Loki (fiorvalr) wrote in noexits, @ 2022-05-27 13:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread/narrative, marvel (tv/movies): loki laufeyson, marvel (tv/movies): party thor, → week 035 (canon puncture) |
CANON PUNCTURE (BACKDATED)
Loki’s words resonated with Thor on such a deep emotional level, it was physically painful. He was still mourning the loss of Sylvie, and while he cognitively understood she was still alive out there in the vast multiverse, he might never see her again or get to know her. There was that time when he got to speak with her variant from the other Derleth, for which he was grateful, but it still wasn’t enough. Sylvie was going to use her magic horn to call Valkyries… he was going to show her his enchanted goat statue that transformed into live animals.
Sitting upon the mattress of his bed that was comically small for somebody so large, Thor held the statue, turning it in his fingers while thinking about lost opportunities. He did not want to miss out on getting to know the remaining Lokis in Derleth, even if it meant having difficult conversations like the one he knew was about to take place.
The door to his room was left ajar on purpose, and he kept glancing toward it in expectation. Waiting quietly. Solemnly. It was not a good look for the god of thunder, whose face looked best stretched with wide smiles.
Loki hadn’t intended his words to hurt. If anything they were meant as a reminder to himself. He, too, mourned Sylvie’s absence, but in a different way. Not because he missed out on the opportunity to get to know her better, but because he’d purposefully maintained a cautious distance from her out of his own fear. It was a pattern he had with many people. The first Mobius. The other Lokis. Natasha. Strange. Julia. Even Fandral, in a way, had been a victim of Loki’s coldness. Because Loki didn’t know how to protect himself from pain. From loss. It was much easier being distant and coldhearted. It was easier to deflect with a joke than to engage in meaningful conversation or well-earned honesty. It was easier. But it was lonelier. And Loki was trying to change that pattern.
That’s why he told Thor the truth about his imprisonment. In retrospect, he was grateful to Derleth for forcing him to face that concealment. To finally be truthful to this Thor. This man who was not his brother but who reminded him of the man his brother had once been. Loki thought that keeping secrets would allow them to form a friendship. Perhaps even the friendship he’d lost out on with his Thor. But keeping secrets was also a form of lying. And lying was never the right way to start a friendship.
He only regretted not telling Thor himself earlier. But Thor was so optimistic and joyful. Loki hadn’t wanted to blacken that enthusiasm with his own past.
It took him a while to find Thor’s room. All that wall climbing thanks to Derleth’s new Butler Hall layout. But he eventually made his way into the room. It required a less-than-graceful crawl over the threshold, but he managed it with as little fumbling as possible. Then he stood up, straightened his attire, and offered Thor a smile. The kind of smile meant to hide any suspicion or worry or despair he might be feeling.
“Hello—” Brother. “—Thor. You wanted to show me something?”
The only acknowledgement Thor made to Loki’s arrival was a brief glance in his direction before returning to the figurine in his hands, his brows deeply furrowed.
“Close the door,” he said in a rumbling voice that came from deep in his chest, the sound of a storm brewing. He waited for Loki to do as he was told, not only for privacy’s sake, but if Loki wanted to escape, it would not be as quickly done. Once it was closed, Thor wasted no time in uttering, “You never told me mother died.”
The way Thor had rehearsed what he was going to say in his mind before Loki’s arrival was to say your mother, since his mother (as far as he knew) was alive and well in Asgard. However, this Frigga he’d seen on the screen looked and sounded and behaved so much like his own, it was impossible to differentiate between the two. He was shocked to see her killed and grieved deeply for her just as if she were his own.
He never once doubted his parents’ power, their mortality . To him, Odin and Frigga were pillars of strength, immortal, able to withstand anything thrown at them. Asgard lived in peace, the vanguard of the Nine Realms, he never considered the cost that took. It was the reason why he didn’t take his parents’ seriously when they chastised him for his antics, telling him to grow up and behave responsibly as the Crown Prince. Why should he? Odin and Frigga were on the throne and all was well in the universe. One day he was expected to become King, but that felt such a long time in the future. Witnessing her death, as well as Asgard being breached by Dark Elves, gave him serious pause.
