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Thor’s grip on Stormbreaker was riddled with tension, fingers twitching against the surge of lightning beneath his skin. He had a dangerous, horrifying urge to burn the Compound to the ground with him and his friends in it. He’d surely survive at the epicenter of such a surplus of overwrought power, and he’d again be crippled by vicious loss.
Thor had more control on his abilities than that however. The shocking sensation of thunder in his nerves was something he was still getting used to. Being Allfather meant mastery but mastery meant more to learn. Thor may be at a peak of power but growth in such was exponential, and he wondered if his fellow Avengers could feel the writhing possibility of destruction emanating from him.
Their blatant uneasiness of the stinging ozone scent pouring off him was telling, as was their uncertainty of approaching too close. None had ever been cautious to be near Thor once upon a time, his genial nature too soothing to be avoided purposefully. A numbing reminder of what he used to be stood before him as well, unblemished by defeat and loneliness.
Thor found himself reminiscing on what he will never be again. To lose unheeded innocence is to grow older, yet Thor does not think anyone would ever forget how blissful life had been before that loss.
The stiff silence was suffocating. Thor did not find it in him to vanish the thick sullenness.
They eyed him like a ticking bomb.
“So… do we not get to hear about this Ragnarok thing?” Tony blurts unrepentantly, standing with his arms crossed behind a perfectly working rolling chair. Thor could tell he didn’t really want an answer but his inherent and irrepressible curiosity forced the question out. Thor’s gotten much better at predictability and probability.
“No, I don’t think so, Stark,” Thor sighed and loosened his tight hold on Stormbreaker. “Now that Thanos is dead, that future will never come to fruition. Well, Ragnarok may, but not everything else.”
Tony did not ask what everything else meant, confirming Thor’s inner thoughts about his lack of actual wont to know. Tony knew vaguely that Ragnarok in classic Earthen Norse mythology was a decimation of the world as they know it but he didn’t really want to question the man who quite loudly stated himself to be the cause of said cataclysmic event.
“I have much left to do,” Thor stands. Everyone stiffens. “I shall go to Asgard with my brother and other. Farewell, my friends.”
“Wait, wait— and he’s gone,” Tony throws his arms up. He ignores the present Thor walking up to Loki and grasping his bicep, Mjölnir raising to call upon Heimdall. “Who wants to bet we’ll ever even see those guys again?”
The short lasting roar of the Bifrost adds plenty emphasis to Tony’s unanswered query.
…
“You are not the Thor I know.” Heimdall nearly looked impressed. “I saw you coming but I did not believe until I see now with my own eyes.”
“It is good to see you, old friend,” Thor responds solemnly, watching with a sickening sense of regret as Heimdall opens the Bifrost for his other and Loki. “I would enjoy catching up but my father and I have a lot to discuss.”
“Of course, your majesty. I won’t keep you waiting.” Heimdall gestures widely to the rainbow bridge of entry and Thor gives him a nod, not blinking at the term of royalty. It was true after all, he had been king, if only for a short period.
The other Thor catches Heimdall’s eyes with an uneasy glance but the seer only shakes his head minutely in a poor attempt at seemingly lessening whatever turmoil or anxiety is filling the prince. Loki’s amazed eyes had not left Thor since Stormbreaker had slain Thanos with terrifying simplicity, orbs crystalline in their bemused awe.
Their walk is quiet over the bridge, none of them having thought of anything to say. The clicking of the Thors boots was eerily simultaneous despite the (minimally, at least) thirty or so years difference. Loki’s steps were much lighter toned to their heavyset cadence, weight and purpose in their strides mirrored. For the first time does Loki really grasp that these are both his brother, one in the same, and it is difficult for Loki to admit even to himself that he is glad his Thor was not nearly so reticent or regal as his other.
When the people of Asgard notice their approach, many whispers arise each furthering step they take. It’s odd for Loki to feel so small, sandwiched between two Thors (one of them victim to Loki’s betrayal through attempted planet invasion and the other suffering from severe loss and displacement of time) and among their people, who wholly worship the throne. Yet here they watch, wary and uncertain in the face of such a familiarly unfamiliar doppelgänger, voices a hush between one inquiry to the next. It is strangely quiet for Asgard, the Aesir bustle similarly to humans but it seems they also gossip the same too. Perhaps that is where such bastardized folklore appears from.
