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In the atmospheric light of the great antechamber, the one which lay beneath the throne room, the world appeared gloomy indeed. It ought not to be, for today was a glorious day. Thor was about to become King Thor, first of his name. Yet, something was amiss. It was a peculiar feeling; like climbing down the stairs and missing a step. One borne out of anticipation for the burdens of the throne, some would presume. Perhaps, they were right. Perhaps, loathe as he was to admit it, he was nervous.
Thor frowned at his goblet, before gulping down the remaining wine. Then, he tossed the cup to the hearth. “Another!”
The attendant scurried away to perform his duty, as the fire blazed brighter. Thor stood up and walked over to the other side of the hall, coming to stand next to the brazier. Loki emerged from the shadows mere seconds later.
“Nervous, brother?”
Thor turned his head to face him.
Green eyes staring dull and unseeing, tears of blood running down his pallid face –
Thor blinked and the vision shattered. Loki was frowning at him. He must have taken too long to respond. “Have you ever known me to be nervous?” he asked, but for all his bravado, his voice wobbled slightly.
Loki smirked mischievously, potentially mistaking Thor’s bewilderment for nerves. “There was this time in Nornheim...”
“That wasn’t nerves, brother. It was the rage of battle. How else could I have fought my way through a hundred warriors and pulled us out alive?”
The attendant approached with another goblet of wine.
“As I recall, I was the one who veiled us into smoke to ease our escape,” Loki said.
Was there a hidden edge to Loki’s words, or was Thor just imagining it?
“Some do battle, others just do tricks.”
The attendant stifled a laugh.
Guessing by Loki’s glare, he noticed as well. With one gesture – a wide, graceful arc of his arm, the wine transformed into writhing eels.
They spilt from the sides of the goblet, slithering across the hand of the horrified attendant, until he screamed, hurling the chalice to the ground.
Loki chuckled.
Thor observed them, a sense of unease settling in his stomach. It wasn’t only due to his brother’s evident tendency to make every situation worse for himself, although that was certainly part of it.
“Loki...”
His brother gestured to the eels on the ground, and they turned back to spilled wine.
“Now, that was just a waste of good wine,” Thor said amicably.
“Just a bit of fun. Right, my friend?”
If the attendant was displeased, he was wise enough not to show it. As Thor put on his winged helmet, the attendant went on about his work.
“Nice feathers,” Loki said, his words teasing.
“You don’t really want to start this again, do you cow?”
“I was being sincere!”
“You’re incapable of sincerity.”
“Am I?” Loki looked him in the eye. “I’ve looked forward to this day as long as you have. You’re my brother, and my friend. Sometimes I’m envious, but never doubt that I love you.”
The words rang true, even as they came from the mouth of a practiced liar. Thor searched his brother’s face and saw no trace of irony. He put his hand at the side of Loki’s neck. “Thank you.”
“Give us a kiss.”
“Stop.” Thor fiddled with his ceremonial armour, making some final adjustments. “How do I look?”
“Like a king.”
The blast of an ostentatious horn made Thor’s dread grow.
“It’s time,” Loki said solemnly.
“You go ahead.”
Loki casted him a wary glance.
“I’ll be along. Go on.”
Loki hesitated for a second before obeying. Watching his brother disappearing from sight, Thor drummed his fingers nervously on the hilt of Mjolnir.
“It’s all right to be nervous,” Frigga said, appearing from behind him.
Is it? “Why does everyone keep saying that? I’m not nervous!”
Underneath her pleasant demeanour, he caught a glimpse of concern. “You may be able to fool the rest of Asgard...”
“...but never you. I know.”
“Thor, just remember that you have something even the great Allfather never had.”
“And what is that?”
“Me, for a mother,” she said, smiling. “Now, don’t keep your Father waiting.”
In the space of a breath, just after she spoke, Thor saw her – laying on the ground, motionless, her eyes closed and blood dripping from her mouth, a gaping wound on her side.
“Darling, are you all right?”
He shook his head to clear it from that ghastly sight. “I’m well,” he said with as much confidence as he could muster.
Frigga cupped his face, and Thor tilted his head, allowing her to kiss his forehead. Her smile seemed almost sad. “Don’t be late.”
With these words, she turned on her heel, leaving him behind.
Thor took a deep breath. Whatever these visions were, he would deal with them later. Now was his time of triumph.
The moment he entered the Throne Chamber, a grin was etched on his face. He swung Mjolnir, tossing it into the air, and cheers erupted from the crowd. The thrill of the moment made him shudder, and his expression brightened, becoming one of genuine joy.
For an instant, the crowds disappeared, leaving the Throne Chamber bereft, in ruins. His smile fell. When he glanced at the throne, a strange black-haired woman, clad in green and black was smirking, her expression fearsome, one that would put even Loki’s wolfish grins to shame.
The blood drained from Thor’s face. Then, abruptly, the vision dissolved. What kind of foul magic is this? Am I losing my mind?
