Chapter Text
Somewhere in the distance, the steady drip of water echoed in the silence. The air against his cheek was cool and damp—the breath of a cave.
This dream again, Loki thought.
And yet, the familiar softness of fur was gone. The hardness of stone pressed directly against his shoulder and side. As his vision slowly cleared, all he could see were the uneven contours of rock. The pale light of early morning outlined every jagged edge.
Before him, something glinted dully in the dark. His gaze settled on the rune-carved silver band—and he realized this wasn’t a dream at all.
He lifted the wrist that had been resting beside his face. A silver shackle hung from it, a broken chain clinking softly as it swayed in the air. The other wrist was free.
His magic was sealed, but he was not physically bound.
Even so, simply pressing his palm to the ground and lifting his body drained him. Gasping for breath, he groaned as he forced himself to raise his head.
This was real. The cave in the snowy mountains of Asgard—the one he and Thor had visited countless times. The high ceiling of stone, the firepit made of rocks at the center, the curved passage leading deeper into the mountain… everything was exactly as he remembered.
And yet, it felt unreal. He had been in the storm of New Asgard—how had he woken up here?
He turned toward the entrance with effort, and nearly cried out in shock.
In the faint shadows, Thor sat slumped against the cave wall, drenched in blood.
He stared blankly out through the mouth of the cave, completely still, as if unaware of Loki’s presence. His chest was torn open beneath shattered armor, the gash vivid and red, still spilling fresh blood.
“T—Thor…”
Loki tried to call out to him, but his voice refused to come.
Heart pounding, he scrambled toward his brother, half-crawling across the cave floor in a panic. Everything was drowned in shadow—he couldn’t see clearly where Thor was sitting. But when he came close enough to reach out and touch him, his heart nearly froze. It wasn’t shadow that cloaked the ground.
Thor was sitting in a pool of his own blood, his legs half-submerged in it.
“Thor!”
Loki shouted.
There was no reaction. Thor didn’t even flinch. A horrifying thought gripped Loki, every hair on his body standing on end. It was a terror far deeper than when he had thought he himself might die.
“Brother…”
As if in answer, Thor blinked slowly. Loki exhaled, but it wasn’t relief—he was still far from it. His hand trembling, he reached out and fumbled beneath Thor’s shattered armor.
“Th-the healing stone…where—?”
Every Asgardian warrior carried one beneath their armor when going into battle. The only reason they could fight so long without falling was because of the magic in that stone. But now—there was nothing.
“Brother, why…?” The words slipped from Loki’s lips before he could stop them, shaken to the core. He knew Thor couldn’t possibly offer any real answer, but the fear was too much to keep silent. “Why would you go out there like that—completely exposed, without—”
Thor’s gaze drifted to him, unfocused at first, then almost finding its mark—only to falter again as his eyes threatened to close.
“Thor! Thor!!”
Panic surged through Loki’s voice. The blood was still pouring out. His clothes were soaked, drenched from where he knelt in the growing pool. There was too much. Even the god of thunder couldn’t survive long like this.
His fingers moved on instinct, reaching for healing magic. But all that came was the soft clatter of chains as they shifted—no power answered his call.
Where was the king now? Somewhere close… or still far away in Midgard? Only he had the power to undo the seal on Loki’s magic.
“Thor, don’t fall asleep! Keep your eyes open!”
The despair was so overwhelming it nearly forced a sob from his throat. His fingers—useless, powerless, unable even to press down with strength—tried in vain to close the wound spilling blood across Thor’s chest.
No… this can’t be how it ends. Not here. Not like this. Thor has a future… he's meant to be the future king of —
That was when Loki realized it.
The man in front of him… he was also a king of Asgard.
“Thor! Take this shackle off—now!”
Thor’s eyes drifted toward him, unfocused, barely able to track. A faint, twisted smile curled at his lips.
“Can’t you get out of it yourself, Loki…? Escaping, slipping past chains and cages—that’s always been your thing…”
There was no time to get caught up in the bitterness of his words.
“You’re the only one who can remove it. If you don’t, I can’t use my magic—I can’t help you. Please, I need it—now!”
Thor lifted a hand slightly, then hesitated, his gaze shifting toward the cave mouth once more.
“So you can trick me again…? Run back to that king of yours?”
“No!” Loki shouted, frustration rising. “I just need to heal you—use magic to close your wounds! If I don’t, you’ll die, Thor!”
Even when Loki yelled the words in his ear, Thor gave no reply. Loki grabbed his hand in desperation.
