Archive of Our Own ^beta

As Loki watched Thanos kill him from a mountaintop, he wondered who would truly care that he had perished by Thanos’s hand. His mother was dead. She would have mourned him, for she had loved him as equally as she had loved Thor. But she was the only one. His father, dead as well, would not have missed him. Perhaps he would have felt a relief at his death. For all Loki had done to please his father in life, perhaps his death would have managed to please Odin. But, Loki considered, the countless times he had faked his death had produced no loving or joyful reaction from Odin when he at last revealed it to be an illusion, so perhaps Odin was indifferent to his adopted son, living or dead. The mere thought stung. He had tried so hard to be a good son—so hard that he had lost sight of merely being Thor’s equal and had instead resolved to be Thor’s better. That had proved disastrous. Now he was watching his own death. The projection of himself in Thanos’s clutches fought and kicked. His body went limp quickly.

Thanos walked to Thor, who was restrained, and dropped Loki’s lifeless body to the ground in front of him. A moment later, Thanos snapped his fingers and he and his minions disappeared. With his disappearance, Thor was released from his shackles and he dragged himself over to Loki’s body, distraught. Loki watched the scene below impassively. He watched as Thor laid his head on Loki’s chest. Thor was thick-headed and heroic and anybody’s death at Thanos’s hand would cause him pain.

“Never doubt a brother’s love,” said a quiet voice behind him. Loki started, then tried to smooth the action as though he hadn’t been caught off-guard in the slightest, and spun slowly around. Sjofn, the Goddess of Love and Affection, stood behind him. Loki suspected she had been there for some time.

“How did you find me? I took care to remain invisible.”

“You are undetectable to all but myself. Love brings all such deceptions into the light,” Sjofn said, stepping up to stand abreast of him. Thor, down below, had not yet left Loki’s side.

“Love,” Loki spat venomously. “Such triviality, love.”

“Trivial it may seem,” Sjofn said softly, “but it is the most powerful feeling of all. It revealed you to me.”

Loki was unable to find an appropriate response, so said nothing. He and Sjofn stood in silence. As much as Loki desired himself removed from Sjofn's presence, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. His eyes were fixed on Thor, still crouched over Loki's body. He wanted to see what Thor would do, out of the slightest hope that Thor still cared for him the way he had when they were younger. He wondered vaguely why Thor had not gone running off to find his friends. Surely they were more important now, as they always had been.

“You doubt the depth of your brother’s love for you,” Sjofn said. When Loki remained silent, she added: “You wonder why your brother has not yet gone to find his new companions.”

Loki started inwardly. He had heard of Sjofn's uncanny ability to discern even the most intimate thoughts of others, but had never experienced it himself. He ground his teeth in an effort to remain silent, but conjured his dagger to grip in his right palm. It would do no good to lash out at her, thus revealing his presence, not only to Thor, but to any of Thanos’s men who had happened to remain behind, hidden and watchful. He was certain there were such men lurking in the shadows. Thanos never completely left a place. He had eyes and ears in all corners of the galaxies. Loki would refrain from lashing out at Sjofn, but the dagger in his hand calmed him ever so slightly. He could attack her if he wanted to, and that was good enough a thought for now.

“You doubt Thor’s affection for you, and yet I was called here by the depth of Thor’s love. A brother’s love is one of the strongest bonds ever forged. He called out in pain and anger and fear, and I heard his call. Again you have escaped death, but again you have caused your brother pain.”

“He is not my brother.”

“Then who is he to you? Or, perhaps, a better question—who are you to him?”

“Since you appear to know my thoughts so well, you do not require an answer from me.”

Thor was getting to his feet, but he staggered and almost lost his balance. He caught himself against a pile of rubble and debris and pushed himself into a sitting position. He rubbed his palm in small circles against his forehead. Loki recognized the gesture. Frigga had always rubbed soothing circles into their backs as children when they were upset or scared. Loki had not expected that such a gesture would have imprinted on Thor as it had done on himself; as a child, Thor was always touting his bravery and lack of cowardice, while Loki was the more sensitive boy, trying to imitate his elder brother’s fearlessness and failing.

“To you, Thor was the idolized older brother, but as time went on, your childish awe transformed into jealousy and anger, no thanks to your father. But you still hold on to that tiny thread of love that binds you to him. To Thor, you are the younger brother he can’t help loving, despite the conflict between you. You have been, and will always be, his brother.”