His friends appeared confused. Loki’s brow had furrowed slightly. Frigga’s poise was regal as ever, but the frown marring her features spoke of worry. Odin was impassive, as though he had noticed nothing odd at all. That sense of wrongness intensified, but now the only way out was through. Thor strode ‘til the end of the hall and kneeled, the reverie of the moment in which his dream would come true, stained by these baleful, disjoined images. Once this was over, he would have to ask Frigga. He dreaded the idea that this may be a warning from the Norns. Perish the thought. Or, a prank of Loki’s more likely. Once that idea occurred, he relaxed. When he got his hands on that snake he would –
Odin struck Gungnir upon the ground, and the crowd fell silent. He spoke –in that quiet way of his, the one he used even in the midst of a raging battle, controlled and authoritative– as he raised his spear.
“Gungnir. Its aim is true, its power strong. With it, I have defended Asgard, and the lives of the innocent across the Nine Realms since the time of the Great Beginning. And though the day has come for a new King to wield his own weapon, that duty remains the same. Thor Odinson, my heir, my firstborn. So long entrusted with this mighty hammer, Mjolnir. Forged in the heart of a dying star, from the sacred metal, Uru. Only one may lift it. Only one is worthy. Who wields this hammer commands the lighting and the storm. Its power has no equal –as a weapon to destroy, or as a tool to build. It is a fit companion for a King. Today, I entrust you with the greatest honour in the Nine Realms. The sacred throne of Asgard. I have sacrificed much to achieve peace. So, too, must a new generation sacrifice to maintain that peace. Responsibility, duty, honour. These are not merely virtues to which we must aspire. They are essential to every soldier, and to every King.”
Thor just managed not to shiver. When had the air become so cold? Father looked upon him with pride, and every concern about the dropping temperature was quickly forgotten. This was the realisation of all he ever dreamt. He ignored the part of him that felt strangely hollow.
“Thor Odinson, do you swear to guard the Nine Realms?”
“I swear.”
“Do you swear to preserve the peace?”
“I swear.”
“Do you swear to cast aside all selfish ambition, and pledge yourself only to the good of all the Realms?”
“I swear.”
“Then on this day, I, Odin Allfather, proclaim you–” Odin paused. “Frost Giants.”
The feeling was akin to being doused in frigid water. It was like remembering a word you had forgotten, after struggling for an hour, and wondering how you even managed to misremember the obvious. It was the pieces of a puzzle finally falling into place.
Thor remembered, as if he’d never forgotten in the first place, the obvious.
Year: 2023, Location: Remote Forest in Alfheim
The one truth about time that was plainly obvious to any creature in the cosmos, was that it moved only forward. Mercilessly and cruelly forward, as Thor had come to think –and resent– recently. That truth was inescapable; or so thought the majority of scholars in various places strewn across the universe. Thor had learnt otherwise.
The witch’s house was more of a hut. It was a circular structure, with nary a window in sight. The walls appeared to be made of mud, or at the very least, were covered in it, in such a way as to create that impression. The roof consisted of yellowed, rotten reeds. It was situated in an awful bog, where it was raining constantly. Oddly smelling fumes surfaced from the still, foaming waters, without any regularity in their rhythm. It was concealed by most creatures’ eyesight with skilful, precise placement of magic wards.
Seidr was a palpable presence near her house, so thick that Thor could almost see it in the air, feel it around him as he moved. With it, memories were brought to the surface. Odin’s gentle yet firm hand, guiding him as he trained with Mjolnir, helping him to control the raging storm. Frigga’s soft touch as she healed a scrubbed knee, after a day of adventure in her garden. Loki’s grin, after he bested one of their peers in the sparring grounds with his illusions.
They were all lost to him. Perhaps he even deserved to live with their loss, since he hadn’t been able save them. He shook his head, in a vain attempt to dispel such thoughts. Leaving behind his mortal companions, he ventured forth and walked to the door. It was an old, wooden thing, and it looked as though even a mild gust of wind would tear it apart. However, when he knocked, it felt surprisingly firm under his hand.
A cheery, grandmotherly voice invited him in. “It’s unlocked.”
The squeak from the rusty hitches announced his entrance.
The woman had the air and poise of the old nobility of Asgard. She was old; as old as Odin himself was before his death. Her nose was thin and short, her cheekbones high, and her white hair caught in a bun that rested on the back of her neck. She was clad in the simple robes of a scholar. The smile on her face fell when she saw Thor, replaced by a frown.
“No, that can’t be. Not so soon,” she muttered under her breath.
Thor was expected, it seemed. He cleared his throat. “I–”
“Yes, I’m Afi,” she cut him off, clearly irate. Thor stared at her, baffled.
“Among other things, I’m a seer. But you aren’t here for that, are you?”
Her observation was strangely astute. Or perhaps not, if one were to truly consider her capabilities. “Lady Afi, I’m in desperate need of your assistance. One needs not to possess your talent to know what has come to pass. The consequences of Thanos’ actions have reached every corner of the universe.” He paused shortly, before an unwilling sob was dragged from his throat. “We’ve lost everything. I’ve lost everything. We seek a second chance.” Baring his sorrow for her to see was unexpectedly easy.
Her expression, when Thor dared to glance, had softened somewhat. “The thing you seek; it comes with a terrible cost.”
“Take me back. I don’t care about the cost.”
