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Chapter Text

Thor’s tongue stuck to the roof of his dry mouth and the golden rays piercing his retinas was atrocious to be awoken to. Last Thor checked, he had black-out curtains. He groaned unhappily, rolling to put his back to the light source and clear his eye of the gunk built up throughout a drunken sleep. Most of his sleeps were alcohol-induced nowadays.

Thor startled upon spotting the gold and extravagant decor, sitting up with his wide eye darting around the bedroom he had long since smothered into distant memory. Was this a dream? Perhaps an illusion? It didn’t feel like magic yet Thor wasn’t the best at using his seiðr against powerful mages. But, really, only a seiðrmadr to the likes of Frigga and Loki could cast a spell this glamorous, or a witch.

Thor’s breath started to accelerate, heart running circles in his chest as his hands shook. Thor doesn’t know how long he sat like that, overwhelmed and unable to think through his panic. He took note of the usual disarray his room had always been apt to be in and the luxury of it all.

The large mirror on his wall stared back at Thor, showing his heavyset body and oily hair. Thor’s pupils became pinpricks. This was real. This was happening. Thor was really here, in Asgard, as himself and not the him of before…

Thor had to find Mother. Is she alive in this time? Is Loki ? What if this was a trick? A cruel, cruel trick.

He takes forever just calming himself down from a steep, slippery precipice of anxiety and despair. Thor didn’t want to be here, he had the epiphany soon after catching his breath. His heart hurt, his body hurt, his head hurt (in more ways than one). Thor didn’t want to see the dead Einherjar, the golden halls carved from blood, the family he lost .

Thor can’t do this. He’s no king, he’s not even a prince. He failed, and why must the Norns punish him so? Has he been deemed unworthy again? Has he not suffered enough? Does he have to relive it all again ?! Thor could not survive anymore loss. He has already lost himself.

Thor could not let anyone see him like this. But how is he supposed to get back? Does he want to go back? Everyone is here… alive. No. Thor can’t. He can’t do it. He can’t be here. He doesn’t belong here.

…

The sky is crying.

A torrential downpour like Asgard has never seen wreaks havoc on the land, preventing any and all from traversing the devastating weather. Roiling clouds scream, their thunder booming and shaking the very foundations holding the palace together. Lightning strikes intermittently, giant and streaky, crashing onto golden spires and lighting fires that are immediately drowned by sleet. It is beautiful in its destruction.

But it is chaos and unnatural, Odin can tell. No storm has ever been so severe since Thor controlled his domain. Rarely was there turbulent weather with the holder of such so genial. If it went on for much longer, Odin had no doubt the walls would crumble. He could strengthen them with seiðr but he was getting too old to keep up a spell of that magnitude.

Odin stood from his throne, ignoring the guards at attention that immediately open the doors for him. He carries down the hall with poise, finding no disruption in his path to his son’s quarters. Not that many would dare to.

For the weather to be so devastating, something must have occurred, and Odin did not find need to knock and wait for acknowledgement. Thor could be angry later, after the storm has passed and the Aesir are no longer in danger. He was beginning to feel uneasy the more it persisted, deafening in the long halls.

Odin’s old and he’s been ruler for millennia at this point. But when he enters his son’s room, he finds himself frozen at the sight before him. A scruffy, mangy man sits on the floor, trembling like a newborn colt. His breathing is hitched and an unsteady staccato, the only sound in the room opposing the onslaught of rain.

Odin quickly shuts the door behind him. This was unprecedented. This man felt like Thor when he searched for seiðr, looked like Thor under all the grime and weight, and it was obvious by the sparks dancing on his fingertips that he was the cause of the decimating weather. Odin was nervous, he has never witnessed something like this in his lifetime.

“Thor?” The man’s eyes jerk up and Odin’s own widen at the sight of a shocked stare. It is no deceit, Odin understands. A stunned exhale, “Thor…”

The man’s hands rise to his hair and begin to pull without mercy. Odin inwardly flinches at the sight of his boy, anxious and afraid. This is Thor but not his Thor. Speaking of, Odin really needed to get him to calm down.

“You need to breathe.” Odin kneeled next to him and set a careful hand on Thor’s back, using his other to force the blond to straighten to give his lungs more room. “Breathe, my son.”

He could only do so much and comforting had never been his forte. Fortunately, his words seem to help minutely and Thor’s chest shudders, intaking a deep breath he chokes on for a moment.

Odin sighs in relief when Thor’s breathing begins to slow down, removing his hand to lean back and finally get a good look at this stranger Thor. Who, upon arrival, had stirred up a storm so deadly Odin feared for the safety of long-stood structures. He nearly swallowed his tongue when their eyes met. One of Thor’s eyes was artificial and, unlike Odin’s self-inflicted, there was a scar of battle. His gut churned.

Thor was… stronger, yes, but also in a deep chasm of despair. For the god of wisdom, Odin sure was failing at living up to the title today. He found himself speechless for longer than he should’ve been.

“You are a different Thor, I take it. Tell me, from when do you come?”

Thor gawps like a fish, “I-I can’t be here. I don’t know why I’m here.”

Odin decides not to ask again seeing as his son seemed unwell with the circumstances. However, the storm outside had lessened a considerable degree and he no longer feared of integrity, though it still rumbled and the rain continued to fall.

“But you are here and right now there is no need to worry about why,” He assures. He hid his own uncertainty at seeing his son like this. “We will consult Heimdall on how long this arrangement will last.”

The minute the words left his mouth, a singular knock and the man was entering, soaking wet. Heimdall masked his unease well but Odin knows he would have warned him of something like this coming.

“I saw you wanted to talk to me.”

“Yes, my friend, are you able to see him?”

“Not at first, your majesty. I am unsure of how exactly he got here but when the storm began, I could. My sight reaches far yet his vision is… hazy to me.” Heimdall was uncomfortable about that, Odin read in his tightened eyes. “He will be here for no more than a month’s time but I cannot be specific of his departure or what will be his departure.”

That was an unsettling sign. Odin nodded, thanking Heimdall for his generosity and sending him to go dry off. He sighed again and met Thor’s wide-eyed stare.

“If you are to be here more than a day, I cannot hide you from Frigga or Loki. So I would rather inform them of this predicament now and ensure we take precautions.”

Thor did not like this idea. Lightning flashed loud and a bit close for comfort, lighting up the room in crystalline plasma. Odin closed his eyes against it and listened as the downpour increased but did not rise to its original magnitude. Thank Bor.

“No! No, no, no. This is- I can’t do this. Seeing you? And, and seeing them?! No. I need to- I need to get out of here.” Or maybe not. Thor was controlling himself better but his panic was worsening. Anyone would be better than Odin right now.

“Thor!” Odin made his voice sharp even as he felt wrong doing it. He knew it would make Thor snap to attention but it was cruel under this duress. Well, Odin had never been liked for his kindness. “Please, my son, breathe. Take a moment and slow down.”

He didn’t know if it was the tone he used or the fact he said please, but Thor was put in a stupor. Hyper-fixated eyes latched onto Odin and the blond’s breath rose unsteadily. He was shaking still and Odin prickled underneath the jagged scrutiny, remaining stoic in the face of Thor’s fight for composure. It was a battle of patience, one Odin would no doubt always win, but he found he could barely wait long enough it took Thor to gather his wits.

Well, the clouds growled and were dark grey in color but the rain was a mere sprinkle. Thor’s breathing was consistent even if his hands quaked. Gods, this man… he unnerved Odin.

Odin took a moment to swipe a hand down his face. Heimdall’s words had not been reassuring and Odin was not at all prepared to handle anything of this caliber. He knew one misstep could send Thor back into panic and he couldn’t allow anyone other than those who already had connected the massive storm to their prince to see him. If the Aesir found out about Thor, it’d cause mass hysteria because they’d look to Odin for guidance and Odin would lack the proper explanation.

“I understand you do not want to be here for whatever reason but you are and you will be for the foreseeable future.” Odin made sure Thor was looking him in the eye. “You cannot leave either for wherever and whenever you’ve come from does not exist here.”