“Let me seal your wound. Let me stop the bleeding. If you still don’t trust me, you can put the shackle back on afterward. Just for this—just while I heal you, please…”
Thor didn’t move. His dark eyes stared through him, heavy and unreadable. Just as Loki was about to shout again, Thor finally reached out and touched the silver cuff. It took so long—agonizingly long—that Loki thought he might lose his mind from the tension alone.
The shackle simply slipped free from his wrist, without even clicking or springing open. Thor’s hand fell limply to his side, and the silver ring and chain dropped into the blood below with a soft splash.
Loki moved instantly, thrusting his hand over the wound closest to Thor’s heart. Power surged back into him, flooding his limbs, racing beneath his skin. He felt it clearly—the full return of his magic. Focusing all of it into his hands, he poured the energy into that one goal: stop the bleeding. That had to come first.
“You’ve been wearing that shackle every day?” Thor closed his eyes and muttered in a low voice, “Bound like that—by that noble king of yours?”
“You’ve done far worse to me, Thor.” Loki didn’t even think before snapping back, “So don’t act so high and mighty.”
Maybe it was the adrenaline talking. Words that would have once stayed locked behind his teeth were now spilling out with ease. Neither of them should’ve been wasting their strength on talking. But somehow, the silence was even harder to bear.
Thor didn’t get angry. Instead, he opened his eyes and looked at Loki with something like amusement. But that light faded quickly—his gaze drifted off, unfocused, and Loki felt a chill creep up his spine. His hands trembled.
The wound was large, and closing it completely would take time. But most of the damage was shallow, Loki realized with a flicker of relief. Once he’d stopped the worst of the bleeding in Thor’s chest, he allowed himself a brief breath and used magic to remove the broken armor from Thor’s body.
Healing spells demanded enormous energy. Under normal circumstances, Loki would never have wasted power on anything else. But time was short, and he didn’t want Thor to move until he could see the full extent of his injuries.
With the upper armor gone, the shape of the gash became clear—a diagonal slash from an axe. Thor’s shoulders and chest still rose and fell with strained, labored breaths. But Loki could already see the effects of his spell combining with Thor’s natural divine resilience. The blood had begun to clot, and new cells were forming.
As Loki cleaned away the blood and grime crusted on Thor’s skin, he pushed the healing deeper, working layer by layer into the damaged flesh.
“That bastard…" Thor muttered, eyes still closed. "...avoided the vital point,”
“Don’t talk,” Loki snapped. The worst of the wounds had closed, but Thor was still far too pale, and his breathing hadn’t steadied. He clearly didn't have the strength yet to fully recover. “Save your energy if you want to heal.”
Even as he repeated the warning, Loki had to admit Thor was right. The gash ran across his upper body at just the right angle to miss the heart. If it had been reversed—if the cut had gone the other way—Thor might have been dead before Loki had even woken up.
And the way the wound tapered off toward the ribs… Loki could almost feel the intention behind it. A split-second decision to pull back, to limit the damage.
The image returned to him—The cliff, the rain, the king bringing the axe down toward Thor.
Loki didn’t want to believe the king had truly meant to kill him. Not without hesitation. Not deliberately. There were so many things he wanted to ask—what had happened after he lost consciousness, how they’d gotten here. But he couldn’t afford to let Thor waste his strength answering. Not yet.
Carefully, Loki slid a hand behind Thor’s back, lifting him just enough to check for other injuries. He touched his arms and legs with slow precision, checking joints, bones—making sure nothing was broken or twisted. Then, finally, he looked at Thor’s face again. There was blood at the corner of his mouth, as if he’d taken a punch. Loki reached out and gently wiped it away with his fingertips.
As he did, he felt Thor’s lips faintly curve beneath his touch. A low, breathy laugh escaped him.
Loki drew back a little, puzzled.
“Thor?”
Thor's eyes half-lidded, his voice dreamy. “It really is the best… having you heal me. No one else compares. Not long ago I got hurt—badly. There was a call from Vanaheim to deal with some beast, and I leapt into the canyon without thinking. Ended up bathing in fire from head to toe.”
“Stop talking, Thor. Be quiet.”
“I don’t really remember much, but the healers said I refused their help. Said I kept yelling for you, that only you could fix me. I fought them off, apparently… caused such a scene. Got scolded for it, too. By Father…”
Something’s wrong. Loki was certain of it now. There was a strange detachment in Thor’s voice, as if he were speaking to no one in particular. His words felt careless, almost aimless. And the story—getting burned all over by a mere beast? That wasn’t Thor. Not the Thor Loki knew.
