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“You can’t save them.”
The blow comes with excruciating force, slicing violently through his armor, through his flesh and bone, through his organs, straight out to the other side.
Thor stumbles, but Gorr will not allow him the mercy of collapse. He holds him there, skewered on the long, silver blade, driven hilt-deep. His gray lips curl into a sneer as he leans forward. The rancid smell of his breath invades Thor’s nostrils and blazing agony spreads throughout his midsection.
He can’t breathe. Norns help him, he can’t breathe.
“You never could.”
Thor isn’t certain if he’s referring to his lack of oxygen or the fact that nearly everyone he’s ever loved has died despite his best efforts to prevent that from happening. He supposes that it’s rather irrelevant at the moment either way.
He’s going to die here, on this planet of nothingness and gray. He’s going to die here and leave this battle to Brun, who has had enough fights thrust upon her to last her several lifetimes; to Jane, who shouldn’t be fighting at all.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.
Desperately, he reaches for his power, yearning for the feel of lightning crackling at his fingertips. But it doesn’t heed his call.
Damn it, why won’t it come?
“I feel your pain.” Gorr reaches for his face now, running a slender finger over the scar across his eye. It takes everything within Thor not to flinch away. “I know your agony. You are not like the other gods I have met. You fight for someone other than yourself.”
Thunder booms overhead, shaking the very foundation of the earth. Lightning streaks across the sky. Through foggy vision Thor can make out a figure soaring towards them on a winged horse, her hair long and dark and flowing out behind her.
No.
“Turn back!” He wants to plead. “Please–I can’t lose you two as well.”
But all that manages to come out is a muffled choking as his own blood fills his throat.
“And that is why you will lose,” Gorr hisses as though he can read Thor’s thoughts. “They will die just as your mother did, and your father,” he pauses, face contorting into a hideous grin, “and your brother.”
Flames everywhere burning, searing. Purple clouding his vision, breaking through his very skull.
Thor chokes again, gasping vainly for air that refuses to come.
The cries of the wounded. The moans of the dying. The cold stares of the already dead.
Gorr draws out the sword, slowly. The agony of its retreat is worse than its attack.
The last words of a man who knows himself to be doomed. The crack of a neck.
“No. No, Loki.”
His body hits the ground.
Everything is dark now, he feels himself fading. He fights trying to breach the thick surface of consciousness, but his efforts are fruitless.
Somewhere, someone screams his name.
When he opens his eyes he’s staring up at the sun.
Thor squints at it, confusion rising within him. The sky is no longer a dull gray but has turned a brilliant blue, and the stench of blood has been replaced by the pleasantly familiar scent of apple blossoms. Grass tickles his skin softly. When he presses his hand to his abdomen and holds it up, no crimson coats his fingertips.
Slowly, he sits up, looking around him suspiciously. He is in the midst of a garden. Shrubs and flowers surround him. Greens and pinks and lavenders and whites intermingle in beds delicately toeing the line between chaos and order. Not far off a fountain stands, water bubbling softly from the top and trickling down to rest in the basin. A few birds bathe within it. And just before him stands the apple tree, as tall and healthy as he remembers it being when he was a child, its branches bursting with blossoms.
He has heard the tales of Valhalla since he was young, of its grand halls and endless feasting. This, this is not Valhalla. This is a place where he and Loki once played, where he and Mother once talked of anything and everything, where he once came to calm the tangled thoughts of a man whose life had been torn apart in a matter of days.
He is in Mother’s gardens. He is home.
Which means one of two things. Either he is truly dead and Valhalla is not at all what he imagined it to be, or Gorr is playing some sort of cruel trick on him.
He pushes himself to his feet, stumbling a bit as they struggle to support his weight. The barest twinge of pain aches where he was stabbed, but then it is gone as quickly as it came.
Cautiously, he makes his way over to the apple tree. The ground beneath him doesn’t crumble or disappear, and he makes it there without event. When he reaches out a hand and rests it against the trunk, its bark is solid and warm. The sun-dappled leaves are as real as the last time he touched them so long ago. A blossom floats down and gets caught in his hair. With a smile, he picks it out and holds it up. Its whitish pink petals are nearly translucent against the brightness of the sun.
If this is a trick or illusion it is certainly a good one. If he didn’t know better he might even believe Loki had conjured it.