Okay, Odin was definitely the worst at easing the people close to him. If it was a crowd of thousands? Simple, he’s done it hundreds of times before. His son who is not his son but also is his son? The worst .

Thor, thank the Norns, didn’t falter at his lackadaisical attempt at comfort. Rather, he seemed to force himself to calm down further. Odin’s skin crawled at the sight of it.

“I know. I know, I understand. I… this is a lot.” Thor uncurled and pushed thick fingers into his sockets, blinding himself temporarily perhaps to rid of the tears that didn’t want to leave. He whispered, “I do not want to be here.”

Odin’s jaw clenched, “I know. Unfortunately, none would believe me if I were to tell Frigga and Loki of this transgression on my own. They would require proof, as I’m sure you are familiar with. You will need to face this, Thor. I am left in the dark on the years that have passed for you but I assure you, you will not have to stay in their presence long if you desire it so.”

Thor’s large form shivered. When he laughed, it was a dull, empty sound, “I suppose I should get this over with.”

…

Odin left to gather Frigga and Loki, leaving Thor alone for the length of time it’d take him to find the rest of his family. Family .

Thor is going to see his family for the first time in years, all together. The thought nearly kickstarts another attack, thunder rumbling ominously in the distance. The Norns must take great pleasure in torturing Thor’s puny soul.

He wants to leave right now but there’s nowhere to go. For his father’s brashness, he had been accurate in telling Thor nothing outside of Asgard was as he remembered. Yeah, no, Thor couldn’t do this.

He darted out of his room, turning left instead of the right Odin would have taken to the library and garden, the most likely places either Frigga or Loki would frequent. He ducked around corners and behind pillars, avoiding the few Einherjar he saw along the way. He took care not to focus on any of their faces, knowing if he did he’d remember the sight of all their corpses strewn and pierced by swords. He’d remember Hogun’s body- nope. Definitely not.

Thor didn’t know where he was going and it didn’t matter. As long as it was far away from the confrontation of seeing his mother and brother. It was only when he turned into the cellar did he slump, surrounded by ale that would actually get him drunk than the weak Midgardian alcohol he’d guzzle by the boatload to even reach tipsy.

While he was eager to taste the sharp bite of the liquor and drown himself into a stupor that would hopefully wake him up from this nightmare, Thor did not want to be seen. He travelled as deep as he dared into the hold, further back was the newer made that hadn’t been aged long but Thor didn’t care. As long as he could get drunk off it, it didn’t matter.

He ached to be with his family but it was different here. Wrong. Odin was still swathed in lies and secrecy, strict and unthinking of anything but his own pride. Frigga was Loki-toned, wise and generous but molded to her favorite son and his deteriorating psyche. And Loki… he was depressed and lonely, an apparent shadow shrouded by Thor’s hallucinated radiance.

Loki was planning a scheme here. To ruin his first coronation that never ended up happening and he would discover his true heritage. Odin was believing Thor to be ready as his mind began to fail him and he feared his next sleep would be his last. Frigga was pliant, folding to Odin but glued to Loki as if her mere presence would grant him the belief he needed to prosper.

Thor must have said something right on Sakaar. He must have given some sort of minuscule gesture or underlying tone that screamed to Loki, blared and begged to have Loki at his side but unable to voice that petty want. He must have been pleading or kneeling because Loki would have only come if he saw benefit, if he figured he could succeed.

Thor could never stop loving Loki, even as an arrogant and bullying fool. And this Loki only knew that bumbling oaf. He had not watched Thor beg for him to hold on, he had not seen Thor cry over his broken body, he had not witnessed Thor’s resignation and descent into solitude, he had not pledged himself a savior and Odinson. He had not promised the sun would shine on them again.

Thor chugged half a barrel before he allowed himself to sink into his depression.

…

Loki couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Odin must have gone mad from old age. He’d been expecting it but this seemed a little out of the blue.

“You can’t be serious,” He deadpanned. Frigga stood stiff and still next to him, which was unsettling in its own right. And, if Odin were speaking the truth, Loki would do nothing but laugh. The Golden Prince, the heir to the Nine Realms, was a fat man! Oh, what irony. Odin’s perfect son all devastated and unworthy of his title. The only show of his thoughts outwardly was a small twitching of his lips.

It looked like Loki didn’t have to set his plan into action now. After all, the real Thor wasn’t here to take his place on the throne. Loki has to see this man that’s got his father all in a tizzy.

“How did you lose him?!” Frigga asked incredulously. She couldn’t actually believe Odin, could she?

“I left to get you,” Odin quipped. “I would assume he went to the cellar.”

That’s even better! Loki wanted to crow, Your Golden Son a drunkard! How proud you must be, Allfather!

Loki didn’t hide his grin but his parents were much too distracted with this prospective Thor than with his lack of empathy. If this Thor was anything like his Thor, Loki was so going to give him the verbal lashing of the century.

He had to admit, however, Odin’s uncertainty and resulting anxiety was a bit terrifying. The old god’s whole thing is wisdom and stoicism. And here he is, keeping a fast paced walk to reach Thor as quick as possible. Loki shouldn’t be surprised by the amount of concern for Thor—Norns knows it wouldn’t be the same if it were Loki who’d appeared like that—but it was definitely unusual considering how old Thor is. It’s been centuries since the last his parents worried so greatly over his fierce and powerful brother.

“Should we be approaching like a furious herd of bilgesnipe?” Loki pointed out as he kept pace. “If it as you say, Father, wouldn’t it be wise to not bombard him with all three of us?”

“Then what do you suggest, Loki?” Odin snapped. Alright, this attitude was beginning to severely alarm Loki. Odin was always put together, this panic was baffling.

“He may be right. We do not know of the future this Thor comes from. What if we make it worse?” Frigga slowed down a little and Odin was forced to adhere to it. He’d always listen to his wife even when he may not heed her warnings. “If that storm flourishes again, we risk our people’s safety and our own.”

That made Odin stop in his tracks completely, all three of them now stationary outside the steps leading down to the cellar. Odin was grimacing, massaging his temples in stress. Frigga was thinking, that much was obvious, but Loki couldn’t figure out where they could go from here. What type of future would make Thor fat? And that power ? Loki knew he didn’t want to see what it looked like actually coming from the source.

“He troubles me,” Odin sighed and looked away. “I could hardly get him to calm down and I am unsure if ale will make it worse or better. This Thor is… an anomaly.”

“We can’t leave him alone forever.” Frigga’s fingers clasped together tightly. “Perhaps I could put him to sleep temporarily?”

“And he wakes up with us in his face?“ Loki raises an eyebrow as he watches his parents go back and forth. It’s been awhile since he’s last seen such turmoil between them. For it to be Thor as the cause? Loki laughed internally.

Typically, if Odin and Frigga were to fight it was because they disagreed on a decree or Loki and Thor had done something they had forbidden or without explicit permission. Thor was always the one to drag Loki along on his conquests but when they’d get back, they’d both be susceptible to punishment. Few times that it were Loki dragging Thor, it was clandestine and secretive. Very rarely would they be caught unless Frigga sniffed them out. It’s been more than a century since they had last caused such chaos. Loki’s brought back to the present when he hears his name mentioned.

“…Then what are we supposed to do?!”

“Loki’s the one who knows Thor best!” Frigga gestures aggressively, “Why not ask him?!”

They both turn to Loki simultaneously, causing his eyes to pop open. “Uh, my apologies. We were talking about what again?”

Odin frowns, “What to do about your brother.”

“This man you speak of is not my brother, as you say. How do we know he’d be receptive to anything I’d suggest?” Loki peeks down the stairwell. He has yet to see any moving shadows or sense any seiðr but the hold was especially deep, Thor could be at the very back and not listening at all. “What was he like when you saw him?”

“He was… panicking.” Frigga and Loki wear twin expressions, listening raptly to Odin’s uneasy recount. “All he kept saying was that he didn’t want to be here. He- oh.”

“What? What did he say?!” Frigga urged.

Odin met their eyes individually before sighing once more, “He said he couldn’t see either of you.”

Frigga hissed, “And you went to get us anyway!? You fool!”