Even allowing for the strength difference, it didn’t make sense that he’d taken a direct hit from the king’s axe. He hadn’t even been wearing a healing stone under his armor. And just sat there, bleeding out, doing nothing. That wasn’t like him at all.
When the healing was done—for now, at least—Loki gently laid Thor down on the rocky bed. There was still so much he didn’t understand. But there was one question he had to ask.
“What happened after I blacked out? What did the king do?”
“I killed him,” Thor said at once. “Burned that ridiculous place—‘New Asgard’ or whatever it was—straight to the ground with my lightning. Of course I did. No one lays a hand on my Loki and gets away with it. I’ve always said that, haven’t I?”
He looked like a sulky child, refusing to meet Loki’s gaze, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Thank the gods he’s a terrible liar, Loki thought.
That little kingdom… the people who had taken him in, who had cared for him in their own way—Loki had grown fond of them. Even imagining them consumed by fire, if only for a moment, would’ve been unbearable.
“How did we get here?”
Loki didn’t call out the childish lie for what it was. He simply asked the next question.
And Thor—knowing full well that his previous answer hadn’t fooled anyone—kept right on going, as if nothing had happened.
“The king did it. He used that oversized axe of his to summon the Bifrost. Sent us both here.”
“The king? But why?”
“How should I know? You think I understand whatever that crazy bastard is thinking? He cut me down with that axe—then just stood there, staring at me like he couldn’t believe what he’d done. And then, out of nowhere, he raised it again. I thought, that’s it. He’s going to finish me. But next thing I knew, I was being hurled into the Bifrost.”
“…And I was with you?”
“Yeah. You came with me, I guess. At first I thought it was just me. When I saw you in this cave—or thought I heard your voice—I figured I was hallucinating. Some deathbed vision or something.”
Thor reached out and touched Loki’s arm, as if to confirm that he wasn’t imagining him after all. Then, in a smaller voice, his expression slipping back into that childish sulk, he added, “I couldn’t even land a scratch on him.”
“Did he say anything?” Loki asked. “Anything at all?”
“What, you want to hear that he whispered some tender goodbye to you at the end or something?”
Loki almost snapped back, but held his tongue. There was more worry than anger in him now—Thor’s voice was growing weaker.
“He didn’t say anything,” Thor murmured, eyes fluttering closed. “I mean it.”
His face had gone pale again. Loki pressed his lips together, realizing he wouldn’t get anything more out of him now.
The king—he had struck Thor down without mercy. But then… he’d sent them here. Back to this version of Asgard. Loki had no way of knowing what had truly happened, what the king had been thinking in those final moments.
All he could do was imagine. And pray—pray that, in the end, the king had come back to his senses. Pray that the morning that came to that little kindom after the storm… had been a peaceful one.
Using magic, Loki cleaned the mud from his clothes, lit a fire in the stone hearth, and swept the cave floor where Thor’s blood had stained the ground. Then, from Thor’s royal chambers, he summoned furs and bedding to make sure Thor could lie down in comfort. Carefully, he wrapped Thor’s bare torso to keep him from freezing. He would have liked to bring over the entire set of supplies they’d used for outdoor travel, but didn’t dare draw anyone's attention. He limited himself to essentials—water skin, clean cloths for tending wounds.
By the time he’d done it all with magic, Loki had barely enough strength left to stay on his feet. Most of his energy had gone into transporting things from the palace to the cave. It wasn’t just the distance—it was the constant need to shield the spells themselves, layering concealment upon concealment to avoid detection. This was nothing like moving a water jug from one room to another.
“It’s done,” Loki said as he sank to his knees beside Thor. “As promised—you can put this back on me now.”
He held out the silver shackle. “I haven’t got enough magic left to move more than a pebble, but if you still feel the need to chain me up, go ahead. Whatever makes you feel better.”
He placed one wrist over the other, mimicking the same posture he'd once been bound with rope, a deliberate echo. There was only one shackle, but he didn’t need both for the meaning to be clear. He looked down at Thor, gaze sharp and defiant.
Thor stared back at him in silence, then pushed himself up on one elbow. He took the shackle in one hand and seized Loki’s wrist with the other—roughly, with no gentleness. He brought the silver ring close.
But then… he stopped.
“Brother?”
Thor didn’t answer. He only stared at Loki’s hand. Slowly, droplets of water began to fall onto Loki’s wrist—silent, steady.
“Brother,” Loki said again, more softly.
“Loki, did you ever…”
The silver shackle slipped from Thor’s fingers and hit the ground with a heavy clang. He let go of Loki’s wrist and covered his face with one hand, trying to hide the tears.