He wishes that he had.
Reluctantly, Thor turns from the tree, allowing the blossom to drift off his fingers upon the lightest breeze. He watches as it flies away into the great expanse of blue.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” A voice says from right beside him.
Thor jumps, his breath hitching in his throat. He would know that voice anywhere.
“Loki.”
Loki tilts his head, a smile gracing his lips. “Hello brother. Did you miss me?”
A sound that’s somewhere between a chuckle and a sob erupts from Thor.
“More than you could ever know,” he croaks.
Then he stumbles forward, right into Loki’s waiting arms.
In hindsight he probably should have been more cautious, given how many times he’s seen floating phantoms of his brother, teasing him, taunting him, torturing him in the night. But this Loki is so unlike those. His clothing is pristine, his body untouched by the violence of Thanos. His eyes are bright with light and mischief; his voice is steady, his breathing is even and unhindered.
He is so very himself.
And when Thor’s body collides with his, he does not fade away.
“I’m here, brother,” he says, instead. “I’m here.”
Tears stream down Thor’s face and he shuts his eyes against them. Loki’s hold is the only thing keeping his legs from giving way and dumping him onto the ground.
“I’m sorry,” he sobs, barely able to make his trembling lips form the words, yet desperately needing to speak them all the same. “I failed you, brother. I’m so, s-so sorry.”
Loki’s arms tighten around him, a comfort he does not deserve. If he were a bigger man he would pull away. But he cannot bear to.
“You didn’t fail me, Thor,” Loki replies. “I made my own choices, I followed my own path. Nothing you said or did could have prevented that.”
“I could’ve killed him,” Thor retorts, thickly. “That would’ve fixed the problem then and there.”
Loki sighs. “We both know that wasn’t possible. Even the Hulk couldn’t kill him. What happened was inevitable, and far from your fault.”
Thor shakes his head. He knows his own failure; he will not be released from the guilt of it so easily.
“I sat there and I watched you die again. Three times you perished before me and I did nothing. How can you not fault me for that?”
“You are too hard on yourself, brother,” Loki says, gently. “You did nothing because there was nothing you could do.”
He pulls back, holding Thor out at an arm’s length. His hands grip his shoulders, solid and grounding. Without them, Thor is certain he will crumble.
“Though I hate to admit it,” Loki continues, a slight smirk on his face, “you’re strong, Thor, the strongest person I know, and brave, of course—recklessly so—and so selfless it’s sickening. In other words, you are everything a hero should be. But you cannot save everyone. There are times when we must save ourselves.”
Thor sniffles, and swipes at his teeming eyes. “You sound like Mother.”
Loki smiles. “Well, she was the only one who could ever speak some manner of sense into you.”
Thor huffs a wet chuckle. “Yes, I suppose she was.” He pauses, swallowing against the lump in his throat. “Is–is she here too?”
It seems an eternity ago that he met her in the halls of the palace, and broke in her arms. If he could see her once more…
But Loki’s smile has faded. “No,” he says, slowly. “No, she’s not.” He shifts a bit, licking his lips nervously. “Thor, you–you’re not dead. At least, not yet.”
Thor opens his mouth and closes it. Confusion and a strange sort of panic rise within him and suddenly the air seems terribly thin.
“Well, then how–how am I here?” He steps back from Loki, waving his arm vaguely around them. “Why am I in Asgard–which is long gone–with you–who is long dead–instead of bleeding out on that blasted planet watching my friends race toward their deaths?”
“There is really no simple way to explain it,” Loki says, soundly genuinely apologetic about that fact. Thor almost wishes he’d crack an infuriatingly mischievous smile and call him an idiotic oaf. Anything to make this all less horrible and real. “You are on a plane that exists between the realm of the living, and that of the dead. From here you can pass through to either. I am here to ensure you make the correct choice.”
Thor inhales a trembling breath. “I’m going to have to leave you, aren’t I?”
He can see the answer in those familiar emerald orbs before Loki so much as opens his mouth.
“I’m sorry, brother.”
Fresh tears smear his vision and Thor rubs at them roughly.
“I can’t. I can’t leave you again.”
Loki’s gaze is so sorrowful it’s painful to look at. “And yet, you must.”
