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Chapter Text

Loki’s chains hung heavy on his wrists, metal snakes curled and dug into pale skin, threatening to pull his arms from their sockets, imprinting red bites into his skin. But he paid no mind to the pain, his eyes shimmering like two jade stones; staring up at the man he once called ‘Father’. But now, Odin looked more a stranger to him than his own biological father, his gaze was cold, no warmth in his azure eyes which once might've made Loki feel like he belonged, no familiarity, no love stood between them now. He was a King, and Loki his prisoner.

“Loki Laufeyson, do you confess to the crimes placed against your name? You are accused of acts of terrorism, murder, deceit, heresy and betrayal against your royal name and the crown.”

Loki’s eyes were sharp dark pools of anger, in response to the accusatory glares his audience and Odin sent his way, pride both hindering and fueling his anger. Frigga was nowhere to be seen, nor Thor, their presence banned from Loki’s Judgement, a hindering presence that would try to soften and bring mercy to Loki’s punishment. But Loki knew the truth, bitter and sour in his mouth, the people he had grown up beside, they desired to see him torn to shreds; no cell would appease their thirst to see the proud Loki torn from his pedestal and beaten into the mud.

Lying was pointless, there were no clever words to get him out of this, Loki knew that no tales would save him from his fate, the truth dripped from his lips, bitter and pungent upon his silver tongue.

“I plead guilty of always failing to reach the standards set upon me by you and your ignorant people.” He spat, his throat dry, bones and muscles weak from the tiring day. ”But no apology will come from me, not for any of the wrongdoings I have committed, for every pain I may have caused, it is nothing compared to the pain I have endured from you and this kingdom.”

A quietness settled through the room, a pin might've been heard if someone had dropped it in the hall. But it gave no calm to the torrent of venomous thoughts which plagued the bodies filling the hall. It roared in his ears as he heard the silent murmur of wind outside the window-arches, brushing leaves and branches against the cool, stone walls that surrounded him.

“Very good.” Odin nodded, turning away. He did not answer Loki’s claim, ignoring it. “Your punishment will be as follows - Enter!”

The doors opened, as the All-father finished speaking, six men and one woman entered the great hall. Their bodies adorned with priceless armour and refurbished weapons. Loki recognised four people of the group, and his stomach twisted unpleasantly as the warrior’s three and Sif stared back at him. They all came to stand in a perfect line next to the throne, their forms large and overbearing to look upon, their stares unfeeling and firm. Loki knew that no love was lost between him and Thor’s friends, but to see them standing there, willing participants in his execution, he had to wonder what Thor would think.

“In penance for your violent crimes and extreme views, you will be set loose in the woodland near the border of Asgard’s lands, forbidden to the common folk of our people, closed off for the purpose of hunting only. Your magic will be removed from you, only two daggers will be supplied as your defence. You will be hunted down by Asgard’s finest warriors. The victor will decide the way in which your body will be used and how you will die. You look down upon those you deem lesser than you, now you shall feel the cruel burn of your actions, nothing more than a lamb awaiting the slaughter.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed, and but a second passed where he gave Odin one last stare, his eyes sparkling. He waited, perhaps secretly hoping for a final glimpse of his father, but Odin maintained his royal countenance, whatever pain he may have felt over the loss of his son, it was buried beyond sight, maybe gone forever.

His chains were finally yanked, his body pulled from the throne room, cold, unwavering and unmerciful stares bore into his back. And even as the doors slammed shut, he could hear the whispers along with his neck.

Frigga, although forbidden from seeing Loki, had a small amount of say in her son’s punishment; his cell was proof of that fact. Loki appreciated the furnishings and books he had been gifted, and despite his hatred for his false-Father, he could find no hatred for the women he once looked upon as his mother, only a deep-seeded love and regret for the elder-mother, and a wish to remove her pain and the look of betrayal he had last seen on her gentle features.

She had never treated him unkind, and had Loki been better hidden from the truth of his heritage, perhaps he would’ve lived his life oblivious, forever bathing in her loving nature and firm wisdom.

Thor was much the same, though his affections were shown with more subtlety, Loki could see from the small familiar touches surrounding his cell, little familiar pieces of his life before the fall.  Furs and some trinkets from his royal chambers now filled his cell, making the cold interior; a slight bit more comfortable. The knowledge that the oaf still cared, settled ill in his mind, a seed that planted upon his heart and sprouted feelings he would rather not analyse.

He had no regrets, regret was pointless in the motion of life, why regret what you could not undo. But he missed the comforts of his life before this mess, if only things had been simpler, he would have the opportunity to feel the long-forgotten warmth of his oafish, not-brother. But he had made his choice, and regret was a frivolous waste of what little time he had left.

Soon the time would be upon him, and Loki knew that despite his cunning and strength, without his gifts, he was not strong and big like Thor, his body was not crafted for battle, and he would likely not survive his execution.

He could take some comfort that Thor would not be of the group tasked to hunt him down and kill him, an irrelevant comfort, but a comfort none the less. He knew that when he was captured, his death would come slow, only the fates knew what the victor would do to him before granting him peace in death, Odin had subjected him to a painful end by giving the warriors three control over his demise, he would not see his mother ever again, nor his brother. He would not be granted funeral rights, his soul would likely be forever trapped in those woodlands, never free to pass on to the afterlife. So yes, it was a comfort and a curse that Thor would not be in his trials, He could but imagine the sentimental idiot capturing him then being unable to follow through with his task, Thor was honourable and loyal, Loki had once believed him foolishly loyal to Asgard and the orders of their father, but too many times had the oaf proven that his loyalty lay with those he chose worthy, with those he loved.

His body now lay, exhausted upon the soft furs covering his bed, counting away the seconds. Odin’s mages had come soon after the meeting with the All-Father, dressed in black, their fingers gripping and harsh upon his body, as their words stripped him of all magic he once possessed, leaving him hollow and cold in their wake. Two simple and small daggers sat upon the side table, his only weapons against the oncoming storm. They were nothing like his once precious hand-knives Thor had gifted him on his name day, cheap in comparison, but they were his only tools. Their handles were crafted of simple oak and steel, no decorations or signets adorning the smooth material, but their blades were sharp, and they would deal great damage before he finally met his end.

Time passed slowly, only the quite mumbles of the other inmates down the hall showing that he was indeed alive, that time had not stopped, but the knowledge did nothing to appease his restless thoughts. Fear refused to take root inside his mind, he may have his tricks taken away, but Loki was well skilled in the art of slighter weapons, he would not be prey to those mindless beasts, and if Odin thought him weak, he would be sure to paint the trees with the blood of as many of his foes, before he met his end, show the King that he may have won, but his victory would cost him his greatest men and women.

His thoughts were venomous, bubbling across his mind like an uncontrollable wave, swept away only by the soft footsteps that echoed as they approached from down the hall. He glanced up in time to see a dark, hooded shadow move through the barrier separating his cell from freedom. The gold film shimmering as its form was interrupted.

Loki sat up warily, watching the silent, large body, trying to determine whether the intruder was a threat, trying to recognize from their shape, who they may be.

“Such a cold welcome Brother, I thought you would be happy to see me.”

Loki’s eyes widened in shock at the familiar, warmth in the words, the voice deep and low in tone. A choked breath escaped from his throat without permission as the hood was flicked back, Thor’s eyes flashing deep cobalt as the light struck against them. A grin was plastered to his bronzed face.

 “Thor...” Loki’s voiced took up his trademark pokerface, yelping when the brute stalked forward, arms wrapping tightly around Loki’s waist, ignorant or simply careless of the tension between them and pulling him into a crushing hug, the rough scruff of his beard scratching against the flesh of Loki’s neck.

Memories flashed to the forefront of his mind. He was so much younger and care-free, dwelling in the warmth Thor offered, all of that was gone now, and left him yearning and craving that which he could never have. He pressed his hands against Thor’s chest, allowing himself to absorb the warmth. For but a second he allowed himself to be the smaller brother he once was, but time passed much too quickly and all things sweet must come to an end. He placed a hand between their bodies, his eyes hardening against the warmth Thor tried to melt him with, and pushed. 

 “Why are you here?” He breathed, pushing himself free, ignoring the hurt expression on the Thunderer’s face. An empty chuckle tumbling from his chapped lips as he shook his head.

 “Don’t look so disappointed, you can’t expect a warm welcome, not after everything that has come to pass. Or do you forget the shackles you placed upon me, did you expect all to be well after all that has happened.”

 Thor’s smile waned with each word, until finally he snarled, and again Loki was taken aback as his body struck the cool, concrete of the cell, bright cerulean eyes glowing in the shadow of the dim lighting, clashing against emerald.

 “I know not what to expect anymore, my people are taking me for a fool, Father keeps me in the shadows, the people I trust treat me like a stranger, and the one person I expected to stand beside me is now spitting upon me like I am dirt underfoot.” Loki stared up at him, biting tongue to cheek as he considered the shadows beneath Thor’s eyes, an unfamiliar softness causing his harsh expression to ease as he sighed and moved around Thor, picking up two glasses and pouring wine into each goblet. 

“You are safer under father’s cloak Thor." Loki's voice was tired, ”You do not want to know what your loyalty has cost you, better you leave now and move on.”

 He placed a goblet before his brother and moved back to lounge against one of the black, furnished couches adorning his cell. Thor picked up the glass, regarding it with an air of irritation before he set it back down again, the liquid untouched.

 “I was never one for the shadows, that has always your domain Loki, I would rather us come together in honesty than in ignorance. Father tells me your punishment will take place tomorrow, yet he tells me nothing of what your punishment will entail. Sif and the others avoid me, and mother lingers behind the locked doors of her chambers, she has only spoken to me in order to help me sneak past the guards to come see you.”

 Loki sighed, gulping down his beverage in one gulp, the sour taste burning his throat as he set the cup down. He pointed to Thor’s cup.

 “Drink Thor, you look like you need the warmth of a drunken stupor.” He watched as Thor picked up the glass, only speaking once the cup was tipped back, the dark liquid flowing into his brother’s mouth. He considered the wisdom of telling Thor the truth, what would it gain for him to know the severity of Loki’s punishment. But in a selfish moment, Loki wanted desperately to know Thor’s reaction.

 “I am to die tomorrow.” He said finally, watching Thor’s face pale, a drop of wine escaping his cup and splashing to the ground, blood red against the stark white. “The woodlands over Asgard borders, the one closed off to us as children, the ones used for hunting by the King’s royal huntsman.” Thor nodded, his attention rapt upon Loki’s words, “My magic has been removed and I have been given two daggers.” He indicated to the small knives on his table. “I will be given free reign into that woodland, where seven of Asgard finest, including Sif and your comrades will follow and hunt me down like a dog, and once they catch me, they have freedom to do as they wish with my body, before they kill me.”

 Thor’s expression might’ve been humorous, the fact that his wine was threatening to spill from his lips made Loki’s lips tug up into a sad little smirk. But the pale pallid of his skin was worrisome.

 “You came for the truth Odinson, and I gave it to you.” Thor’s mouth gaped, his eyes wide with the kind of shock one wore when they could barely believe what they were hearing.

 “That can’t be so Loki.” Thor shook his head, frowning as he tried to make sense in his mind, “Sif and the others would not do something so dishonourable. And father would not do this, you are as much a prince here, to judge you in such a demeaning way. Father should know that your death will not be quick, the warriors despise you for the mockery you have made of them countless times through our childhood, they will break you, why would father shame you like this, you must be mistaken.”

 Loki rolled his eyes, before offering a withering stare to his once-brother, “I’m not your brother, nor have I ever been, I am not a prince of Asgard. I am a frost Giant, a beast in the eyes of everyone in this cursed kingdom including Odin, best you remember that Thor, perhaps then you will stop deluding yourself as to this stupid fallacy of a fantasy you have created for yourself. I was a means to an end, and my purpose ended the day I stepped out of this illusion of reality Odin has crafted.”

 Thor was silent, and Loki stood from the settee to place their cups back in their place next to the small jug of wine, the silence was deafening in his ears as it weighed down his shoulders. He placed his hands against the smooth surface of the shelf, his head hanging low as his mind tried to find a place of comfort, coming up bare without his magic, he was truly and completely empty.

 “You’re right.” The silence was broken with a quite, defeated whisper. Thor’s voice strangely broken and cheerless considering his habit of often sounding like sunlight.

