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Thor arrived at the Himinbjörg swiftly, lowering Mjölnir as he gazed warily at the ice-encased energy before him. Loki’s doing no doubt, but what had prompted him to lock the Bifröst open and commit such an extreme act of violence, Thor could not say. Thor’s heart had not calmed its rushed beating in the time it had taken to arrive, instead growing with each passing second.
“You can't stop it,” Loki spat, stepping out from behind the mass of ice and energy. “The Bifröst will build until it rips Jötunheim apart.”
Thor rushed forward, raising Mjölnir to strike at the ice in a desperate attempt to stop the now-weapon, but was met by a blast of Loki’s own, Gungnir’s energy sending him flying onto his back.
“Why have you done this?” Thor said, not sure if his words were a plea or a demand.
“To prove to father that I am a worthy son. When he awakes, I will have saved his life;” Loki’s words held a certain cruelty Thor had never known of him. “I will have destroyed that race of monsters; and I will be true heir to the throne.”
“You can’t kill an entire race.” Thor replied through clenched teeth, equal parts pleading with Loki’s violence and baffled at his brother’s apparent descent to madness.
“Why not?” Loki laughed, the irony simply too much. “And what is this newfound love for the frost giants? You! Could have killed them all with your bare hands.”
“I've changed.”
“So have I.” Loki said evenly, and struck Thor across the cheek with Gungnir. There was a sort of wildness in his eyes that Thor had never seen before, and it made something in the pit of his stomach twist sickly. “Now fight me.”
With those final words, Loki swung Gungnir with such power it sent Thor flying across the room, once again landing on his back.
“I never wanted the throne!” Loki yelled, then lowered his voice back to speaking, though the madness did not leave with it. “I only ever wanted to be your equal.”
“I WILL NOT FIGHT YOU, BROTHER!” Thor yelled, standing up and gripping Mjölnir all the same.
“I'm not your brother. I never was.” Loki said with a certain finality and calmness, standing still for that moment as the white light of the Bifrösts’s energy danced across his face.
“Loki, this is madness-”
“Is it madness? Is it? Is it?!” Loki became suddenly, absolutely hysterical now, and Loki’s trembling form and tear-brimmed eyes only put deeper concern into Thor. The apprehensive sickness in his chest yet rush of battle of his beating heart contradicted each other. He could only stand there and grip Mjölnir in his hand as Loki continued, who was losing more and more composure in posture and voice. “Come on, what happened to you on Earth that turned you- so– soft– don't tell me it was that woman!”
Thor just stayed silent, willing himself not to fight, but sensing the inevitability of one anyways.
“Oh– it was.” Loki’s face was contorted in ugly emotion and his eyes glistened as his hysteric, heavy breathing made it almost hard to make out his vile words. “Well maybe, when we’re finished here, I’ll pay her a visit myself!”
What little composure Thor had left within him broke— He would accept no threat to Jane. With a roar, he flew at Loki, and Loki at him.
The two’s weapons collided midair, emitting a bright flash, and they landed on the polished ground. Loki kicked Thor off of him and stood quickly, swinging Gungnir at the still-grounded Thor, though he caught Loki’s footing with Mjölnir before standing up himself and swinging the hammer at Loki, who in turn blocked with Gungnir and kicked Thor in the chest before getting up once again.
Loki lunged with Gungnir, and the clang of the two weapons’ continuing strikes rang out as they danced around the crackling structure. Loki's swings were growing ever-distant from his usual calculated, efficient, graceful manner of combat; he was slashing wildly and viciously, with a violent fire in his eyes– the fire dangerously white-hot and raging while simultaneously a cruel cold. The building energy within the Himinbjörg seemed to reflect that, the structure seemingly turned a harsh silver as it undoubtedly tore apart the realm beyond their eyesight.
The fighting continued, growing more and more intense, metal usually hitting metal, but sometimes striking leather and cloth. The yells of battle evolved more into desperate screams on Loki's end. The details became a blur as Thor kept fighting, as did any intention to ease the situation. Loki’s avid swings were met with the fervor of an Æsir warrior Thor had honed for centuries.