“You understand that there’ll be no turning back. No third or forth chances. If you change the past, you’ll have to live with it, as it is.”
Thor knew not why that was the case, but the rules the Norns had set were beyond him. Deep down, he wondered whether he was even worthy of a second chance, when he had squandered the first one completely, by being a hot-headed, arrogant fool. Yet, desperation propelled him forward. He couldn’t continue to live like this. In a house full of garbage, with only his thoughts as company. It was unbearable, only alcohol softened the edge somewhat.
“I cannot, in good conscience, send you back, if you don’t tell me that you are certain.”
Thor did not think it through. He simply nodded. “Yes, please.”
“Well, then,” Afi said solemnly. She stretched out her arms, her palms facing upwards.
Unlike Frigga’s or Loki’s seidr, Thor didn’t see any visible effect. Suddenly his skin was alight with something like static, and the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood up. The sensation was bordering on painful.
Thor closed his eyes, bearing through the unpleasantness. Images passed through his mind’s eye. Odin’s hand on his back. Frigga’s soft smile. Loki whispering a protective spell in some ancient, nearly-forgotten tongue. The sensation ceased abruptly. Light filtered through his eyelids. When he opened his eyes, he was on the Realm Eternal.
Thor ought to have kept his calm, for the situation he landed in was far worse than he had expected.
Frigga’s face was one of naked concern. “–behaving oddly. The things he claimed–”
Odin’s face was inscrutable. “What did he say?”
Frigga hesitated. “It matters not. What worries me most is the whiff of magic I sensed surrounding him–”
Odin froze. He drew near, his hands going up to touch Thor’s temples. Thor tried to pull back, but found himself unable to shake the gentle hold.
“Mother,” Thor pleaded.
“Hush, child,” Frigga soothed.
A pressure building, then nothing. Odin’s hands fell heavily on Thor’s shoulders. Only then did Thor see the toll this spell had taken on his Father. He appeared haggard. “Afi,” Odin said, anger colouring his words.
Thor wished fervently that he could share the truth. But, even a throwaway comment about being unworthy of the throne, even just to his mother, in the privacy of her gardens, had wound up worse than he could have imagined.
“We should take him to Eir,” Frigga muttered.
Thor wanted to refuse, but if a trip to the healing rooms was what was needed to convince them he was well... then he would abide.
“Better not. Whatever Afi did, Eir cannot undo. We can only attempt to suppress it.”
Frigga’s eyes widened. “Are you certain?” she said, clearly alarmed.
“I am.” Odin’s voice was strained.
“Thor,” she said softly, cupping his face. “I need you to close your eyes for me.”
For the first time in a long while, Thor had something to lose. His Father’s hands did not leave his shoulders. Thor felt the blood draining from his face. “No,” he protested vehemently.
As much love as he bore for them, he was now more aware than ever of his parents’ flaws. In their desire to help, they could severely harm, and the universe would suffer for it. Both they and Loki would suffer for it. He prepared himself for what needed to be done; for an escape.
“Darling,” Frigga begun. “I know you don’t believe it right now, but you need to. It’s for your own good.”
An unnatural sort of calmness seeped in, sinking into his bones, making his thoughts sluggish, and his limbs heavy. Frigga’s seidr, he thought, followed by that can’t be good. The horror in it was abstract, something that he knew he ought to feel, but wasn’t quite there. His eyelids felt heavy. They slid shut without his permission.
No further words were said. Behind his eyelids he saw flashes of light. Then, there was only darkness. His last conscious thought was of Loki. He did not, no, could not fail his brother again.
Thor felt strangely numb as he entered the Vault, side by side with Loki. Loki, who seemed relaxed, if one were to ignore the stiff set of his shoulders. In a way, he must be as tense as Thor was, if for different reasons.
Odin was surveying the destruction. The artefacts rested undisturbed on their pedestals, with the only exception being the Casket of Ancient Winters, which lay discarded on the floor. The Destroyer had just been dismissed, returning into position, and disappearing behind the opaque shield. The bodies had not yet been gathered, though. Two Aesir, as well as the two Jotnar who attempted to take back the Casket, lay dead upon the ice that was slowly thawing on the floor. The guards’ death must have been painless; they barely had the time to understand what was going on before they were run through by icy blades. The Jotnar, however, bore the burn marks of the Destroyer. They were reckless, foolish even, to have acted the way they did. Did the Casket truly mean that much to them? Thor found himself wishing that no one had lost their life this day. Even so, his gaze lingered on them, almost curious. Was his brother’s true skin similar to theirs? Navy blue with white marks?
Thor swallowed nervously. He barely looked at Loki, for fear that his countenance would give away too much. Still, a part of him wanted to reveal the truth, wanted to beg Loki not to do anything reckless in his desperation. They would think him insane, or worse. Besides, this terrible knowledge was his burden to carry, alone.
Odin still had his back to them when he spoke. “The Jotnar did us a great injustice. What actions do you deem necessary to take in response, Thor?”
Thor had meant to keep silent, to avoid drawing attention to himself. He still felt confused, could not quite trust that everything around him was not a cruel illusion. It was strange, almost as if living amidst ghosts. Everything he had was fated to be stripped away from him. And, by a peculiar twist of the Norns’ plan, only he could save it. Save them.