 “You’re always right Loki.” Loki hunched at his words, each letter piercing his chest. “You’re not my brother, you never were. But whatever you are, whatever you wish to call yourself, you’re the face I remember waking up next to each morning as children, I’ve learnt so much beside you, and whether you wish to name yourself a monster, a friend or a foe, that doesn’t change that you’re the one person in this blasted existence that I couldn’t imagine spending a day without.”

 Loki didn’t have the opportunity to turn, though bitter and spiteful words lingered on the edge of his tongue waiting to rip and shred and tear. Arms locked around his waist, locking the hateful venom inside, and soaking him in warmth and the sweet aroma of fire, wood and ozone.

 “I never understood why you got so angry.” Warm breath brushed against the cold flesh of Loki’s neck, Thor’s words spoken softly into his ear. “Now I understand. You think that because you’re heritage is different, that your place in this family has been altered as well, and I wish I could’ve shown you, before all of this, I wish I could have shown you how wrong you were.”

 The words hung between them like memories, bittersweet and reminiscent to what could have been, but what was now long lost. Loki’s heart beat loud and steady in his ear, a clock-like beating in his chest, warning him of the steadily approaching execution.

 Pressing a hand against Thor’s arm, he turned, dedicating the warmth to memory as he pushed against Thor’s chest, part of him wishing he had the strength and dedication to try and make Thor angry, make Thor so angry that he would forget this sadness that now plagued his gentle features. But he didn't have it in him anymore, he was to die in a few hours, and if this was to be his last moments with Thor, he wished they could part amicably.

 But time was passing, and Thor wasn't moving, and with each second he lingered, it became more difficult to face his approaching doom. He moved his fingers against the large surface of Thor’s chest, beginning to move pressure in an intent of pushing Thor away, putting separation between their bodies.

 “Thor-“ His sentence cut short, the same with his oxygen as warmth pressed against his mouth, a hand locking around his neck as  lips danced smoothly against his own. His eyes widened, hands curling into fists as his mind juggled between the overbearing warmth wrapping him up, and the logical decision to back away, escape the comfort and sweetness spreading through his whole body.

 Fingers curled in the long, inky locks of his hair, tugging, demanding, pulling his head back, and in doing so, rendering him incapable of resistance.

 His fingers uncurled, crawling up to grip and massage the rough skin behind Thor’s neck, his breaths heavy, mingling with Thor’s. Every logical thought told him to stop, that if he allowed this, that it would make what was to come, that much more painful to endure, and as powerful as his desire was, Loki found the strength to pull away. The bare inch between their bodies making things a small bit easier.

 He pressed two fingers to Thor’s mouth, stopping him from leaning in for another kiss.

 “Stop.” He breathed, unsure whether the word was a plea or an order.

 A minute passed of silence, nothing but the sound of their shuddering breaths, and the ghost of desire lingering over their trembling skin.

 “Loki-“

 “You have to go.” Loki cut in, trying to gather the strength to step away, the finalising thought that this would be the last time he would see Thor, he never imagined that their tale would end here.

 His gaze lifted when warm hands cupped his cheeks, lifting his face up and forcing him into stillness.

 “How can I?” Thor demanded, blue eyes shimmering. “How can I leave, knowing that hours from now I will be safe while you are not, knowing what they will do to you, knowing I will never see you again, how can you expect me to accept this.”

 Loki’s eyes widened, but he refused to be softened by Thor’s words, his eyes flashing in defiance as he lurched from the comfort of Thor’s hold. He shook his head, sighing before looking up into Thor’s gaze.”

 “Because that is what you can and will do. You are to be King; you can’t betray your people. You will leave me, and tomorrow when you see Odin, you will smile and act normal, because why should this time be any different from all the other times you have chosen your friends and your father over me. You will greet your friends upon their return, you will drink and be merry, because this time is no different than all the other times you have turned your back. You will fight alongside your men; regardless of what it is they do to me, because anything they do tomorrow will be no different from anything they have done in the past.”

 “Of course it shall be different.” Thor exclaimed, stepping forward, his eyes cackling in the light. And Loki’s eyes narrowed as he too took a step back, his back hitting the cell-wall. 

“How?!” He snarled, “How is this any different?” 

“Because you won’t be there." Thor shouted, his voice breathless with frustration.  "You won't be there to forgive my stupidity, you’ll be gone, that’s what will be different.” His words caused Loki’s frown to drop, venomous words fading from his mind, his eyes widening.

 Time passed in seconds, Minuetes or perhaps hours, yet nothing was said or done in the post-expression of Thor’s words, the bitterness of time brought an end to their meeting as the sound of a lock sliding out of place; echoed from down the hall, a series of steps following after.

 “Loki-“ Thor whispered, his eyes flashing in panic at the close ending of their bittersweet reunion.

 “Go Thor.” Loki breathed, turning away to seat himself on the foot of the bed.

“Tell Mother that I am sorry.”

Nothing was added, and with a bitter feeling, Loki listened to the sound of Thor’s steps as he left, his feet quick and oddly silent as he hurried to leave unnoticed by the approaching guards.

Chapter Text

Asgard had fallen into a darkness Loki had not seen in his life for a very long time. Rain fell in thick, loud torrents, drowning crops and cattle, leaving the kingdom in dark unease. The skies swam with a dark, heavy cover of clouds, leaving the golden city a now bleak grey. Heaviness hung in the balance, a tense, thick fog of depression which suffocated the whole realm. Loki blamed Thor. 

The brute had left seconds before Loki’s cell had been graced with the presence of several of the King’s guardsmen, and his body had been stripped of every piece of finery, armour or jewellery, leaving him painfully bare in his light underclothes. They mercifully left him with an ounce of his dignity, not ripping his clothing, and for that Loki was thankful. But it was short-lived and fleeting as they yanked him from the small confines of his cell and led him from the dungeons. 

The light material of his clothes was soaked through mere seconds after being victim to the heavy torrent of rain falling from the skies, and as the water sliced icily across his face, he was momentarily blinded, the loud screams of the crowds greeting his ears. They had all come to see him suffer, and Loki felt the bitter rage curling in his stomach, forcing a smile across his face as he faced their jibes and taunting words.

Lies-smith.

Silver-tongue.

Betrayer.

Monster.

Ergi.

Jotun-Scum.

By the time they reached their destination, his ears rung with their bitter words, his skin was painted and bruised with spoiled fruit. Stones and pebbles still disintegrating beneath his feet from where they were thrown, scarring and marking his skin black and blue. 

“Look at me Loki.” Odin now stood before him, guarding the entrance into the dark woodland. Loki bared his teeth, not gracing Odin with his vision, instead leaning forward and spitting against the ground at his feet. If they believed him to be an animal, then he would ensure they never forgot him in that light. He wished he could rip them all to small pieces and bathe in their remains, watch as they plead for his mercy, the people he once called his own, now watching him with a gleeful desire as they called for his execution. 

Thor and Frigga were nowhere to be seen, part of Loki wished he could see his mother one more time. 

The strike to his head was loud, his skull bouncing to the left as a ringing buzzed in his ear. Nothing was said in response though, and the loud screams overruled any words his captors may have spat in reprimand.

”In your final hours, you will die honourably, without your enchantments and trickery, with only your intelligence and strength. May you battle without masks, that your opponents will know what it is they truly fight against.” Loki’s eyes flashed at the words, bitterness swirling in his mouth as the cuffs around his wrists were released, his hands darkening from the pale hue to a dark, sickening blue. He felt one of the soldiers grab at his head, and Loki realised that horns now curled from his skull. Daggers we're shoved into his hand, a boot placing itself against the small of his back and shoving him forward.

”Move bitch!"

He stumbled forward, tripping with the echo of laughter as his body hit the mud, grateful when the rain hid the few tears that escaped, and he couldn’t stop staring at the darkness of his skin. 

“And should I win, what then?” He choked out in a loud snarl, pushing himself to his feet, turning to stare at the All-Father, and the only thing he saw before the greenery closed around him was Odin’s shaking head as he turned away. 

“You won’t.”  

In the darkness of the greenery, blue and olive overgrowth surrounding him and the heavy silence of the deep woodland roaring in his ears, he shed the irritating material of his top layers and strap, tucking the daggers into his bootleg securely. Lifting a hand to his head, he ignored the sickening twist as he felt two sharp horns curling from his skull. He left his breeches on, ripping the ends till the material settled around his lower thigh. He trekked onwards, leaving a wet pile of sodden clothes upon the muddy ground, his upper body now bared to the elements.

The cold didn’t bother him in this form, and Loki didn't see the point of propriety.

He trekked onwards, leaving a wet pile of sodden clothes upon the muddy ground, his upper body now bared to the elements.

The silence was his only companion as he wandered deeper into the shadows, branches and leaves scratching his skin, ignoring the unsettling whispers of animals and life moving around him. The rustle of a bush, the snap of a twig, the whisper of leaves dancing and brushing together, each sound was both soothing and frightening in kind, Loki now understood why this was to be his death-bed, how ironic that the shadows he once held close and dear, now frightened him, holding unknown entities which at any second could lunge forward and kill him.

His pursuers, or hunters as they were better called, had not yet shown their faces in the trek, Loki wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or not for that fact, but all good things must come to an end, and the peace was abruptly broken by the whistle of an arrow, and the sharp crunch as it impaled the wood of a large oak, inches from Loki’s face. 

He ducked, crouching to the ground and pulling one of the daggers from his boot. 

“Nowhere to run now, little Prince. I’ve waited years for the chance to put you in your place.” Loki turned, analysing and determining his threat as he came face to face with an overgrown bear of a man, unrecognisable, but then again, all of the warriors tended to look the same to him. Big, brutish and ugly.

He bared his teeth in a sharp grin, stepping back until his skin met the crude texture of wood. Horns scratching roughly against the bark and leaving small shards scurrying down his back. 

“How wrong you are." He purred, baring his teeth, "I have an entire forest at my leisure.” Loki grinned, his slighter frame enabling him to jump higher, grasping a low-set branch and pulling himself up with only mild pain in his bruised limbs. The snarl that erupted from his pursuer was frightening to describe at best, without his magic or his armour, Loki wasted no time in leaping for the next branch, his nimble feet carrying him into the thick brush of leaves and twigs. 

“Come back here, little pig, don’t draw this out!”The heavy crunch of feet crushing leaves followed his path, and Loki only breathed easier when he could no longer hear his pursuer's voice or footsteps. 

His heartbeat raced inside his chest and he leant his body against the firm support of the trunk’s thick neck, breathing deeply and ignoring the childish urge to cry, self-pity welling deep inside his body. He would not pity himself, not now, and not when Odin could be watching, so instead, he checked his body and daggers, breathing easy when everything seemed in order. 

Hours must have passed, and Loki stayed in that tree, peering every few hours to look for any followers, but none came, his only pursuer was the darkness of night, steadily approaching and chasing away his vision, bringing all things dark, cold and unknown. His stomach aches with hunger, and his body bloomed with bruises and cuts. He was battered, but he had survived his first day in these woods, for a moment Loki considered the hope that he might yet survive this. 

Chapter Text

He had fallen asleep, though unintentionally, he hadn’t planned to stay in one place long enough to allow him to fade into slumber. But he was exhausted and the safety of his perch in the tree’s kept him from anyone hunting him below. With the disconcerting heaviness of sleep still weighing on his shoulders, a dull ache from lying against the uncomfortable bark for a long period of time. He grunted, pushing himself up, and sucking in a breath as he stretched his muscles.

The wood was silent save for the distant patter of rain, he wondered how long he had slept, and judging from the faint light flittering through the leaves, it must be morning. Listening for sound amongst the dark brush below, he strained his ears. There was none, only the whisper of the wind dancing through the trees, a mockery of unease as he strained to hear for a threat amongst the darkness below.

That was when he heard it, listening intently, a low hiss behind him.

He bared his teeth, his hands moving from their loose position to grip the hilt of his daggers tightly. Then he saw it, a small, scaled face moving through the brush overhead, bright, emerald eyes flashing at him as a forked tongue flicked and tasted the air. Loki snarled at the snake, pushing himself back as his eyes tried to determine a suitable escape. He was vulnerable against the large serpent, and without magic he was helpless against the widening mouth, fangs winking dangerSnake

“Snake!” Sif nscreeched, clutching her scalp in rage, feeling where there was once hair, now there was nothing but cropped strands of black.

Perhaps Thor would turn his attention away from her; now that her beauty was destroyed, perhaps he would once again remember Loki. He laughed, grinning as he twirled the dagger between his fingers and took off into a run, hearing the echo of a scream.