The fighting grew so intense all bonds of brotherhood were lost behind the blindness of battle and bloodlust. Thor leapt at Loki with Mjölnir poised to strike, and Loki fired Gungnir. Thor collapsed into Loki and the two flew through the air, and then through the ornate metal wall of the Himinbjörg, and onto the bright quartz of the Bifröst.
The bridge thrummed and the air buzzed with seiðr, and it was so loud Thor could barely hear himself think. But the crash gave him a moment of clarity, jolting him out of the mind of battle, and the rainbow light and humming air reminded him of what the Bifröst was indeed currently doing. He turned around quickly, no longer paying heed to Loki as he tried returning to the Himinbjörg, though his efforts were proving fruitless. The energy emanating from inside was so intense it pushed him back; it was like trying to wade through the strongest currents the greatest oceans had to offer.
Thor suddenly felt a sharp sting in his side and he looked down to see a bright red that was not from his cape and a shining silver that was not from his armour. He whirled around and struck Loki in the chest before he could stab Thor again, but Loki was not knocked completely off balance and instead hit Thor hard on the head with the hilt of his dagger; Loki was practically begging Thor to fight him (and hadn’t he, earlier?).
But Thor’s clarity of mind from being blasted through the Himinbjörg remained, and this time he was wary of falling back into the mind of battle. “Brother, stop this.” Thor pleaded, ducking as Loki swung at him. He was just now comprehending just how desperate and mad Loki now looked. Tears were streaming down his face and he was shaking in rage.
“I am not your brother!” Loki yelled (why did he keep saying that? What had come over him?). “And you will not ruin this! I will not allow you to! I will be worthy! I will be worthy!”
“Why are you doing this?!” It was hard for Thor to hear his own voice about the loudness of the building Bifröst despite the intensity of his plea.
“To prove myself! Something which you, Odinson,” —he spat the word like an insult— “have never had to do! Even when you disappointed Odin you could not tarnish your status of being his golden one, you were banished for mere days before he allowed your return— as if that changes your centuries of recklessness! Of selfishness! Of violence!” He kneed Thor in the stomach and slashed a knife across his face, urging him to fight once more. “But I will prove myself! That I am worthy of his gaze! That I can be, that I am Asgardian! And I will punish the Jötnar! I will eradicate them! I will destroy them, and I will protect our people! There will be no threat of war, there will be no Jötun seiðr tainting the purity of the universe!”
This was not Loki. Loki was not violent. Loki was not rash or impulsive. Loki was not one to tarnish their family name, to tarnish Asgard’s name. Loki was… This was not Loki.
“You have always been the voice of reason! Not of violence!” Thor cried over the noise of the Bifröst and the wind. “What reason is there to destroying an entire race?! An entire realm?!”
“They are not a race! They are not people!” Loki cried out in an almost animalistic manner. “Not even animals! Even ‘creature’ gives them more worth than they have! They are monsters! And they deserve death. All of Yggdrasil deserves their death!” He snarled. “And is violence not the rule of the Æsir? The way to prove one’s worth?”
Thor opened his mouth to speak once more, but Loki lunged at him wildly, and the two struggled against each other's skill before Thor finally managed to tackle him to the pulsing ground.
He stayed like that, on top of Loki for a few moments, containing his brother's violent thrashing as his heart beat rapidly alongside the seiðr of the Bifröst, looking into Loki’s mad, desperate eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d truly done that, but now the glinting tears reflected the rainbow light of the Bifröst, and something far more terrible inside. And in that moment, Thor came to a decision.
He could not fix this by trying to fix whatever was happening to Loki. Even if he could, he wouldn’t know how. Thor only knew how to destroy. And he didn’t know the severity of that until his banishment to Midgard.