Loki swallowed his tongue. He was never much witness to his parents’ fighting but he hadn’t expected it to be quite like this. Eerily similar to the bouts of argument he and Thor used to have. Before Thor began to travel more and Loki began to avoid the buffoon outside the palace.

“You are the one to calm them down when upset, Frigga! What would you have me do?! Talk and make it infinitely worse!?” Odin scowled. As odd as it is to hear Odin admit any type of weakness, he couldn’t call him out on it during these happenings.

Loki wondered how he was the only put together one. What a day this was. “If you two are done squabbling, we have a giant oaf to deal with.”

His parents sighed collectively before calming down, keeping quiet for a moment before they picked up where they left off.

Frigga put her face in her hands, stressing, “How are we all so clueless? Surely our son hasn’t changed that drastically?”

“You didn’t see him, Frigga. I hardly recognized him.”

It clicked for Loki how serious this must be. His parents’ dejection and their subsequent cluelessness. Loki would thrive in this chaos at any other time and he’d never pass up a chance to make fun of his older brother. But never had he seen his parents so in doubt.

“We could spend hours up here debating or we could act now.”

“And do what? Have you forgotten that this isn’t our Thor?”

“I have not. I just do not see the point in wallowing. If Thor panics, we can put him to sleep.”

Loki steels himself while rolling his eyes, leaving his parents to walk down the staircase. They’d realize he’d gone eventually.

Chapter Text

Hearing his father’s description of Thor was one thing, but actually seeing it? Loki even froze a moment upon laying eyes on the ghastly sight, a whole barrel of liquor already gone and the blond— that’s really Thor? Of the future? Impossible —slumped against the wall.

“You look hideous, brother.” Loki may or may not have a death wish. If that horrid weather had been any indicator, aggravating Thor was probably the most idiotic thing he could do. But Thor didn’t get angry when they met eyes.

No. He started to weep. Quiet, solemn tears.

This did not look like a powerful god. Was this really his brother? The Almighty Thor? Invincible and arrogant? The truth was in the visual, this Thor was older and weary. He was unfamiliar. Loki couldn’t possibly know what to do for him. And he’d never thought he’d wish for it but. He really wanted the brutish Thor back, the ignorant one.

“Wallowing isn’t your style.”

“Pray tell, what is my style, Loki?” What sadness permeating Thor’s tone. It was weird. When was the last time Loki’s heard his brother so down?

“Perhaps shouting and stomping? A killing spree?”

“There’s a lot to feel sorrow over,” Thor rasps in contrast. Norns, it is Thor, isn’t it. Loki doesn’t want to believe it.

“Even so. You do not look befitting of your title,” Loki eyes him in distaste. He wouldn’t be caught dead in garments so tattered and dreary. The blond was a pathetic comparison to the brother Loki knew.

“There is no title to befit.” Well, as if Loki could ever believe that. This Thor must take Loki for a fool. His resulting scoff makes the blond bristle. “I suppose it shouldn’t be surprising they sent you down here.”

“Oh?” Loki prompts, walking closer but avoiding Thor’s general vicinity. He would not give the man the opportunity to catch him off guard.

“They are under great misconceptions. If I recall this time right, it has been centuries since we last vented to each other.” Blunt and blasé, Loki hasn’t heard his brother so lax with his words in ages. Loki suddenly regretted coming down here by himself, Odin had been right. This Thor was unrecognizable.

“Ah, but you say ‘this time’. Perhaps it is different when you come from?” Loki didn’t like Thor’s responding snort, as if finding humor in Loki’s way of questioning. Something about his attitude grated Loki’s nerves, it was unpredictable and Loki was the one meant to be chaotic, mischievous. He prickled under the guise and tension thrummed, beneath his uncertainty and leniency was the stark urge to make fun of Thor, to frustrate him and anger him and maybe he wouldn’t be so melancholic, maybe he would at least sound like Thor.

Thor had always been kind and generous, happy for the most part. This man… he was depressed, he was self-serving, he wasn’t Thor.

“Of course not.” So they are still distant with each other in the future, not much of a surprise. “I would look insane talking to a corpse.” Oh.

Loki swallowed. The words didn’t settle within him easily, more like they shoved their way into his ears and forced themselves into his lungs and tightened around his chest like pythons. It’s difficult to imagine life without Thor, no matter how much Loki dreams for that day to come, to take his brother’s place on the throne, to be revered like the Golden Prince. For it to be the other way around—it must be fate, punishment for Loki wishing his brother ill—and for Thor to be so… not-Thor?

“A corpse is better than solitude.” Loki would know.

The laugh that escaped Thor was not booming or joyous, it wasn’t that raucous, ecstatic sound Loki was so familiar with. It was empty.

“I am surrounded by corpses, brother.”

Horror was dawning on Loki. Thor loved battle, he would not sound so dismal about death of his enemies but he was implying Loki himself as one of said corpses. Why did he sound so humorous when he laughed then?

“Father must have made a mistake,” Loki took a minor step back, reeling. He could hardly continue to look at this- this imposter . Why did his seiðr feel like Thor’s?! “You cannot be Thor.”

“I cannot be your Thor,” He corrects, slurring. He’s halfway through a second barrel. “The Norns are punishing me again. I must have gotten arrogant. Or maybe unworthy. It’s always-always one of those two.”

Loki can tell Thor—he doesn’t want to believe it, he doesn’t want to connect this man to his invincible older brother—is talking to himself. Rather insidious blabbering that worsens Loki’s mood. If Thor were here, his coronation would be in preparation and this fool wouldn’t be in his place, getting drunk .

“Stop drinking the ale!” Loki snaps, using a hand to wave away the open barrels. Thor reaches for another but he steps between his trajectory, crossing his arms. “You are disgusting! Get a hold of yourself!”

It was a pathetic sight: Thor scrunching his nose in irritation but lacking the effort to try getting past Loki, slumping on the floor like a kicked pet. Loki sighed in consternation, lost at how to handle his intoxicated brother. He didn’t know this Thor and, obviously, he never had to. He wasn’t sure whether to be glad or disappointed. He pushed away the sharp stab of pain at that thought, it was useless to get stuck on what this Thor may or may not have gone through.

“What are we supposed to do with you?!” Loki pinched the bridge of his nose. At this rate, the blond would be discovered in mere hours with his recklessness. “I didn’t think you could get any more conceited.”

Thor gave an insipid laugh, like he knew more than Loki did, “Not conceited, brother, purposeless.”

And Loki supposed he did. The only thing he’s learned from Thor—shockingly, now that Loki really thinks about it—is his apparent demise. That leads to the question: what purpose has this Thor lost? It couldn’t be his kingship, not if his strength weren’t proof enough. Perhaps Loki was in over his head.

“If you are to be here for longer, we will have to lock the cellar.” Loki shakes his head free of his perfidious thoughts with a grimace. Hadn’t he just been planning on ruining Thor’s coronation? Yes, but mostly to show how his brother isn’t ready for the crown. Of course, there’s an underlying reason of usurping the crown prince but it wasn’t the primary focus.

“Do not remind me how I am stuck here,” Thor moaned, flopping onto his back in a dramatic fashion. Loki rolled his eyes.

“I would have hoped your insufferable attitude would have disappeared along with your muscle but I seem to be mistaken.”

“I forgot how mean you were back then,” Thor whined, turning his back to Loki. “Or back now? Oh, I don’t care.”

Loki looked to the ceiling, praying to the Norns for patience. “You poor buffoon.”

“Go away, Loki. I need your negativity less than I need this ale.”

“Evidently not,” Loki nudged Thor with a boot but he didn’t budge an inch. “The lack of my negativity has given you room to let yourself go.”

“I’ve done fine when you’ve died before,” Thor snarls. Loki’s eyes widen at the tidbit and he goes silent as he processes it. How does he cheat death? Loki’s thought of such trickery but it was a last ace up his sleeve, not something to be done willy-nilly. The way Thor says it implies he’s done it more than once.

“Yet this time has left you the size of a boar,” Loki counters moments later. Thor doesn’t seem to notice the delay, or he doesn’t care.

“That is because I lost everything else too,” Thor whispers. “I am no king or warrior or great protector. You were always right about me.”