“Father, they already lost their lives. That is punishment enough.”
Odin spun around to face them, his wise eye rested upon Thor’s face. “I had worry that mayhap you still carried the recklessness of your youth. I see that is not the case.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Thor caught Loki staring at him. In surprise, or envy?
Thor felt oddly numb in the face of his Father’s praise. If Odin knew what was to become of him in the future, would he still look at him with pride in his eye?
Odin spared a glance to his younger, before turning away once more. “You are dismissed.”
His father’s wisdom was renowned and yet in some ways he had erred greatly. Thor twisted to study his brother. He was looking straight ahead, jaw tight. Loki turned on his heel, and began walking away, making Thor hurry up after him.
“Loki,” Thor said, the word strange in his mouth after years of silence.
Loki’s hands, held loose behind his back, balled into fists. His face was now a pale, smooth mask. It was impossible to ascertain any emotion he may be experiencing. Thor thought once he knew him, better than anyone else. But now, even with the hindsight of the future weighing heavily on his mind, he could not decipher his brother’s thoughts.
“Neither Father, nor you realise the gravity of what’s been done,” Loki stated, his voice calm.
“It was the action of but a few, destined to fail,” Thor found himself echoing the words of their Father from what was now a different lifetime.
Loki glanced at him, seemingly taken aback by Thor’s declaration. Another turn of the familiar corridor, and Thor realised that they were heading to the currently empty banquet hall. He swallowed nervously.
“I don’t understand what madness has taken you, Thor,” Loki said once they had arrived in the hall, after the doors had safely shut behind them. “Those savages broke into our Realm. They harmed our people, and disrupted your coronation. And yet, you wish to let them go unpunished.”
Savages. That word did not sit well with Thor. “They are not savages, Loki. They’re a people, even if their ways are different than ours.”
Loki eyed him, caught somewhere between curiosity and indignation. “Why this sudden change of heart? Ever since we were children, you swore you would slay them all.”
Thor felt his cheeks heat. That was the unfortunate truth of what they had been brought up to believe their whole lives. He would never understand why their parents didn’t fight to dispel such notions from their heads, but instead watched their prejudices growing from afar, refusing to intervene. Before he collected himself enough to answer something, he heard the doors open. Startled, he turned to look.
Volstagg had entered the hall. Following in tow were Sif, Hogun and Fandral. Thor saw them for what was the first time in years. Norns, he had missed them. All of them.
“We heard voices,” commented Volstagg lightly. “Everything is in order, I hope.”
“Everything is not,” replied Loki. To someone who didn’t know his brother as Thor did, he would appear utterly controlled. However, his hands had not completely stilled since they entered the room. “Thor’s coronation was ruined. Even Heimdall is in the dark as to how those vile beasts managed to set foot on Asgard.”
Sif frowned. “Does that mean we’re open to further attacks?”
Loki casted a long glance at Thor. “Until we know how they found a way into Asgard, we are vulnerable. Every soul on the Realm Eternal is in danger,” he added, “as long as we shy away from taking the necessary actions.”
Thor just held in a long sigh. He’s laying unto it thickly. However, Sif’s expression darkened. He shouldn’t be surprised. Loki knew his audience, after all.
“We hardly know if they’re going to attack again. There’s no reason to assume the worst,” Thor said mildly, attempting to soften the others. He understood that Loki was set on this course, but Thor refused to make the same mistakes again.
“Thor,” Sif began, “perhaps Loki has a point.”
Thor stared at her, barely keeping himself from gaping. Had they truly been so reckless as that?
“We needn’t do anything drastic,” Hogun said. “We could merely investigate.”
“The King has forbidden Jotunheim to us,” Thor said, feeling the sudden urge to remind them.
“Jotunheim? Who said we’ll go there?” Fandral asked, a charming smile spreading on his face. “Besides, there are no blushing maidens awaiting for us in a land of monsters. Unlike Vanaheim, where women are delightfully–”
Hogun shot Fandral a glare, and that was enough to shut him up temporarily.
As pleased as Thor was about their lack of interest for Jotunheim, he was nearly as displeased at the disdain with which everyone in Asgard seemed to view that Realm.
The doors opened, an attendant rushing in. “Your Highness,” he said, bowing his head deferentially at Thor. “The Queen has summoned you to her chambers.”
“I– of course,” Thor replied, apprehension unwillingly colouring his words.
Loki glanced at him. His queries, usually carefully disguised, for once plainly written on his face. Why is Thor acting so unlike himself?
Thor had no choice but to obey. He turned to the others, and pondered briefly what would be the right thing to say. Perhaps something that his old self would, so that it would not raise any suspicions. On the other hand, he truly didn’t want to know what idiocy his former self would have proclaimed, as if it were the greatest wisdom. “I’ll return soon, friends,” he said, hoping he had managed to channel his once unshakable confidence once more.
Because, if they understood that something was off... the consequences could be devastating.