Loki finds himself dreading whatever awaits them in the palace. No doubt has the Allfather already felt the great shift upon Yggdrasil.
…
The guards of the palace make no move to block them. However, their admiration and confusion is overwhelming. They are trained elites yet their eyes follow Stormbreaker Thor like a band of fanatics, adhered to the bulky man‘s every move.
He looks nothing like the Thor on Loki’s right. He looks too much like the Thor on Loki’s right.
Even in his peripheral vision, Loki can see the way Stormbreaker Thor gazes around the palace halls with bitterness. There’s underlying nostalgia beneath the thick layer of whatever had once gone on in that faux future for Thor to be the starter of the prophesied death of Asgard. Tension clogs the air the nearer they approach the throne room, Loki only hopes Mother is nowhere close to Father as it seems this Thor does not have such high regard for Odin as his Thor does.
The grand hall leading to the throne his father sits on is startlingly empty. The guards typically right inside the door threshold are absent and the pair outside the threshold close the looming doors behind them sharply. Loki winces lightly at the heaving sound of their weight but neither Thors so much as blink, one focused on the ways to go and the other’s sight latched onto himself in different form. Loki wonders what his brother sees when looking upon this man who is so unafraid, so confident and righteous. So kingly .
To Loki’s disappointment, his mother stands with her hands clasped together at the bottom of the stairs leading to the throne. Her solemn silence speaks volumes, as does the lingering sadness stoked in her eyes locked onto what her firstborn could become. The approach to the stairs feels like millennia.
Loki’s pace is brisk compared to Stormbreaker’s own leisure. He feels robotic when coming to stand by Mother with no thought, finding comfort in her steady presence. Thor moves with Loki, though he’s more sure his brother just does not want to face Odin the same as himself does.
“You have severely imbalanced Yggdrasil by breaking off such a large branch, Thor.” Odin lacks his staff, hands clasped on the arms of the throne. Loki has never been able to read his father before and he definitely can’t now.
“I do not care. You already knew I’d be back here, Odin. You’ve always known.” Loki has no idea what that means, and, frighteningly, his mother doesn’t seem to like where this is going, seeing as she clasps at Loki’s bicep as if he’s guiding her.
Thor’s foreign eye is not nearly as fierce as his real eye in its unwavering glare cast upon Odin. Lightning dances on Thor’s hands and his weapon, telling of his utter capability. Loki almost feels worried for his father.
“You taught me lesson after lesson without ever telling me what I was supposed to be learning,” Thor sneers, nose scrunching in a show of disgust and pointed anger. “You die and tell me to fulfill Ragnarok, but then I lose everything anyway! You knew, Father! You knew!”
Odin’s eye flashes and uncertainty misbalances him. Loki doesn’t know whether to feel horrified or impressed by the effect this Thor has on the most powerful man Loki’s ever met.
Thor only gains more conviction, “You could have defeated Thanos with a snap of your fingers! But you did nothing!”
Spit flying, Thor reared up and began climbing the stairs. Frigga’s hand on Loki tightens and she reaches out to stop his real brother from stepping forward. Stormbreaker continues his advance. Odin stands from the throne to meet him as he stops two steps from his father.
The area surrounding the throne has lit up in a facsimile of the Northern Lights upon Midgard, the sparking lightning flashing over Thor is rapid and unsettling. Thunder roils in the distance, loud and furious.
“You ignored your own son’s torture all while caging your firstborn in Niflheim. You find no sympathy when your youngest dies over and over. You find no empathy even when your wife dies at the hands of Dark Elves. You care not for your family but for the throne.” Loki’s stomach drops out, Thor was in Niflheim? But why would he say firstborn as if that weren’t himself? And what does he mean Dark Elves? Frigga’s nails are digging into his skin like knives.
His Thor is stiff, eyes shocked wide, and Mjölnir drops to the ground. The shuddering of her weight slamming down does not gain any attention despite its raucous plummet.