Loki thought he’d be praising the day Thor would be knocked down a couple pegs. He thought he’d be the one to cause it, to have his brother kneel before him as the new heir. He thought he’d have Thor grovel for forgiveness for casting him aside all these years. Loki wants to hurl instead. Thor wasn’t just knocked down, he was broken. He had fallen apart with no foundation to hold him.

Loki thought he’d be happy about he and his brother switching lows. Loki is the one better off now, but he doesn’t feel happy. His eyes burn.

“When have you ever heeded my words?”

“I always listened to you.” Loki can barely hear him. “That is why your scheme on the day of my coronation goes exactly as you planned. Or mostly as you planned.”

Loki shouldn’t be surprised by the words, seeing as this Thor has probably already lived through it, but he is. Loki’s heart is racing, unsettled, he carefully sits on the floor.

“What happened after?” He stares at Thor’s back, its stiff line all that spoke of Thor’s tension. His brother hid it well.

“Father banished me to Midgard a mortal. Only when I had learned humility would I be welcomed back.”

Loki’s breath shuddered. The Aesir haven’t been on Midgard in ages, whose to say Thor would have been safe upon the planet? What was the Allfather thinking?

“I did learn humility eventually but I was too late by the time I got back to Asgard.” When had Thor gotten so ominous? Loki was about to strangle him if he didn’t continue with the story. “You haven’t learned yet, have you?”

It’s rhetorical and Loki doesn’t know what he means. What does he learn? What happens on Asgard while Thor is absent? Why does he sound so hollow?

“If only I had been there. Maybe I could have shown you I love you anyway. Maybe that would have helped or maybe it would have been worse. I don’t know. I was just learning I didn’t know you at all anymore.”

Hadn’t Loki wanted to hear that epiphany before? It tasted sour now.

He’s afraid to ask, “What did I learn?”

Thor keeps silent before rolling over to face him. His gaze is searching and wet, full of remorse. Loki wants to know what he does not but Thor specifying he loves him is still a little creepy.

“I cannot say. I am terrified it will increase the likelihood of what happened to happen sooner.” Thor spoke solemnly, for once looking like the king he’s suppose to be. It doesn’t sit right with Loki. “Never doubt that I love you.”

Loki’ uncomfortable and he makes himself stand though he wishes to pry more, to place a hand on Thor’s forehead and find out himself. Somehow he knows Thor would dodge and prevent him from peeking.

“Very well. Get off the floor, let us find Mother and Father. I’m surprised they haven’t yet come down themselves.”

“Not again. This is already too much, Loki. You take away my alcohol and now you wish to drag me to our parents? You are cruel,” Thor bemoans. Loki finds no sympathy despite the unwarranted show he’d had of it earlier. It was more concern for himself obviously, Loki certainly wasn’t upset for Thor.

“You have seen Father and I, Thor. One more is not going to hurt.”

“It might,” Thor rasps.

“Get off the floor.” Thor meets his stare challengingly but gives up fairly easily. The lack of effort on his part was ruining Loki’s continuously frayed nerves.

Thor lumbers ahead of him because no way is Loki taking the chance of Thor plopping back down and snatching a barrel. It gives him a moment to gather himself and compartmentalize the information he’s gathered, all of which is very alarming.

Their parents aren’t where Loki left them, to his surprise. He assumes it’s Frigga’s doing but doesn’t bother to worry, as king and queen their duties to the people come first. It’s just as likely a servant happened upon them and requested their presence.

“Head to my chambers.” If this man were really Thor, he could find the path no problem. And he did. Loki opted for his own bedroom as the raging storm of earlier could have tipped off Sif, who would then inform the Warriors Three, and that would be a whole other issue. He assumed Odin wouldn’t want Thor’s friends to see him in such a state. It was unbecoming of the crown prince. “Your show earlier has already received enough attention.”

“It wasn’t a show,” Thor grumbled from his languid pace in front of Loki.

“Really? I was fooled.” No, he wasn’t. The weather had been frightening. Loki would never say it out loud but he was dearly impressed with the might displayed by the disgusting man. His disgusting brother . The words take on a whole new meaning.

Loki couldn’t hear clearly but could tell Thor was hissing obscenities under his breath in response. Thor halted abruptly in front of the doors, almost causing Loki to run into him.

“What plagues your mind this time, brother?” He sighed.

“I-“ Thor stuttered. Loki only saw the back of him but it was riddled with that painful tension again. Loki supposes it never really left. “I-I am not allowed to open it.“

Loki had forgotten about that spell. A small thing he had placed centuries ago that caused anyone who wasn’t Frigga or Odin the pain of a thousand bee stings and kept his door firmly shut. A wave of his hand and the door opens itself, revealing the regal interior hazed by the darkening sky. Thor still did not make a move to enter.

Loki was getting impatient, “What now?”

“I haven’t been allowed inside in centuries.” Thor stumbles through the threshold when Loki shoves him roughly, not one for dallying over things he already knows.

Not much changes between him and Thor in the future, he takes it with disappointment. A minuscule part of him had always hoped Thor would see the error of his ways. This Thor sounds like he has but there was a stark lack of the bumbling oaf Loki knew. Which was better? A Thor who pushed Loki aside yet stayed the idiotic brother? Or a Thor who didn’t ignore Loki but lost himself?

Why wasn’t there a middle ground?

“And here I am, allowing you entry. Do not let it go to your head,” Loki stated snidely. “Go clean up in the bathhouse. You are positively rank.”

…

Thor takes upwards of half an hour in the luxurious bathhouse. Most of it he spends thinking.

The boiling spray flushes his skin and gives him a pink hue, steam filling the room in a thick fog that makes him feel lightheaded. The steady pitter-patter keeps him in a trance for a length of time he doesn’t comprehend. Thor should be reveling in using such a bathhouse again. Instead it feels massive, unnecessary for someone as lowly as him. He’s quick to exit after that thought.

Loki isn’t there when he gets out. A bout of panic overtakes him before the golden architecture surrounding him reminds him that he’s not even on Midgard or Sakaar, he’s on Asgard with a brother who resents him and parents who are utterly oblivious. He needn’t worry however as Loki enters pretty soon through his mild tachycardia, carrying a tray of refreshments and a pile of cloth that resembles one of the many servants’ robes. Thor has a short moment of self-recrimination knowing none of his clothes in this time would fit him so Loki had to improvise.

Shameless, he puts on the garment then and there. Loki huffs a little and averts his eyes for privacy sake but Thor can feel the penetrating stare linger on his back, where he had nearly forgotten his tattoos. He wondered what Loki saw gazing upon them: a pair of horns achingly familiar, broken hearts and vigils, a scroll listed with names and an uncertain question mark carved into his skin. It was not painful physically but Thor still remembers the impact of seeing the memory of his brother permanently marring his skin.

There are many things Thor misses and there are many things he lacks the capacity to forgive. He doesn’t know if he’s better off without those he’s lost or if he needs them to keep going.

“That is mildly discomfiting.” Is Loki talking about the robes or the markings? Probably both, Thor decides with a shrug. It doesn’t matter, Loki doesn’t deign to elaborate. “You look shockingly like Father.”

Thor used to be told he was the spitting image of Frigga, only a few centuries old with striking gold hair and shimmery blue eyes. He wore silver and red, symbolic of blood and a homage to his father’s own dressing, something he used to feel closer to Odin so long ago that now feels unimportant when he recalls the sister he didn’t know he had. Loki wore green and gold, embodying their parents much more accurately than Thor ever had in both personality and looks. Even unrelated, Loki’s raven hair was reminiscent of the greying locks Thor remembers so distantly his father having in early childhood. The locks were quick to turn white.

Once upon a time, Thor would have taken the comparison as a compliment. As he had when told how well he inherited the beauty of his mother. He doesn’t now.

“Yes. I have been told that a time or two,” He says instead. He kind of wants to scream at Loki just to see how he’d react but logic prevents him.

“A shame you have greased the hair Mother gave you,” Loki wheedles because he never knows when to stop. “Fortunate you are to have parted with the frozen stare of our dear father.”