“Did you ever truly want to be with me? Even once? Or was it always just obedience? Always just… doing as I said, because you felt you had to? Even now, healing me like this—why?”
His voice broke, and his head dropped.
“You should rest,” Loki said quietly. “We don’t have to talk right now.”
“Loki.”
Thor reached out again, and this time, Loki accepted the hand. Thor’s grip was light—uncertain, unlike him. He didn’t open his eyes.
“When we were in Asgard, you obeyed me. When Odin told you to go to that other king, you obeyed him. Over there, you did whatever the king asked of you. And now, here we are again—just the two of us—and suddenly you’re kind to me again. Is that all this is? Just another order you’re following? Do you even… care about me at all?”
“I suppose not,” Loki said sharply, the anger rising in his throat. “After all, that’s exactly what you said back then, isn’t it? When we saw each other again in the palace. You said it to the king’s face—that I was the sort of creature who would bow to whoever held the power, just to survive.”
Thor winced, but nodded.
“Yes. I said it. And I was wrong. Loki… I’m sorry.”
The apology came without hesitation. Thor let out a strained breath and lay back down.
“I shouldn’t have said those things. It was cruel. But I… I couldn’t bear the thought of you choosing him over me. The idea that you might’ve fallen for him, left me because you loved him—just imagining it drove me mad. So I told myself it wasn’t love. That you didn’t love anyone. That you went to him only because Odin ordered it. It was the only way I could survive it. I kept saying it until I believed it. I never meant for you to hear it.”
He squinted up at Loki, blinking against the growing light.
Outside, the snow had brightened under the morning sun, and a silver glow filled the mouth of the cave. Thor shielded his eyes with a hand and looked around.
“Is this really… the same cave? From our Asgard?”
“It is,” Loki said, turning toward the entrance. He pointed to a carving near the wall. “There—see? Our initials.”
In the daylight, the letters T and L stood out clearly in the stone.
“Ah… brings back memories.” Thor gave a small, wistful smile. “How did that king know about this place?”
“He had a cave just like it in his version of Asgard,” Loki replied. “He told me he used to go there with his little brother. He even knew Heimdall couldn’t see inside.”
“I see…” Thor closed his eyes again. A long pause followed, then he whispered, “If I so much as step outside this cave… Odin’s soldiers will descend on me in an instant.”
"Odin’s army? What do you mean by that?" Loki frowned and turned to face him. "You’re the king of Asgard now, aren’t you? The army answers to you, not Odin."
"No. I may be king in name, but in truth, Father still holds a great deal of power. We moved up the coronation far earlier than originally planned. Until the day he was supposed to officially pass the throne to me, he insisted on keeping things the way they were."
"Oh… I didn't know that…"
"Right now, I’m nothing but a traitor." Thor’s voice sank even lower. "I violated the peace treaty, invaded that kingdom without warning… Odin’s probably already ordered the army to track me down. If they catch me, they’ll treat me like a criminal. I might have already been stripped of my title."
"That’s ridiculous!" Loki let out a laugh, the idea so absurd it almost amused him. "There’s no way you’d be treated as a criminal. Odin wouldn’t punish his only heir—his one and only blood son. And you’re still king. That shackle on my wrist—you just took it off, didn’t you? Only the king of Asgard could’ve done that.”
Thor said nothing. He just stared up at the ceiling, blank and unresponsive. The way he spoke, the way his face looked… it was nothing like the brother Loki used to know.
Loki turned away and stared out at the snowy landscape beyond the cave’s entrance. To a Jotun like him, the cold meant little. But for Thor, injured as he was, this must have been brutal.
No matter what Thor said, the right thing to do was to contact the palce for help as soon as possible. And yet… what would happen to him then? That question alone made it impossible to decide right away. He just needed a little more time.
"Are you angry, Loki?" Thor's voice broke the silence. "Because of me, you were torn away from that king and dragged back here against your will."
I wasn’t dragged back. I was coming to find you.
Loki thought about saying it, but in the end, he just shook his head and answered simply, "I'm not angry."
"But do you want to go back?" Thor asked. "You’ve grown fond of him, haven’t you? Maybe you can’t even stand to look at me anymore."
Loki remained where he was, his back still turned. He shook his head again.
If he couldn’t stand the sight of Thor, he wouldn’t have spent every last bit of strength and magic healing him. But even so, he wasn’t ready to turn around and offer kind words just yet.
"Then will you come sit beside me, Loki?"
Loki stayed frozen. He didn’t answer.
