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"By the end, we have traveled to the beginning."
Thor knew what it felt like to know that his brother was dead.
Knew the agony that pierced his veins when Loki’s vibrant green eyes dulled, dim as his life force was stolen. Knew that watching it twice only made him feel more helpless. Knew the desperation- sometimes hotter than the core of a sun, sometimes colder than the Jotunheim winter- that cracked his battered mind.
The regrets and unspoken words that rushed to the forefront of his mind, the way his mouth dried and all moisture travelled upwards overwhelmed his tear glands. The stinging of his nose that would never compare to his heart; smashed, scattered- no, torn apart- and damaged beyond all recognition. Impossible to piece back together because the glue- his purpose, his sense of duty - had weakened, given up, and then disintegrated in the face of his losses.
He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do without them.
Thor held Loki’s body tight, wrapping him into a hug he would never allow, head bent over his chest. Over the heart that refused to beat, the heart that betrayed its chaotic owner in the same manner he had done to others.
This is not the fate, not the consequences, he had wanted for him. Never had he wanted Loki dead, not truly.
“Stronger,” he whispers, choked. His tongue is clumsy, dead weight and unable to carry his conviction correctly. “I’ll become even stronger, so I can protect you.”
A vow should not be said that way; it should be bold, loud and confident. Thor does not have the naive confidence he once did, the faith long since ripped away, nor the boisterous confidence he had when fighting with a team. He does not have the quiet confidence he should have grown into, the confidence that had been the All-Father’s trademark.
Thor does not have any confidence at all; no purpose, no desire to live, no one to live for... and yet, he has made a vow anyway.
“I’ll help you.”
Thor whips around, shielding the corpse before himself, and a tinkling laugh sounds in front of him. The sound is lighter than it has been in years.
“There was a mortal I felt a strange connection with,” Loki smiles, and Thor is astounded by how easily it came. He has not seen his brother carefree in a long time; far, far too long.
Thor knows his brother is dead. That Loki- son of Odin, of Frigga, of Laufey, of himself for all Thor cares- his brother is dead.
His brother always was special, though. A wielder of seidr with infinite potential and even greater capabilities no one other than him knew the true extent of.
“Your Black Widow. She was always ready to die, though not quite suicidal. Knew that if anyone was to die, she should be the first in line. Seeking moral redemption where she could, and doing the dirty work where it was required, just to keep other hands clean.
“Even tempered as she made the most appallingly unexpected decisions,” Loki tilts his head to one side, and as much as Thor wants to cup his jaw, he knows this is but a projection. “Occasionally, I think myself similar. And if I am not upset about my own demise,” Thor flinches at his careless tone, “What gives you the right to be?”
While Loki might be happy, might have a light sense of freedom to banish the weight that drew him further down, Thor suspects his mind might be a tad more fractured than his own. But how amusing- a cosmic jest, surely- if they were broken just the same amount, broken by the same people.
To be brothers born of experiences and not just illusionary blood. To be in the same situation without even noticing. Thor slouches a bit more. He refuses to be upset that he has more time with Loki, but it hurts . Hurts in a way that promises it will end, and you will miss it even more terribly because now it is gone.
“I do not mean to cause you anymore distress,” Loki hesitates, licking his lips, and Thor thinks he’s telling the truth. No point in lying on his deathbed. If he had faked it- and Thor already knows he hasn’t- he would’ve disappeared immediately after the resounding crack of his neck snapping-
“Thor,” Loki’s voice is stern. “Thor, focus. I cannot stay much longer.”
He takes a shuddering breath.
“I don’t think we ever knew quite what to say to each other,” Loki admits. “But I can help you get stronger.”
“Is that what you want me to do?” Thor is still bent in front of Loki’s body, on his knees. He has not tried to rise, has not even tried to take a step closer to what remains of his beloved sibling. “Tell me what you want me to do, and I will do it.” I will make it my purpose.
“Even if I tell you to destroy a planet you love?” Loki challenges, still unable to believe his brother would do anything for him. But then he stops. Does not continue goading him, even as Thor braces himself.
Loki does not want to fight. Thor wonders if he knows peace, knows how to even begin to live when there is nothing to surrender to.
“I have done it once,” Thor replies, despite having seen the antagonism leave Loki. “If you asked it of me, I will do it. I swear, Loki, anything.”
This vow is easier to approve of. Less empty.
It is dangerous for the world at large, but Thor’s world has been narrowed for a long time. Now, nothing but his brother has significance. “Even if you asked for my death, you could have it.”
“Your heart,” Loki chuckles. “Yes, there were days when I would’ve liked to hold it in my bloody hands.”
Thor opens his mouth, eyes sparking with an eagerness long since trampled.
“No,” Loki dismisses curtly. “You shall keep your heart.”
Somehow, Thor feels as if he has missed some of the subtext Loki always speaks in. His eye widens in alam when he looks down only to notice that the dark clothed man’s feet are transparent.
“I have tried to see the future, and trained for a few centuries to do something similar, something superior, to Odinsleep. I have always failed before today.”
Thor is sure he learned other things as he went about his studies, but that is hardly relevant. Knowing the extent of his brother's power now helps neither of them.
“This future will be peaceful and there will be no need for your enormous strength,” Loki shares. Thor hopes Loki doesn’t think peace comes from his absence, though it isn’t a possibility to be ruled out. “And because I know one more trick, I will give you a second option.”
It feels as if dark matter has spawned within him to eat his organs. Having a choice in his own future when he has flipped belly up is perhaps the cruelest thing Loki has ever done to him.
“I can create a new timeline and you will appear in the past,” His black hair falls in perfect waves, clearly soft and well cared for. Thor has never touched Loki’s hair unless he was playing unfairly in a childhood fight.
Like lightning, Thor realizes he might have a chance at redemption. A misinterpreted, forcibly skewed attempt, but close enough for his injured soul to justify.
“The second option, please.”
“Very well,” he is transparent to his collarbones. “There will be gifts I will grant you, though I am not sure you will be thankful.”
Rosy lips take a tint of gold and Thor knows that his brother can no longer talk.
“I love you,” he tells him desperately, for it is absolutely necessary that Loki knows. Loki, who always overthinks and has been betrayed more times than Thor can count on both hands.
Green eyes crinkle happily at him.
---
Thor looks at himself using the surface of a clear, still lake. Two glacial blue eyes and shoulder length locks of light gold hair reflect back. He shreds the muscles inside of his mouth with his teeth.
“Wretched,” he sobs between spitting out globs of blood and saliva. “Absolutely wretched.”
He does not alter his appearance, because this is what Loki has left him. He does not know why, but he has rejected his brother far too many times.
Falling to his knees, Thor wishes he had someone to kneel to.
(“Your Majesty,” Valkyrie calls.)
(“You are King now, my son,” Odin declares.)
(“I assure you brother, the sun will shine on us again.”)