Midgard… Jane. Oh, he’d miss Jane. And he hated himself for going back on his word. But he’d hate himself more if he did not put a stop to this. He needed to do this, as much as it hurt. And if he could not stop his brother’s madness, he could at least stop the destruction that madness was causing. And he suddenly wished he had the skills of negotiation, and peace, and deliberation that he had made fun of Loki for mastering for all those centuries. But he only knew destruction, and that’s how he’d fix this, ironic as it was. But this destruction was not violence. For once.
Thor released Loki from his grip, holding Mjölnir in one hand and securing Gungnir in the other. Loki simply lay stunned, watching in frozen shock and dreading confusion as Thor slowly fought his way against the current to get as close to the Himinbjörg as possible, shuffling along until he could go no further. He struggled to stay even there, as the pulsing seiðr and growing winds threatened to fling him away like a leaf in the wind. He could feel the dense, lively seiðr around him, tingling against and within him. But above all it was loud— if Loki was crying out to him he could not hear it— but in a way it almost felt like silence to him.
He laid Gungnir on the quartz, rose Mjölnir in the air, and with all the strength and seiðr he could muster, he brought the hammer down upon the spear’s head.
The whole universe erupted into blinding white and silence.
The bright light faded and the noise of the explosion emerged, the two plummeted through the sky spinning wildly. Thor's vision spun dizzyingly from Asgard to the ocean to to the brilliant night sky of space round and round as he could hear his and Loki’s screams above the ringing in his ears. They fell and fell, past even the jagged, broken edge of the Bifröst, and the terror in his chest spiked until he felt a sturdy grip around his leg.
Odin had appeared, thank the norns, and the sight of his father’s face calmed a bit of the worry inside him (and yet also stirred a worry even deeper inside him, though he could not place it.).
And there they were, dangling, Loki hanging onto Gungnir, Gungnir in Thor’s grasp, and Thor’s leg tethered to Asgard by Odin’s grip. They swayed for a few moments, minds struggling to comprehend what had just happened, before the relative silence was broken. Though the raw emotion, the pained… absolute desperation in his brother's voice almost made Thor wish it hadn’t.
“I could have done it, father!” Loki cried out. “For you!” For all of us!” tears were streaming down his face, glittering with the reflection of the stars around them, and he was shaking so uncontrollably Thor worried one of them would lose their grip on Gungnir. “Please,” he was switching wildly between sobbing and screaming “I can be whatever you want me to be! I can be worthy! Please, please, let me be worthy of your gaze! I know now I am truly unlovable, even though I crave it, but please– please. Please let me at least be a tool you value! Let me protect our realm! Your realm! Let me cleanse it of them, like you have done! Like Bor has done! Not for glory. I am not vain enough to take that for myself. Please, let me be at least a fraction of enough!”
Thor’s heart broke at the words and something in his stomach wretched as he gazed down at his broken, hysterical brother, and his leg hurt from the strain and his head pulsed with pain from the bloodrush and the earlier strikes in battle. He felt like he was going to cry, too, but Odin spoke before he could do anything.
“No, Loki.” The words were simple, concise, as Odin often was, but they sent a chill down Thor’s spine colder than anything he'd ever known. His grip on Gungnir tightened, though he was not sure why.
A million emotions crossed Loki's face, ones Thor had never bothered to learn to recognise, even as bare and extreme they were in the moment, unhidden by the mask Loki so often wore. But that last one, norns, that last one– it was like the Norns themselves whispered to him what Loki was about to do.
He was– Loki was going to let go.
Thor’s reflexes kicked in before even his mind had caught up with the realization, and he used all the strength his adrenaline could grant him to yank up Gungnir a moment before Loki's hand unfurled, so that as he began to fall he was within arm’s reach, and grabbed onto his brother’s arm as tight as he could.
Loki’s eyes widened with a new desperation, and he tried desperately clawing at Thor’s hand that he might release his grip, struggling and thrashing wildly in the air as Thor free hand came to strengthen his hold, two strong hands holding desperately onto Loki— though he could feel that grip failing.
Odin sensed it too, quickly hauling the two up onto the Bifröst, his strength no doubt aided by seiðr. They collapsed on the bridge, Thor still clinging onto Loki as the latter struggled frantically in his grip.