Thor’s voice dropped to a whisper. "Please, Loki. It’s cold... I’m freezing."
There was a rustle of movement behind him, followed by a faint groan of pain. Loki sent a pulse of magic into the campfire.
"I’ve strengthened the fire. Is that better?"
He turned to look at his brother as he spoke.
Even if Thor gazed back with pleading eyes, Loki didn’t think he could bring himself to lie beside him under the same furs again. But Thor wasn’t pleading. Instead, he lay staring up at the ceiling, looking as though he had given up on everything.
"Loki..."
He reached out a hand. Even that simple gesture was weak, as if he’d abandoned any hope of touching Loki from the start. It dropped, limp, to the ground.
That face—resigned, defeated—hurt more than any glare of anger or desperate plea. Loki shrugged off his coat and slowly approached. He lay down beside Thor, leaving a small space between them.
Thor smiled faintly. With a tentative hand, he reached out and touched Loki’s hair. Loki didn’t pull away, but he didn’t respond, either. He only looked back at Thor’s face.
Thor whispered his name again and tried to turn toward him, to gather him into his arms. But as soon as he shifted his upper body, pain seized him. He grimaced, groaning.
"Don’t move," Loki wispered. "The wounds are only closed on the surface. If you push yourself, they’ll reopen."
Reluctantly, Loki shifted closer—just enough for their shoulders to touch. If he didn’t, he knew Thor would endure any pain just to draw him in.
Thor let out another frustrated groan, then finally gave in and closed his eyes.
"Ah... it’s good," he murmured at last, as if talking to himself. "Having you beside me again like this..."
A few moments later, his breathing slowed into sleep.
Loki had meant to slip out of the fur bedding once Thor fell asleep. But at some point, he’d dozed off completely himself.
What woke him was the feeling of Thor’s fingers brushing against his cheek. The cave had already sunk into the dimness of twilight.
Thor was lying on his back, head turned toward Loki, arm outstretched. The joints of his fingers traced over Loki’s cheekbone, again and again, with gentle intent.
“I didn’t mean to drag you back by force.”
Thor’s voice came as though picking up right where they’d left off before falling asleep.
“I just wanted to see you one more time. One last time.”
“One last time?”
The words slipped out before Loki could stop them. That ominous dread from when he’d first found Thor bleeding all over the floor returned. His brother’s color had improved, but his eyes still lacked focus, dull and distant.
“I thought the only one who could kill me in a single blow was him.”
“Thor!”
Loki’s voice sharpened as he sat up. He had begun to understand what Thor was trying to say—but hearing it aloud terrified him. Something about this Thor, the way he was now, was not the same as before. That alone made Loki feel deeply, inexplicably anxious.
“Brother… what happened to you?” Loki’s voice was a whisper.
For the first time, Thor’s eyes sparked with light as he raised his face.
“What happened?" "Are you seriously asking me that?” His voice was thick with anger. “When I came back from the expedition—you were gone! After everything we promised before I left… after seeing you cry with that joyful face… I came back and you were nowhere in the palace. And then I heard from Father—that you’d gone to that king while I was away! That’s what happened! That’s your answer!”
He practically shouted the words, pressing his hand into the fur beneath him and trying to sit up, his face twisting in pain.
“You shouldn’t move too much yet…”
Loki tried to stop him, but Thor cut him off, forcing the words out:
“Did you ever even try to imagine how I felt? Coming back to find you gone—did you think about what that did to me?! While I was away, you were the only thing on my mind. I kept thinking about what I’d say when we went together to see Mother and Father. I kept remembering the look on your face when you were happy. I missed you so much I couldn’t stand it. I moved up the return date by days just to come back sooner. But you—who always came out to meet me—were nowhere to be found. I rushed to your room. You weren’t there either. I grabbed a guard and demanded answers, and all he could say, pale as a ghost, was ‘Please ask Lord Odin.’ "
He was breathless now, shaking.
"Do you have any idea what it felt like, searching the palace top to bottom for you, hoping it wasn’t true, even after hearing it from Father? Do you know how badly I wanted to storm into that kingdom you were in and take you back right then and there?! Did you ever once try to imagine that? Did you ever even think about it?!”
“Then why didn’t you come?”
If you had time to summon storms and tear my room apart for three days and nights, why didn’t you just come right away? Loki swallowed the rest of the words and asked quietly instead.
Thor was breathing hard, propping himself up on one elbow as he looked at Loki. Even in the cave’s deepening twilight, the sharp blue of his eyes remained strikingly clear. The anger that had burned in them slowly dimmed. Thor dropped his gaze again, the strength draining from his face.
