it doesn't seem she has taken offence at his words. She merely studies him for a long while before replying.

 

“I will go to him right away.”

 

He nods, grateful and relieved. If she refused, he would tell Loki himself, but he is certain she is the right person for it.

 

While he was holding his long vigil, he had endless time to ponder everything that had happened between him and Loki. And as his daring plan began to take form in his mind, he had to find where and when things went so wrong.

 


 

Thor knocks softly on Loki's door, stomach clenching with nervous nausea.

 

“May I come in?” he calls through the door and waits. For a long moment, nothing happens, but then the handle clicks softly and the door cracks open an inch. Thor pushes the polished wood lightly and enters the dimmed room.

 

Loki stands in the near dark, looking out of the window and not acknowledging Thor's presence. Thor approaches him slowly, but he doesn't stop until he is standing almost directly behind Loki, looking over his shoulder at the star-littered sky.

 

“I wasn't sure you would welcome my company,” Thor whispers. “Thank you for letting me in.”

 

“Did you know?” Loki asks after long minutes of tense silence. His voice is straining with the apparent control he tries to keep over it.

 

“I learned recently,” Thor says, vague, slightly at a loss. It's painful to watch, the tense set of Loki's shoulders. He feels incredibly sorry, but there is a part of him that holds him back. Part of him that remembers too well what his brother is capable of.

 

“Ah,” Loki barks a bitter laugh. “So did Odin tell you as you were preparing to take the throne? Did you earn the right to the knowledge as you ascended to be the king?”

 

“He didn't tell me.” That's a lie, partially. Both his parents were present in the room as Frigga explained what happened while Thor was banished.

 

Loki whips around, finally facing Thor. “Why should I believe you? Why should I believe any of you?”

 

Images of the dead Einherjar, both fresh and old, flashes before Thor's eyes.

 

“You want to lecture me about lies?” he growls and Loki's jaw falls slack in an offended manner.

 

“Convenient,” Loki manages to say. “Is this what's going to happen now? You're going to point out my transgressions to silence me? Be Odin's good pet?”

 

Thor forces his breathing to slow down, tricking his body into thinking he is calm. He doesn't think he's ever been this high-strung and he realizes why. He is standing– no– they are standing at the very edge of a void and Thor already knows what happens if they fall into it. That would make even the bravest of men tremble.

 

“Do you think I agree with what Father has done? There is no excuse for him. He was cruel and unjust. He should have told you eons ago.”

 

Loki's head jerks back minutely, a subtle expression of shock and then his gaze sharpens, his eyes searching over Thor's face. It looks exactly like the look Mother gave him during their conversation and Thor should be on his toes, be careful not to reveal anything he shouldn't, but all he can think is how similar they are.

 

Loki is not responding and Thor huffs out a breath, reaching out to press his palm against the side of Loki's neck, thumb caressing his cheek. Again he is struck by how young Loki looks, well-fed and well-groomed. His eyes are a bit too red and his mouth is set in a sharp line, but other than that, he seems unmarred. Thor knows it's not true, not really, his ruined coronation and several deaths being the proof, but it's hard to think about it now.

 

He's so focused, focused on the feeling of Loki's hair at the tips of his fingers– soft and clean and short, the smooth paleness beneath his thumb– that he misses the moment Loki's eyes grow hard and his mouth grows soft. And then, in a flurry of movement, there are lips being pressed to his own, hint of tongue and teeth attacking his own unresponsive mouth. After two heart-beats of shocked stillness, he grasps Loki by the upper arms hard and yanks him away.

 

“Don't you dare,” he yells, shaking Loki without restraint. “I am your brother, and I will not let you deny it!”

 

His anger is coming from fear, mostly – that he was too late, that this was not enough, that Loki would slip away from him no matter what he does. This frantic anger drives Thor to shove Loki against a wall, still holding him in steel grasp until he has him crowded. Only then he lets go of his arms and grasps his face instead, though much gentler. The wetness of Loki's mouth is cooling on his lips and it feels like a threat – a threat of a game, a ploy, a cruel demonstration. Denial of the brotherhood.

 

“Thor, stop, let me go,” Loki hisses, but he is shaking.

 

“I will not let you be until you say you understand that I am your brother and I love you.”

 

“You're not making any sense!” Loki screams at him and for the first time Thor sees shining tracks of tears on his cheeks.

 

“Am I not?” he says, forcibly calm. I know what you are capable of, but I never want to see you do those things again. “You are my brother and nothing can change that. You will not try to change that.”

 

“Is this what you think I did?” Loki whispers, his gaze dropping down to Thor's mouth. Thor feels heat under his fingers where he still cradles Loki's face.

 

“Was it not?” he asks, suddenly uncertain. He didn't even... he simply grew so frustrated with Loki's games, with his need to always make everything worse and... Maybe the kiss itself should have bothered him more, but it didn't.

 

On a whim, he leans close to Loki, holding his face tight and presses their lips together. It's very unlike Loki's previous advance, more hungry, more desperate, more daring. Loki's mouth immediately opens under his and a tiny moan escapes his brother. Thor swallows the sound and continues, breathing hard as their tongues meet and lips slide wetly against each other. When they part, gulping air, Thor stays close, close enough to share hot breath, and watches Loki's reddened, shiny lips.

 

“Brother,” he says and while there is a hint of tease in his tone, there is also gravity to it.

 

Loki nods and then laughs, resting his palms against Thor's chest.

 

“I can't believe you.”

 

Thor closes his eyes for a moment and realizes how lost he's become in a matter of minutes. His knowledge is all but useless to him. Loki has blind-sided him once again. They are in a situation they were never in before, and Thor feels dizzy again, uncertain and out of control.

 

Think, he orders himself. Think.

 

He keeps his eyes shut and breathes deeply. The taste lingering on his lips is pleasant, and so is the warm pressure of two steadfast hands still leaning against his chest. His own palms rest at Loki's side, anchoring himself as well as keeping Loki from moving away.

 

You love him. And perhaps he just wants to know it. He wants it to be as clear as the summer skies and as steady as the turning of the worlds.

 

“Stay with me,” he murmurs to Loki, drawing him closer. “Let me be at your side.”

 

“You cannot possibly know what that entails,” Loki tells him fiercely, eyes sparkling in sudden anger and he shoves at Thor. “You don't understand what I want. What I need.”

 

Thor smiles.

 

“You will have to tell me, then.”

Notes:

Thank you for reading.
Please don't ask me to continue this story. I realize that it's short and there are places to go from where we've ended, but by asking me to continue, you are only making me feel bad because writing is a struggle for me and I'm happy when I finish pretty much anything. Not to mention, I have some responsibilities that come first. If you happen to like this story, I'm very grateful and would love to hear it, but please don't condition your compliment on me writing another part. Thank you for understanding.

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