Loki thrashed wildly beneath him, kneeing him in the crotch and cutting his face with a new blade and trying to scramble away again, but Thor strengthened his hold, pinning his brother down.
“What, you would not even let me have a death so cowardly as by my own hand? No, no– not when you can take the glory of my death for yourself, mount my head on a spike but only display it to the Norns, I’m too disgusting to have my corpse tarnish a Great Hall–”
Thor was still struggling against Loki’s movements and his brother’s gruesome hysterics were making him sick. “Norns, Loki, what are you–”
“Please! Please! I could have done it, let me do it!” The abrupt switch in tone was sending Thor for a loop once more. “I’m not like them– I’M NOT LIKE THEM!” Loki was screaming now, and Thor’s wrists hurt from trying to hold the thrashing Loki down.
“Why would I deserve to be the one to do that-” Loki continued, though laughing now, and then his tone shifted again into spitting disgust. “How, stupid- how vain of me– norns, norns!
“Loki-” Thor started, strong grip battling Loki’s animalistic flailing. The confusion and sickening unease mounting within him was going to start making him hysteric too. “Loki, wha-”
“KILL ME, THOR!” Loki screamed, eyes boring straight into Thor’s now instead of thrashing about with the rest of him.
Nauseousness flooded Thor alongside frustration that they were still stuck struggling on the ground of the bridge. “I will not kill you brother, have you–”
“I AM NOT YOUR BROTHER!” Loki yelled, though there was a facet of self-depricating glee to it. “I am not your brother, I am not a person! I am something foreign and evil brought into this land, kept secret even from myself! I am the blue molding the pristine gold! Every fiber of my being a thread of wretchedness, weaving a tapestry of inherent sin!”
“Loki,” Thor boomed now, anger seeping slowly into him once more. “Stop it with this madness–”
“SEE WHAT I AM THOR!” Loki screamed with an entirely new clarity and intensity. It took Thor a moment to notice the patterned blue that was beginning to creep past Lok’s collar. “This is what I am! Now you see what I am!”
The ridged blue enveloped his entire face now, and piercing scarlet eyes gazed up at him. The blue of eternal cold and the red of blood of death.
Thor startled back a bit, one hand instinctively gripping Mjölnir.
“Do not take on such a form to bait me, Loki, you have lost. Cease this-”
“I am the monster you see! This is no manipulation! No lie! My whole life has been a lie, and this is finally the truth! Now you see this is not the face of a brother, now you can no longer be blinded by false binds of blood. My blood may contaminate this quartz, but when it dries and my corpse is reduced to nothing but dust, and my seiðr has flowed away and forgotten its host, Yggdrasil will be clean. Keep your promise! You promised to slay them all! All of the Jötnar! Slay me! Kill me!”
“You are not a monster, Loki–” Thor pleaded through gritted teeth as tears began to stream from his eyes.
“If I am not a monster by blood, then surely my actions have proved I am such.” Spit sprayed from Loki’s lips with the fervor in which he spoke, despite the growing hoarseness of his voice.
“I’m not-”
“KILL ME THOR, KILL ME!” Loki screamed, voice filled with such a determination and hysteria Thor had never known. “KILL ME NOW!”
“No-”
Loki’s hand gripped onto Thor’s with surprising strength, searing frostbite burning through his flesh, and Thor let out a cry of pain. Tears streamed down Loki’s face. “KILL ME, KILL ME, KILL ME!”
Loki began to thrash even more now and scream at the top of his lungs, and Thor held Loki in place with as much force as he could, no idea what to do aside from that. Loki’s tactic changed, however, and instead of struggling against Thor’s grip, held onto him as hard as he could, the frostbite even stronger than before. Thor yelled out in pain, one hand faltering, and next thing he knew the searing sensation was on his jaw, and Thor’s body could no longer listen to his mind, pain repelling him.
Loki took the precious moment to reach into the depths of his armour, scrambling with adrenaline, and procured a knife, which was quickly coming for his own throat. Thor, recovered from his body’s brief betrayal, reached for Loki’s arm, but it was already so close.