Thor bites his lip so hard it bleeds. “Could we–could we not figure out how to bring you back with me?”
A sad little smile makes its way onto Loki’s face. “I think you know the answer to that question, brother.”
He does, of course, he does. But Norns, he wishes it was something different.
Jane, Brun, Korg–they all need him there with them, helping them fight the battle, helping them win. Yet, turning around and walking away from Loki seems an insurmountable task. Never in his life has he been able to accomplish it.
“I can’t do this without you, Loki,” he says, voice cracking as a sob rises in his throat. “I’m not strong enough.”
There are tears in Loki’s eyes too now, glistening in the light of the sun.
“Of course, you’re strong enough,” he replies, “you’re Thor. No one is more up to this challenge than you.”
Thor shakes his head. “Even after all this time, you still believe in me?”
“You fool, I will always believe in you.”
And with that, he pulls Thor into his arms once more.
Thor holds on tightly, burying his head in Loki’s shoulder and letting his tears soak his cape. He can’t remember the last time Loki initiated a hug, much less two in a row, but he isn’t about to bring it up. It will be a long time before he gets to feel his embrace again, and he’ll be damned if he ruins this precious moment.
When they finally separate, it’s Loki who does so first. He steps back, clearing his throat and wiping at his tear-streaked face.
“Now,” he says, “I suppose it's high time you return to your friends.” The smallest of smirks lifts his lips. “I’m sure Lady Jane will be most eager to see you alive.”
Thor chuckles despite himself. “Loki.”
Loki’s smirk grows into that familiar mischievous grin for a moment, before emerald seidr flickers to life at his fingertips and he grows solemn once more. He lowers his hand to hover just above Thor’s abdomen.
Thor frowns down at it. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t send you back to the realm of the living without healing you first,” Loki retorts, exasperatedly. “I’m guessing you don’t want to awaken with a gaping sword wound in your stomach.”
Thor winces slightly as an aching, tugging sensation comes from beneath Loki’s touch. He’s felt it many times before, though never quite on this level. Though he supposes he’s never been healed when this close to death before either.
“No, that would be rather unpleasant.”
Loki gives a hum in response and turns his focus back to his work. He stays there for a few more moments, his face screwed up in concentration. Then he pulls back and straightens.
“There,” he says, softly. “You’re ready.”
Thor chances a look behind him. The air has begun to shimmer and grow translucent. He can hear jumbled voices coming from behind the space. If he listens hard enough he can make out the sound of Jane screaming his name.
“They need you, brother,” Loki says. “Go to them.”
Thor turns back to him, desperation clawing its way up his throat. He doesn’t know what to say, or what to do, or how to draw this moment out into a million because damn it there isn’t enough time, there’s never enough time.
“I love you.” It bursts out before anything else can, and perhaps that’s good because Thor cannot think of any other way to convey everything churning within him right now.
He rushes forward, and yanks Loki into one last embrace, holding him close, and feeling him, feeling his presence before it’s gone.
“I love you so much.”
Loki squeezes him back, his hands making fists in Thor’s cape as he whispers, “I love you too. Never doubt that.”
Thor waits as long as possible before pulling back, even as the sounds of the real world grow louder, and Loki grows less tangible. But when he finally does, he rests his hand on Loki’s neck–his smooth, unbroken neck. And in those few seconds, they have remaining, he tries to cement this memory into his mind–of Loki smiling, tearful though it may be, of Loki looking whole and healthy and happy. For the first time in a long time, Loki is alright, and that is enough for him.
“Go, you sentimental oaf,” Loki says, at last, reaching up to clasp his hand. “We will have all eternity to hug one another when your time comes.”
Thor takes a deep breath and nods. He’s not ready, not even close, but Loki is right, he must go.
“Farewell, then, brother, until we see each other again.” He manages a watery grin. “I will miss you.”
Loki smiles back. “I will miss you too. Valhalla is dreadfully boring without you.”
Thor makes himself turn and walk toward the gateway. It hums softly, as though eager for his approach. The vibrant colors of Mother's garden are already beginning to fade.
“Then we will make it livelier than Asgard during Yule,” he forces out. “The Realms will tell tales of our glorious battles and magnificent banquets.”
Loki laughs. It sounds so much farther away, as though it’s coming to him from another room in a spacious house.