“You snake, I’ll rip your silver tongue from your mouth!”

“Such foul words from a lady!” Loki answered, grinning, not watching where he was running and ending up slamming into a wall. Not a wall, he quickly remedied his thoughts as he turned, coming face to face with a broad chest. Head tilting back, his emerald eyes met azure, and suddenly his glee faded, drifting away and disappearing as Sif appeared.

Thor looked from his younger brother to Sif’s rage-filled expression, torn between protecting Loki and demanding an explanation for why Sif was carrying a sword and looked ready to use it upon a child.

Then he saw her hair, her beautiful blond locks cropped and bleached into black.

“Loki.” He said, looking back down, “What have you done?”

Loki gaped, brow furrowing as he sought for a way out, wishing Thor had arrived later, giving him time to escape. He wished he could tell the truth, tell Thor that he did it for him, did it to earn back his love, but instead he lied.

“I am a snake, I move in darkness, if you are not weary I will strike, Sif should know this better than any, perhaps next time she'll know not to move into my territory."

Loki had no time to run before its body leapt, winding itself around his head, thick, cold and wet, coils wrapping around his neck and forehead, leaving him no time to react. And as he tried to scream, the breath was heaved out of his lungs violently. He felt pressure over his head, the tips of his horns scratching against the underside of the snake as it tried to find a way to coil around the bony appendages. Such an easy mistake to make, and with a quick flick of his head, his horns impaled the snake’s head and belly, piercing through the bone and flesh until it met the tree on the other side, nailing the cruel creature down as it screamed and altered between squeezing and loosening its coils. Loki ignored the sickening crunch, the dying squeals sickening him until they finally silenced.

Loki brought his hand up, running the blade quickly along the thick flesh, satisfaction swimming in his chest as he felt the wet insides boil and tumble out onto his skin, coating him red. The thick form yielded under his ministrations, falling away as its coils were cut and loosened.

Unwinding the now dead creature, he flung it to the side, refusing to glance at the emerald eyes which stared at him, dead and lifeless from the corpse. Hearing the loud thump as it tumbled through the branches to the ground below. His throat hurt, it would most likely bruise in the following days, but the pain was a welcome distraction from the circumstances and a boost to his damaged confidence. With blood dripping from his horns and hand, and the dead remnants of the snake's innards covering his stomach, he felt an ounce of his old confidence flowing back into him. But he would now have to move, no doubt the noise would've attracted attention.

With one lasting breath he heaved himself up, lowering his body quietly to the ground, careful not to disturb his surroundings, mindful of the shadows dancing around him.

Where were his pursuers? He was quite shocked that in the possible hours that had passed, he had only encountered one.

“So-called best warriors of Asgard, I’ve seen rats with better tracking skills.” He scoffed grinning at his own words as he tucked his knives away and set off through the trees

Time passed, and Loki allowed frustration to seep into his mind, wishing he had some semblance of time or location. It was with a relieving sigh that he heard the gentle sound of water moving over rocks, a stream; he wandered closer, mood lifting at the thought of washing himself and getting a drink. Although the bloody and gore gave him a feral look, they had begun to crust and smell, and Loki found that he preferred comfort over visual effect in this instance. 

Besides, a bath would help pass the tedium of the journey.

He smelt them before he saw them, the thick stench of smoke and sweat bombarding his senses as he came to a clearing, a small stream flowing down the middle. He saw two hunkering figures heaving with metal and iron on their bodies. Their bustling laughter irritated his ears, and he ducked low, silent as he watched them sit along the stream shore, sharpening their weapons as they spoke amongst each other. Sif and the warriors three had still not shown face, which made Loki nervous as he watched intently. These two were familiar to him, he had seen them sparring with Thor often. They preferred the use of axes, and Loki could see next to them, two massive axes, sharpened and ready to break flesh and bone. Their faces were already smudged with dirt, thick beards plaited and adorned with beads, they were battle-hardened and Loki knew that without his magic, he would not last long against them.

“There go my hopes of washing myself.” He muttered to himself, curling his nose at his own odour, the stink of blood, sweat and damp clothing, he wished desperately for a bath. He backed away quietly, planning to try and follow the stream higher up away from the two men in the clearing. Pulling his wits about as he backed back into the greenery, gasping when his feet tripped over a rock.

But it wasn’t a rock, and Loki scampered back as his eyes settled on the slashed up body in front of him. It was the warrior from before, the one he had first encountered, but his arrogant features were twisted and torn, neck twisted and split open, he was a gruesome sight, stomach cut open, guts lying across the ground, blood pouring over the mud and grass, attracting flies and other scavengers. But it was his face that drew Loki’s attention; his nose had been slashed in two, and bent back so that it now paid semblance to a pig, Loki’s eyes widened. 

“Come back here, Little Pig.”

The words echoed in his mind, and he felt nausea curl in his gut as he backed away from the corpse, covering his mouth at the stench. Fear settled in his mind at what was out there, how vulnerable he truly was. Whatever had done this, it wasn't the other warriors, their violent desires we're focused on Loki, not each other, so whatever had done this had been powerful, to tear a grown warrior to pieces, what would it do to him?

He wasn’t aware of the amount of noise he had actually made until two figures broke through the branches and happened upon him and his discovery. Loki lurched to his feet, swaying slightly as the blood rushed to his head, and the slowness of his limbs cost him precious time as the two men paid a glance to their fallen comrade before snarling and hurtling their large bodies at him.

He yelped as hands grasped his forearms, the warmth scalding him, the only penance offered was the pained cries of his attackers as their skin darkened black with frostbite, their hands flinching back.

“You bitch.” One of them spat, pulling free an axe. “I’ll wipe the ground with your blood.” Loki backed away, lowering his body into a crouch as he eyed the two carefully, pulling free a dagger from his bootleg.

He was cornered, back close to a thick lining of boulders, and he wouldn’t be quick enough to climb them and escape.

“Nowhere to run now silver tongue, no one to protect you, now that they all know what you truly are.” Loki’s tongue tasted bitter with words he kept silent, yearning to bite back, but pride kept him from digging his grave deeper. He bared his teeth, gritting them tight in defiance, but his silence only earned him mocking laughter.

”You’ll pay for what you did to Fragi, I'll make you squeal like the animal we all know you are.” 

He had little time to prepare before the blade of an axe entered his peripheral, dodging to the side and crying out as the skin of his arm was sliced. He rolled, clutching the stinging

wound, feeling the life-blood seep through his fingertips.  He pressed himself up, buckling at the pressure upon his arm, knowing that the blade had obviously pierced deeper than expected. 

A shadow moved over him, and he looked up, not offering an inch of fear to the brute now pressing his foot against the bloody skin of his arm, his dagger falling away. He choked down a whine, wishing he could reach through the material of the man’s armour and burn his skin off.

“Time to die Trickster.” Loki snarled, pulling and trying to pull free, unaware of the small shards of ice building at the tips of his fingers as his body began to thrum in his panicked state.

It was as the man leaned down; grinning cruelly, mouth opening to mutter some more words of venom. His fist shot up instinctively, ice forming at the tip in a sharp shard that embedded itself into the broad chest, poking out at the other side.

The shocked expression was made better at the sputter of blood which choked from the warrior’s mouth, drops splattering over Loki’s face as he sneered up into his attacker's face.

“I may be a bitch, but I’m a bitch that you’ll never get the pleasure of touching.” Heaving with all his strength until the ice broke off his hand, allowing the heavy form to fall to the side into a still heap of blood and muscle.

He coughed, moaning at the pain in his arm, eyes flickering up at the man still standing at the end of the clearing, eyes cast over his fallen comrades in shock. Loki stood, shaking slightly as he raised his hand, ice building at the tip.

 His composure shook, body weak, he could feel it in the way his dark hands shook unsteadily. He hoped he had enough strength left to stand against one last fight, but that hope was futile, he couldn’t see himself surviving, he’d taken down one out of seven warriors and already his body was close to crumbling apart. He wasn’t this weak, but Loki had never entered a battle with knives, half-naked and without his magic, he was at an unfair disadvantage.

A moment of silence filled the clearing, blood and mangled bodies covered the floor, red painted across Loki’s skin, he fancied he must look rather dangerous in an animal sort of way; it was ironic considering the horns protruding from his skull. His red eyes fixed warily across the large expanse of greenery, fixed on the shocked warrior still staring at his fallen comrades. Finally, something seemed to click in his opponents’ mind, his broad face twisting, shocked expression morphing into a look of rage as he drew his sword.

 “You beast!” His voice cracked, spittle flying as he sprung forward, hand pulling a large sword from its holster at his hip, but before he could move to injure Loki, a blade came down over his head, an axe.

Loki watched in surprise as its silver head embedding itself into his skull, cracking through skin, bone and brain. His hands dropped, his body scurrying back in frightened disbelief as blood began to spray from the deformed face. The axe pulled free, the head now split in two, gore and blood poured out onto the stained ground as the body crumbled, sword clattering against the rocks.

He tripped, sucking in a breath as a figure moved from the shadows, painted red in blood. Emerging as if pulling from the darkness and forming a shape of its own, but in the bleak light Loki could see a man, the rain and fear clouding his senses made it difficult to identify the new threat.

The bleak figure grew larger and larger as it closed in on Loki, axe held in a large gloved-hand, swinging lazily as it dripped blood from its tip. Till finally, he stood above Loki, large and overbearing. Loki tried to push himself up, but something had been covered in the axe that had wounded him earlier because his limbs felt weak and numb.

 The axe moved, rising, and Loki flinched, curling into himself, awaiting the oncoming shadow of his violent doom. He supposed there was some consolation; that he should die at the hands of someone strong and fearfully skilled, at least Loki had taken the life of one before his own life could be torn from him.

 But something sparked in him, a stubborn pride, rebirthing an egg of strength, pride pouring anger into his bloodstream, and a stubborn insistence that he would not die laying like a dog upon the ground, not this day! It had him moving, serpentine and lightning fast. He leapt up, wobbling on weak legs as he pulled his last dagger free from his bootleg and raising it with a bloodied snarl over his head, red teeth and glinting canines met the sights of his opponent.

 The reaction was not as expected.

 “Those knives are pathetic alternatives compared to the weapons you truly possess Loki.” 

Loki registered the words with slow comprehension, his blood buzzing. But it wasn’t the words that caught his attention. It was the voice that spoke them.

He realized seconds too late before a gloved-hand grasped his horn and pulled him forward, searing warmth blooming against his face, centred on the lips pressing against his. His brow furrowed, eyes widening as he realised that the red hair he thought he saw, was, in fact, blond, and the eyes staring into his own were a familiar jade blue.

He ripped himself free, shoving back, hand coming to his face as shaking fingers brushed against his lips, breaths shuttering from his lips in quick gasps. Thor’s mouth had begun to stain black from the frostbite, he didn’t seem to care in the slightest at the pain.

“T-Thor?” 

He gasped, eyes now analysing each inch of his brothers form, from the missing armour, the ripped cloak, the torn breeches, to the large axe in his hand instead of the tell-tale hammer. Thor’s dirty hair was tired back. One braid handing loose, adorned with small beads given to him by Frigga as a young man. 

“What have you done?” 

He breathed, reaching forward and hovering his hand over the burn marks seared into Thor’s chest, unease settling in his gut at the essence oozing from the marks. Mjolnir was nowhere to be seen, and those burns held her essence, but such a thing was not possible, Mjolnir could not harm her own wielder, unless... He didn’t touch for fear his skin would do worse damage to the already seared flesh. 

”Why are you-you should not be here!”

Thor stepped back, smiling through the gore and nodded his head in indication for Loki to follow him, leading them both from the gruesome massacre and back in the direction of the stream Loki had seen earlier. He left Loki’s question unanswered, and as they neared the stream, the gentle hum of water upon rocks met his ears, sending a thrill at the thought of finally cleaning himself.

 “Father will be sending his hounds soon.” Thor finally spoke for the first time since the unexpected kiss, “So wash, we can’t stay in one place too long.”

Loki hadn’t noticed the large sack on Thor’s back till he had settled it on the ground and pulled out two cloths and a satchel of fruit which he offered to Loki, setting it on the ground near the water. Loki stared at the offering, feet wet as they teased against the edge of the stream before his eyes flickered back up in disbelief.

“What is this?” He breathed, and Thor laughed, pulling off his damaged trousers and shirt, settling his stained body into the water, the blood and grime staining the running water, cleaning his body.