The struggle against Thor’s strength was too little too late.
It wasn’t enough. Thor wasn't enough.
The knife sliced through Loki’s throat, dark blood spraying and splurting and dripping.
Thor watched in horror as Loki’s anger and desperation and very life seemed to fade, seeping out of him with the blood.
Loki’s vision grew darker and darker, as he imagined the pool of blood beneath him must be growing larger, blocking out the light of the bifröst beneath it.
Finally, there was black.
- o 〇 o -
Thor sat outside the Healer’s Chambers on a bench. Beside Frigga. Odin was not present.
He felt rather numb, though his hands were still shaking. He squeezed and loosened his grip against Mjölnir. Then leaned back, looking at the distant arched ceiling. The wide space didn’t help how untethered he felt. Though nor did it seem any less like a cage.
Loki was alive. Thor had at least not failed in getting him to the healers in time, like he had failed in stopping the knife in time.
They weren’t allowed in the room yet, though. Not for a while. But he couldn’t bear to leave. Neither could Frigga. They’d sat here for hours. There was screaming and crying and wailing at first, but there was no strength left to do so. It had been silent for some time. Though the silence was starting to squeeze against the sides of Thor’s head.
“Did you know?” He asked, voice horse. He couldn’t imagine it was likely she didn’t, but he didn’t want that to be true. Though he wasn’t entirely sure why.
Frigga’s head turned to him, summoned from her thoughts. She looked worn, hollow. “That Loki was Jötun?” Her voice sounded even rougher than Thor's. “Yes. Odin said… he saved him. That he was abandoned to die by Laufey.”
Laufey’s son.
“I don’t know if I believe that anymore.” She continued. Every sentence felt like a feat. “But when he brought that fragile, innocent child home, I did. And I loved him as my own. Though I cannot say… the same for Odin.”
They lapsed into silence once more as Thor took in the words. Conversing felt like wading through water now. Slow, tiring, full of effort walking upon grass or stone does not.
“Did Loki know?” He asked.
“No.” She replied, voice shaking. “I suppose that is the reason for this.” She hung her head in her hands. When had he found out, then? Though that seemed a stupid question as soon as he’d thought it; he supposed it must have been their recent trip to Jötunheim. That Thor had led.
Thor wanted to ask what was going to happen next. Like he was just a child and his mother had all the answers to comfort him. But he was afraid she didn’t. It felt intimately like the fear of a child.
He looked up at the ceiling to try shaking his mind out of it, and thankfully the fresco that met him in this part of the palace was not of his Father’s face looming down at him. Or Loki’s. Or his, honestly. The cut on his face stung as he grimaced at the thought, which in turn brought the wound in his side back to his attention as well. The fact that he sort of welcomed the hazy pain disconcerted him.
- o 〇 o -
Loki awoke slowly, blearily.
His awareness felt… hazy. He was laying, and there was soft, delicate fabric against him, and he was in his body, and there was a dull throbbing in his throat. Anything further away than that was simply faded.
It was hard to move. A fuzzy sort of weight was draped over his being; whether it was his own weakness, a physical restraint, or the workings of magic, he could not tell, nor did he even have the whereabouts to know he was meant to.
Eventually, the tall ceiling Loki was facing became known to him, and it was the healer’s wing’s ceilings.
His throat throbbed again. Sharper, this time.
The healer’s wing.
Not Helheim.
Not even Valhalla.
Asgard.
Loki was… alive.
He was aware of the tears on his cheeks before he was aware he was crying, and then he was crying with all the strength his body had recovered. Bitter, angry, despaired, hopeless crying. Betrayed, even. Ugly tears that made his throat hurt more, though he didn’t care. Or perhaps he welcomed it. He cried all the same.
Loki wondered if he was still in that demon’s form, if those tears treaded disgusting blue in this golden hall. But he couldn’t see anything but the softly-decorated ceiling. It almost felt like it was taunting him. Like he was too pathetic, too much of a failure to even die.