Loki’s nostrils flared and his eyes burned. So, this is what it felt like to cry. After a lifetime of suppressing his emotions in self-preservation to please his father and live up to Thor, he had nearly forgotten how to cry. Frigga was the only one who had been able to coax emotion out of him, but over time, as his heart hardened and his walls were built, even Frigga could no longer penetrate his deep abyss of emotions. But she had always known it was there, just locked away.

Loki focused his attention on Thor, who was again trying to rise to his feet. This time he managed it, although he was unsteady. He knelt down beside Loki’s body and reached out to touch his hair.

“You knew Thanos would kill you. Why did you not let him? You have had brushes with death and debated giving in. You had a way out. Why did you not take it?”

Loki swallowed thickly, biting back a threat. A tear slipped down his pale cheek. He refused to look at Sjofn. His heart ached in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Crying is healthy. Do not fear your emotions, Loki. They do not diminish your strength in body. They build your strength in mind.”

“I do not fear my emotions.”

“No, you are right. You fear the reaction they might provoke in others.”

Another tear escaped and slid down his cheek. He watched it fall toward the ground, but with a flick of his wrist, he vanished it before it could leave a physical trace of ever having existed. Inwardly, anger bubbled its way toward the surface. Why did Sjofn have to be so perceptive? She could see through everything he put forth. No illusions worked on her, no tricks.

“Love,” she said. “Love is the answer.”

In a swift move, Thor hefted Loki’s body into his arms. Cradling him as tenderly as Loki could ever remember, Thor carried him away from the wreckage and laid him down on an undisturbed patch of ground. He unclipped Loki’s cape and draped it over his body before conjuring up some lightning sparks and raining them down upon Loki’s body. Loki recognized it as the closest Thor could get to a proper burial for an Asgardian prince, and the thought caused a lump to well up in his throat again. He willed it away.

“You see?” Sjofn said. “This is the love that called out to me for help.”

“I do not think—”

“The reason you would not let Thanos kill you is because you love your brother too much to see him suffer with your death. You have pretended so many times that he has a sliver of hope to ease his pain. It was your love that called out to me as well, Loki.”

Loki had a lie ready on the tip of his tongue, but was unable to form the words. Instead he settled with a half-truth. “It was a moment of weakness on my part. Thor gives in to that weakness because that is who he is—he embraces sentiment. I, on the other hand, usually have control over it. My control slipped, but only for a moment,” he said, traces of bitterness in his voice.

Sjofn shook her head sadly. “What was it your mother once said to you? ‘Always so perceptive about everyone but yourself.’”

He whipped around to look at her, all pretenses of impassivity forgotten and discarded.

“How do you know that?”

“I was your mother’s handmaiden on the Ásynjur court. She often spoke of you. She loved you right down to the end. You were in her thoughts as she died, as was Thor. She called to me that day, out of love for her sons. Rarely have I felt such power in love, until today, when both of you called out simultaneously.”

Thor was walking away, head bowed, leaving Loki’s body on the ground.

“He is grieving,” Loki said, almost as though he could hardly believe it.

“Yes. After all I have told you, you still have doubts?”

Loki considered. “No,” he said, his voice trembling ever so slightly. “He is my brother.”

Sjofn allowed a smile to ghost across her lips. “One day, you will tell him you still live, as you always have. But for now, let him mourn.”

Without Loki realizing, Sjofn had vanished. So she had arrived and left without his notice. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. She was stealthy, like him, and he admired that trait in others. And Thor had now gone as well, and Loki was left alone with his thoughts, which were, for perhaps the first time in his life, truly and completely at peace. His body on the ground—the illusion—melted away, leaving no trace. If Thor ever returned looking for him, he would assume the native creatures had gotten to the body and hauled it away.

Loki did not intend for his departure to be long-lasting. Once—if—Thanos was defeated, he would make his grand return. And hopefully Thor wouldn’t be too angry with him. After all, a brother returned from the dead wasn’t something you saw every day. Maybe every other week, but certainly not every day. Loki smiled, and vanished.

Sjofn, watching from afar, smiled as well. Always so tortured, Loki had finally found some peace. That was enough to go on for now. Love spoke volumes, but sometimes those who felt it needed a little push to realize it. For a tiny moment, all was well in the universe.