Who: Loki What: Loki's reflections are interrupted by a haunting voice When: Disney, Day 7, Afternoon [Backdated] Where: The Grand Floridian Suite Warnings: None [Narrative that references Fandral & Julia]
It was the last day.
A warm afternoon light filtered in through the crack in the curtains where he’d failed to close them completely. Loki knew that beyond those curtains the Floridian sky was a bright shade of blue, cloudless, blinding a brilliant glare off the lagoon. In many ways, the view was probably heavenly. Since his arrival in Derleth, he hadn’t seen anything that resembled his mental image of Valhalla, but the boundless blue skies above Disney came close. Still, like all things in this experiment, they were temporary. The excitement was temporary. The pleasure was temporary. And the happiness, finally achieved on the last day, was the most temporary.
Fandral lay asleep, sprawled across Loki’s abdomen, his head resting peacefully on his chest. Loki glanced down at him, watching his back rise and fall in time with his breaths. He could feel the other man’s exhalations against his skin. His breath was warm and his facial hair tickled, but Loki was careful not to move. His entire body was still. Like a corpse in a grave. He even lowered his own breathing to avoid inadvertently waking Fandral.
There was nothing in Derleth that reminded him of Valhalla. Nothing beautiful. Nothing of home. Nothing aside for this man. A man whose death was on Loki’s hands.
He held up his palm and looked at it, expecting to see blood, but all he saw was an illusion. An illusion that Odin had chosen for him. An illusion that Frigga had perfected. And an illusion that he continued to wear because he still hadn’t come to terms with the truth underneath.
Frost Giant. Son of Jotunheim. Enemy of Asgard. King without a throne.
Loki brushed his fingers through Fandral’s hair, gently tucking it behind his ear and exposing his face. Fandral stirred a little, but didn’t wake. Loki admired him in a confused way. What was this supposed to be? What were they doing? He tilted his head to the side and allowed his gaze to trace the sharp line of Fandral’s jaw. Fandral was handsome, charming, and seductive. He had an impeccable manner with people. Always flattering them, but never dishonestly. He knew what to say and when to say it. Never short a story to impress. But Loki always thought Fandral was at his most beautiful when he was quiet. That’s when the truth shined the brightest on his face. That was something Loki had recognized in the warrior a long time ago. Long before Derleth or before Loki betrayed Thor. Back when Fandral first joined the Warriors Three and Loki was in the background.
Always watching. Always paying attention. Always noticing the tiny details. Learning the secrets. Loki probably saw more than anyone ever gave him credit for. No one paid heed to the annoying little brother, after all. Not until he did something bold enough to gain their attention.
Hello?
Loki glanced up to the doorway expectantly, but there was no one there. His lips pursed into a thin line, brows furrowed. He could have sworn he heard something. A haunting lilt of a voice. Her voice.
Can you hear me?
Loki could, but he pretended not to.
He drew his fingers through Fandral’s hair again, watching as each strand slowly fell to one side or the other. It occurred to him then just how easy it would be to make a life-changing decision. He could, for example, plunge a dagger into Fandral’s back. There’d be no one to stop him. Fandral was exposed. The only thing protecting him was the trust he had in Loki. But if Loki wanted to harm him, he could. Likewise, he could simply flee. He could slip out of the room and disappear without a word, leaving Fandral to wake up alone in a cold bed. Abandoning him with equal confusion as to what this was. Or he could nudge him awake, slide further into those sheets, and make love to him in a way that would turn Fandral off from all other lovers. Loki knew he had that power. He knew he could do that, if he wanted to. He knew he could do anything.
Intimacy was weakness. Intimacy was vulnerability. But intimacy was also power.
Hello? Hello??
Loki clenched his eyes shut, willing the voice to go away. But all the pretending in the world wouldn’t change the fact that he heard it. Nor would it allow him to deny where the voice was coming from.
The shade.
I’m here. Can you hear me?
It had been following him for weeks, growing incrementally louder with each passing day. And now that he’d decided to keep the shade on his person instead of under his bed, its pleas were amplifying both in frequency and in volume.
Are you there?
Julia.
Had he made the wrong decision on the beach? Should he have told her the truth? Would she have cared? Or would she have merely looked at him with those blank eyes he found so impossible to read? Loki knew he couldn’t trust her and yet he found himself continuously drawn to her. And it was no surprise to him why. He saw something of himself in Julia. Something broken, but still fighting. Something that he wanted to save, but didn’t know if it was worth saving.
Fandral mumbled an indecipherable Asgardian phrase in his sleep, stirring Loki from his thoughts.
“Shh,” Loki whispered, caressing Fandral’s back in a rare display of affection. The kind of tenderness he never would have dared express if Fandral were awake. Soft, thoughtful touches to remind Fandral’s subconscious that he wasn’t alone. And for a brief moment he watched as the illusion on his hand dissolved, revealing the cold blue flesh of the monster beneath. Loki stared at it, half in shame and half in fear, before refocusing his illusion; banishing his true self back to the depths of his own being.
He sighed and turned his gaze towards the sliver of light that peeked through the curtains.