“Father said… you went of your own will. He said you were happy in that other world, and tried to convince me to let you go. At first, I couldn’t believe it. But when I insisted on coming after you anyway, he stopped me—harshly. He said the peace between our realms was at stake, and that I must not go after you without warning, no matter what. And then I remembered…”
His voice grew weaker.
“…The night before I left for the expedition. You pulled away when I touched you. You tried to run.”
Then the pain must have caught up to him. He grimaced and eased back onto his back, sighing deeply.
“You were pounding on the bedroom door, crying out for someone to help you. I couldn’t understand then—why you were suddenly trying to get away from me. Who were you calling out to? But now I think… maybe even then, you’d already fallen for that king. Maybe you were crying out to him. And later, when I asked you about it, you just smiled—perfectly, like nothing had happened—and promised you weren’t going anywhere. But then you disappeared without a word. And after that… I couldn’t believe anything anymore. Every time I thought of that smile, I couldn’t stop wondering—how many other lies were hidden behind it? How many times had you lied to me, looking at me like that? Everything started to feel like a lie. Even your empty room made my chest hurt. And so—”
“So you smashed it to pieces, felt better, and rushed to crown yourself king?”
Loki sat up and moved away from Thor, settling in front of the stone hearth where only embers remained. The cave was cooling fast with the coming night. If he didn’t strengthen the fire soon, Thor would start shivering again.
“…I moved up the coronation because I wanted to become king sooner, earn Father’s trust, and come see you.”
Thor’s voice came from behind him.
“I heard it was a grand ceremony—doubled as a wedding, didn’t it?”
Loki spoke as he sent a stream of magic into the embers. The flames leapt up, flickering wildly as they began to heat the air.
“That was part of Father’s conditions too!”
Thor’s voice rose in a hoarse shout—then he broke into a harsh cough. Loki turned back reflexively. Thor’s wound looked visibly better now, but the aftereffects of such heavy blood loss still weighed on him.
The cold couldn’t be helping either—and neither of them had eaten for a full day. First and foremost, Loki needed to find water.
“Loki, why can’t you understand?” Thor rasped. “I wanted to come to you right away—but Father stopped me. So I did the only thing I could: I pushed up the coronation so I could see you sooner. Isn’t that enough for you to know without having to ask? Why couldn’t you figure that out on your own? Loki—where are you going?”
Loki was putting on his coat and picking up a leather flask.
“I’m going to the spring to fetch water. And firewood. I can’t keep the fire going with magic forever. I need to conserve what’s left of my power—to heal your wounds.”
“Wait—hey! I’m not finished talking!”
Thor tried once more to sit up, and Loki, with a resigned sigh, returned to his side. He gently eased Thor’s still-healing body back down onto the furs.
“I told you not to move.”
“Loki, why are you always like this?”
Thor gripped Loki’s wrist tightly, like he was afraid Loki might walk out and never come back.
“You’re really cold, you know that? Especially now. I told you again and again about the coronation—how once it was over, I’d finally be free. How I needed you to wait until then. I’ve said it for centuries. So why now, all of a sudden, would you throw it in my face and say I ‘rushed to become king’? Like it was never about you, like I just wanted the crown? Were you not even listening to me at all?”
“…No. Honestly? I wasn’t really listening.”
“What?”
Thor looked up at him, utterly defeated. Loki, despite himself, felt a reluctant pang of guilt—and tried to soften it.
“I mean—I did hear you. But I didn’t want to. I hated it, every time you used the coronation as a reason to try and convince me. So I just… stopped thinking about it. But this isn’t the time for that talk—it’s a long one. Right now, I need to go get water. And firewood. And hopefully something edible.”
“We don’t have to go right this second, do we? It’s not like either of us is going to die from skipping a few meals.”
Thor wasn’t wrong. Asgardians and Jotuns were both the kind of beings who could go for months without food or water in the midst of battle.
But the situation they were in now was far from ideal.
“You’re seriously wounded, and and I’ll need to use a lot of magic to keep healing you. We need water to clean your injuries too.”
“You could just do that with magic.”
“Which is exactly why I want to conserve it for the healing itself. I’ll just fetch some water first. I’ll be right back.”
Loki started to rise, but Thor gripped his hand tightly to stop him.
“You really will come back, won’t you, Loki? You’re not going to… disappear again, are you?”
“Of course I’ll come back. Where else would I go?”
Thor didn’t answer. He just looked at Loki with a piercing, unblinking gaze. And Loki understood what he was afraid of.