In his mother’s quarters, it seemed as though time had stood still. The familiarity was comforting and, even in as much a troubling time as this, persisted. The past –Asgard’s and his– may have been shrouded in lies, but Thor did not doubt that as complicit as Frigga was in these lies, she must have had the best intentions at heart.
He found his mother standing near the shelves that contained her personal book collection, studying the ancient tomes carefully. She turned her face towards him, a small smile brightening her visage. Thor had to quell his desire to tell her the truth, then and there. To beg forgiveness for all his faults, the ones that led them all to that dark future, the one in which he was hopelessly alone. To have her shower him with affection, promise him that everything will turn out alright. Alas, he could not. Could not do that to her, make his pain hers. He couldn’t take the forgiveness he did not deserve.
Thor had changed too much, and couldn’t go back. He steeled himself, readying to pretend. “Mother, you bid me to come. Is something the matter?”
“I merely wished to see how you fare. What happened must have been cause for great upset.”
It wasn’t untrue, but from what Thor could surmise, it wasn’t the entirety of the truth either. In the timeline from which he came, Frigga had not thought to intercede.
“I was,” he said, admitting his past self’s sin. “But then I realised that the only true loss of today were the lives that were lost.” Aesir and Jotnar alike. If the events leading to that remained the same, Loki, as well. Thor refused to allow that. “Everything else shall be mended.” It has to. “The coronation will be postponed, of course, but other than that...” He resolutely didn’t state his relief at the latter observation.
Frigga nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve grown so much,” she said, smiling. “Once, when you were barely above the height of my knee–”
“Mother!” Thor was almost surprised by the fact he still had the ability to feel mortified. Part of him wanted to listen to her fond reminiscence anyway.
A mischievous grin spread to her face, before falling into a frown as the doors opened. “What is the matter?” she asked, perfectly graceful as ever.
“Nothing urgent, your Majesty,” the guard said apologetically, “I was simply asked to accompany the Crown Prince to the King.”
Frigga clasped her hands in front of her, until her knuckles whitened. It was the only sign of trepidation, as she nodded her consent. “Most certainly,” she answered calmly.
Thor felt his stomach clench. Did Odin suspect something was amiss? He gave Mother a self-assured grin, and followed the guard outside the chambers.
The guard’s pace was unusually swift– the sign of a man dedicated in finishing his duty as quickly as possible. Not that Thor minded that; it was a trait he admired, most of the time. Now, however, he was tempted to drag his feet.
The corridor they trod down was completely deserted, when Thor caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. His heartbeat quickened. I shouldn’t have let my guard down. His hand reached for Mjolnir’s handle unthinkingly.
The guard’s form shimmered, before shifting into a familiar one.
“Brother,” Thor said, his voice a little too breathless to be a growl, shoving Loki if not hard, then at least ungently. The momentary panic, as well as the stress of the impending meeting, bled out of Thor, leaving him nearly giddy with relief. His brother was here, alive, and he could not feel anything but grateful.
Loki didn’t wear an expression of amused condescension, however, looking instead almost anxious. Thor’s stomach dropped, a thousand possibilities crossing his mind all at once, preparing for the worst. “What is the matter?” he murmured as gently as he could.
“What is the matter? Your oafish friends are the matter!” Loki muttered irritably.
Thor stared at him, stunned. “What did they do?”
“They went to speak to Heimdall and then I saw the Bifrost’s light.”
Thor’s eyes widened a hair. That is precisely what you sought to avoid. He barely realised that he had already begun walking, with one destination in mind. Beside him, Loki had already matched his pace.
“Find Father and inform him. Now!” Thor ordered without turning to look, willing his voice not to show his desperation. Loki deserved to learn his heritage, and Thor would make sure that in the future he did, in a calm and thoughtful manner, surrounded by their family to reassure him that he is loved. Thor will not allow history to repeat itself.
Unexpectedly, Loki’s hand clasped his shoulder. “A herald can do so easily. I am coming with you.”
“That’s not an option,” Thor barked, in truth more fearful than angry.
Loki seemed perplexed by Thor’s reaction. “Why not?” he sputtered.
“Because–” because I can’t lose you, not again “–it is expedient to do so,” he finished lamely.
“Whatever you may think of my tricks,” Loki spat, indignant, “you aren’t invincible. Even with that stupid, big hammer of yours, you cannot defeat the entirety of the Jotun army.”
Thor lurched to a halt and faced his brother, squeezing his shoulders with his hands, hoping to comfort. “I do not doubt you, brother.”
Loki raised his chin, defiant. “If not that, then why?”
Thor sighed. “I... I cannot say, not at the moment. You may have noticed that I have not been myself lately.” A hesitant nod. “You must stay here. I promise I will explain everything when I return.”
Green eyes stared at him curiously, splaying his soul open and searching for something. “Alright,” Loki acquiesced, “I won’t press you on this.”
Thor released a heavy breath. “Thank you,” he said, genuinely grateful.
Loki appeared uncomfortable in the face of his gratitude. “Don’t get used to it.”
Thor summoned a smile and let his arms fall, but not before squeezing one more time. “See you soon brother,” he said, half a wish and half a promise. He looked at Loki for one long moment, taking him in, before turning and striding away.