Loki didn’t know what to expect from this conversation with Thor, but the gloomy look on his face did not give him any hope that this would be a joyous discussion. He nodded when Thor asked—no, told—him to close the door. And he did so without complaint despite the fact that he still felt a prickling urge whenever he heard his brother’s voice demanding something of him.
Then the truth was out.
You never told me mother died.
Loki’s jaw clenched.
Because she’s not your mother, was his initial thought. But he managed to keep that to himself even though Thor’s comment sent a white hot fury through Loki.
He took a breath and reminded himself that this conversation was his own fault. He brought it upon himself. Not Thor.
“Both of my parents are dead. Frigga and Odin are in Valhalla with the warriors of old. Drinking wine and celebrating. Waiting to be reunited with the rest of their people.” And their children. Or, at least, one of them. Loki made no presumption that he’d be welcome in the Great Hall. Even if Frigga had given him that reassurance during the short week she was here.
Odin too? Thor hung his head lower and pinched the bridge of his nose as a means to collect himself. A minute later, he set his goat statue down on top of the small dresser in between the two beds and rose, squaring off to face Loki. He stood looking at him, his expression blank, until he stepped forward and pulled Loki into a tight embrace, holding him close to his chest.
“It must be horrible for you,” he muttered, his emotions getting the better of him and causing his voice to crack. “Both your parents gone. I haven’t been thinking of mine very often, but seeing them in my DVD has brought up old concerns . When Uatu gathered me to help save the multiverse from Ultron, they’d just begun to attack my universe. The Ultron bots. I like to think that we stopped them before they reached my Asgard, but there’s no way to be certain.”
Thor pulled back, keeping his hands upon Loki’s shoulders at arm’s length. “I came across another video… what I assume is </i>your video</i>? A few days ago. It was already playing, and at first I did not pay it any attention, but then I heard my voice, then Odin’s voice, going on with the same sort of lecture he always did for me. About being responsible to the throne, and to give up my pursuit of Jane Foster. And I could not stop watching. I wanted to speak to you about it sooner, but I was afraid.”
When Thor stood up and moved towards him, Loki’s instinct was to prepare himself for the worst. He flinched, fully expecting Thor to blame him for Frigga’s death. He thought—despite all evidence to the contrary—that Thor was going to hit him. So when Thor pulled him into an embrace, Loki was already a tense bundle of nerves.
He was confused. Surprised. It took him a few slow seconds to realize that the hammer wasn’t coming out. That Thor wasn’t going to pummel him through the dormitory floors. Still, he was slow to relax. Once he did, however, he had to be careful not to allow his body to go fully limp, which was what he wanted to do. He wanted to just melt. To turn into liquid and slip through the cracks in the floor. Especially when Thor spoke.
Loki didn’t deserve this reaction. This kindness. This sympathy.
Thor meant his words. It wasn’t a trick. It wasn’t a trap. This was honest compassion and sentiment. Maybe even affection. It caused Loki’s words to catch in his throat and his eyes to water.
He steeled himself as best he could when Thor separated them by an arm’s length. But Loki’s confidence didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a glimmer—sadness, despondency, loneliness, grief, blame—that wouldn’t go away. His illusions had been failing him a lot lately. His emotions were becoming more difficult to hide.
“You may not know for certain the fate of your Asgard, but I’ve heard others talk of that event. And I would be willing to bet you saved them all. You’re Thor. You always come out on top.” Just as Lokis were always doomed for the bottom. Loki hung his head. “I was hoping you wouldn’t see any of that. It was a devastating chapter in my story and…”
Loki took a steadying breath and looked up again, meeting Thor eye to eye. “I always struggled to find my way with my family. Father and I never got along. Mother loved me, but couldn’t control me. My brother … We had our ups and downs of closeness. I disappointed all of them more times than I can count. Thor, most of all. But in the end, Odin and I found some measure of apology. And Thor…”
Loki paused. “I believe Thor and I were good in the end. At the very least, we stood on the same side of the fight.”