“I can’t open the Bifrost. I don’t have the power to return to the king on my own.”
“I know. I do—logically. But the idea of you disappearing from right in front of me again, I…”
Thor trailed off, shook his head, and glanced uneasily toward the mouth of the cave.
“What if Heimdall sees you the moment you step outside?”
“I’ll use a cloaking spell. I’ve done it many times before, and he’s never caught me. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
Loki tried to stand again, but Thor still wouldn’t let go. His grip stayed firm, and the wide, uncertain look in his eyes reminded Loki of their first secret adventure as boys.
Loki sighed and sat back down beside him. The sky outside the cave had just begun to darken. If he was going to cloak himself, it would be better to wait until the night deepened a little more.
“…So, what happened after the coronation?” Loki asked at last. “You finally got to become king—just like you always wanted. And yet, you never came. Not until now.”
As he resumed speaking, Thor finally let go of his hand. But instead of pulling away completely, he rested his own hand over Loki’s. Loki hesitated, then turned his palm upward and let Thor lace their fingers together.
“The first thing I did after sitting on the throne of Asgard—the Hlidskjalf—was look for you.” Thor’s voice was quiet as he began. “Father and Mother both said you were happy in that other world. But I couldn’t believe it. Not until I saw it with my own eyes. So I used the throne to secretly look in on you—in that version of Midgard you were living in. And you were…”
He drew a breath.
“You were smiling. Truly smiling, right beside that king. You were sitting near some sea, or lake, I don’t know.”
“…A fjord?” Loki offered.
“Is that what it’s called? Doesn’t matter. He was sitting next to you, staring at you like he wanted to drink you in, whispering something to you. And you—you laughed. Out loud. I hadn’t seen you laugh like that in so long. It hit me like a blow to the head. Maybe Father and Mother were right, I thought. Maybe you really were better off there. Then you stood up. And you—you threw your arms around him. You hugged him first. You kissed his cheek. You’ve never done anything like that to me. And then… the two of you…”
Thor’s face twisted. He turned away sharply, frowning, as if the next words were too bitter to say aloud.
Loki, too, found himself remembering that gentle embrace on the fjord’s shore. The taste of coffee from Midgard still seemed to linger in the kiss they’d shared. He cleared his throat, suddenly a little self-conscious.
“Anyway,” Thor went on, “seeing you like that—so at ease—I realized you really had gone to him by your own will. Up until then, I’d still thought maybe he’d forced you, or that he was keeping you prisoner. That maybe I needed to come and rescue you.”
He gave a bitter laugh through his nose.
“But in reality, you looked happier with him than you ever did with me. That’s when I gave up. Or… no, not gave up. I could never truly do that. But I did start to wonder if you even wanted me to come and take you back.”
His voice began to tremble, and Loki turned to look at him in surprise—only to see tears slipping freely down Thor’s cheeks. And this time, he wasn’t even trying to hide them.
“Thor…”
Loki couldn’t help the edge in his voice. This wasn’t like him. Thor had always hated showing weakness—especially in front of Loki. Since they were children, he’d only ever shown his strongest face to his little brother.
“What?” Thor snapped, dragging a hand roughly through his hair. “You think it’s strange if I cry?” Then he threw the words like a blade: “Since the day you left, there hasn’t been a single night I didn’t cry.”
Loki fell silent.
For a while, the two of them just sat there, hands still linked in the quiet.
Then, after a moment’s hesitation, Loki gently took both of Thor’s hands in his and offered softly,
“I was talking about you, you know.”
Thor looked up at him through tear-blurred eyes.
“That day," Loki continued. "At the cafe by the fjord. I was talking about you. That’s why I was smiling. I was remembering you.”
“What were you saying about me?”
“I don’t quite remember… Oh. I think it was about when we’d just started having sex. The time you were too rough and I ended up throwing up afterward.”
“What? You told him that? That’s the kind of thing you were talking about with him?”
Thor frowned, his eyes still wet.
“Not just that. We talked about all kinds of things. He always asked questions—he wanted to know everything about me. About my childhood, about Father and Mother… So of course I talked about you too. That just happened to be the topic that day. And whatever I told him—he always listened. Really listened.”
“Yeah, I bet he did. From the moment he first came to Asgard, he always looked at you like he wanted to devour you on the spot. I’m sure he was thrilled to finally get what he wanted. Probably locked you up in his bed and had you all night long.”
Thor’s words were sharp, but his voice lacked force. Even the venom in his tone seemed to wound no one more deeply than himself.