Even in the stillness, with no real wind to speak of, the air was dry and bitterly cold. Every breath hurt, making his nose burn. Thor could do nothing other than to press on. In the white plains of Jotunheim, distances were hard to accurately determine. He didn’t remember much of his one and only visit on the Realm of the Frost Giants, and he dearly regretted that.
It took a while before he could see the Ice Palace looming in the distance. As Thor approached, dread coiled in his stomach. There were so many potential ways things could go awry, he couldn’t even begin to think of all them, let alone find ways to avert the disaster. As if that was not enough, there was an ever present feeling of being followed. As many times as he glanced though, he couldn’t place any kind of threat. When his breath shortened in a way that had nothing to do with physical exertion, he reminded himself that at least Loki was safe for the time being.
Battle cries, and the sounds of the clash of steel against steel grew louder and louder with every step he took closer to the Palace. He was almost grateful for them, as they informed him of the situation, however grim it was. His pace quickened, his hand itched for Stormbreaker, lighting sparkling on his fingertips. Had he had more presence of mind, he would have been nearly impressed with himself for the level of control he had retained.
Fandral had said they would not... but this wasn’t the time for blame.
Distracted by the noise, and unaccustomed as Thor was to the area, he only noticed the hulking Jotun –unexpectedly silent for a being of such stature– stalking him way too late.
“Take me to King Laufey and no more blood shall be spilt in battle this day!” Thor bellowed to be heard above the ruckus.
The Frost Giant narrowed his eyes suspiciously, as if considering for a moment, his eyes focusing in the distance before his features hardened again. “Liar,” he uttered and his hands moved, ice snaking up his arms.
Thor ducked, avoiding the ice that was flanked in his direction. He rolled, and once he found his footing, threw Mjolnir at his foe, aiming to incapacitate, but not to kill. The hammer found the giant on the chest, and he flew backwards.
Thor reached out, and Mjolnir rushed through the air to meet his open palm. A wall of ice erupted from the ground, interrupting Mjolnir’s trajectory. It was too late for it to change course, and Thor threw his arms up, lowering his head to shield himself before the resounding crack of the collision. The ice wall held, surprisingly firm, and shrapnel of ice flew to every direction. He only felt the slightest of stings where the shrapnel met flesh.
The next thing he knew, a wave of frigid cold was behind him, that coalesced into a solid presence. Thor turned, only to find himself with a tip of an icy spear pointed at his throat. He stared at his executioner, feeling oddly calm in the face of death. A flash of green, and the Jotun collapsed as a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Loki stood behind the cadaver, his usually impeccable clothes stained with flakes of blood, dwarfed by the massive scale of the arched entrances to the Ice Palace. His lips were slightly curled, probably in disgust. He had always disliked getting dirty. “You are welcome,” he stated slyly, not even slightly ashamed of breaking his oath.
“I thought we had an understanding,” Thor sighed, too weary to be properly angry at his brother, for what was a rather small sin in the grand scheme of their fractured brotherhood.
“I never swore I would not come,” Loki said carefully, as though he was expecting a stronger reaction, “I simply said I wouldn’t pressure you into revealing whatever grand secret you keep.” The words were laced with a trace of irony.
Thor barely mustered a weak glare. I should have known. How many times had Loki evaded his duties, or a punishment, by simply phrasing his words cleverly?
“Were you hurt?” Loki asked, a note of concern tinging his voice.
Thor shook his head. “I’m fine.”
Loki stared at him intensely, as if attempting to find a lie in his words. Then, he tilted his head downwards, looking intently at their fallen enemy, a small frown etched on his face. “I think that one was a mage,” he stated dispassionately. “Or at least what passes as a mage in these lands.”
Thor swallowed. He didn’t like the quiet scorn in Loki’s voice. “How so?”
Loki shrugged. “He appeared more adept at handling the elements, compared to the rest of them.”
Thor wished there was more time to address this, though a –cowardly– part of him was almost glad there was not. That way, they could merely tease each other without any real animosity on Loki’s part. Once he learnt the truth... Thor almost wished he could avoid it. But, no. That was unfair to Loki. Once they returned home, he would make certain that Loki would have what he was owed.
Loki looked at him curiously at the lack of response. Perhaps Loki expected him to say something disparaging about the art of seidr, or deny that controlling the elements counted as such. It sounded like something the old Thor would do. The one who lost everything. Thor was different now, however. He offered a grim nod in return. “I don’t know. He seemed pretty capable to me.”
The curiosity intensified, before disappearing behind a blank mask. “We should get going,” Loki said, glancing around disdainfully as he rubbed his hands together as though to warm them. “I dislike this place, and we have yet to find them.”
Thor agreed. “Indeed.”
They moved to where the battle was still raging, Thor falling in step with Loki, side by side, as they should always be.
The battle wound up being more gruelling than what Thor had imagined. They escaped with their lives, but only barely. The colourful light of the Rainbow Bridge heralded their salvation. For all of Heimdall’s posturing, the Allfather could not leave his sons –and the children of nobles– die in the courtyard of the Ice Palace. Even if a death such as this was something to aspire to. Or at least, so they had been taught. Thor didn’t know what to believe anymore.