“I care for Asgard.” Odin, of course, does not falter in such blasphemous accusations. He does not deny them either. “Asgard is the people—“
“I know!” Thor shouts, wind howling in the empty grand hall like a pack of wolves to the full moon. It nearly bowls Loki over were it not for Mother’s fastidious grip on him. Thor’s hair and beard is whipping in its strength, stiffening with the electricity drenching him. It stinks of burning hair. “I destroyed it all for Asgard! I still lost!”
There’s severe meaning behind his words, sanctity in his booming bellow. Loki had always looked upon his older brother as a billowing oaf, to see him like this is mortifyingly eye-opening. Despite Stormbreaker’s unfortunate stature and unsettling quiet thoughtfulness, Loki finds the man magnificent. Never once had he thought he’d find himself afraid of Thor.
“Gain is not without sacrifice.” Odin is not as moved as Loki.
Loki flinches hard when lightning strikes, fiery plasma beaming down onto the golden floor at the bottom of the stairs to the painted ceiling of Odin’s successes. The painting fractures like a broken mirror, shattered and burning detritus falling noisily to the ground, stirring debris scattering wildly. Thunder booms outside and Loki wonders what such monstrous storm must look like to the Aesir.
When Loki looks back up at where the story of Asgard had once been, instead of gold plastered beneath it there is a new story. The real story, Loki understands then.
The woman next to Odin above has Mjölnir aloft, upon the wolf of Helheim Loki had always thought were myth. Her green and black attire is frighteningly similar to his own and Loki suddenly wonders if he’d been so resented only because he looked like this unknown woman.
Loki’s arm is going to bruise from his mother’s tight grip. Thor doesn’t dare to blink, eyes gazing on the dreadful sight of Odin’s past conquering. The portrayal of death is starkly beautiful by whoever the painter had been, as if it had been a celebration rather than genocide.
“Is that what you told yourself when you locked Hela away when Mother fell pregnant with me? Gain is not without sacrifice?!”
Loki’s throat squeezes and his brother gasps. Hela. The ruler of Helheim. Loki feels cold.
“That I was your gain for sacrificing her? And when you perish and she’s set free from her bonds, your second born will be the one responsible for killing her!?” Thor roars, lone eye flashing with unleashed power. Lightning strikes again, this time connecting with the rows of columns in the hall and twittering down to the doors in flashing sparks. The rain pelting the palace is echoing and almost too loud for Loki to hear the clashing confrontation of his adoptive father and a man his brother could become. “She took my eye, she slaughtered your army, she nearly wiped the Aesir off the face of the Nine Realms. Yet she was right about one thing, you always did cover up your mistakes.”
The storm raging reverberated like the drums of war, even as the lightning flittering on Thor lessens in its starkness. He laughs a little, a sound so empty Loki hardly recognizes it in its chilling rumble.
“I suppose my sister was right about one other thing too. I am just like you, Father. Covering up my mistakes.”
“Hela did not want peace,” Odin admits finally after moments of stillness. A barely-there lament cast over his words, words that feel dull and dreary in the reveal of such tragic discoveries. “Your sister would not have stopped at the Nine Realms. I created an era of peace for my people to have you, Thor. She would have killed you.”
“Maybe then I wouldn’t have suffered so, Father,” Thor hissed the word like an insult. Horrendous sorrow soaked his words in veritable pain. Thor had spoken of being one of thirty-two surviving Asgardians but it is hard to quantify such abysmal loss when Loki is currently surrounded by Asgard itself. “Ragnarok would have never taken place, Loki would be king of the Jotnar, and Hela would not be trapped for eternity.”
“She is the goddess of death!” Odin’s temper flares here, shockingly minuscule faced with Stormbreaker. “She belongs in Helheim.”
“I knew of your cruelty when you cast me out of Asgard with nothing, when you cursed Loki and told him his legacy was to die. To know you’ve been the cause of all your children’s pain must not concern the almighty Allfather.”
“It was your fate, Thor.”
The depredating storm mounted outside the palace, walls trembling against the torrent of wind and rain. Thunder clashed devastatingly, lightning striking in such large streaks that Loki was nervous of the integrity of the palace. He’s never seen such raw power shake the very foundations of Asgard before.