“Fruit Loki, you have had before.” Loki scowled, pulling off his own clothing and settling under the water, his mind soothed as the crisp mud was brushed away, leaving him feeling cleaner. 

“Not the fruit you idiot, this, here! You, here, covered in blood with those.” He pointed to the scorch marks covering Thor’s skin. ”Those burns in your skin. I know what they are; I want to know why you have them.” Thor’s smile faded, his eyes glancing away as he began to scrub at his forearms and chest.

Silence filled the gap between their words, an uncomfortable game of waiting as both came to terms with the realisation of their actions.

“You were wrong Loki,” Thor said, his voice so low, Loki barely heard it. “I may have been stupid when we were younger, but I would’ve never let you be hurt, not like this. I won’t allow you to enter this game for the sake of Asgardian justice. I haven’t got you back just so I can watch you be ripped apart.” 

Loki scoffed, shaking his head, “You’ve just made yourself a fugitive, a criminal for the sake of your sentiment, you are stupider than any I have ever met.”

He looked up, and Loki was met with the piercing azure gaze, rendering him silent in the face of Thor’s honesty, he could find no spite to return the heartfelt confession.

“Perhaps I am, that doesn’t make me regret this decision.” Thor once again turned away, stepping from the water into the piercing air, most of the dirt now gone, leaving golden flesh and firm muscle.

 Loki watched in brief fascination as he picked at the fruit inquisitively, sweetness gushing across his taste buds and easing the painful pangs of hunger curling in his gut. He didn’t know how to answer Thor’s words, and he didn’t feel like fighting with him.

 “I bought a gift; I managed to grab it before Father could be aware of my intentions,” Thor explained as he knelt before the satchel, his hands digging in the sack. Loki leaned forward, curious at the leather bindings Thor pulled from the satchel, his eyes widening as the wrappings fell away, revealing a slim box.

 Thor knelt before him, setting the box against the shore within Loki’s sights. His fingers played with the locks, and Loki found himself distracted by the obvious nakedness that Thor didn’t seem to mind. He allowed his eyes to wander along the firm angles of Thor’s face, his stomach twisting painfully at the slight bruising of his lips from the frostbite, a reminder of their differences.

His attention was drawn away as the contents of the box were revealed, Thor smiling as a gasp fell from Loki’s lips. He reached forward desperately and pulled a blade from the silk cushioning, the dagger winking at him, the jewels and magic-casted iron glinting dangerously.

 “My Knives.”

Chapter Text

When they had been younger, just young men at the brink of adulthood, Odin had granted them each a gift.

They had not yet felt the burn of war, Loki especially was sheltered from the savage realities, but they had started their training and as they progressed, so too did their styles. The gifts were supposed to work with their individual abilities, accompany their identities, tokens or symbols if you will, which would support them in battle.

Where Thor showed talent in war and brute strength, he was gifted a hammer, Mjölnir. Crafted from the core of a dying star, magic embedded into the hilt by the dwarven brothers Sindri and Brokkr, it was a fascinating object, capable of levelling realms and concentrating Thor’s unique power to call upon the storms, even more interesting for its conscious capability to choose its master. Loki had tried hard not to resent his brother for such a beautiful prize.

Loki however, showed talent in Seiðr, training underneath his mother, much to the distaste of his teachers and father. So he had been crafted hand-knives, threaded and formed with his own Seiðr. They were simple tools, but more complex than the regular hand dagger. They followed Loki’s spells like one would a map, and hardly ever missed their target. However, they were small and Loki hadn’t liked the implication of such weapons, for only woman used hand knives, no man of honour would be seen on the battlefield with such weapons.

He remembered vividly the bitter taste in his mouth when he had brought those knives to his sparring session, the jibes and mockeries the other men had whispered behind closed hands, like hens in a flock, pecking at the closest piece of gossip. He had used them impressively, but that only made things worse, for of course Loki would master in a women’s craft. He had thrown the knives with such ease at the wall that the hilts had been embedded into the stone, and had left them there with no inclination of ever taking them back.

Holing himself in his room, Loki remembered the ill feeling in his gut when no one came looking for him, he missed the evening meal and went to bed angry., bitter thoughts rooting in his mind as the sun set and the moon began to dance in the sky.

He had found them in an oak box the following morning, standing outside his chamber-doors, but they were different. Their hilts had been carved and smoothed, each nook and cranny embedded with gems and silver. The blades had been strengthened with iron and sharpened to a dangerous point. And where once there was simple polished oak, ruins were then embedded, ancient spells of protection and accuracy.

They were beautiful, and from the small token of red at the very end of the hilts, Loki had no confusion as to who was responsible for the improvement. He never did thank the oaf, never found opportunity, or perhaps pride had sewn his mouth shut. But he used no other weapon other than his staff after that encounter, his daggers forever hidden away in his clothing, silent and lethal blades which had since them silenced many.

Now, with the weapons resting in his palm, warming his skin and his soul, he was painfully reminded of his brother sitting a distance away from him, his hammer-less form. His eyes lifted, lips pursing as he sought for the right words to say in the situation.

Thor stood from his position on the ground, leaving Loki to dwell in his silent reverie, and instead busied himself with finding clothes and washing his axe.

His weapon of choice was an old and loyal companion, Jarnbjorn. The Dwarven-crafted war blade had been Thor’s weapon long before he had acquired Mjolnir, and although it possessed none of the magical qualities that the hammer had obtained, it was brutal and reliable in its swing. It had served his brother long before Mjolnir, and Thor still held it with ease and confidence.

A loud howl echoed from far through the trees, drawing both brothers’ eyes away from their task. Thor’s movements sped up as he grabbed the towel and bowl and shoved it into the satchel. He threw a new pair of breeches at Loki, watching as his brother dressed and threw away whatever remnants of clothing he had before, too damaged to bother keeping.

“We must keep moving.” Thor whispered, voice low against the quite denseness of the surrounding trees, each shadow a potential threat awaiting opportunity to pounce.

“Thor.” Loki started, eyes wide, but the Thunderer must have not heard him for he didn’t stop in his task “Thor, wait-”

He reached for his brother, realizing at the last moment that touching him would not be wise.

“Thor, are you certain you wish to tread this path.” Thor’s body turned from its busy pose to face him, brows furrowed.

“We don’t have time for this Loki.” He said, frustrated and slightly irritated with the question, “Surely my actions thus far have shown you my sincerity.” Thor’s eyes plead for Loki to drop his questions and get a move on. But they were treading a line that couldn’t be uncrossed; Thor had to understand what his decisions were costing him.

“Thor, think of everything you’re giving up, your parents, your friends, your throne! You will have nothing; we shall always be hiding and running, until Odin finally passes from this realm. Is that truly worth the risk you are making now.” Loki pointed at his chest, finger nearly touching the scarred flesh, baring his teeth in anger.

“Your own weapon has turned against you, surely that should show you that what you are doing is stupid. You need to let-“

Thor’s hands grasped his horns and tugged his head back, a hand placing on his lips to muffle his words. The action perturbed Loki and he had half the mind to bite through the leather to the skin below, burn the flesh.

“My actions today are deemed worthy not by weapon or by another’s judgement, but by myself. But what I do today might be wasted should you choose not to change your stubborn ways. I have done what you claim I have never done, I have turned my back on all for you, now for the Gods mercy, shut up and lets go, because quite honestly Loki, I’m tired and I don’t feel like facing whatever is hunting us until I have gained a proper nights rest..”

Loki was silent, though not by choice, but simply by incapability to form a suitable response to Thor’s anger. So instead he nodded, rolling his jaw as Thor’s hands moved away. He moved to grasp his newly acquired weapons, taking a glance at the old knives, he considered keeping them, but finally with a sneer, threw them into the stream.

He watched as Thor pulled the satchel over his broad shoulder, the leather of the strap digging into firm flesh.

Both were focused on the idea of leaving, they did not see the shadow moving behind them, quite as a mouse. Loki straightened in time to hear the high whistle of an arrow fly past his ear, nearly catching his ear but instead ripping a few strands of hair from his scalp. He ducked, spinning in time to see the perpetrator step from the trees, long black hair swaying in the wind, and another arrow aimed at his head.

Chapter Text

”Thor?”

Even after the all the years he had been away, her voice still sounded as irritatingly soft, deep and seductive in a way which curled his stomach, she had always held a foothold over his confidence. Had held Thor’s affections for so long.

She stepped from her cover in the trees, bow at the ready, but expression confused when she saw Loki was not alone.

She was the example of strength and grace, achieving everything he had ever desired in life, acceptance, popularity, love. She had beat societies expectations and had still gained the respect and love of her kingdom; she had done what he had sought to do his entire life and failed. The only satisfaction he gained from this meeting was the fact that for once, he had something she wanted, he had Thor.

He didn’t get the chance to see her, before his body was pulled back and thrust behind the shield of Thor’s body, a loud crash of metal accompanying his panicked breaths through the clearing as an arrow collided against the wide metal of Thor’s axe, intended for Loki’s heart.

“Loki, run!” Thor demanded, pushing Loki back, causing the smaller man to stumble in his confusion, nimble body tripping over the roots and rocks spread over the ground. Loki snarled in response, indignant at the way Thor ordered him around.

“No.” He snapped, “This is my battle, I will not run away while you face this for me, my name will not be sullied further, it is bad enough you have to shield me in the first place.”

“Thor?” Sif interrupted them, her eyes narrowed in confusion, she had not yet grasped the fact that Thor was working against her.

“What are you doing here; the All-Father didn’t say you would be part of the hunt?” Her confusion was a sad denial of the truth, especially when Sif raised her bow and sought an opening.

“Move out the way.”

Loki made the mistake of stepping out of Thor’s shadow and gasped as an arrow flew past his head, inches from embedding itself in his skull. Thor swore and again took a stance in front of him. He didn’t argue further against his brother’s stubborn attitude, instead focusing on keeping Loki out of range of Sif’s bow.

A soft hissing sound drew attention behind him, and Loki saw the arrow embedded into a nearby tree, the bark melting and crackling as it fluttered to the ground. ‘The points are embedded with poison’, that thought turned his stomach with unease, what would happen if those arrows touched skin, Thor could only dodge so many before one found its target.

“Sif...” Thor said slowly, as he eyes rested on his comrade and friend. One of his oldest friends, and a woman he had once loved dearly, now pointing an arrow at the other half of his heart. He was struggling with the fact that they now stood on opposite sides of the battleground.

“Lower your bow. There is no need for this to become a fight” He instructed, and his words triggered a flicker of realization to spark in her dark, ochre eyes, her expression darkening to the bitter reality of betrayal and denial.

“No...” She murmured; voice cracking as she shook her head in denial. The confidence in her arm faltered as her bow buckled in her disbelief, but not a second passed before she raised it again.

“No.” She said, her tone drowning in determination.

“Please don’t do this Thor, move aside.” Loki heard the tremble in her voice, blind to her form through the thick shape of Thor’s body; he heard the snap of string followed closely by an arrow which shot over Thor’s head.

Taking advantage of their conversation, he pulled one of his daggers out.

“Lower.Your.Weapon Sif!” Thor said, his voice harder.

“I will not allow this madness to continue, I will not allow you to kill in this dishonourable battle, my heart pains to know you would deceive me and butcher that which you know is precious to me.”

Loki chanced a glance around Thor’s form, noting Sif’s shocked expression, the slight loosening of her grip on her bow, part of him hoped she was surrendering, but it was as if something clicked in her mind and again an arrow was released from her string, the head aiming directly for Loki’s eyes, only stopped by the blade of Thor’s axe as it lifted and interrupted the sharp path.

“Enough Sif!” A bellowed roar filled the clearing, and Loki gasped as his body stumbled back, being slowly and discreetly nudged to the tree-line.

“I have been loyal to you.” Sif shouted, “I have always stayed by your side and stood with you in all your battles, yet you choose that, that traitor! You choose him over me, over everyone who has loved and trusted you!” Her voice had turned frantic, tone rising till it screeched around them, yet Thor kept nudging them back and Loki could feel the brush of leaves as the tree-line grew closer and closer. They passed the tree with the arrow embedded inside, and Loki discreetly grabbed it, glad to see that the head still glistened with poison.

“This has nothing to do with choosing, you know that,” Thor answered, his voice softening, eyes pleading for her to understand. “Had it been you, had it been any other, I would’ve still made the same choice. But I love him, I’ve always loved him, yet still, you draw your bow without thought or consideration, you would return to me, willing to have me believe that you paid no part in this slaughter, with his blood staining your hands.”