It’s his brother’s attempt at a joke but Thor doesn’t find much funny anymore. Least of all looking like the parents who had wronged them all. It feels like blasphemy to even think such notions but there is no one to offend with his thoughts, only himself. Loki of this time doesn’t even know he’s not Asgardian by blood.

Thor still has one frigid eye, “I believe if that were the case, I’d be blind.”

“Better late than never.” Even when you had both eyes, you’d only see half the picture.

The jokes Loki told in this time were beginning to lean toward detrimental to all parties involved and most turned out as tricks meant to solely amuse Loki and none others. Thor had always found the humor, regardless of the few times he had been the one to suffer the backlash. It is baffling to him now that he had missed Loki’s deterioration. Hindsight is twenty/twenty, Midgardians say.

“At least I am clean now,” Thor states.

“Hm,” Loki hums. The refreshment tray sits untouched at the large vanity he’d placed it on, meats and cheese growing slimy in the diminishing brightness outside. “Indeed. I suppose you would like entertainment if you’re to be locked in here?”

“Liquor.” Thor doesn’t get an answer. He relents, “I suppose.”

Loki doesn’t bite, “Very well. My shelf is open to your viewing.”

He waves at the grandiose shelves filled with tomes Thor hasn’t a hope of understanding even a gist of. He knows the only novels Loki keeps in here are to further his education on sorcery and other magic. Things Thor could never quite grasp or just had never cared to. All these scriptures had been lost when Asgard came to ruin. Their culture and teachings gone as if never having existed at all.

Maybe Thor could teach himself something to remember Loki and Mother by. He’s sure she’d be ecstatic at his newfound interest in the art. Thor keeps looking at the shelves, stiff.

“Are you going to pull one down or have you learned to read through the covers?”

“I will not understand most of what is written.” Thor regrets not caring for his studies, perhaps he’d recall more of their ways. But New Asgard is as it was: new . “You have always had far better retention.”

“Obviously,” Loki rolls his eyes. While this Thor was unsettling, he was surprised by the empathy worming its way beneath his skin. Something about Thor didn’t sit right with Loki. “You are… were too auspicious to enjoy complicated reading.”

Thor didn’t notice the slip-up or didn’t care to call Loki out on it, finally reaching to pull down a leatherback tome yellow in color. Thor grabs it because he recognizes the spine and craftsmanship, one of the many works Frigga had filled the palace library with herself. Flipping to the title page, his thumb rubs over the barely-felt scratch of her signature carved from the Asgardian alphabet. It was as if he could feel the effort and love she poured into the pages against the pad of his finger, an effort and love he had taken for granted. He had taken everything for granted.

“I used to sneak into the library sometimes and attempt to teach myself sorcery.” Thor had loved stories just as much as the next Asgardian child, he’d grown up on the tales. “I remember feeling angry and stupid when what would come so easily to you, I could barely present a timid illusion.”

Loki never knew that. It seemed improbable that this would escape his notice. Back then, Loki and Thor were glued at the hip.

“Oh? You had never shown any interest.” Loki feigns disinterest but an eel is writhing in his guts, sloughing poison against long-built defenses. An eel planted by this stranger-not-stranger. What happened to Thor? “If I do recall, you even scorned it.”

Thor doesn’t answer and Loki was getting tired of his passivity. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? When did Thor get the upper hand in the future? Loki doesn’t want to think about his future. It is evidently dismal.

“Are you going to read it or cry over it? If it’s the latter, do take care not to blur the ink.” Loki could fix it if Thor wasn’t listening either way.

Thor put the tome back in its place.

Chapter Text

It is almost funny. Thor has stopped trying to force Loki to talk to him years ago. This Loki was unfamiliar with the change and it was only now that he had stopped did Loki wish to spend time with him. Or maybe Odin ordered him to be his tail seeing as none could see the crown prince in such disarray.

None would see Thor as crown prince in this body anyway.

Three days had passed and Thor was already beginning to disassociate from the situation. He craved liquor and had begun to shake from withdrawal, which was noticed by all parties but remained purposely unmentioned. He was sleeping even more to avoid interacting with the family he would not go back to when the time came.

He still has no idea why or how he got here. At this point, Thor assumes the Norns are unhappy with him. But they do not speak or give any signs and Thor is left floundering in an abyss.

He was hoping to wait it out but the royal family disagree.

“Get up, Thor.” Thor had gone back to his quarters shortly after seeing Frigga again, needing to be alone. He was gifted the reconnaissance but it only lasted so long. Loki was pointed in appearing everyday. “You have visitors.”

Thor kept his back to Loki. It hurt to look at his face sometimes when the last image Thor has of his brother is vacant eyes and a blue complexion that had nothing to do with heritage.

A few hissed whispers before Thor heard the door shut, making him sigh in relief. It is short lived.

“You are nearly the size of me, my friend.” Thor shoots up, gasping at the sight of Volstagg and Fandral standing awkwardly by the door. Lightning flashes and thunder booms, the walls humming with a vibration uncanny.

“The bastard wasn’t lying,” Fandral sounded derailed. His friends ( dead, they’re all dead ) are looking at him as if they’ve never seen him before. Thor supposes they haven’t.

He swallows thickly and scoots back on the bed to lean on the headboard. Loki was an ass for doing this to him without even knowing anything. The two take it as an invitation to get closer, Volstagg perching at the end of the mattress and Fandral leaning against the footboard with his arms crossed.

Thor drags a hand down his face, “…My friends.”

“You are much different than Loki had implied. Of course, I’ve never seen you make such a powerful storm.”

Volstagg is quick to agree with the assessment, “Yes, yes! It was utmost impressive.”

“I lost control,” Thor disagrees. He looks down to his hands where they pick at his skin. “It is shameful of me.”

“Did Hogun rub off on you in the future,” Fandral jests. “You seem more grim for the few years you’ve aged.”

Thor shudders involuntarily. He had been fortunate to see only one of his friends in the state they’d been in. He hadn’t even given them a proper funeral.

They don’t take offense to his silence. “I must say I find myself at a loss for words.”

“That is new for you, Fandral,” Thor remarks in a hushed manner.

He chuckles, “Indeed. But you lack a womanly figure, that is when I am most apt for discussion.”

“A pig, you mean.” Volstagg’s grin is sunshine in the gloom Thor’s permeated by. “Can you believe he hasn’t picked up a prospect in days?”

“A bit hypocritical, Volstagg.” Fandral shoves the older’s shoulder and he doesn’t budge.

Thor cradles his eyes, rubbing at the one he had left as it stung sharply. He swallows again as his friends fall silent in reaction to his tears. Has Thor cried in front of them before? Perhaps not in centuries.

He misses them.

“It is nice to see you, my friends.” He forces himself to say, voice tight. “I fear I am not great company at the moment.”

“Fear not, your company is always enjoyable.” The heavy hand of Volstagg’s nearly sends him careening off the cliff he’s been teetering on. He holds onto it only by sheer will.

A shaky inhale, “What has Loki asked of you?”

“Nothing more than we can offer.” Fandral dodges the question with ease, his way of speaking refined by the many parties his mother would throw throughout the years. “We will not ask if you wish us not to.”

A dismal clap of thunder rattles his skull. It does to his friends too by the new tension they gain and uneasy glances to the windows showcasing a mild rain. It’s been raining for three days now.

“If I speak of it, I may change my own future.” And what future is he going back to? Hel on Midgard. “Loki should not have called you here.”

“I think he was smart to do so,” Fandral counters. “Look around, Thor, we are here—“

Thor hisses, “That’s the whole problem, do you not see?!”

Fandral immediately cuts off at his tone and reels back a step. Volstagg’s own shock is obvious through his wide eyes and him pulling away. Thor looks at them both individually, whatever they see leaves them speechless.

Thor’s heart hurts. “When I go back to my time, you will not be here . Here is gone, Fandral. Asgard is no more.”

Fandral’s Adam’s apple bobs and he looks around the room in disbelief, uncomprehending the magnitude of this admittance. Volstagg’s head turns away, remembering a long ago teaching of Ragnarok and what it meant. It is much more real to see it carved into his friend’s face.

“ You are gone,” He whispers. He drops his head and grasps at it, wanting to bawl. His voice is wet, “If I indulge, I will surely not survive when I return to my time.”