“They’ll tell tales of how I kicked your ass, perhaps. You flatter yourself thinking you could ever beat me, brother.”
The gateway is right before him now, it will take but one step to go through. Thor pauses and casts one last look over his shoulder. Loki meets his gaze, his own eyes watering. He seems so small, and young, standing here amongst the remnants of their shared life. For a moment he looks only like the young boy who used to snuggle beside Thor at night asking for protection from the monsters beneath his bed.
“Thank you, brother,” Thor says, voice trembling as he struggles for some control over the emotions surging within him. “This—this was a gift.”
Loki inclines his head. “It certainly was.”
The gateway is humming louder now, impatient for Thor to make his move. The voices grow more distinct by the moment.
“Thor!” Jane shouts, sounding impossibly near. “Thor, don’t die on me damn it!”
Loki offers him a small smile of encouragement.
“Go,” he whispers, one last time.
And drawing upon every remaining bit of strength he has in him, Thor turns his back on the fading form of his brother and walks through.
He awakens with a start, groaning as pain erupts in his abdomen once more. The sounds of raging battle assault his ears, mingling with Jane’s voice, desperate and angry and impossibly loud.
He peels his protesting eyes open to see her hovering mere inches from his face. Her helmet is gone and her long hair falls forward, cloaking them both from whatever horrors play out around them. There are tears streaming down her face.
“Jane,” he murmurs, reaching up to wipe one that runs in a rivulet down her cheek.
Her eyes widen and a small smile of relief finds its way into her face. “You’re alive. Oh my gosh, you’re alive!”
Thor offers her a weak grin of his own. “Yes, I am alive.”
She looks down at his wound, which he now sees is wrapped in a crimson cloth similar to her cape, then back at him.
“And you’re—are you okay?”
“Yes, yes I’m fine.” Though the pain is still there it has lessened significantly. Thanks to Loki he’ll pull through.
She nods, brusquely, biting her lip to keep back the tears that continue to well in her eyes. Seeing her like this because of his own foolishness hurts worse than Gorr’s sword ever could.
“Jane,” he begins, meaning to apologize, to comfort, anything. But all that comes out is an “oof” as her hand collides painfully with his face.
“Don’t scare me like that,” she snaps, voice trembling from anguish and fury. “We agreed to do this together. And then you run off alone and nearly get yourself killed? What the hell is wrong with you?”
Thor clasps her trembling hand in both of his own.
“I’m sorry,” he says, softly. “Truly I am. I only wanted to protect you.”
Jane shakes her head. “I don’t need you to protect me. What I need is for you to be honest with me. When we realized you’d gone, and then I found you here…” She breaks off, inhaling a shaky breath. “Just don’t–don’t ever do that again, okay?”
“I won’t,” he says, earnestly, “I give you my word.”
She glares at him, silently, those beautiful brown eyes piercing his as if searching for a lie. There is so much anger in them, so much fear, and Thor has never wanted to kiss her more than he does now.
“Okay,” she says, finally, right when he becomes completely certain he cannot continue sitting this close to her and still refrain from pressing his lips to hers. “Okay.”
A grin makes its way onto his face before he can stop it. “So, I am forgiven for my infinite foolishness?”
She huffs a laugh and rises, supporting him as he drags himself up to stand beside her.
“You are,” she replies with a smirk. Then, she turns away from him and calls, “hey, Brun the idiot’s back!”
Brun casts a glance over her shoulder just as her sword collides with Gorr’s.
“Good to see you alive,” she calls. “Try that shit again and I’ll bring you back to life and kill you myself.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Thor calls back, doing his best not to chuckle. Sometimes she reminds him all too much of his brother. If Loki had survived, he is certain they would have become friends.
She spins around to evade a deadly blow and gives him a toothy grin. “Well, maybe now you can get your ass over here and help us finish this.”
Stormbreaker appears in his hand in a matter of seconds. He adjusts his grip and takes a deep breath.
Another day, another battle, another mission to save the universe. But truly, would he have it any other way?
Jane’s eyes are on him and he looks down into their depths.
“Ready?”
She nods, helmet materializing as she does so. Mjolnir zips into her hand without hesitation.
“Let’s finish this.”
Side by side they leap back into the fray.