Work Text:
It's warm in Thor's chambers. The single torch provides illumination – it fills the place with shadows and dark corners, but it's not frightening. Next to him lies Thor, naked and hair wild, and cuts an apple in half.
Magnus feels at ease here, in this moment, with Thor and Thor alone. They eat the golden apple and Thor whispers stories of his childhood, of his friends and of his mischevious little brother. He tries to make Magnus understand that his brother wasn't always the murdering maniac, tries to list the things that might have made Loki the way he is now.
Magnus is not in the mood to be sympathetic to a man who is the reason he is stuck here forever, and he doesn't like the way guilt is eating Thor, so he whispers back "It wasn't your fault", even if secretly he could see how the younger brother might have burned with jealousy and envy and need to prove himself.
When his words would fall on deaf ears, he would reach out – slide his fingers over Thor's skin, bury them in soft locks – bring their faces together.
Thor needs a distraction, and he needs an anchor – the beard scratches him wherever Thor leaves a kiss, but his hands are gentle. Magnus is less merciful – he puts as much force in everything as he can – bites and scratches and is desperate in his need. Thor understands. Magnus calls out.
-
"They are still looking for you", Heimdall informs him one clear morning when Magnus can once again be found at the broken edge of Bifrost. It gladens Magnus to hear it, though their search is futile one.
"Is there no way to contact them? To at least send a message that I am alive?"
Heimdall's silence is answer enough.
-
"Do I really resemble him that much?" Magnus inquires after few passers by shot him suspicious, hostile looks.
Thor's friends share looks among themselves, and Fandral reaches out to smooth Magnus' hair.
"Hm…the color is wrong and yours is curly, but if you fixed that…yes, I dare say you could pass as him."
"But you are less scrawny", Sif adds.
"Not as pale."
"You slouch."
Magnus laughs a little.
Later he asks Thor one questions that's been bothering him for a while.
"Am I some kind of replacement for him, to you?"
Thor splutters and laughs it off, and then seems to get lost in thought.
"I wonder", he says at last, "had he your coloring, would he be more at ease, would he stick out less."
"Well, if he was a blonde in the family of blondes…"
"He was my brother", Thor sadly concludes, "and I loved him as such."
Magnus has nothing to say to that, but he will realise he didn't really get his answer.
*
A shadow stalks through the night; cats hiss in its wake. It carries on determined, but unhurried – it knows where the prey is, and the prey is unsuspecting.
It has the build of a man – tall and lean – if anyone could see, an impassive face. Cats know better. It smells like danger, like bloodshed ahead, like cruelty.
"We are legion", it says, a voice of one and sound of thousand. "And we are marching."
*
He had been right about the pain. The thieving son of a bitch had been right, and what little of Magnus remained was divided between hating Loki and desperately wishing for the familiarity of pain.
He was no stranger to it – and past few years had not been scarce with it. He would welcome every crack the broken bones would make, wear his insides out and stomp on them himself – set himself on fire til there was nothing but ashes left to scatter in the wind, and laugh the whole time, relieved.
There were no winds here, and no kind of relief.
And when they stopped – the feeling of numerous hands retreating from the very core of his being - he barely had it in him to care. He had nowhere to hide, and nothing to hide anymore – every secret, every thought was pulled out and hanged for all the worlds to see. Magnus sees strings of pictures, moments frozen and broken – trampled and crumbling under the weight and tender mercies of this cold place and even colder hands.
When the hands return, they speak of fury, of betrayal – silent whispers of revenge, and oh, it's glorious.
*
It looks like a meteor shower, except it's spread worldwide. And it lands on Earth.
It doesn't leave looks of awe in its wake. No, the fallen pieces bring forth the blue glow in the eyes of men.
The carnage starts small – fist fights and sticks, but it spreads and grows like wildfire - winds carry off screams and shouts.
The legion watches, a steady beat of kill kill kill coursing through its veins, but the legion has a mission, still.
The legion smiles – a thousand deranged, bloodthirsty smiles on one mouth.
*
The imposter is actually doing Magnus' work. He actually is standing there, among his team and few others who have not seen the rain – giving his input on the situation and how to deal with it.
The legion walks in confidently, and there is more than one alarmed shout, more than one alarmed question on what the hell is this.
The legion ignores them for now – it has eyes only for the imposter, who has the most dumbstruck expression on his face.
"Hello again", says the legion through Magnus' mouth.
*
Loki's surprise doesn't stop him from acting quick – while the rest are still glancing back and forth between two Magnuses, he says a word, and spell weaves through the air between them, but legion casually brushes it aside.
Somebody fires a gun at it.
Through Magnus' eyes, legion has eyes for Loki only.
"I've got a gift for you."
*
The little god does not go down easily. When legion gave in to the urge to kill, he used humans around as a shield – a flimsy shield, one that legion rips apart easily, each and every one of them, but it gives Loki time enough to escape.
It matters not – the legion knows his smell. The body of Magnus Martinsson moves gracefully among the corpses – corpses of his coworkers, teammates, people he respected – all of them dead at his hands. In the body of Magnus Martinsson there is not enough of Magnus left to mourn them, to be horrified by his own actions – there is just song legion sings with Magnus' voice: 'Kill kill kill kill kill kill…'
*
"I've got a gift for you", legion repeats when it catches up. Loki still wears Magnus' face. Perhaps in hopes of deluding Thor into believeing Magnus is in danger – in hopes of Thor arriving to the rescue. He has the look of cornered animal.
Loki lashes out with his magic, with his lethal knives. The body of a man is weak, but this body is one of the legion. This body doesn't care if it bleeds and dies; whether it faces a child or giant, god or animal.
"I've got a gift for you", and there is new thread to it – a hatred fresh and burning, the only part of Magnus kept alive, "almost as nice as the one you gave to me."
Legion can smell fear, Magnus can see desperation in Loki's eyes. Magnus, legion, magnuslegion – laughs.
*
They are still dancing while the world burns around them. Loki evades legion's attacks, enough that it gives him boldness to say "Do you only make empty threats? You speak of gift to me, yet here I still stand, unharmed."
"You have betrayed us", legion informs him, indifferent now. "You dared try deceive us with another body fashioned to your image."
"Now, you could've hardly expected me to merrily skip into your arms"
A voice speaks in the legion's mind, louder than the killing song – 'Bring him to me' - and magnuslegion knows time for games is over.
Loki has no time to see the attack coming.
*
When Loki regains consciousness, the first thing he sees is the smiling face of Magnus Martinsson – the man he condemned to die in his stead, to suffer for his failures – the man who is no more. Behind bright blue eyes (once so green) there is only legion – a numerous mass of individuals whose individuality had been thorn out and destroyed; an entity that answers to one being only.
"Rise, Asgardian", voice that was once Magnus' says. "He is waiting." His bright smile freezes blood in Loki's veins.