“That’s not how it was.”
Loki let go of Thor’s hand and sighed.
“It wasn’t like that between us. Most nights we just talked. That’s all. We talked about his Asgard, about his own younger brother…”
“You shared a bed for the night and just talked? Do you really think I’d believe such an obvious lie?”
“It’s not a lie. But I don't care if you don't believe me. I’m leaving now.”
He remembered what the king had told him: You should talk to your brother…What my brother and I lacked most was conversation…
But now that he was actually face-to-face with this brother, Loki found the idea of having a calm, understanding conversation completely impossible.
Just as he began to rise, Thor grabbed his hand in a panic.
“Wait! Please—wait. I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t trust you. I shouldn’t have assumed you were lying. But… he said it himself, didn’t he? With that smug look on his face. That’s why I—why I thought, it couldn’t be just talking…”
“He said that? The king?”
Loki frowned in confusion. He had no idea what Thor was talking about.
“You were there too, weren’t you? You’d come to see Mother, and we happened to run into each other near your room. I said some awful things about you, and he responded. Don’t you remember what he said?”
Loki blinked, trying to recall. But he’d been so stunned by Thor’s accusations at the time, he hadn’t caught the king’s reply. The man had his back to Loki, and his voice had been quiet—far too quiet to cut through Thor’s shouting.
When Loki shook his head, Thor continued.
“When I said I made your body, he answered—‘Yeah, you did. I’ve been enjoying him ever since—all thanks to you.’”
“…What?”
The words struck Loki like a blade, sharp and sudden, and yet he found himself asking again without thinking.
Thor repeated them flatly, like a recording. Then his expression twisted, as if the rage he’d felt in that moment had returned all at once.
“Hearing that… it was when I started to think, maybe I had to come find you. I’d been holding myself back because I believed you were being treated well. But he—he acts gentle to your face and says that to me behind your back? Is that how he really feels? The more I thought about it, the more I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t care if I disobeyed Father, or what punishment I’d face afterward. I knew I might not be able to bring you back. But still—I had to come. I had to see you. And I had to tell you—I love you. More truly than that king ever did."
----------
After leaving the cave and walking for quite some time without anything happening, Loki finally let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
Even though he trusted his invisibility spell, he found himself reluctant to glance back at the distant palace.
Nothing seemed amiss—Asgard’s night was quiet, undisturbed. He came to a stop, took a deep breath, and then started walking again.
It had taken him a while to convince Thor he was only going to fetch some water and come right back. The night had grown deep, and now moonlight was his only guide. As he hurried toward the spring, Loki found himself thinking again about what the king had said to Thor:
"I’ve been enjoying him ever since—all thanks to you."
Those words didn’t sound like the king at all—and they weren’t true in the slightest. The king never forced him into anything. Back then, Loki had taken advantage of that gentleness.
Then he remembered—how Thor’s expression had changed the moment he heard those words. It was as if emotions he’d been struggling to hide had been torn open and come spilling out all at once.
Why would the king say something like that? Loki didn’t know. And yet… somehow, it made everything start to make sense.
After their return from Asgard, the king had started to keep a strange distance from him. He had said, with unshakable certainty, “Your brother didn’t mean what he said.” He even began defending Thor, suggesting, “You should talk to him again.”
And yet, at the same time, he seemed restless—impatient, almost desperate to close the final distance between himself and Loki. As if he were being pulled in two opposite directions, until something inside him finally snapped. And after that, he began to confuse Loki with his brother…
The surface of the lake shimmered in layers like a stack of mirrors, thin sheets of ice floating here and there. Kneeling on the snowy bank, Loki filled his waterskin with the spring’s clear water. The chill that pierced him to the bone felt comforting to his jotun body. He even felt the urge to strip down and immerse himself completely—but if he stayed too long, Thor might grow worried and try to come after him.
The ripples he’d made faded away, and the water returned to stillness. The sky had cleared completely, and the spring reflected the stars above like another universe scattered across its surface.
Then, as he stared at the sharp outlines of each and every point of light, a jolt shot through his chest— as if an invisible hand had seized his heart.
His pulse surged. Slowly, cautiously, he lifted his gaze upward.
It had been a long time since he’d looked up at the Asgardian sky.
The stars were exactly as he remembered them—familiar since childhood. No strange radiance, no doubled constellations, no shimmering overlap of two universes.
Just the same old stars.
The multiverse had closed.
The world the king lived in—had been completely severed.
Loki sank to his knees in the snow and stared, stunned, at the sky above—a sky no longer connected to anywhere.