“It is not a slaughter; he is a murderer, a traitor. He has killed many innocents and has betrayed all of us!”

“And so am I, I have the blood of many on my hands, I have broken the commands of my king countless times, yet never have I been subjected to such a punishment.”

She gaped, brows furrowing. “He’s different; he’s not repentant of his crimes, he can never change his ways, like a dog who has tasted blood, he will never learn!”

“We are warriors, what this is... This is not the way our ancestors would’ve dealt with this.”

No response, silence enveloped them, and Loki could feel the shadows of the tree line began to draw him in, they were so close to the edge of the clearing, so close to an escape. But Loki found himself watching the silent agonizing exchange between Thor and Sif, the anguish and pain hanging heavy in the air.

“Please Thor, don’t do this, don’t make me an enemy!” Sif choked out, “He is playing you .” Loki’s attention drew back, the broken edge to Sif’s voice catching his ear. “See sense, I beg of you! He is using you.” Sif stepped closer, but the space between her and them remained the same as they too took a step away.

“He will hurt you, and stab you in the back, and you’ll come crawling back to us! Don’t do this; don’t make me hunt you too. He deserves to be punished, why are you protecting him!”

“Because I love him.” Thor whispered, “And I will never stand aside while you willingly wish him harm.”

“Even after everything he has done!” Sif cried, “After the countless wounds he has given you! The many times he has spurned you, he is not worth this.”

Loki grit his teeth, listening intently, something cold nudged his heart, he too wondered why Thor still bothered. Why, even after Loki had cut all ties, Thor still clung to him. Loki wasn't worth this devotion, but Thor clung to him like a vice.

“My love is not conditional, nor is it dictated by the actions of others, I will love him until I decide he is unworthy,” Thor said softly, head held high, unashamed. ”Loki is family, he will always take precedence, and when all have turned their back, I will remain by his side.”

“Don’t make me hurt you.” Sif pleaded, her eyes beginning to darken with grief. One last plea to get him to change his mind.

Thor chuckled sadly, looking up at the overhanging of greenery.

”I didn’t know this when I was young, but I was always meant to be with Loki. I realize that now, I won’t be happy if I leave him.”

Thor smiled a sad, morose expression at her, his eyes glistening.
Her bow rose in shaking hands, she stretched two arrows back, awaiting threat as her eyes pleaded for him to change his mind. But he didn’t, and inside she knew that he never would. Loki gasped, knowing that two arrows would not be easily dodged. A tear fell along one of her cheeks before she schooled herself and drew back her arrows.

“May the fates have mercy on your souls.” She choked, Thor had but milliseconds to shove Loki down before the string released and two arrows shot at them. The first one embedded itself into a tree, missing them by inches, but the second hit its mark in Thor’s back. Loki snarled, hand flicking as he threw one dagger at Sif, satisfied when it embedded itself in her leg. She gave a sharp cry, falling to her knees, hand grasping the hilt of his dagger.

Loki heard the pained hiss from Thor, his red eyes shooting open and surveying the hunched form of his brother. No injuries were visible at first, but the pained expression on the Thunderers face was a tell that not everything was as it seemed. With an unsteady hand, he reached beyond the dip and hard muscle of Thor’s shoulder, feeling along his back until his fingers brushed the tall stem of an arrow-neck. He followed the wooden neck till its point hilted and melded with flesh, his eyes widening in horror when his hand came back, stained dark red.

“No.” He breathed, his blood burning with ice. The sound of Sif’s struggling drew their attention, and Loki stood, anger boiling within him. He made his way slowly to the hunched woman, hand forming a spear of ice. With one foot pressed to her chest, Loki raised the spear, ready to put an end to her miserable life.

”Loki!"

Thor’s voice broke through the reverie. And Loki stopped to look at him. Thor had managed to pull himself up, his hand pressed against his shoulder. His eyes were watering, and Loki was struck still by the pain he saw in their depths.

”Do not kill her.” Loki gritted his teeth, ignoring the flash of jealousy that bubbled inside. Even now, Thor loved his friends, nothing would change that. He looked back at Sif, her eyes glaring back at him, and in a quick movement, struck her temple with his fist. He body went limp as she lost consciousness. He pulled his dagger from her leg, wiping the blood off against the grass and tucking it away,

Thor gave a pained gasp, and Loki was reminded of his injury, the arrow, the poison. They needed to leave this place, find somewhere to heal.

Thor grabbed the satchel from where it had fallen to the ground, tucking his axe against his back, wincing as it brushed against the arrow. Loki pressed a hand against his back, trying to support him, clothing shielding him from the bite of their skin touching. The pained grunt which tore from his lungs gave an impression of how the extra weight affected his new injury

“Thor, you’re injured,” Loki whispered as Thor began heading into the forest.

Suddenly, footsteps could be heard to choose behind them, and a dagger embedded itself in the tree next to Thor’s head. The commotion with Sif had drawn attention, and whoever was coming would have an advantage over them, for Thor was too weak to fight, and Loki was too distracted with getting his brother away, he would undoubtedly be caught off guard.

Thor swore, grabbing Loki around the waist and throwing him over his shoulder. The weight caused the arrow in his shoulder to snap, digging deeper and ripping a pained wince from him. Loki could see the skin around the wound beginning to blacken and fester from the poison. Loki could feel the warm blood against his stomach and knew that none of this could be helping Thor’s wound.

”Thor, you’re pushing yourself too much, slow down!”

“I’ll be fine.” Thor snarled, but from the pain laced into his voice, Loki could see through the lie and he began to struggle. The wound would soon begin to fester, he didn’t know what the poison would do, but it would surely be lethal if it was intended for Loki.

“The arrows poisoned, we need to...”

“I need to get you to safety!” Thor snapped, stumbling over a branch and dodging the sting of a branch. “Stop making my job difficult.”

Loki gritted his teeth and drew a blade free from its holster, looking behind them, luck his only companion, aiming the dagger into the darkness of the trees. He could see the faint shadows of people behind them, and with a quick flic,k he threw the dagger. Satisfaction coursed as the blade struck home, and a loud cry could be heard.

The last thing he heard as they ran was the loud howling of Odin’s wolves, drawing ever closer.

Chapter Text

Thor’s body was growing weak, Loki could tell from the sluggish way his legs carried them both, arms grasping Loki’s body in a tight hold, yet his hold was getting looser and looser.

‘It’s the poison, its drawing his energy and soon it will spread if I don’t fix the problem’ a quite voice hissed at the back of his mind. Rain poured heavy and unrelenting through the trees, soaking them to the bone, and in the far distance a crack of lightning could be heard, followed by the steady shake of thunder.

“Thor.” He shouts, body jostling with each move of Thor’s feet, his skin is stained with both their blood, and he feels sick after the day’s events so far. “Stop, we must find shelter!” Thor neither stops nor listens to his cry, not until Loki begins to struggle in his hold.

“There is no shelter in these forests, Odin has made it so!” Thor snapped in response, and Loki could tell that both their nerves were strung tight. A stray thought wondered in his head at the fact that Thor was still sane after the bloodshed he had spilt, it was unusual for the Thunderer to have this much control after a battle.

“You’re wrong.” Loki grunted, remembering his early idea to hide in the trees, his hands following his train of thought as he lifted his arms, grabbing a branch and allowing his body to be lurched from Thor’s grasp and into the cover overhead. His muscles ached, but he persevered and heaved himself up into the overgrowth of leaves. Thor’s surprised shout followed as he perched on a branch hidden from sight.

“Loki!” The panicked shout tugged at his heart and he shoved away the sentimental warmth blooming in his chest.

Poking his head out, he grinned.

“Are you coming, or mayhap you enjoy the rain more than shelter.” The relief that spreads over Thor’s expression is almost painful to witness, especially considering how dark the shadows beneath his eyes have become, he’s tired and weak, and they are nowhere close to being safe.

Thor’s fingers grasp a thick branch, the wood creaking under the weight as he pulled his large body up, Loki watched as he collapsed against the trunk, his breaths heavy and wheezing from his lungs.

Creeping forward on the nimble soles of his feet, the width of the branch making it easy to crouch without toppling over; he hovered his hand over Thor’s shoulder, nudging him from his nearly unconscious state.

“Thor, you must turn around, I need to assess the wound.” Thor didn’t question, his body slumping weakly as he leaned his forehead against the trunk of the tree.

Loki eyed the snapped arrow carefully, his finger running around the pierced and dying skin, never fully touching so as to not freeze the skin. Black lines ran from the wound into the surrounding flesh, a pale hue had begun to spread.

“It’s night-shade.”

Thor’s frail voice croaked, dragging him from his stupor. Loki had heard of the poison, but had never seen it used before. “Sif acquired it from a Midgaurdian dealer a few centuries back, I expect she had been saving it for a momentous event.” The slight tilt to his tone let Loki now that his words were intended to be a joke, but he couldn’t laugh, there was nothing funny about their present situation.

“Why is it taking so long to take effect?” Loki questioned, imagining the tree as it melted and fell apart after a few seconds of contact, but it had been longer than a few seconds and Thor’s body was still in one piece.

“My system is battling to counteract the poison, and failing. Give it a day or so and it will reach my heart.”

It made him ill to hear Thor speak those words so easily, as if he were commenting on the weather not his own approaching demise.

He never felt more useless, more powerless without his magic. His only tool was his knowledge in healing, and without the correct tools, even that was limited. He fought down the urge to cry, knowing Thor would probably use all his energy to try and comfort him, despite his own weakened state.

“I must remove the arrow.” He spoke, although the words were more for his own benefit than Thor’s, his brother looked as if sleep were close to drawing him in.
“But I will have to cut it out, I don’t want to risk the head breaking off underneath the skin.” Thor nodded weakly, allowing the bag to be cut from his shoulder and chest, as well as his tunic.

The material fell away, leaving his back bare, showing the full extent of the poison’s effects. Black, spread and crawled along his skin. It sucked the life from Thor’s body, leaving a sickly, pale hue in its wake. He would have to slice into the skin, the arrow head had embedded itself deep into the skin and simply forcing it out might leave parts of the tip behind.

He grabbed the satchel, tearing it open in his haste, noticing the significant lack of food, they would have to hunt, but Thor’s injuries would be a huge obstacle if he wished to be quick and stealthy. He dismissed the thought for the time being, grabbing one of the bathing cloths and bunching it into a ball.

“Bite this.”

The order was obeyed as Thor reached for the bunch and stuffed it between his teeth, his head lolling forward unsteadily, awaiting the pain as Loki drew his blade from its holster and brought the sharp edge to where skin met stone.

“This will hurt.” He gave his forewarning. Sliding the blade into flesh, the dark red mixing with black as the poison poured out with Thor’s life-blood. He began to slice and pull away layers after layers of the flesh holding the arrow, wincing with each pained grunt that followed.

“Loki!” His head buzzed with dizziness, the heat bearing down on him in heavy, suffocating pulses. It was his first sparring session, only a few years old and being curious, he had just wanted to see what Thor got so excited about whenever he passed Loki’s daily suggestions in preference of sparring with his friends. He hadn’t expected it to be like this, hadn’t expected the danger of real swords and real injuries. Now, laying on the scorching dirt, his tongue dry and the cut along his torso pulsing with blood, he fought to hold back his cries.

Now he regretted it.

He didn’t have much training, being too young to be given a personal teacher; if Mother knew where he was she would be furious. He had lied to Thor, told him that Father had granted him permission to take part, the oaf had foolishly believed him.

The cut across his torso would heal into a jagged scar; it was too deep to heal easily. Sif had been far from gentle in her tactics against him, he knew it stemmed from her bitterness against his cutting and dying of her hair. He still had yet to apologise.

“Sif, I told you to not hurt him!” Thor snapped, kneeling beside his injured brother and drawing him up into his arms. Loki was but a bit, his body not quite yet developed, he felt small in his brothers arms. Sif had the decency to flush in shame before she sighed.

“He cannot come to a sparring ring and not expect injury, why is he even here? Surely he is still too young to be holding a weapon.” Sif argued, her face twisting in annoyance. Barely out of majority herself, she was a few years older than Loki, but still young.

He didn’t have enough energy to snarl and snap at her, but he did flinch. Thor’s attention was drawn back to him, and with a sad shake of the head, he lifted Loki and began to carry him back to the castle. Each step jostled him, and his low sobs caused the already tense atmosphere to worsen

“We must take you to the infirmary.” Loki’s eyes widened, aware that the healers would tell their father and he would be punished for going near the sparring rings. He struggled weakly, shaking his head.

