#notreadytorule

[kneelingbeforelifesgreatlie-blog]

Home || Solo Drabble

He would get this look on his face. This...soft, quiet innocent little look with tears threatening to break through at any moment. His hair would fall in his face before he pushed it back as roughly as he shoved the tears away and for a moment that anger and fire would come back.

And then it deflated. His broad shoulders drooped and his golden hair hid the vibrant blue eyes from the world to hide them from pain and scorn. He would be so silent, so still and unresponsive, lost in his own mind and defeated. The mighty Thor with shoulders drooped and his face fallen, the warrior gone and the quiet, thoughtful boy he sometimes was when the mood struck him would be all that was left.

Then that face would turn up into the light, like an angel illuminated from a light so pure and bright that shone from within. A light that burst from his eyes and spilled out in his hair, gorgeous. Blinding.  Once the glare of it was bearable the wretched sadness and fear and childlike vulnerability would strike any onlooker so hard their heart would falter and their legs would tremble before it.

Loki hated that look.

He always had.

When Thor had stumbled into his room on the eve of his coronation, naked as the day he entered the world Loki had seen that look. Thor had reeked of wine and the soft perfumes of the maid whom he’d just left but he had sought Loki’s council and his comfort.

“Loki…May I stay here this night? Please?” He’d begged, and that look was there. Loki had wrapped him in a blanket, letting his pliant body rest against him with his head lolling into his neck, seeking only him.

“Brother, surely you’d find your own bed equally as comfortable to spend your drunken-”

“Loki, I’m scared.”

Loki had paused, lifting his chin to look at him properly. And there it was. Gut wrenching and overwhelmingly innocent and needing Loki had lost his breath. Oh his heart had twisted so violently his heartbeat stuttered.

“What could the mighty Thor be frightened of?” He’d said softly, gently holding his cheeks with a soothing smile on his lips. Thor’s own had trembled.

“What if I am not a good king? What if I… Loki, I’m not ready. I’m not ready for this and I need you. I need you to…to assure me things will be alright.”

Never had Loki seen him so vulnerable. So open and naked not only in dress but in his eyes and his voice. Raw and trusting him with all that he had.

Loki had assured him for hours that he would be a great king. That he would make father proud and that he loved him dearly. He would be by his side, he would help in any way that he could.

Loki hadn’t stopped talking until that expression had faded and Thor had drifted to sleep in the ease Loki had supplied to him.

“Can I come home?”

That was the last time he’d seen it. Blue eyes puffy and swollen and that bite of hesitation before he spoke. The hope there. The plea, the want, the sheer begging for the one thing he wanted more than anything else.

Thor wasn’t his oppressor then, as if he ever knowingly was, he wasn’t a king or the reckless, arrogant prince. He wasn’t his faults and the object of Loki’s disdain and resentment.

He was only Thor. His brother, his kind, sweet and compassionate brother that beamed at Loki’s presence and scowled when he was gone. He was the boy that held him during storms and promised he would make them all go away someday so Loki would not be afraid any longer. He was the brother he adored and strove his whole life to emulate, who he loved so fiercely, who he rushed into battle for and risked his life for constantly. Just his brother asking his brother for one small thing after all he’d done. After being so crushed and defeated and he was so lost…

Such softness in his tone, such need, such happiness in at least getting to see his brother again with the small, quivering hope his home was not altogether lost to him.

And Loki had remained stone. Icy and cold and told him no. He took away his hope, made his brother cry for his own petty wants and delusions. How blind he had been, how horrible and wretched could he be to allow that look. To not hold Thor as he needed to be held, to confess it was all a lie and he could certainly come home and Loki would stay in his stead.

No, no, the wicked and petulant little boy lied to the one person who loved him more than anything in the universe and let his heart ache.

As if that wasn’t damning enough.

He regretted that the most, looking back on all the hell he’d caused.

The chaos, the death. The destruction of Asgard and Earth and the Jotunheim. Tearing apart the bifrost, the death of his mother, the loathing and hatred Odin had for him now that was inconsolable.

How odd it seemed to him now that there was a time when a simple smile from the old man would cure all of his pain in a moment. How odd it was that a man who’d always claimed to be his father and loved him as one could look into his eyes and tell him he should have left him there to die and because he didn’t he owed him obedience and gratitude.

How convenient it seemed that when those words were spoken Thor was sent far away and Frigga was asked out of the room.

In all of the agony endured, the tortures, the ripping and reshaping of his mind, the berating of his soul and oh how it twisted and withered in the dark. How cold and hard his heart had become under the influence of this faceless force.

How horrific and unfeeling he had become.

How wretched.

How evil.

And through all of those foul and wicked deeds, all of the pain and suffering he had caused, the all consuming control of the Tesseract he had put Selvig and Barton under, a mere taste of what his own mind had become, he regretted that look.

It haunted him still. Oh gods, how he had stared up at the ceiling of his prison on Asgard and thought about it. How he dwelled on it in the throes of torture and madness screaming and sweating while blood frothed and bubbled from his lips in the heat and he wept for the pain he’d caused him.

“Can I come home?”

Yes, Thor. Yes, you can come home and father is alive but the Odinsleep is so strong he may not wake. Yes, brother, please come home, Mother misses you and the Jotuns shall have to accept your presence. Yes, Thor, go home and be the greatest King Asgard could ever witness as I’ve known you’d be since we were babes. But I cannot. I cannot because I am not of Asgard. I am a monster. And a liar and a cheat. I am horrendous and at best need to be banished here and worst should be killed before I can cause you another ounce of agony. I cannot go home.