Why was he alive? Why, why why… It wasn’t fair. He deserved death. He wanted death. Why hadn’t Odin killed him, bashed his head on that rock he had been abandoned on? What of Frigga? Did she know what he was when Odin brought that monster home?
A small (disgusting! putrid!) part of Loki yearned to be held in his mother’s Frigga’s embrace. The other part of him wished she had tossed him off the edge when she met Odin’s return on the Bifröst all those centuries ago.
His chest heaved and fluttered as he sobbed. It wasn’t fair, It wasn’t fair! He was in agony. Why was he alive?
He hoped he would suffocate on the bile in his throat his crying was producing.
But he just cried and cried, and eventually the calm blackness overtook Loki once more.
- o 〇 o -
A shaky breath from Frigga drew Thor from his mind. “I’m…” She seemed to be choosing her words carefully, or perhaps just hesitant to say whatever it was to him. “I’m taking Loki away from Asgard. Once Eir finds it permissible.”
“I… what?” Thor was in enough shock for the day, he was finding it hard to fathom his mother’s words. “Where?”
“Alfheim.” As shaky as her words were, it didn’t seem to stem from a place of unsureness; her mind seemed to be made up.
Thor felt like he should argue, as pointless as he knew it would be, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to. He was tired, drained, and what was the point? Why argue that Loki stay here?
“Alfheim is known for their healing.” She continued on. “I will take him to one of their great healing palaces and ensure he get the care that… was neglected to him here. That is coming far too late. That I… failed to give.”
It dawned on him that perhaps the shakiness in her voice, aside from grief, was from a hesitation to tell Thor her plan at all. Like she was just going to leave with Loki in the night. But surely not… “Does father know?”
“No.” She looked down at her hands.
Ah. Why was he only seeming to gain the skill of perception when it was most pointless, when all there was to find was pain? Perhaps that was the point. Payback for centuries of carelessness and cruelty.
Alfheim… the realm was indeed known for their dedication to healing. Medicines, therapies, magics. It was the most advanced in all the realms in that regard. And very beautiful. Deep forests and vibrant flower gardens and tall towers with stained glass domed roofs. Loki had served as a regent there for some time, and Thor knew he’d enjoyed it there. Alfheim was a close ally of Asgard’s, though had been far too pacifist of a realm for Thor’s liking (though they’d apparently had their past centuries of brutal bloodshed). Thor figured that perhaps that was ironic, now.
“I intend on leaving with Loki tonight.” Thor felt a slight pit in his stomach, though there wasn’t much more to dig at this point. She really is leaving in the night, in secret, he mused. What had their family come to? “Tomorrow night, if Eir insists upon it. Don’t—” She looked over at him, the first time either of them had dared looking at each other since sitting on this bench. “Do not tell Odin, my love.”
It was more of a question, with how scared her request sounded. And there was something in the back of Thor’s mind that noted her use of “Odin” over her ever-endearing “your father,” though he was too worn to know what the feeling was. “I shall not, mother.”
Something in her expression softened and broke, and her glistening eyes started to swell with tears once more. Thor wondered briefly how she could possibly have more tears to shed, until he felt some of his own trailing down his cheeks. He didn't know how he had any either.
Frigga’s arms wrapped around Thor and he sank into her embrace, head resting against her chest as her shaky hands carded through his messy hair. They wept, sharing each other's grief, and felt the vastness of the hallway dissipate as the world shrunk to just one another.
“I failed.” Frigga wept. I failed Hela, I failed you– I feared I’d never see you again, and I failed Loki. Loki... I… we could have been sitting here weeping over the fact that he’d died. That he’d– he’d killed himself.” It sounded like the words were a bitter poison on her tongue, and she cried harder. “Though I fear this will not be the last time I will be weeping for this reason. I fear he will try again.”
Thor held her tighter. He hadn’t considered that. He didn’t want to consider that.