“No, please don’t!” He cried, his struggles causing Thor to stop, his azure eyes widening in worry at Loki’s spectacle.

“But brother, we must get you healed.” Thor explained, confused, his hand rising to brush Loki’s tears away, and too soothe his panic. Loki shook his head.

“They will tell Father, and I will be punished, I’m not allowed into the sparring ring.” Loki’s struggles double until Thor found them a window seat and set him down, laying a palm on his shoulder to keep him from getting up.

“Why did you enter the ring then?” Thor’s voice had hardened as he chastised Loki, “You have no training yet you challenged Sif, why Loki.” Loki’s eyes bubbled with newly sprouted tears, but he didn’t cry, his eyes glaring up at Thor angrily.

“Don’t look at me like that Loki, you know I only mean to protect you, yet you make my task exceedingly difficult when you disobey the rules.”

“I wouldn’t if you weren’t always in the sparring rings; you never bother to spend any time with me!” Loki snapped, wincing as the cut ground against the rough material of his tunic. It was deep, and it was large, and it would have to be disinfected and sewn together. Thor was silent, and as Loki looked up, a foreign expression was on his brothers face, a sadness which had no place on his warm features.

Loki sighed, shaking his small head and wishing he had kept silent. “Just take me to the infirmary.” He snapped, flinching when Thor once again picked him up and began to guide them down the corridor.

As Thor led him, his mind ran fast with excuses and reasons to later give father which might possible get him some leniency. So lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice that the path Thor was leading them down was not the one which led to the healing wards.

They came to a stop before the blackened oak door which guarded Thor’s chambers, and Loki chanced a glance at his brother’s face, the lazy expression foreign considering the spectacle Loki had just put him through.

“Why are we here?” As a child his voice cracked with long forgotten tears and the naivety of innocence.

“To get you healed.” Was Thor’s only answer, offering no further explanation to Loki’s befuddled mind, as he pushed the door open with his shoulder and carried Loki to the bed.

“Remove your tunic, I will return with the appropriate tools.” Loki watched as his older brother wandered away across the room, his small hands lifting to remove his soiled shirt. The sticky material clung to his torn skin and he whimpered when the cotton tugged the cut wider.

Thor returned with a bowl of water and a box, setting the items down on the bed and laying a hand behind Loki’s neck.

“Lie back for me.” He urged, leading Loki onto his back and pulling a cloth from the box. He dipped the cloth into the water and began to dab the blood covering Loki’s skin, trying his best to clean the wound. But no matter how gentle his hand, Loki still flinched as his raw flesh touched the cotton.

“I am sorry Loki, I did not realise that I had been neglectful of you.” Thor apologised as he worked, his eyes shifting momentarily to Loki’s face, catching the pained expression.

“I will do my hardest to find time for you, I promise.” Loki filed the words into a corner of his mind, his attention warped as Thor took a flask of white liquid and poured it on the cloth.

“This will hurt.” Thor whispered, his expression sorrowful as Loki began weeping. The brush of cloth against wound caused Loki’s wound to begin hissing and leaking pus. It smelt awful, and Loki turned his face away, gritting his teeth, feeling foolish.

Loki endured the pain, but he never forgot Thor’s promise, nor the fact that it remained unfulfilled.

And from that day, Loki swore he would learn new ways to best Sif and the other ways, ways which would not end with him bleeding. 

Thor struck the bark, the pain burning along his skin as he tried not to cry out. Noise would alert the others, and neither of them had the strength to fight. The cloth began to grow wet as his teeth tore through the material, drool And bloody mixing into the cloth.

Blood trickled in a fast stream from the quick precise cuts, painting his pale skin crimson. With each layer sliced away, the arrow loosened, until Loki was able to grasp the head and direct it free.

“As I thought.” He whispered, staring at the detachable point. Had they tugged the arrow free, the point would’ve detached and burrowed into Thor’s body, making removing the poison impossible. He pulled the point from the head and pressed it into a pocket of the satchel; he would have use for it later.

The wounds on Thor’s back required cleansing and knitting, and Loki could tell from the slight sway of Thor’s body, that his brother was close to collapsing. He finished by pouring some liquor; from the satchel, onto the wound and knitted it closed, thankful that Thor had stopped shaking.

The next thing that would speed the healing process was food, and Loki was painfully aware of the lack of food in the satchel, Thor had given the fruit to him by the river, meaning he hadn’t eaten since before he had left the castle. Loki would have to hunt, but he knew that ordering Thor to stay put whilst he went would be impossible, the oaf would demand to accompany and protect him, regardless of his state.

His own stomach growled at the thought of food, a queasiness spreading from his own injuries, he spared no thought of sympathy or regret at his actions as he brought his elbow down against the side of Thor’s head, knocking his brother unconscious.

“Forgive me.” He breathed, carefully moving Thor’s body. He settled Thor’s disarray of limbs against the trunk of the tree and spared a moment to brush his lips over Thor’s forehead, a breadth away from his skin before he grabbed his daggers. Sparing one last glance to the slumbering oaf, warmth spreading along his chest, and a hope that they might survive this. He leapt from the branch, bare feet hitting the ground and crushing the leaves underfoot.

Chapter Text

He dreams of times long passed, of the sun and the moon, of golden pillars and jewel embedded crowns. But mostly he dreams of two children running through a field of wheat, chasing the wind and pretending that their futures were intertwined and glorious. But dreams end, and sooner or later you wake up.

The back of his head pains, almost like he’s been hit with a log over the back of his skull. The white ringing in his ear is becoming a constant irritation that no matter how he turns his neck, the pain won’t go away. But those pains are irrelevant when he shifts his body, and a piercing feeling runs along his back. Almost like his skin is peeling from the muscle slowly, leaving the raw and sensitive nerves to rub against the rough bark pressing on his back.

“Gods...” His choked voice disturbing the heavy silence, all that can be heard is the rustle of wind running through the trees and the odd whistle of a bird. It’s an empty and frightening silence, one that speaks of dangers hiding in the shadows, he knows better than to feel safe.

Then, it’s almost as if something clicks in his mind, the torrent of memories rushing in at once and causing him to jolt from his half-asleep state. The trial, his father, running, Sif and her poison-tipped arrows. Loki.

“Loki!” His exclamation is met by silence, eyes opening and struggling to adjust to the dark cover of trees that surround him. The bark beneath him shifts under his weight, but he barely pays it any attention, Blue eyes wide and slightly crazed with disbelief. He was alone, satchel balancing against another branch an arms-stretch away, but the knives are gone.

Loki was gone.

He scolds the flash of hurt that floods his chest, the feelings of betrayal, and instead focuses on the anger brewing beneath his skin. Thunder rumbles in the distance, accompanied by the crude crunch of bark as his fist strikes the tree.

He should know better than to feel shocked, he should’ve seen it coming. Of course Loki would run, when had he ever stuck to his word, Loki would always betray him, why would this time be any different.

The pulsing inside his head steadily began to grow worse, the low whine ringing in his ear in a loud series of cries which makes him want to scratch his ears off. It’s making him tired all over again, all of it, the pain of Loki’s absence, the wound, the rage.

“Loki...” His voice is weaker than expected, and where he intended to curse the trickster’s name, the words only fell from his lips as a plea, a call. There was no response, just as he met silence upon his awakening; silence was his companion as he once again fell into slumber.

He can remember it, memories fuzzy against the long centuries that have passed, barely remember why it happened or how, but he remembers with distinct clarity the outcome. The wet slide of flesh against flesh, the breathy moans and sweet taste of the forbidden.

He remembered the guilt afterwards, and also the sick irresistible pull of desire, his own weakness and inability to resist, to keep coming back for more and more and more, till the guilt no longer existed.

Till there was nothing left but Loki.

He had been older, older by a few centuries when Loki was brought to Asgard, when they had lied and fooled all into believing that he was of Asgard and not of Jotunheim. Thor wished he had known better, had seen through the trickery, maybe then he could’ve foresaw the oncoming battles, maybe he could’ve avoided the pain both he and Loki had endured.

But nonetheless, he had been older, out of his majority and ripe into adulthood. His bed had seen many men and women, was covered in countless furs from the hunts and battles he had endured.

Loki was not. Although wise beyond his years, and uncharacteristically older in character, he was still young. His cheeks still held the gentle, roundness of youth, and his hands were unmarred by sword or bow, but instead stained with the countless quills and scrolls he loved to bury his nose into. Yet despite Thor’s constant complaint that his brother was not battle-hardened, that he spent too much time with his books, he secretly preferred that Loki was a scholar, for rather he grow old and alive noting the histories and magic he desired, than be killed upon the hard and barren coldness of the battlegrounds.

Perhaps it was his desire to protect his brother, or maybe some sick part of him had always held a desire to possess and contain the younger man. Maybe he had always loved his dark shadow, that the thought of losing him had stolen any rationality or common sense.

But upon the eve of Loki’s coming of age, knowing his brother would be embarking on his first hunt alone the following morning, Thor drunk too much, to numb his senses, to drown his fears and worries, he buried himself in ale and drunk till the moon glowed pink and the music slowed to a hum in his head.

“Perhaps it is time for our prince to retire.” Sif’s voice echoed in the background, followed by the echo of laughter, Thor barely had the strength to move, let alone take himself across the castle to his chambers.

His state seemed to have drawn attention, for soon Loki approached his small gang of warriors. Still sombre and steady on his feet as expected, he had grasped Thor by the forearm and led him from the great-hall, followed by the protest and drunken singing of their merry-men.

“I have to say, although your love for drink is unquestioned, you usually never allow yourself to fall so far.” Loki’s voice is muffled, his words barely registering beneath the drunken haze, Thor isn’t paying attention anyway, his focus on the press of Loki’s body against his side. He can barely walk, his legs weak with fatigue.

The ale is numbing the voice in his head telling him that the desire growing in his loins is disgusting, that his thoughts and feelings for his naive brother are wrong and sinful. They have been growing inside him like a disease for many years now, stemming from the unconditional love he had for the younger man, yet somehow in a cruel mockery, they had twisted into this depraved desire.

Thor cannot hear anything beyond the warmth in his chest, the soft press of Loki’s body on his side, and the uncomfortable press of his cock against his breeches. He must make a rather distasteful and obscene display.

His lack of response must not surprise Loki, because he doesn’t question further, instead leading them further on through the dark hallways and arches, getting closer and closer to his chambers.

It was going so well. He would’ve arrived at his chambers and woken in the morning with enough common sense to deny his sordid thoughts, but as with all things, nothing ever goes as expected. A stumble or a trip, may it be from a lingering ornament not set right, brickwork unevenly pressed into the ground, or maybe Thor’s inability to walk straight. But with a simple misstep, their legs crumbling and tripping over each other, both men hit the ground with a heavy grunt.

By sheer luck, or perhaps misluck, he had taken the brunt of their fall, his back hitting the smooth tile with a sharp clunk against the back of his skull and shoulder blades. Loki’s body pressing firmly against his front, hands pressed against his shoulders and legs straddling his hips.

His head throbbed and buzzed, vision blurred slightly.

“It seems your ungraceful state only increases with drink brother.” Loki jibes, grinning, but Thor’s face is flushed and he can’t hear anything beyond the panicked thumping of his heart. Loki is painfully close, all it would take is a small shift and he would have a perfect feel of Thor’s shame.

“B-Brother-“ He tries to shift, his vision swimming, and obviously his movements are causing a disturbance in Loki’s balance, because the younger man falls slightly back, and everything comes to a dead standstill.

It’s a delicious press, directly over his clothed cock, and Thor has no control as his head falls back and a loud groan leaves his lips.

Loki’s eyes are wide, pupils blown and mouth slightly parted. Thor can feel through his stupor, the tendrils of fear which tell him that his actions may have cost him his brother.

“L-Loki-“ His garbled mumble can barely be called coherent, but it doesn’t matter anyway because the next thing he knows, his breath is being stolen and a hand is pulling harshly at his hair so as to guide his lips more comfortably.

It’s with a possessive grip and the knowledge that Loki would be leaving in the morning that he grasped him and pulled him into a tighter embrace.

“Thor, we cannot do this here.” Loki’s breathless words register and with unsteady limbs, they both make their way to Thor’s chambers, the walk extended by their inability to hold off physical contact for more than five seconds.

Fumbling hands tugged at cloth and metal as their bodies collided with the chamber door, pushing the large oak away and stumbling through the entrance. The faint slam echoes around the room as the door closes behind them, but by that point Thor already has Loki back on top of him, their mouths pressed together.