Fandral’s tone has gone steely, “You are barely surviving as it is, Thor.”

Thor reaches out and snags Fandral by the collar, bringing him down to stare into Thor’s eyes. It’s only then he notices that one is fake. Dread strikes Fandral but Thor ignores it and ignores Volstagg’s hand trying to pry his own away in futility.

“Do you wish to see my memories? Would that be the only way for the people of this doomed realm to leave me be?” Thor trembles, “I’ve lost everything, Fandral. Do not pretend you know of what I’ve suffered.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But I do know that you’re hurting the people who care about you. We—“

“The very few people my father actually informed of my presence you mean? And what about how they’ve hurt me?!” Thor sneers, shoving Fandral back with an uncontrolled jolt and sending him stumbling to regain his balance. Volstagg stands to assist but the blond waves him off, eyes stuck to Thor, stunned. “You are clueless. They’re all clueless.”

“Thor… what do you mean how they’ve hurt you?” Volstagg switches gears pretty easily, settling back down like it’s his purpose. Fandral approaches but remains out of arms reach. Thor doesn’t blame him.

“None of it’s happened yet.” Thor laughs. “You will see.”

“How have they hurt you?” He asks again.

Thor looks to the window. The rain has become a light misting but the thunder tells the truth of the matter, shouting unheard obscenities and pleads, bargains for something, anything.

“I cannot say.” Thor’s expression has gone flat. “Know the hurt they’ve brought me is a result of my own failings.”

“What does that mean?”

“Thor…”

“I apologize for lashing out, my friends.” Thor’s hollow eyes flash in a bout of lightning. “It was not my intention.”

Fandral storms out of the room and Volstagg follows with one last glance thrown at Thor. Thor doesn’t look at them once during the procession.

…

Volstagg tromps after Fandral like a lumbering bear, silent as the blond bangs furiously on Loki’s bedroom door. To his amazement, Loki opens rather quickly compared to his usual tomfoolery of ignoring them at his door right up until they get tired of waiting and begin to leave.

Volstagg knows what’s coming and he opts not to get in the way. If Loki really wanted to, he could vanish before their very eyes. Fandral pushes Loki inside roughly, scowling hard and voice rising rapidly as Volstagg takes the opportunity to shut the door behind them, wary of letting this other Thor overhear.

“What did you do to him?!”

“Oh, what could I have done to him that he hasn’t already done to himself,” Loki snarks. He allows Fandral to get him up against a wall with his knuckles white in Loki’s garments but remains unimpressed all the same.

“Have we seen the same Thor!?” Fandral reaches a fever pitch and Volstagg wants to be right there with him, honestly. But the way Thor had talked about his future? It haunted him. “That man is broken! Broken! How can you stand here and do nothing?!”

“I don’t see you doing anything either.” Loki casts a withering glare upon them but it’s too familiar to have the bite it would to a stranger. Volstagg’s then a bit surprised when Loki hesitates momentarily. “Did he mention something?”

Fandral continues to hold Loki against the wall but Volstagg deems him trustworthy enough.

“He has witnessed Ragnarok.”

Loki is not skilled enough to mask the horror marring his features, looking between Volstagg and Fandral with eyes that spoke of his disbelief and denial. A greater terror than Volstagg has seen takes hold of Loki, his gaze turning distant. He allows him the minutes he needs as he could never say the right thing to Loki anyway.

“Impossible,” He chokes out.

“Again, I ask if we saw the same Thor.” Fandral scoffs but it’s more self-recriminatory than a slight against Loki, dropping his grip on the god who doesn’t move, shocked still.

“He also spoke of something I found concerning,” Volstagg hedged. Loki’s mask had recovered but a hint of desperation underlay it, a sharp wave of his hand indicating him to continue. “He was wronged, deeply. In some way I failed to gather. He talked of hurts the few people on Asgard who knows of his presence had wrought on him. I cannot think of such a severe atrocity I have committed against your brother to have him as he is.”

“We know it is a wrong made in his future but he remains tight-lipped, impeccably so.” Fandral sighs out, looking exhausted as he rakes a hand through his hair.

“Hogun is better equipped for something like this. Perhaps we should consult him,” Volstagg claims.

“Do we really think he’d tell us more? It would change his timeline if we knew too much.” Loki explicated half-heartedly, still processing fucking Ragnarok . The prophesied end of their race.

“I’m not saying needle him for answers, I am suggesting someone who could handle this new personality without aggravating him needlessly.” Volstagg admitted, “Fandral and I did not get very far.”

“And we all know your whole personality is aggravating,” Fandral glares minutely at Loki. Whose inky locks of hair swept over his pallor and did little to hide the anxiety he had. Volstagg sighs, itching to go back to Thor with sweets and delicacies to devour in his sad state. It was always his go-to when he felt down.

He promotes instead, “Loki, you have come to us for assistance. Let us assist.”

This Thor was upsetting them all but how strung out Loki looked was nerve-wracking. It has been long since even a hint of vulnerability was shown by Loki and Volstagg can honestly say he’s surprised Thor’s what’s got him all stressed. He knows they’re brothers and they care about each other but it’s easy to doubt Loki considering how he acts towards the elder.

“I suppose he is called Hogun the Grim.” They know it’s Loki’s way of acquiescence, a vague form of allowance. They needed one of the royal’s permission to enter this hall currently so if Loki had declined, they would have had to go to the king and queen.

The rain outside persists.

Chapter Text

Hogun doesn’t take much to convince. All they have to do is mention Thor and he is on his feet, eager to finally rid of the dismal pouring that’s plagued Asgard for too long. Many have gathered who the culprit of the unforeseen weather is but the royal family has closed ranks, only need-be orders were made and even servants kept in the dark.

He has no ignorance that one conversation will fix whatever is hurting Thor but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do anything for his friend. He wasn’t much of a talker anyway, he preferred to listen.

Hogun doesn’t mean to think ill of royalty but they obviously aren’t helping Thor. By Fandral and Volstagg’s recount, they have barely gotten anything out of the elder prince and, at that, all dreary self pity. From the information he’s gotten, Hogun’s not too unimpressed with Thor’s apparent attitude or lackluster appearance. It is still a little shocking seeing it for the first time.

He had never believed Thor could fall down so far. It’s difficult to reconcile his boisterous, genial friend is the same god as this man.

Thor glances at him once upon entry but is quick to look away, a depth in his eyes Hogun recognizes from war. He’s seeing something else when he looks at Hogun.

“It’s good to see you.” They’ve switched roles; Thor has taken his stoicism and he bears the weight of interaction without a respondent partner. Hogun’s stomach rolls uncomfortably.

“Likewise,” Thor offers.

“I figure you’ve grown weary of us all coming in and out.” Hogun chooses to sit on the chest next to the floor to ceiling windows littered with dewdrops and rattled with the constant pour. He watches the storm outside with a mild form of peace. Ever since Thor had begun to grasp his domain, Hogun favored the maudlin weather. It reminded him of Thor. “I only come to say that we don’t mean to smother you. We just worry.”

“I know. I do not know why I am so angry.” Thor admits while callous thunder speaks with him.

Hogun is not as blind as the two brighter warriors of his pack, this storm is steady and eased. It is not as untamed as the ones where Thor really loses his control. “You have been through a great tragedy. I don’t think any of us blame you for your ire.”

“I am a lot more than just angry.”

“I would expect nothing less.” Hogun takes a deep breath, “Your pain is tangible and they wish to alleviate it. But I know that whenever you come from lacks our presence and it may be worse for you to allow us to help.”

Thor chuckles dryly and Hogun watches a bolt of lightning hit an abandoned bench of one of the gardens, blasting it to pieces. It is a moderate downpour but the way it responds to Thor’s minute calls are fascinating. It so familiar yet so different from the Thor Hogun knows. He wasn’t as in tune with the thunder as this Thor is.

“You lack your grim nature, my friend.”

Hogun smiles, “I cannot always be grim as you cannot always be the thunderer.”

When he looks at Thor, Thor’s looking back. His stare echoes with remnants of what’s he’s been through and Hogun wishes to know what the future holds so desperately. He can’t bring himself to break this tentative trust though.