Once their feet touched solid ground, Odin dismissed the Warriors Four, ordering them to the healing chambers. Their punishment would be the product of careful deliberation, of the Allfather weighing the magnitude of their crime against the political gains –or rather drawbacks– of their sentencing. Detainment was unnecessary; after all, the visit to the healing wing was not a mere precaution. Volstagg had been frostbitten, and Hogun’s shoulder had been run through, before Loki and Thor even arrived on the battlefield.
Thor had attempted to keep Loki within his eyesight at all times, but of course, in the rage of battle, such a thing was nigh impossible. He hadn’t seen anything suspect, but then again, he couldn’t be sure. He cast an uncertain glance at his brother; Loki’s face was smooth, revealing nothing, but his right hand balled and unclenched rhythmically by his side. Was it merely nerves, or the beginning of a situation spiralling out of control?
“Do you realise what you’ve done?”
Odin’s words brought him back to the present. “I do. This is not the way I’d have it go. But there was no choice–”
“No choice? You should have come to me! A truce that lasted a thousand years has been broken. Millions of people will be exposed to the devastation of war.”
Thor couldn’t help but think of Hela, of who Odin had once been, a conqueror instead of a peacemaker. How much had he truly changed from then? “I know,” he said, voice strong, all fear fleeing from his heart, “of the secrets you keep. The ones that will be the ruin of us all.”
Odin’s lone eye widened a hair. Surprise, rage, hurt? “You don’t,” he stated, but it was frail, without certainty.
In losing his father, Thor had forgiven his past mistakes. Now that Odin was back from the dead, however, those mistakes needed to be rectified. Or else all would suffer. “Don’t I?” he asked, his words harsher than he expected them to be. “I know of Hela.”
Odin visibly paled. Thor couldn’t remember ever evoking such a reaction from him. Still, Thor went on, the memories of Asgard’s destruction propelling him forward. “She’ll come, bringing destruction in her wake.”
“I won’t allow–”
“You won’t be there!” Thor bellowed.
“Father!” Loki cried out, and Thor suddenly was hit with the realisation that this conversation must be very distressing and confusing to him.
Thor then became aware of Odin’s laboured breathing. He blinked, chasing away the rage. Now that his vision was no longer red, he could see the sweat beading on Odin’s forehead, the way his hands shook with strain. Thor took a hesitant step forward while Loki rushed past him, reaching out to their father, but stopping just shy of touching him, even as Odin grabbed him. He clung to Loki, like a man drowning, as he slowly sank to the floor.
Loki stared up at Thor. His expression was one of abject panic– brow furrowed in worry, eyes wide with fear. As though this was a nightmare, one that Thor would know how to navigate. Unfortunately, that wasn’t quite the case.
Thor squeezed Loki’s shoulder. “I’ll get Mother,” he said calmly. “Watch over him, we’ll be here soon.”
Only later did Thor realise that this was not his brightest idea.
Thor, Frigga, and an assembly of guards and healers strode quickly into the golden dome of the Bifrost. Heimdall, who had abandoned his usual place surveying the Nine Realms in favour of crouching above the Allfather, spoke without turning.
“Quickly. He yet lives.” Beside Thor, Frigga let out a sigh of relief.
The Einherjar stayed outside, guarding the entrance. The healers kneeled beside Odin, hands hovering above him as they wove their magic. Frigga, however, didn’t kneel at Odin’s side, choosing instead to allow the healers the space they needed to do their work.
Thor forced himself to relax; they had gotten here on time. Of course, that was not the end of his troubles. He glanced around, scanning the chamber, but there was no sign of Loki. “Where is my brother?”
Heimdall gestured at Thor to follow him outside, and Thor did as was bid. The night was starry, and the air was fresh. For a moment, Thor took in Asgard in all its glory. It was breath-taking, considering he had once thought it lost for good. Then he remembered that all was not well.
“You should have a word with Loki. When he left he seemed... rather distraught. The Allmother would be best suited for this, but unfortunately, she is otherwise occupied,” Heimdall said.
“Where is he?”
“In the palace.” Heimdall frowned in consternation. “Peculiar. He’s heading to the Vault.”
It took a moment for all to click in his head. After all, when –after Loki’s fall– Odin and Frigga summoned him for the discussion of Loki’s heritage, the details had been sparse. The matter was too painful to dwell on, and what was done was done. The past was beyond their control. Thor only knew that for whatever reason, the confrontation with Odin had taken place in the Vault. He hefted Mjolnir, a familiar weight on his hand, and took off the ground.
The Casket of Ancient Winters took residence on the farthest pedestal from the entrance, right in front of the opaque wall that concealed the Destroyer. When Loki had first laid eyes on the Casket as an ignorant child, he had found its swirling blue core mesmerising. The pride he had felt upon realising that only he –and not his golden brother– could hear it sing. Frigga had said that was because of his natural sensitivity to seidr; she had taken to teaching him soon after. Later, as an adult whose understanding of the situation had improved, he had come to see it as a crude, yet efficient weapon that should be kept out of the hands of the beastly Jotnar at all costs.
Now he recognised its all-consuming, discordant melody as what it truly was; not a siren call, but a homecoming. Loki’s stomach churned at the thought.