“You shall regret this in the morning brother.” Loki choked, grinding his hips down, “So we’ll just pretend that it’s a dream, so as to not disturb your honour and my already questionable reputation.”

Thor bit the inside of his cheek, holding in the groan that begged to tear free from his chest. “I cannot regret something I have been desiring for so long, nor will I allow you to treat this as just a common and forgettable dream, if it means so little, then I would prefer we end this now and go no further.”

It’s surprising the clarity of his speech; he’s not tripping over his words like he expected, his mind is sober despite the numbness of drink.

Loki’s eyes stare up at him, sharp and clear, reflecting the golden glow of the surrounding lanterns.

“Thor...”

His eyes snapped open, the light patter of rain brushing his face and clearing his vision. And beside him, he can hear the familiar huff of breath that he had spent years sleeping close to.

Chapter Text

Each breath is like drumbeat in the silence, heavy and loud as it sweeps free from their lungs and disturbs the peaceful solitude of their hideout. Stirred from his slumber, Loki’s eyes fluttered open, his muscles aching with the hunt he had endured a few hours’ previous, knots settling inside his body from the uncomfortable position he had slept in.

The spoils of his efforts now hung in a neat line, like baubles upon a Yule-tree, five rabbits dangling from a sturdy branch overhead, skinned and ready to be cooked as soon as Thor awoke and they could find new shelter to start a fire.

He heard the shifting of weight and the heavy creak of wood as the tree struggled to compensate the extra weight. As if the mere thought had summoned him, Thor began to stir, awakening, Loki heard a pained grunt as Thor dragged the wounded flesh on his back against the bark of the tree.

“Rise and shine.” Loki drawled, pulling himself up and beginning to place the skinned animals into torn fabric so they wouldn’t stain the satchel whilst being carried.

“I hope you’re feeling better, because I’d hate to have to carry you the rest of the way.”

He knew Thor was awake, his quick breaths was proof. When Loki glanced at him, his eyes were open and narrowed, blue sparking with tense suspicion. The silence that answered his statement made him drop his task and turn to consider his injured brother, concerned that perhaps his healing hadn’t been so successful, maybe the poison had reached Thor’s brain.

With a furrowed brow, he inspected Thor’s eyes, noting the redness around his pupils and the slight pale flush of his skin.

“Thor?” He prodded, trying to draw out a response from his mute brother, slightly worried when he saw Thor’s blond brow draw down into a frown. The blue gaze glanced at the slaughtered animals, Thor’s brow twitching in confusion and something Loki could only describe as relief.

“You went hunting.” It was a statement, his voice sounding like it was grating against sandpaper. Loki gave a bemused smile, looking at the skinned animals before giving a slow nod.

“Yes...”

“I thought you had left.” The said abruptly, his tone sharp yet also painfully vulnerable. “I awoke and you were gone, I thought you had left.”

Loki’s mouth formed a delicate ‘O’ as he turned back to his task, his smile dropping as everything finally clicked into place. Thor had thought himself abandoned, yet again betrayed. Loki could hardly blame the assumption; he half considered the idea several times already. Yet Thor’s desperate attempts to keep hold of him, his sad and extreme actions to save his wayward brother were difficult to ignore, and Loki couldn’t abandon the stupid oaf to his death, not after everything he had sacrificed. He cursed his damn sentimentality.

Setting the last wrapped corpse into the satchel, he closed it and set it aside, readying another roll of bandages and tonic for Thor’s injury.

“What would you have done if I hadn't come back?” Indicating with his hands for Thor to turn, helping him shift his limbs till his back was on display, he began the process of unwrapping and rewrapping Thor’s wound.

“I don’t know. “ Thor whispered.

The poison had seeped out into the previous bandage and Loki felt relieved to see the flesh around the injury beginning to seep back to its usual pinkish tone.

He wore bandages over his own hands, shielding Thor’s skin from the burning sting of his touch, but he reminisced on the distant memory of warmth the Thunderer could bring, his fingers delicately and discreetly tracing the scarred and burnt muscle over Thor’s back.

His fingers curled, staring at the back of Thor’s head, his hands subconsciously completing the final stages of bandaging the wound.

He flinched when a burning vice wrapped around his bandaged palm, his eyes lowering in time to see Thor’s hand pulling his own forward and pressing a light kiss to the backs of his covered fingers, his skin not suffering the painful frostbite as he pressed two more kisses to the back of Loki’s palm.

“Thank you, Loki.” He said quietly, not looking back, and Loki suspected that he was deliberately avoiding Loki’s gaze, maybe out of fear of what he might receive in response, perhaps wary of Loki’s venomous words and gaze, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“Thank you for coming back.”

Loki bit the inside of his cheek, pulling his hand away from the warmth and backing away in order to allow Thor to turn around.

“You’re still as painfully ignorant and easily trusting as ever.” He tried to make it sound harsh, but his voice felt weak with nerves and it tumbled from his lips as unsurely as it might have had he been but a boy.

“No.”

Thor shook his head, his face twisting in a grimace as he turned and pulled himself off the branch, his feet crunching to into the leaves below. Loki followed suite, satchel in hand, his expression sombre. His nimble body landed soundlessly, red eyes flashing hellishly in the darkness.

“I don’t trust you.” Thor looked at him, smiling dully. “I don't know how.”

He allowed a small smirk. “I suppose that’s one thing you’ve learnt in all this." He mused, glancing away from the burning feeling of Thor’s gaze.

Thor smiled, though it was far from his usual bright-eyed grin, he was tired and exhausted, emotionally and physically, he wanted to pull Loki in and draw comfort from his touch, but to do so would only gain him more pain, both figuratively and not.

“I want to kiss you.”

It was said so unexpectedly, the sudden, overwhelming closeness between their bodies and Thor’s fingers lingering just beyond the flesh of his cheek. Loki had no clue on how he could respond. His brow furrowed, red eyes darkening as he studied Thor’s face. The oaf didn’t even seem embarrassed by his words, as if they were the most natural thing to say to your enemy, as if it were normal to say such things to the person who had betrayed you.

“I’ve met many, but none can match you.” He said finally, shaking his head and throwing the satchel over his shoulder. He shook his head, trying to shake of the effect of Thor’s words, hiding behind a facade of dismissal.
“I’ve tried to kill you, I’ve lied and betrayed you countless times, and a few seconds earlier you thought I had abandoned you, yet you still persist in your dim-witted affections, is your heart so easily swayed, are you truly so cheaply bought.”

Thor stared at him, his pallid and sickly complexion sad; Loki could barely stand to look at him for more than a second, his stomach twisting nauseatingly.

“You know Loki.” Thor said quietly, as if speaking to himself, “I used to believe that love could be bought by kind words and a kind heart, I didn’t relish the thought of loving someone who would bring doom to my very future.”

Loki flinched, turning away, ignoring the sting in his chest as he processed for words. Yet none came.

“But the realms would be so much better if people understood the meaning of unconditional love. I love you regardless of your actions, and although I despise your choices and how much you’ve hurt me, I’ve given my heart to you without ever intending on taking it back.” Loki turned back around, his heart aching at the look upon Thor’s face.
"How great our realm would be, if we loved regardless of the conditions of our heart." His expression was firm and unyielding, a tribute to the persistent truth behind his words.

Loki sighed. Brow furrowed in exhausted confusion.

“I have met none like you." He whispered, speaking the truth for once in his life. Never had he encountered someone willing to love another regardless of his own well being.

"You are doomed to love me, and I am doomed to always fall into the trap of your affections, our paths were always made to intertwine” He said finally, mournfully. Thor smiled, his eyes warm and dangerously close to making Loki fall apart. Thor was the sun, melting his skin and his bones and shattering all his defences.

“I cannot kiss you.” Loki said, stepping away, refusing the temptation of Thor’s gaze.

“And neither will I allow you to touch me, not until I can be sure that my touch will not hurt you.” It was possibly the kindest thing he had every said in a long time, he didn’t know quite how to feel about his changing attitude to his brother.

Thor sighed, smiling and rolling his eyes. A glimpse of Thor’s usual demeanour shined through as he patted Loki’s hair, avoiding his skin.

“Each hour I must wait will be yet another hour I shall spend memorizing your body all over again.”

There he was, Loki ignored the satisfied hum in his chest as he gazed upon Thor’s teasing grin, for a second allowing himself to forget his surroundings. He gave himself a second of escape, before he scoffed, his eyes flashing and the usual snark shining through.

“Don't sound too hopeful.”

“Oh come now Brother, I can practically feel your desire with each breath I take, I’ll have you begging for me within mere seconds.”

“Do shut up!”

The light bickering carried on as they began their long hike through the thick foliage, following an invisible path. The sun peeking its face from beyond grey clouds, shedding a glimmer of golden warmth upon the wet and dark realm.

Chapter Text

Time passed slowly, the sun seemed to drag across the sky, reluctant to meet the dawn. The sky was barely visible from beyond the roof of greenery covering them.

Loki had no clue where they were going; his sense of direction had disappeared several hours ago. He had never felt more useless, no magic, no backup plan, for once he was completely out of his depth. Thor seemed to know where to go though, which was both an irritation and a relief, because Loki didn’t want to have to stop and figure out what direction to take. But at the same time, he struggled with the idea of trusting his brother so implicitly, it was a foreign experience. He was self-efficient, not some damsel in need of saving, and this situation was making him feel powerless, he hated it.

It was painful knowing how useless he felt without his magic as if a limb had been removed from his body and he was supposed to function normally without it. Part of him wished he wasn't so reliant on his abilities, but Loki was who he was, and he had spent such a long time hating himself for it.

As if reading his inner-thoughts, Thor glanced back at him, smiling. His complexion was getting better, the shadows fading and his skin returning to the same, healthy bronze palled. He was going to be okay. Loki returned the expression with a scoff and a roll of his eyes.

“We are nearing our destination,” Thor spoke over his shoulder, both of them wary of speaking too loudly, the trees around them had ears. Loki could feel the air growing warmer, the dense silence beginning to fill with the sound of birds and the scurrying patterns of small animals in the undergrowth. Loki curiously sped up his pace, coming to walk beside Thor.

“And where exactly are you taking us?” Thor only shook his head, laughing jovially.

“The forest has three exits,” Thor explained, having hunted in these woods before, he knew them well. “One leading into Asgard and one leading out of Asgard and into the mountains. However, both will be surrounded by now, if we leave through those we will most probably be killed upon sight.” Loki sifted through the information, nodding his head, awaiting the third option.

“The third will take us into Iduun’s Garden; we will be safe there under her protection. Odin made a promise many years back that any who sought refuge in her garden would not be harmed whilst under her watch.”

Loki stared at his brother incredulously, trying to spot if Thor had perhaps whacked his skull on one of the branches overhead.

“So we’re going to Iduun under the assumption that she will grant us passage and refuge into her garden.” He said slowly, testing to see whether Thor was actually hearing his own plans. His brother nodded as if nothing were out of place.

“I know everyone loves you Thor, but I doubt everyone would betray Odin for you.”

Thor grinned at him, heaving his axe over his shoulder and chuckling, Loki couldn’t quite decide whether he loved or despised the sound at the current moment. He hated not knowing everything, it was disconcerting.

“She has already granted us her protection.”

Thor had definitely whacked his head. Loki gnawed on his lip, reaching out a hand to touch Thor’s hair, his fingers searching for damage. His touch jolted Thor’s attention and he gave a bemused smile to his brother, silently asking him what he was doing.

“I’m searching for brain-damage,” Loki explained, earning a wide-eyed, confused stare. Thor considered his words, before cracking a smile and shaking his head. Loki pulled his hand away, reluctant to let go of the warmth, but knowing that the present moment was not the time to act on his personal desires.

“She stated that my change in allegiance will undoubtedly lead to conflict, and had promised us her help in return for my promise not to harm her brother and husband.”

That made sense; Loki retracted his hand, his eyes pinched as he thought over the plan.

His musings doomed him.

A soft crunch echoed behind them, the sound of weight being pressed down on dried leaves and branches. Loki snarled as he was pushed down, a blade nicked his forearm and embedded into the tree in front of him. Pulling his dagger from it's placement his boots, his gaze searched amongst the shadows for his attacker, catching the charming blond locks and the calculating stare of Fandral. His usual teasing expression lost against the cold, battle-torn mask now pasted to his face.