“I do implore you to say this to your brother, he is exceptionally distraught.” He looks back out the window.

“Loki and I’s relationship is on its last legs, Hogun. He knows it as well as I do.“ Thor accuses gently, “I know you do too.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I do know we’ve hurt Loki.”

“It will get a lot worse.”

“That’s what I keep hearing but I don’t believe it to be true. For things to get worse, they have to get better.” Hogun insisted, “Perhaps you have hit rock bottom in your time but that leaves only one way to go.”

“Your optimism is gracious, Hogun. It is also unfounded.”

“I keep hearing contradictions but never any proof.” Hogun turns to Thor fully and raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest in a small act of defiance. Thor is amused by his stance.

Hogun’s reminded of Loki, staring upon the dismal figure Thor makes on his bed. With his passive way of speaking that tells of unseen wisdom, the easy way of which he uses his godly abilities, even the way he seems so small despite his new stature. Hogun’s quite surprised Loki hasn’t warmed up to this Thor, regardless of the depression exuding from him.

“I have many millennia to live, my friend. I know fate’s whims are unpredictable but I have been left behind while my family marches onward.”

Hogun doesn’t really have anything to help with that, if he’s interpreting Thor correctly. Hogun is only a decade older than Thor and he has lost his father in battle yet he can’t imagine losing his mother too. He would be lost.

“I only wish we could comfort you, Thor. I am not offended by your behavior or your appearance but it saddens me to see you this way.”

“I would not survive returning if I allowed you to.”

Hogun turns back to the ominous rain, “As you said.”

…

Thor has found himself in the treasury. He’s grown weary of staring out into the rising waters he was causing, drowning their vegetation and people alike. Loki persists to be a nuisance in his scathing attitude. Fandral had come with him once, which had been a pleasantly humorous thirty minutes.

He stares at the gauntlet for ages. Even knowing it’s a fake, it still looks like a spitting image of the real one. Makes him wonder why his father even knows of its existence and why he has a model of it. It is still disgustingly ornate while the lackluster faux gems occupy their designations. It irritates him. It’s just a fucking glove .

The empty stand where Surtur’s crown is meant to be berates Thor. Wrests him from the trance he’d gone in staring at the gauntlet ( fake, fake ) to blinking, recalling the barbaric image the fire giant had made breaking through the very palace he now stood in. Despite the abhorrence of the image, it had been shockingly beautiful. A baroque tapestry of war and success, of pain and betrayal. Hela had been elegant and fierce shooting massive spears at Surtur and she had perished all the same.

The Eternal Flame haunts him, wavers like it’s teasing him, whispering: I know what you did. I know how you failed. The sparks leap out at him and scatter onto the floor as if knowing exactly where they belong, where Hela had gotten her army. He understands why his father kept it all this time but he wants to pummel the old god irregardless. He wants to break it open and see for himself, the tomb of the fallen and Fenris.

Thor pauses before where the ashes lay, staring at them before an unheard gust sweeps the soot away. He glances around the treasury a moment, a realization staking him through his chest.

It’s not a tomb. It’s a treasure. A personal treasure only Odin knows about, only Odin would feel the weight of when walking atop the corpses of a dead army. Only Odin could sleep in this palace knowing what rests beneath it.

Thor swallows hard, kneeling to place a hand on the floor, knocking lightly. It doesn’t even sound hollow. None would ever discover it without previous knowledge. Did Mother walk the halls remembering the blood spilled for them?

It gives Thor new eyes to look upon his past actions in Jotunheim. Why his father had been so furious with him. Thor knows his shame now.

“You’re surrounded by Father’s greatest feats yet the floor is what raptures you?”

Thor sits back at Loki’s voice behind him, not bothering to face him and read the expression he has. It is much too easy to do at this point in time and he knows his Loki would have hated it. He thinks this Loki hates it too.

“Indeed. Did you know some of these are fake?” Thor can almost see Fenris, waiting patiently for his rightful owner to call him home.

“Really? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” Loki’s tone is careless, uninterested. Thor imagines he’s studying his nails or shining a piece of leather not up to par.

Thor refuses to look lest he get entrapped again, “That gauntlet. It is a fake.”

“It is a curiosity, is it not? I am unsure of which adventure it comes from.”

Thor finally stands and turns to Loki. I hope you never find out , he wants to say. He knows it would only fuel Loki’s desire to figure it out for himself. If his voice is a little dry then he can be granted some leniency, “A respectable battle, I’m sure.”

“The Allfather wouldn’t have anything less,” Loki rolls his eyes. “Are you done here or would you like to continue mournfully studying the architecture?”

“I have had my fill.” And Thor actually meant the words.

Chapter Text

Something’s different. An epiphany must have occurred because the rain had stopped. Not suddenly, rather over the course of two days, slowly receding and lightening until only wispy grey clouds blotted the sky. Harsh winds still wreaked havoc intermittently but there was something purposeful behind them, a show of upset and capability. The muggy atmosphere did not dissipate as Thor wasn’t acting much different, a contradiction to the weather turnaround.

Precedence dictated that Loki should ask about the change but Thor remained frustratingly unreachable. He recognized Loki’s tricks and twisting of words far too easy and had actually laughed the  one time Loki tried to read his mind. He had not even gotten close to touching Thor’s head, a shock of lightning that made his muscles twitch for minutes afterwards incapacitating him. After that encounter, Loki was fearful of the thought of Thor using his power against him a second time. It wasn’t an experience he wished to repeat.

Thor was beginning to thin from the lack of alcohol but it was mostly unnoticeable. The withdrawals were unforgiving and Loki found it hard to see them at their worst. The shaking and sweating had Thor constantly on edge but he seemed alright still despite the aching he must be in.

The days are dragging and it’s all Loki can do to not beat Thor’s head in. He hated Thor. He hated his attitude, his personality, his reticence. It was so fucking different from the Thor Loki truly knew and hated somehow less than this version; the one who was oblivious and ignorant and unthinking, the one who belittled Loki and then turned around like nothing had ever happened. Never had Loki thought he’d miss the moronic fool but here he was. For reasons he didn’t want to specify because then they’d be real. And for reasons he had to separate this Thor and his Thor because if they were truly the same person… Loki would one day have to live with his brother, the husk of a god rather than his brother, the almighty Golden Prince. And Loki doesn’t know which one is worse.

This shell of his brother who knows his every move? Or the oaf who consistently underestimates him?

Manipulation was Loki’s saving grace but it did little to affect Thor. Their mother and father were working on a solution to get the real Thor back and hadn’t much seen either of them the past few days. But Loki was so curious to figure this Thor out, he was beginning to believe it was hopelessly sought. What other reason did he have for doing so besides preparing himself for the future him to manipulate this future Thor? None, really.

Loki couldn’t get past his defenses anyway. No matter what he did.

“I find myself resenting you far more than I resent my Thor.” It’s the truth but Thor isn’t at all moved by his honesty. Loki knows this Thor must have some idea for Loki’s true feelings by how he countered every action Loki took to rectify the imbalance but he had yet to actually say so.

“That is a common theme nowadays.” Like he doesn’t even care his little brother just said he resented him. Like he doesn’t even care how hard Loki is trying. For selfish reasons, sure, but trying all the same.

“You are infuriating. Do you not have any other feelings besides depressed?”

Thor smiled, “This is what you came in here for?”

Loki would typically exalt more patience than this but it’s been eight days of this nonsense and he could barely tolerate it anymore. If it were anything but Thor, Loki could probably be patient for decades. Fandral and Volstagg would make it a point to stop by together occasionally and Hogun came by more often than them yet refused to talk to Loki about what he and Thor would discuss, if anything of substance.

“My, you are tricky to pin down.” Loki forced relaxation onto his anger, refusing to lash out even if it was all he wanted to do.

Thor sighed, “What would it do for you to look into my memories, Loki?”

“Peace of mind?” He tries. The glance Thor gives him is stiflingly unimpressed. His next words almost don’t come out: “Fine. It is your attitude, it is most… troubling.”

