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"What more could I lose?”
His own words echoed in his head, bouncing around like an annoying fly that wouldn’t leave him alone.
But it was true wasn’t it? What he said to the little rabbit.
He had no one left. Nothing save his vengeance. His home was destroyed, his people – people who had trusted him to save them and protect them – they had been slaughtered by Thanos and his minions. His friends hadn’t been on the rescue ship, and he knew that they too were dead. Heimdall, first a mere Gatekeeper and then his friend, who had done so much to save who he could from Hela, had been murdered by the Black Order.
And Loki.
Oh Valhalla, Loki. His brother, his little brother. The same person that Thor had professed to protect once upon a time, the same person who he had accused on Sakaar for being too predictable, for being selfish enough to run away instead of fighting to protect his home. Loki, his brother, who had looked him in the eye and swore his loyalty to him – because he knew, damnit he knew that those words were for him and not for Thanos – and then sacrificed himself to save him.
He knew what Loki had done, he knew that the other god had drawn Thanos’ attention away from him. How could he not know? How could he not feel his little brother’s magic sliding over him, warm, like a blanket, protecting him from even the power of an infinity stone? Thor knew, the way Thanos’ eyes had unfocused and slid away from him, that his brother had done something to make the titan look away from Thor, to leave him alone to die in the heart of an explosion.
His brother, who he had accused of being too selfish, had died protecting Thor. And what kind of older brother was he? That he couldn’t even protect his little brother? What kind of older brother was he that he allowed his brother to die three times before him?
Thor stared blankly at his hands. He remembered the words that Odin had spoken to him, remembered the feeling of power rushing through him as he found the source of his powers within his own soul and not within Mjolnir as he had always though. Now though, now he felt empty and drained. Because what good was power if he couldn’t even save the ones he loved? What was the point in becoming more powerful if that power didn’t do anything? All his life, he had always been one step too slow, too incompetent, too weak.
He had been too slow to save his mother from being run through by the Kursed, had been right there but had failed to save her. He had been too incompetent to save Odin from death, having to watch his father slip through his fingers, old and weary. He was too weak, unable to save Heimdall from Thanos’ minions, only able to watch while the mad titan slaughtered his kin.
And he was too slow, too incompetent and too weak to prevent his brother’s death three times over. He could not save Loki from the void, could only watch as Loki had chosen to give up – to let go. He couldn’t even defeat the Kursed, had failed his mother and his brother when the creature had killed the both of them. He had to regret all the words that he’d said to Loki because when it counted, his brother had saved him, had saved Jane, and had been so afraid to die. And now…
Thor closed his eyes (plural - he didn’t think that was possible) pressing a palm against his face, his eyes burning with unused tears as tidal wave of grief hit him.
He had done nothing, could do nothing, while Thanos slowly crushed Loki to death. Could only watch as his little brother struggled for breath, somehow finding it in himself to throw one last insult at Thanos. He hadn’t been lying when he told the rabbit that the rage, the grief and the pain were more than enough to drive him. Because if he stopped now – if he stopped now then everything would have been for naught. Heimdall would have sacrificed himself for nothing. Loki would have died for nothing.
Thor buried his face in his hands, fingers clawing at the sides of his face, his body trembling with the force of trying to keep his grief in. He still remembered the sickening thud that Loki’s body had made when Thanos dropped his body before him. Remembered clawing his way free of the metal (too late, always too late), trying desperately to reach his brother’s cold, still body. Remembered crying for his brother, pleading for him to come back, the blank, lifeless eyes of his brother breaking his world in two for the third time. He hadn’t cared that the ship was about to be destroyed, he didn’t care that Thanos had gotten away with the Tesseract. Thor had truly wanted to die then and there, wanted to join his family in Valhalla.
Why? He screamed internally, why did you save me?
He should never have survived the power stone, not at that distance and not against that kind of power. He remembered the feeling of Loki’s warm magic flowing over him, and he remembered thinking that he would finally reunite with them all – only to wake up on the Milano.
Thor let out a strangled sob.
Despite everything, Thor wished suddenly and fervently that he had never given Loki that pep talk on Sakaar. Perhaps then his brother would still be alive and well. On a different planet, but alive nonetheless, enjoying his time on Sakaar, not floating around in space, dead because he had an incompetent brother who couldn’t even defeat his enemies. (Who was the selfish one now? It was him - he couldn't bear to part with Loki, even after all his brother had done because it was Loki, his closest confidante, his best friend, his brother.)
For all that Loki had sneered and brushed away their brotherhood, had claimed that Thor was the sentimental one, he saw now that Loki had never once stopped considering them family.
His last act – and Loki had saved his life.
That, more than anything, was the drive behind his actions. He needed to kill Thanos not only for the slaughter of the Asgardians, not only for the murder of Heimdall. But also because Loki had chosen Thor over himself in the end. Because Loki could have chosen to run, to hide himself from Thanos and leave but he had chosen to fight, to bargain for Thor’s life, to buy enough time to cast a spell that protected Thor again even the power gem.
Thanos thought Thor dead, that was his mistake. Thor would not give up until Thanos was dead, not when the titan had cruelly ripped away all that was left from him. He would rip Thanos to shreds with his bare hands if he had to, would tear the titan to pieces for what he did. Would make sure that Thanos would suffer as much as he had when Thor got to him. This, he swore to himself. He had no planet, no people, no friend and no brother – he had nothing left to lose.
His brother had given his life for him, a gift that granted him the advantage of blindsiding Thanos – he would be a fool to throw that gift away.
And if his motivations were purely for revenge, well, he did call himself a Revenger did he not?