Loki was pushed back, and for the sake of not hurting Thor, he didn't resist as Thor stepped in front of him, his hand now clutching both his axe and the thrown dagger. With an easy spin of his wrist, the blade embedded itself above Fandral’s head, vibrating upon impact, a few shards of bark falling down onto Fandral’s head.

“I believe you dropped that.” Thor mused, his voice deathly cold and flat, emotionless and unnerving to listen to. Whatever hopes Thor had of convincing his friends to leave them be, had died when Sif had shot a poisonous arrow at him.

Fandral stood firm, pulling the weapon free, his eyes narrowed and the arch of his lips pinched. He took into consideration the weapon now in his grasp. Loki tensed, awaiting his move, waiting for some sort of attack. His dagger was set to find itself in the man’s skull, and Loki silently promised himself that this time he would kill before Thor got hurt, he had no qualms with Fandral, their relationship built on mutual understanding that they would only every be acquaintances. Fandral had never sought to bully Loki and Loki never took pleasure in seeking his torment, so killing him would bring no satisfaction, but if he hurt Thor, Loki would make sure that he would never live to see another day

“Yes, thank you.” With a lazy drawl, Fandral spun the blade in his palm; his movements were making Loki uneasy.

Silence surrounded them.

Long and tense. The sun was beginning to make it's decent, and Loki wanted to be at their destination before nightfall came.

“I have to admit Thor; I’m not all that surprised to know you’re the one behind the slaughtering of those men back at the stream.” Loki’s eyes flickered up, glancing at the back of Thor’s head. He noted the tense muscles, and without thinking he pressed a bandaged hand to Thor’s back, hoping to soothe whatever he may be feeling.

“I never took you for the mutilation sort, but the way you skewered those men apart, even Hogun had to take a second to compose himself.” Thor didn’t respond, his heart aching but his weapon ready to defend whatever attack would come. It pained him to see Fandral, his old friend and comrade, and now his foe and enemy.

“I’m supposed to kill you.” Fandral glanced down at the knife, continuing his chatter.
“The others will be arriving shortly.” He pointed the dagger at Thor, drawing his hand back as if to throw it, but his hand lowered at the last moment.

Thor stared at him, his lips pressed thin, muscles tense and weapons ready to defend Loki to the last moment.

Fandral stared at him, a smile curling over his features as he tucked his dagger back into its hilt.

“But looking at you now, I can tell that Odin was wrong, you are not possessed. You are merely in love.”

Stepping to the side, Fandral tilted his head to the side, indicating for them to pass.

Both Thor and Loki stared at him in amazement, brows furrowing in uneasy confusion as they searched for a trick or a trap.

“Go.” Fandral urged, “I’ll lead them away.” Thor walked past him slowly, his axe still ready in wary apprehension, but nothing happened. Putting distance between them and Fandral, Thor waited for an explanation, a reason, but none was given, Fandral stayed silent.

“Thank you.” He breathed. Finally breaking from his silence as he gave Fandral one last smile, something moving in the gaze they shared, a last shared camaraderie that they would never get to feel again.

Fandral shook his head, smiling sadly.

”Just remember who your real friends are.” He said softly, before turning and giving Loki a look.

Just as Loki was about to disappear into the brush, Fandral called to him.

“Loki.” Frandral crossed his arms over his chest. Loki gave him a wary glance.

“You are just as beautiful as the day I met you, try to stay out of trouble.”

Confused by the odd warmth he saw in Fandral’s gaze, familiar in a way he refused to think upon, Loki felt a hand enclose around his bandaged wrist, allowing himself to be tugged further into the dark greenery, Fandral disappearing amongst the green

Chapter Text

Idunn’s Gardens enveloped them like clouds encompassing the warmth of the sun, bringing them close and locking them in. You only knew you had entered by the change in the air, the dense forestation becoming lighter and airier. Loki breathed it in, his muscles loosening and a smile beginning to tug at his lips. It had been a long time since he had stepped into these gardens.
They used to be his most favoured of places to hide away and read, and the same feeling of peace now surrounded him. The air was clean and the trees danced around them, whispering amongst each other as their skin tickled the leaves and bark. No clash of swords or the irritating murmuring of servants, nothing but peace and quiet.

His bandaged hand was still grasped in Thor’s palm, it had been at least an hour since their encounter with Fandral, he hadn’t released Loki’s bandaged wrist since, and Loki ignored the warmth and kept silent lest he share how good it felt to be anchored by the touch.

“You bring much chaos Odinsons.” A voice whispered around them, running with the wind and brushing against their skin. Loki could recognise such a voice, knew it as well as any who lived in Asgard.

“We seek refuge,” Thor called out. Laughter tinkering through the branches. The voice was followed by the rustle of leaves upon the ground and the graceful flight of a bird erupting from the protection of its home in the trees.

A beautiful young maid dressed in white wrappings and fur, hair the colour of night and eyes the colour of Jade. The perfect example of youth and grace, Loki watched her steadily; his own cold and crude form an ugly comparison to her beauty. Her eyebrows were raised in humoured mock surprise as she gazed upon the two of them.

“And what is the payment for my protection and my home.”

Thor extended his palm, baring a deep scar on his wrist; one Loki could tell was new and only recently healed. His eyes narrowed, thin lips curving up into a smirk at the sight of the blood-mark, part of him surprised that Thor would partake in such dark-magic.

“I swore not to fight or harm your husband Bragi and brother Frey; I can offer no more than that,” Thor said solemnly, blue eyes dark as he gazed at her, both of them sharing a silent agreement in those small few seconds.

Idunn bowed her head, a smile curling on her lips as she stepped to the side. She swept her arm in a large arc, indicating to the surrounding area and beyond.

“I ask for nothing more.” She said simply. “If you stay true to your oath, then my home will be your safe-grounds.” With a lingering glance and a nod of acceptance, she turned away from them, disappearing into the air, her body fading as if it were made of air itself.

Loki stared at the empty space, Thor tugging him along further into the trees till they found a suitable clearing to make camp.

“We shall set up camp and get some food and rest; we leave in the morning,” Thor said, setting down his weapons and taking the satchel from Loki’s grasp.

Loki stared, his voice betraying him and staying silent. He sought words, but the present situation again rendered him mute. Setting himself on the ground, he watched as Thor gathered wood for the fire, a spark of electricity leaving his fingertips and setting the wood alight. Loki busied himself with cleaning and cooking their meat. Already his stomach was aching with hunger, and he felt weak, the thought of proper rest and a full belly brightening his mood.

He thought back on the past two days, his reunion with Thor, their encounter with Sif and Fandral, and wondered how they would make it out of this situation.

The peace was shattered by the snap of a twig, Thor’s muscles tensing immediately and his axe up and ready before he could fully see their intruder. Loki dripped the meat, grabbing his knife and throwing it in the direction of the sound.

Both flinched as another crack echoed through the trees, their muscles tensing. The blade froze mid-air, floating before finally dropping to the ground.

“Would you raise your blades against your own mother?” A voice shouted from beyond the darkness, achingly familiar and gentle, Loki almost didn’t believe his own ears. Thor lowered his axe, his scowl dropping in shock as he took a wary step forward.

“Mother?” He breathed, unsure as he waited for the figure to emerge. They saw her foot first, moonlight eliminating the soft cloth of her dress and the pale complexion of her milky skin. Frigga was and always would be the most beautiful women they would ever know, for both her strong, feminine features, but also her angelic voice and charm.

Loki’s eyes widened, the back of his eyes stinging, he blinked to clear his vision. Standing on unsteady limbs as Frigga emerged fully from her dark haven, her body immediately swallowed by Thor’s embrace.

He kept himself back, having not seen his mother since before he had fallen from Odin’s favour, and didn't wish to assume that he had a place in her arms. He was painfully aware of the sick blue of his skin, and the fact that there were two horns potruding from his skull. He was monstrous to behold, not the sweet boy she once knew.

His fingers clenched as his gaze filled with the blue of his flesh, reminding him of the cold of his touch, and as Thor backed away and Frigga turned to him, he took a step back his eyes looking away from her piercing stare.

“Why do you look away?” She murmured, and Loki flinched at the sharp tone.
“Do you not stand by the actions which have brought you thus far?” He gritted his teeth, raising his head as he looked her in the eye, trying to ignore the misery brewing beneath his skin as he saw the pain in her gaze.

Her eyes softened as he looked up and she reached out her hand, biting her lip when he flinched away from her touch.

“Loki.” She breathed, ignoring his flinch this time as she cupped his cheek. He waited for her skin to blister and her face to twist in pain, but none happened, her smile staying firm as she touched his cheek.

His expression faded from apprehension into confusion, and she smiled at him.

“I am your mother Loki, as well as a talented sorceress; surely you do not think I would not know how to move such obstacles as the differences of our race.”

His eyes watered, and he had barely enough strength to resist her as she pulled him down into her arms, her hands wrapping him up in warmth as his dirt and blood stained skin stained her clothing.

“Oh Loki, how much you have grown.” She sang into his ear, his horns poking the skin of her arm and he shifted to protect her from the sharp points.

Pulling from her embrace, the warmth of their reunion and the smell of food drew the small group towards the fire. They settled in its light as Thor set about cutting the rabbits and handing them each a piece to eat. Loki devoured his without grace, his hunger becoming unbearably painful; luckily he was granted pardon from his lack of courtesy as Thor followed his example.

“Your father has his armies surrounding the forest borders.” Thor listened intently as Frigga spoke, while Loki ducked his head against her skirts and tried to settle his restlessness. “I cannot stay long; the hounds will soon be upon the garden entrance.”

Her words disturbed Thor, and she settled his unease with a gentle touch to his thigh and a smile.

“They cannot enter without permission from Idunn; you are safe within her borders.”

It did not settle his unease, but he nodded none the less and indicated for her to continue. Loki’s mind was beginning to dim as sleep tugged at his conscience; he heard the muffled echo of their words, not having the strength to partake in their conversation.

“Why did you endanger yourself to come, Mother, Father will not be pleased with your actions.”

Frigga scoffed, shaking her head as she looked at the sleeping child, her hands brushing his hair from his face.

“Your Father does not hold my decisions in his palms Thor, and as much as I love him, I am disgusted with his choices. I came to say goodbye to my sons, and to grant you one last joy before you partake in this journey.”

Holding out her hand, she took his own in her grasp, his bemused expression turning to shock as a flash of blue erupted from her fingertips. He watched as blue lines, the colour of ice slithered beneath his skin and disappeared into his arm.

Figga smiled sadly, her other hand soothing Loki’s hair away from his face.

“I cannot remove your Father’s shackles on his body, I do not have the power, but I can grant my own spells that might create certain loopholes to make things easier for the both of you. He will regain his magic when the All-Father dies, or when his own life ends but until then; this is all I can give you.”

Thor couldn’t comprehend the meaning behind her words, couldn’t understand what she meant. Not until she drew him to his knees and forced him to inch forward, her hand leading his to Loki’s cheek. He flinched as their skin came into contact, expecting the sharp, piercing burn, his eyes squeezing shut. But no such pain came, only a pleasant coolness and the smooth feeling of Loki’s skin sliding under the pads of his fingers.

With a shuddered sigh and one last wide-eyed glance at his mother, he moved again to better position himself, his hand moving to cup Loki’s cheek and his other hand tracing the unfamiliar features of his new form.

“The path he has chosen will be lonely, this way at least he will not feel so alone,” Frigga explained as she began to move, setting Loki’s now slumbering form against the grass.

”I must leave you,” she said, wiping her cheeks as tears began to spill. She looked at Thor, her beloved eldest child, and cupped his cheek.
”you have made me so proud, your ability to love and forgive, never lose sight of what is important, and never forget that I love you both so much.” With a kiss on his cheek, she stepped away.

Thor stood with her, following her to the edge of the clearing and giving her one last hug, water beading at the edge of his eyes as he fought the childish urge to keep her close.

“Goodbye, Mother.” His voice croaked, and he swallowed down the pain of loss as he let her go.

She smiled at him, reaching out her palm and resting it against his cheek.

“I am so proud of you Thor, we shall meet again.” He released her as she took her first step into the forest.
She paused, giving a quick laugh as she reached into her dress, turning around.

”I almost forgot.” pulling out a small necklace, she reached for Thor’s hand.

”troubled times are ahead Thor, guard this with your life and when the time comes, you will know to use it.”

Thor looked at the small locket confused, turning it in his fingers, nearly opening the locket but deciding against it.

”What is it?” He looked up, hoping for some answers, but she was gone, leaving only him and Loki, and the dying fire.