“For too long I have been complacent, have lied to myself, have let myself believe Odin was what he said he was. That what I was doing was right. Because I loved him, and I loved you, and I wanted to believe we were the happy family I wanted. But instead I hurt what I loved, and I’ll never be able to undo it. And if Loki had died... I wouldn’t have been able to undo it. If Loki’s tongue is of silver, Odin’s must be of gold. But I am done letting myself lay in Odin’s lies, swaddling in it, covering my eyes with it, being suffocated by it; I will not fail any longer. I will not fail Loki, I will not lose Loki. I will spend the rest of my life paying for what I have done if that's what it takes.”
She drew Thor away from her a little bit, to cup his face in her hand (careful of his healing gash) and stare into his eyes. “And Thor, my love, I will not fail you, any longer; do not let me lose you. I could not bear to lose you or Loki. You should not have been banished, cast aside, simply for doing what this realm taught you. What Odin taught you, despite his foul words claiming otherwise. What I allowed to be taught to you.” She bit her lip, and Thor could not remember the last time he saw his mother look this way. Or if she ever even had. “I am sorry, Thor.” She poured raw emotion into every whispered word. “I am sorry. And I do not wish to abandon you for Loki. Leave you all alone as Loki has been. You could... Come with us?”
Thor suddenly didn’t know what to think. Norns, he wished to go with them. To escape his place that had crumbled from a grand realm into a golden cage of pain and secrets. No– he wished, he wished he would wake up and that this was all some horrid dream and he would play in a forest clearing or traverse the realms in ever-golden light with Loki by his side again. That this was just some warning from the Norns that if he did not change his ways this was the fate that would befall him. But he knew in his aching heart it wasn’t.
So what should he do? Run away and hide? What would become of Asgard? But then… what would become of it if he stayed, anyways? He had just been banished, and upon returning, destroyed the Bifröst. Surely Odin would be furious. Surely he’d be even more furious if his wife and son (does he even think of Loki as that?) ended up missing by morning. Thor would have no autonomy, Odin would strip it as he did mere days ago at his coronation as punishment and take control of the situation. What could Thor do but be Odin’s pawn in fixing things if he stayed? That was if Odin even saw him worthy enough to use for help? Usually he would trust that the Allfather in his endless knowledge would right this wrong, and yet, wasn’t it the Allfather’s words that made Loki let go? Wasn’t it the Allfather Frigga just denounced with the most pain in her voice he’d ever known? And yet, even if he had the autonomy, what could he do? Wasn’t it his autonomy that got them into this mess?
Norns, norns, this was his fault. If it were not for him, Loki wouldn't have…
“Thor?” Frigga asked softly, a hint of worry to her voice. Her thumb caressed his cheek gently.
Thor hung his head back against her and tightened his embrace again, hoping that would suffice in place of an answer the moment.
The moments flashed back to him– Loki dangling teary-eyed above the void, about to let go, Loki thrashing underneath him, showing his apparently “true form”– norns, Thor had- Thor had reached for Mjölnir. Not out of shock, not out of fear, out of instinct. The instinct that what he was seeing was monstrous. Was lesser. Was a thing to be eradicated. That– that was his brother. He had thought that about his brother.
Thor was… disgusted with himself. Angry at himself. He… he hated himself. As many things as he’d felt today, this was the ugliest feeling, somehow. It was visceral. It was boiling. It felt like… a betrayal to himself.
And Loki was his brother, blood be damned. He didn’t care about that.
And he couldn’t help but think, if Loki could be his brother, and could be so capable of love, and so capable of a sharp wit and unending intelligence and honed skills, couldn’t every other Jötun? And he supposed Loki was right– as much as he’d like to think his serendipitous meeting with Jane and Darcy and Eric on Midgard was like a lever being switched within himself, an experience that turned what he knew on its head, Thor knew that that experience didn’t birth him anew, didn’t suddenly reverse centuries of violence and selfishness and cruelty. Centuries of not even recognising what he did as such. Or centuries of revelling in it– which was worse? And what else was festering deep within, unbeknownst to him until life flipped over another rock inside him to reveal what was always there? He didn’t want to believe there were any other rocks. He knew that was bad.