There was only one way to confirm what deep down, he already had suspected to be the truth for a long time. He was different. No, that wasn’t quite the right way to put it. There was something wrong with him, in him. His hands moved without his command, long, trembling fingers wrapping tightly around the Casket’s handles.
A feeling like electricity coursed through him, leaving him jittery and numb. Then blue began spreading, starting from his fingertips and moving up to his elbows. A part of him wished fervently for this metamorphosis to cease, even as he watched –with rapt fascination– at the sickening blue, the ugly ridges that were raised, the barbarous lines carved on this new, yet old skin. This is what I always was, underneath the pretence. Bile rose at his throat, and weakness took hold of him, the world spinning sluggishly on its axis.
“Loki!” Thor’s familiar voice cut through the haze of despair.
Loki relinquished his grip on the Casket and spun around wildly, barely in control of himself. “You knew!” he accused, all rational thought fleeing his mind, leaving him bereft of anything but rage. All this talk of secrets, Thor had clearly known. He had always known, all his affection and fondness was naught but a rouse, a lie for which Loki had fallen. Even his oaf of a not-brother, the one that was near-sighted to a fault, knew before him a truth more horrid than Loki had ever dreamt of uncovering.
“It doesn’t matter,” Thor proclaimed from where he stood upon the stairs, unflinching in the face of the monster. Calm, and regal, and strong– all that Loki could never hope to be.
The false skin that Loki had once thought his own covered the taint as Thor continued speaking, but Loki couldn’t hear him above the rush of his blood.
“You lied! You all lied!” he repeated, trying and failing to wrap his head around that truth. His shaking hands clenched into fists as he climbed up the first steps, not knowing what he intended to do.
Thor’s perfect face softened with pity. “Brother–”
Don’t call me that. Loki screamed inarticulately, feral with emotions he could barely understand –much less put to words– and threw himself bodily at Thor. In a clinical and detached way, he recognised this move as idiotic to the highest degree. Even a fool would know that this was a lost battle. What else would one expect from a simple beast?
Thor seemed genuinely taken aback for a second, and Loki did not pull back his punches. He struck with as much strength as he could muster, not caring for where the blows would land. On unprotected flesh or on plate armour alike.
His knuckles split, and with every blow pain bloomed from his fists up to his arms, but that wasn’t reason enough to stop. It was a lie. All his life was a lie. The entirety of his existence was steeped in untruths, so much so that even his skin was an illusion. Was there anything that was true? Was every smile, every kind word false?
Thor regained his bearings, avoiding the next kick, and blocking the punch after that. “Loki, I love you. You are my brother no matter what form you take. No matter the colour of your skin. Brother, please stop.”
Loki very nearly did. Thor took advantage of his hesitation, catching first his right arm and then the left mid-air. Loki allowed Thor to restrain him, slumping against his chest, all the fight draining out of him in an instant.
“I was rather young at the time, so I don’t remember much; but I do remember the night I learnt that I was to have a brother. I wasn’t very excited at first. You seemed to soak up all of Mother’s time and attention and I was... well, I was rather jealous. Until I got to hold you. Father impressed on me that I should be very careful. It was my duty, he said, to ensure your safety. I understood why only after I held you. You were so tiny and fragile. But still, you regarded me with a most curious expression, and then you smiled. Just before pulling at my hair, too.” Thor’s grip had gradually eased. Loki raised his head slightly, and caught the soft grin that painted Thor’s lips as he talked of the past. “You see brother, you were always wanted. Whether you realise that at the moment or not.”
Forgive me if I doubt that. “You seek to placate me with pleasantries of the distant past. Why bother? Why did you ever bother if you knew that I’m the monster–” Loki choked off. The monster parents tell their children about at night.
Thor appeared to hesitate for a moment. “At that time I wasn’t aware. I– I only ever learnt after you.”
Loki stole a glance at Thor. His expression was almost unreadable, but a glimmer of uncertainty still shone through. “What do you mean by that?”
“I–” Thor’s voice wobbled then steadied, “I know what the future holds. I’ve lived through it.”
Loki’s eyes widened. He pulled away, without shaking Thor’s hands from where they had come to rest on his shoulders, to stare at Thor, dread pooling in his stomach. He held Thor’s gaze, and found it indeed too painful to behold. “What happened, what was horrible enough for you to traverse time?” he asked softly.
Thor demeanour changed, eyes shining with what could be tears. “I’ve lost everything,” he said simply.
Loki swallowed. “I think you’ll need to elaborate on that.”
Thor shook his head. “At a later time. For now, I need to make sure that you’ll be well.”
“Why? What did I do the first time?” Loki asked breathlessly, a fake note of brightness at his tone.
Thor winced, but didn’t speak. His hands squeezed at Loki’s shoulders.
“I don’t suppose you’ll divulge that information easily?”
“I won’t,” Thor agreed, “because it doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”
“Of course.” A hint of bitterness clung to his words. “The truth is hidden yet again.”
“I’ll tell you in time,” Thor promised.
“I’ll hold you on that.”
Thor’s lips twitched. “I’m sure you will.”