Despite it all, Loki finds the ruin upon Thor’s expression the most frightening of all. The dropping of his sacred weapon, allowing it to clatter down the stairs, his hands swiftly grasping onto Odin’s breastplate, white knuckling and dragging him face to face. The pulsing, exposed pain in his eye and trembling muscles seemed all-consuming of Thor. Loki does not ever want his brother to look like that, to feel like that.
“My fate was to lose everything?” Thor whispers desperately in Odin’s face, eye shimmering with unshed tears. His features are shaking, the pedestal and purpose crumbling. “My fate was to lose Mother and you, Father? To lose my friends, and my home, and my people? To lose Loki?“
Thor’s shuddering breath breaks the film keeping his tears at bay and a lone trail tears its way down his cheek and to the polished, golden floor. He jostles Odin in his grasp, forcing the Allfather to grasp his wrists to prevent whatever may come next.
Loki’s lost all feeling in the arm his mother grips, mind numb to the sensation as his attention is latched onto the scene before him. Stormbreaker is rattling in the debris it had fallen into, quaking with its master’s own tremulous hold on his pain.
“I lost everything,” His voice is still a hush, searching Odin’s eyes. Loki wonders what he’s looking for. His next words are broken, wet and cracking: “I lost even myself.”
The strength Loki had been in awe of has vanished. Left behind is a shattered god, mutilated by catastrophic loss. Loki’s own pain feels obsolete in his presence.
He’s always seen Thor as strong with an unbreakable spirit. To be littered in holes and proven there’s a worse breaking point is scarier than anything Thanos had done.
To be proven his brother can be lain at his feet in pieces is worse than any nightmare, any punishment, any death. The admiration is gone, replaced with despondency. The king before him is not his brother.
“It was only yesterday that I was drinking myself into oblivion, Father. Five years after Thanos killed half of life on Midgard. Murdered half of the surviving Asgardians that made it past Hela. Murdered my little brother,” Thor’s voice is dismal, breaking in the last sentence. Mourning, distant stare swathed in wretched acceptance. “I lost it all, Father. And you could have stopped it.”
“But then you would not be here before me, Thor, a king.” The sentiment is meaningless to Thor. Obvious by way of the ozone layering the air and crackling of electricity. Stormbreaker begins to lift off the ground, lightning striking the weapon and through the room. Loki is blinded shortly by the brilliant flashing.
“A king who rules nothing and no one.” Finality in his tone, the lightning strikes are getting bigger and more unmanageable. Loki’s skin is beginning to burn by the gaining proximity of the blasts; his real brother overwhelmed, staring helplessly up at himself and Odin. “I gave that title to the last of the Valkyries. The same ones you sent to slaughter.”
Odin’s mild shock at the words is less pertinent than knowing Thor willingly gave up his kingship. Loki’s heart is pounding in his chest, stomach dropped out from under him. He feels as if he’s lost in space again, floating and floating and floating. How does this Thor feel living it?
“It was a mistake to come here,” Thor sneers then. His weapon answers his call to his palm as he steps back from Odin, pushing him away despite the Allfather’s lack of faltering. “I have put the Aesir in danger.”
Thor seems to now notice the raging storm he’s created, the shaking walls of the palace and all the lightning cascading over the golden ceilings, columns, and floors. His hand clenches on Stormbreaker.
“You should get rid of the army beneath your palace, Odin. They shall not stay dead for much longer. I doubt you want your second born facing Hela with Fenris at her side.”
Loki swallows his tongue. The mythical Fenris is here? Beneath the palace? Nothing feels real anymore.
Thor lifts Stormbreaker in the air and the Bifrost answers his call. The mark of it in the golden stairs, the detritus of a fake painting, and the burning scent of singed hair the only marks of Thor.
The silence is stiff and melancholic. Loki has no idea what say in such a situation. Secret upon secret dredged up with carelessness drowned the royal family, and perhaps it had always been like that.
Loki is choked with foreign and familiar emotion for his brother. Without Thanos, however, Loki allows himself a little hope to how his brother may turn out now.
Loki certainly does not plan on leaving anytime soon. Not after how severely Stormbreaker Thor had emphasized his loss of his Loki. He may find his presence lacking and tiny compared to the giants of his adopted family, but Thor apparently finds him much more intrinsic than he’d originally thought.
Loki prays to the gods things will turn out differently.