Despite his own worries, Thor had to mildly chuckle at Loki’s coming out on top comment. “Always? I’m not so sure about that.” He could think of several instances in his life when Asgard’s Crown Prince was scolded and put in time out because of his behavior.
Becoming serious again, Thor continued, dropping his hands to his sides. “Devastating, yes. And heartbreaking. But as difficult as it was to watch, I’m glad I did. Since I arrived I struggled to understand why you and the other Lokis avoided my company, even though people have tried to explain. But now, I do.” His brow furrowed as he looked away. From Natasha to Mobius, he’d been told the Lokis were afraid of being a disappointment, but why. What could have happened that would possibly make Loki think that way?
He considered what Loki said and looked at him again. “When I arrived, I thought we could instantly be brothers. Not just you and I but with all the Lokis. Brothers and sisters,” he added, to include Sylvie, even though she was no longer around. “This was foolish of me to be so hasty without thinking about your own feelings on the matter.” A tear welled in his eye, which he wiped away with the back of his forearm. “Father is tough, but I couldn’t believe he would play favorites like other Loki said, and clearly Odin was the same with you. I’m not disappointed in you, Loki. I only wish things had been different so that nobody had to suffer. I’m glad to know you found some reconciliation… and maybe… peace?”
Thor was ever hopeful, but something inside told him, “Even then, it’s never that simple, is it?”
“You’ve done nothing wrong, Thor. And while I can’t speak for all the Lokis, I don’t believe any of us were purposefully avoiding you. I certainly didn’t want to. I hurt my brother. I wounded him deeply in all the ways a brother can. I manipulated his optimism and his goodness for my own selfish means. And it created a rift between us.” Without Thor’s hands to steady him, Loki crossed his arms over his chest. “I spent years blaming Odin for my poor choices, but in the end they were still my choices. Instead of building a wall between Thor and myself, I could have built a bridge. Together we could have ruled Asgard as a family. But I was so full of anger and petty desire. I wanted everything regardless of the consequences. And when the consequences knocked on my door…”
Loki looked away for a moment. He stared at the empty walls. He still had the portrait Michael had given him, although he was careful to conceal it from Eliot for fear of losing the upper hand in that game of wits. But Loki still kept it. His Thor, as he’d last seen him. Proud and strong.
What would this Thor make of that nostalgic sentiment? He wondered.
“No, you’re right. Nothing is ever as simple as it seems. And yet … perhaps that is because we refuse to choose the simple path. The other Lokis and I, well, we don’t complement each other. We’re too alike, I think. Even in our differences. It’s not a dynamic that makes for easy friendships. Maybe because we know each other’s pain too well. They are as much mirror images of myself as they are strangers. And I fear that is part of the curse of being a Loki.” He turned his attention back to Thor, arms dropping to his sides. “But I would like to be your brother. Not merely because I miss my own or because I believe I can do better, although both of those things are part of it. But because I don’t think Lokis or Thors are meant to be without each other. I think we’re two halves of the same whole. And on our own we’re never complete.”
Or was that just more of Loki’s selfishness? He didn’t think so. He did believe it. But he’d spent so many years lying that even he had to wonder as to his own intentions.
Loki placed a hand on Thor’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I made a promise to my brother the last time I saw him. I intend to keep that promise. And if that means fulfilling it with you then that is what I will do.”
“Is it alright then that I call you my brother?” Sylvie’s disappearance had hurt Thor so deeply that he stopped using that familial term, not only because he thought he’d forced the Lokis into a relationship they weren’t ready for, but he wanted to distance himself from them as a way to protect himself. Thor was not accustomed to this sort of loss and heartbreak. In that way, Loki was correct… he always came up on top, even after a setback. It happened so often, he took it for granted.
Thor wondered about Loki’s promise, but before asking about it, “Let me show you what I wanted to show you…” He tilted his head to the corner of the room behind Loki where a portable television with built in DVD player rested upon a small dresser… a clunky, box shaped thing that Thor found in one of the abandoned classrooms on campus and took over for his own use. The dorm room was so small and Thor so large that he had to nudge past Loki to get to it, (“‘Scuse me”), bending over to find the right button on the bottom of the display.