More like fucking horrible . If this is how Thor would act when humbled, Loki hoped it never came to fruition. And isn’t that such an unseen sentiment? Loki hoping his fool brother not to learn how clueless he is. All he’s wanted for centuries is that realization to pummel Thor into the ground.

“You just do not like that I can predict your tricks,” Thor says sagely. A deep understanding resonates from him and Loki hopes to Valhalla the understanding isn’t about him. Loki thinks it’s a hopeless venture. “They have challenged me, I admit, as you get bolder the longer I stay. If I allow you to peek in my mind, I fear what you would do with the information. For as much as I am not the man I used to be, I do not wish to go back to that and I do not wish any harm to come to the lives I’ve changed.”

When their eyes met, deep sorrow penetrated the measly defenses Loki put up upon entry. He was getting tired of fighting Thor without the blond hitting back. Something so old and forgiving that Loki wished to reach out and grasp it, to freeze it in time and treasure it. Why does this Thor have such an impact on Loki?

“And harm would come to them because I know you would try to change the future, Loki.”

“Am I that obvious?” Like it or not, Loki was predictable to this Thor and he wasn’t getting anywhere with the falsehoods he’d been throwing about. He didn’t want to have to live with a Thor like this. Is that so wrong?

“Your last moments alive were spent saving my life,” Thor reveals. “We have both changed in the future, Loki. I am sorry that you are unhappy by how I fare after all I’ve been through.”

“I do not know what you’ve been through because you refuse to let me see!” Loki’s voice rises. Thor doesn’t even bristle.

“You know of Ragnarok and of your demise, what more is there to tell?”

“The why and how, perhaps?!”

Thor sighs again, weight of the realms weary. Fuck, Loki hates it. Hates him . “Come, sit next to me.”

Loki drops his head to the floor momentarily, frustrated beyond belief. He clenched and unclenched his fists before deciding to listen to Thor, carefully seating himself on the mattress. He refused to take his stare off his elder brother, sharp, keen eyes assessing minute actions. Loki wanted to pull away when Thor reached out but the solemnity he exuded warned him otherwise.

Thor only reached out to grasp one of his hands in his two anyway. “I will permit you one time entry to my memories, Loki. But I will be choosing the memory.”

Loki’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He had not expected this leniency, granted from Loki’s ire of all things. What more could this Thor do to surprise Loki? His hand curled reflexively around Thor’s, whose top hand was anxiously circling mindless configurations on his skin. Thor didn’t want to do this but he was doing it for Loki. Why?

Loki swallowed and blinked rapidly, “Very well. Are you ready?”

Thor gave a single nod and Loki brought his free fingertips up to his temple.

Stillness, utter stillness. There are people at his back and around him but they are too far in his peripherals to be clear. What is clear is Surtur before him, deadly spikes thrusting into his flaming body atop the wreckage of Asgard. Loki cannot make out the being who is trying to repress the fire giant but they stand no chance, the beast lofting his prized sword above his head before thrusting it down, piercing the very gravity center of Asgard. He can feel Thor’s devastating mix of emotions: regret, anger, unease, and resignation. Fear.

Asgard explodes, taking Surtur with it. It is beautiful as it is tragic and Loki is pulled out of the memory to Thor holding him up as he gasps and chokes on tears. He had known Fandral was speaking the truth but seeing it is much more terrifying.

The flaming detritus is painfully vivid in his mind’s eye, the great Surtur had wasted little time to destroy it all, to destroy himself. Loki is standing in soon-to-be ruin. He can’t breathe .

Loki rips out of Thor’s hold, stumbling to leave as the weight of Thor’s emotions from the memory slam down on him, buckling his knees even as he continues to escape. He had to get out, he can’t be here, he can’t fucking look at Thor. His righteous indignation was all for naught. Loki should’ve never agreed to the terms. He should’ve known better, he shouldn’t have trusted Thor.

Thor doesn’t say a word and he doesn’t try to keep him there. Loki can’t tell if he’s upset or thankful for it.

…

Four days pass without Thor seeing Loki. He should have expected it from his younger brother, always the one to run away. And he did, sort of, but there was obviously more to it if his friends’ expressions after the event had anything to say. He wondered what information they traded with Loki and what Loki gave to them, knowing at this point in time their relationships were not quite friendly.

Hogun was the hardest to read as always but he actually told Thor how Loki had shut himself in his bedroom with ancient tomes he’d never seen before. Fandral and Volstagg were surprisingly tight-lipped, but it was all the more telling that Loki had informed them of more than he had Hogun. Which was equally shocking considering Thor thought of Hogun as the easiest to get along with.

Thor had never spent so much time in his bedroom on Asgard as he did now. It was a bit tedious, seeing as the few servants who dropped off food were told he was bedridden with a highly contagious disease. Other times it was his friends or parents bringing the meals, either quickly making an exit thereafter or staying for strained back and forths. He was out of touch with these people that were only a year or more removed. It baffled him how much could change in such little time and he wondered if it’d be the same in Valhalla. Millennia down the road, he’ll have quadruple the life experience of his friends and brother alike and it was frightening.

Thor tried not to think so much but with the lack of liquor, the awkward conversations, and the very little visitors at that, he was alone with the bombardment of overwhelming thoughts cascading him into a deep pit. Thor could not claw his way out and he doesn’t know how he found himself so far down.

Loki comes back eventually but he’s quieter than usual and he doesn’t try to wheedle anything else out of Thor. He has been here for but twelve days and has already caused great strife in his family. Thor wonders if they’ll be able to act normal with their Thor when he goes or if they’ll remember this at all. He hates how much of a burden he’s become.

He still doesn’t even know how he got here and none have told him of their ideas or beliefs. He is incompetent to them and the physical embodiment of the end. It’s no wonder they separate from him and keep to casual topics.

Thor parts from his quarters on the fourteenth day. He doesn’t bother to go outside because it was too risky, Asgard was always moving and he wasn’t going to cause undue panic on his parents.

He crept down into the cellar. The barrels he’d drunk after arriving here were already disposed of and replaced by new ones. Thor claimed a single tote without preamble, finding the darkest corner with little light coverage to conceal his face should someone venture as deep as he has into the hold.

Thor takes a large gulp that rips at his throat on the way down. A satisfactory feeling Thor had missed. He knew he was doing what they call relapsing. But Thor had only held off drinking for his family and they were wanting him gone anyway. They wanted their Thor and not the broken one he’d become.

Thor can understand, really. He knows how he looks, how he sounds and acts. He knows who he is. Maybe somewhere in him he had hoped Asgard and those who came with it would help him, would make him feel better or happier. It was obvious now how ridiculous the thought was. They hardly tried and when they did, it was always empty because they didn’t know him, not as he is. And they didn’t want to.

Thor has emptied the barrel by the time he gets sick of the taste. Boozed up and exhausted over repetition, he has reached a limit here. His friends, his family, they aren’t who he needs them to be and he can’t expect anything more from them. Not after he’s taken everything and given nothing in return.

He wants to be with them. He wants them to love him at his worst. But even Thor doesn’t love himself at his worst.

He doesn’t doubt their care but they have their own needs and duties, he is only weighing on their conscience. And the true Thor of this time would never think of being that weight on their shoulders.

…

Blue skies pierce his gaze when he regains a kind of composure.

Midgard’s sun stings his skin after days locked inside a palace with little company. The warm brightness causing an unexpected elation that kickstarted his heartbeat. Breezy winds and clashing waves whistle in his ears, the spray of water lashing his face a pleasant sensation atop all the weight of knowledge he’d smothered under for two weeks dissipating ever so slowly. The salt stings his skin and dragons trample his veins, goosebumps raising his hairs.

Thor can breathe again. He can breathe again. He wasn’t suffocating anymore.

The vast ocean’s inky waters were tumultuous, constantly moving and unsettling. The tall grass swayed in the light weather, rustling so comforting he could nearly fall asleep. The bustling and crowded town of New Asgard was legible far down the cliff he stands on, a whisper of jovial, everyday interactions.

Thor sinks to his knees in the damp grass and tears begin to drip down one side of his face. A shuddered inhalation that shakes his lungs and trembles as it leaves him.

Thor can breathe again.