Thor’s stomach dropped (how many times could it do that in one day?). Jötunheim. Norns. An odd panic set in. What was the state of it? He didn’t know how long it took for the Bifröst to destroy a planet. Was it there, simply with patches of ruin, or was the entire realm nothing but dust floating amongst the stars by now? He dearly hoped the duration of their fight was not long enough to decimate it. (And he hated that as much as he was terrified for their safety, there was still a lingering inkling in the back of his mind that sneered at the thought of their suffering. He hated himself. He hated himself. How by the norns was he worthy to hold Mjölnir when there was such vile within him? When he looked upon Loki’s blue form and thought to wield it? When he’d wielded it in the past?).
A darkness entered Thor’s mind; whatever it was Odin was to do to fix this, Thor figured very little of that would involve Jötunheim. And he supposed… there was even a chance nothing would be done. That the broken Bifröst would be a convenient excuse to let that isolated people, centuries in decline, finally die off. He didn’t think that would be the case. He hoped not.
But either way, Thor had found purpose again. For the first time since… well, his coronation, really. He’d found peace within himself when he was stranded on Midgard with Darcy, and though he had made peace with not knowing his place or purpose anymore, it was very nice to have a sense of purpose back, he must admit. Or rather, it gave him a drive.
Thor still wasn’t exactly sure what the actual plan was or how he’d do anything. He was still in the same boat as before, just with a newfound motivation to get to land. But he was never really much of the planning type. More hit-first ask-later type. Which, he’d obviously run out of luck with. Loki was always the strategist. And at the very least, even when not that, still thought first. But perhaps he should be thinking more like Loki in this endeavour. Perhaps unwise as one of the answers to “what would Loki do?” seemed to be commit suicide, and yet, if he’d bothered to learn to think like Loki earlier, maybe Thor would have known how to pull Loki out of it. Maybe Loki would have never even ended up in that place to begin with.
“Mother, I…” Thor took a moment to find his words as he sat up to face her. “I cannot go with you to Alfheim. Just as you must take this path to rectify your wrongdoings with Loki, I must take my own path to rectify my own wrongdoings with Loki.”
Frigga closed her eyes and nodded in pained understanding. Like she knew it was the right thing but couldn’t bear to be separated from him again.
“I will stay here on Asgard as you flee with Loki tonight. I shall reckon with whatever punishment Odin sees fit, and then… I wish to see what the Allfather’s plans are. What he would do to rebuild, what he would use me for.” While Thor didn’t know much about how Loki’s mind worked, and doubted he’d be able to exercise such strategy with no practise, he did know Loki tended to stay quiet and scope things out, gathering what information he could for quite the period of time. Thor was not sure he could bear to walk these halls that were devoid of his brother´s presence yet haunted by it for such an amount of time, but he would do so nonetheless. For the sake of not barrelling into something headfirst for once.
He continued. “I must stay because I must know what has become of Jötenheim, and I must find a way to help Jötunheim. Whether that is to convince father to send aid, or to find passage there myself. How many lives were lost as we almost lost Loki? How much damage has been caused to their lands as our Himinbjörg has been destroyed? I will tend to the sick and wounded just as I maimed and killed. I will rebuild houses and palaces just as my actions caused the Bifröst to tear through them. I will be a servant to their people just as I have been a prince to ours. I have a debt to repay them, just as I have to Loki– though I know nothing I do will repay either.
And for Loki– he deserves to be seen, and by the eyes of one who understands. And a great reflecting I will do on this journey. As will my dedication to learning of the Jötnar from now on, as my life was filled with lies for them until now, help me understand this newfound part of him.” The memory of his hand reaching for Mjölnir haunted him once more. Thor was determined to see nothing but his brother when gazing upon that azure skin and those crimson eyes. “And perhaps I can learn of something from the Jötnar that can help Loki on Alfheim. And I will visit you on Alfheim, and Loki, if he would have me. It is…” Thor swallowed. Perhaps this was also his newfound purpose. “It is my wish no longer to be worthy of Mjölnir, of father, but to be worthy of Loki. Next time I see my brother… I wish to be worthy.”