The blank screen came on, and the DVD was already queued up and paused at a specific spot. “This is the DVD that I’m showing everybody later on today, but… I wanted you to see this first.” His eyes shifted awkwardly. “I thought it was… important.” We bent down again to press PLAY.
The scene was short, lasting less than a minute; instead of watching the screen, Thor observed Loki’s reaction and hit PAUSE when the bit was over, then turned to look at Loki again.
“The narrator is the voice of Uatu, the Watcher. You were told about him, right? His job is to observe everything in the multiverse. He knows.” He looked back at the screen, his image frozen still, knowing how the story progresses from there. For a moment, he floundered, not sure how to continue, but he tried. “The way Uatu spoke of me… made it sound as though I was… “ Which word would he use to describe himself? “... an exception. An abnormality. A Loki-less Thor.” He worried his brow. “I told you when we first met that I always wondered what it would be like to have a brother or sister… a sibling. Maybe I was supposed to, and something went wrong?”
He cautiously glanced at Loki once more. “I wanted to show you this because… well… “ His voice trailed off into awkward silence,
Loki had never felt forced by Thor to be anything he didn’t want to be. He’d been glad for Thor’s enthusiasm when he first arrived. It gave him hope that there was a chance for him to do right where he’d once done wrong. A chance for him to be the brother he should have been for the last thousand years. But in a way he understood why Thor had backed off and why Sylvie’s disappearance weighed on him. It was easy to forgive the things you did wrong. It wasn’t easy forgiving the things you never did at all.
“Of course, you may call me your brother. It would be an honor.” Loki offered a smile and while it was small, it was true.
But before Loki could say more on the subject, Thor was pushing past him in order to turn on the DVD he was so desperate to show him. Loki didn’t know what the rush was or what was important—was he not going to watch this with everyone else?—but he didn’t say anything. He merely squeezed himself to the side, giving Thor room to set up the display, and then he watched.
At first there was very little change to his expression. He watched the screen with a scrutinizing stare. Contemplative and serious. He knew Thor was watching him for a reaction, but he tried not to show too much. It wasn’t the images which affected him in the end—although there was a momentary twitch near his eye when he saw Odin returning him to Laufey—it was the words that softened his expression.
A brotherhood so strong and pivotal it would change the fate of the universe.
It wasn’t until the clip ended that Loki truly realized what he’d just watched.
“He was talking about us,” Loki whispered, more to himself than anyone else. The narrator. This Watcher. He was talking about him. About him and his Thor. Or, at least, any permutation of himself who’d grown up with Thor. Where the two of them had forged identities together as brothers.
But the painting looked like them. And Loki felt as though the Watcher was speaking of them. Speaking to him.
He blinked. His expression softened. He didn’t frown but there was a downward turn to his lips. A kind of sadness. Or solemnity. That strange middle ground between the two.
But what was he supposed to say? What kind of encouragement or reassurance could he provide this exception? Loki may not have known this Thor well, but he did know Thor. And he would recognize that look of uncertainty anywhere. He’d seen it many times when they were younger. When his own brother worried that he might not be worthy of the throne.
Loki’s face broke into a genuine smile. And when he looked at Thor it was with playfulness. The same kind of mischievous know-it-all gleam he used to share with his Thor in the palace halls. “Nothing went wrong. The timing is just off. Maybe you weren’t supposed to have a sibling until now. Maybe you weren’t ready.”
If Thor had had a Loki in his life during Ultron’s attack, would he have helped save the multiverse? Or would he have rushed to his brother’s side?
Loki knew what his Thor would have done.
“As the old Midgardian adage goes … Be careful what you wish for, brother.”
There were no words to express Thor’s emotions and happiness and pride swelled in his chest, reaching all the way up to his eyes, which twinkled … or were those tears of joy? Unable to control himself, he embraced Loki tightly, then pulled back to look at him. “Brothers,” he said… an address, and a declaration. He then patted Loki on the side of his arm. “Come, there are others waiting to watch this video, and you need to see the rest of it! You’ll be able to see my universe!”