Never said, but recited and rehearsed in a fragile, broken mind riddled with such pain and heat. With loathing and senses of grandeur and apathy to all but so terrified of failure and Thor’s well being all at once. Chaos within pushed outward, desperate and reaching and needing but hands came away only with more blood on a dagger he’d pushed into his brother’s side.

He was nothing but a monster.

Despite any claims Thor made now, despite how they had talked, Thor’s insistence Loki’s lineage meant nothing that his love for him had not changed and soon things would be forgiven, he knew the truth.

Thor would think Loki made such claims because of what he’d done on Midgard, or what he’d done on Asgard or even letting his mother be killed.

But Loki thought himself that way for putting that agony in Thor’s eyes.

For the soft words from naive and trusting lips, for the frigid restraint he had shown to him. For making Thor have that first flicker of doubt that Loki truly loved him.

“Can I come home?”

Thor told him this apartment was their home now. His home was here with him where they could be safe and happy together and never apart.

Loki stared at his brother’s sleeping form in the dark, all warm golden skin with his hair splayed on the pillows, so soft and peaceful and young, blissfully unaware of the torment in Loki’s heart. He reached out with thin fingers to push his hair from his face and brush against those eyes that held stars and galaxies within them.

He knew the truth. This was not their home. If not for Loki being here Thor would be on Asgard right this moment. Perhaps with Jane. Perhaps with Sif. If not for Loki Thor would have never uttered those words. If not for Loki Thor would be king, a great king right now. If not for Loki Thor would be seen as great without any sort of fault and not the foolish boy who put too much faith in the whisp of a Jotun fiend he was so attached to.

If not for Loki Thor would have never uttered those words.

And if not for Thor, Loki would not know the meaning of home.

Home…

“I don’t have it.”

[captains-rogers]

A Friend In Need || Steve & Thor

Steve stood outside the flat door, hands buried deep into his pockets as he hesitated, subdued in his own thoughts. It had taken him some time to find this place, months of whispered half rumours and keeping his ear low to the ground, caught in what felt like a black-ops chase across Manhattan. He still wasn't even sure what he was going to find there. 

It had been months since anyone had seen Thor.

The building itself was fairly nondescript, successful in allowing his team-mate to keep himself under the radar, even out of S.H.I.E.L.D's watchful eye. It was located out in the suburbs, far away from the busy hubbub of the city centre, away from any possibility of a chance encounter with the other Avengers. It was isolated, a somewhat lonely feel hovering over the place and Steve wondered what could have driven his friend to stay here as opposed to the familial warmth of Stark tower.

When Steve had finally managed to track down Dr. Selvig, he had been reserved about what he revealed, unwilling to even share that the Asgardian had returned to New York, let alone tell Steve his exact location. Although Steve had finally managed to convince him to hand over an address, Dr. Selvig hadn't explained why Thor had returned, dismissing Steve with non-committal grunts to his questions, a reservedness Steve had not encountered with the scientist before. He wasn't even sure if this was the correct address or whether it would just be another dead-end in the long list of them that Steve had been accumulating in the search for his team-mate.

Steve couldn't understand why Thor was so unwilling to be noticed, why someone who was usually so forthcoming had chosen to fall off the grid so completely. His absence had been noticed by the rest of the team, his failure to attend a number of briefings and even minor social occasions causing a subtle stir throughout the Avengers. Tony had brushed it off, reminding everyone that Thor was a big boy who could take care of himself but something just hadn't sat right with Steve. Even when Thor was too busy to come to Earth, he usually checked-in to let everyone know that he wouldn't be around for a while.

The uneasy feeling that something was wrong had come to full bloom when Steve began to hear the murmurs that Thor had been spotted in New York, the rumours bubbling up through the mindless chit-chat of the online forums that Tony had taken great delight in signing Steve up to as well as the more reliable source of low clearance S.H.I.E.L.D operatives. He usually dismissed gossip for exactly what it was, but if Thor had returned why had he not reported to the rest of the team and why had Fury not been alerted?

The questions settled over Steve, sending warning signals flashing as he shook himself from his thoughts, staring at the door in front of him. Sometime was wrong and he was damned if Steve wasn't going to find out what.

He raised his fist, knocking sharply sending an echo of his fist on the wood reverberating through the air.

[quicksilverfast]

Warriors || Thor and Tommy

He was lethal.

Back when he had been a Young Avenger --or when there still had been, because once a Young Avenger always a Young Avenger, right?-- Tommy had never realized just how deadly some of them were. He had never realized how deadly he was. There had always been a huge amount of caution when using the more explosive side of his power, more than most people assumed he ever did. Tommy would never forget what it felt to lose control over his powers; he had shocked himself by blowing up the classroom. He hadn't meant to, he hadn't even been aware of the fact that he could.

Despite the disastrous first use of his powers the mutant had never really been afraid of them. Perhaps it was because he'd never been given a chance to; too busy with trying to stay sane and alive in juvie first, and after that he had been too good at using it to be afraid of himself. And with the people surrounding him not being afraid, he had never felt like he had a reason to.

Up until now. No, actually, that was a lie. The thought that he was so much more lethal than most people had crossed his mind during his screaming match with Arthur a few weeks earlier. But he'd been caught up with other things --Scott finding out he was Speed, the goddamn end of the world apparently rapidly coming up-- that he hadn't thought about it anymore.

But facing....these things right now made him uncomfortable. They were completely human in appearance, and there was nothing that marked them as...whatever these things were other than their behavior. Or the fact that they apparently had some kind of supernatural power.

Tommy skidded to a halt behind them; he had been running circles around the two --a guy and a girl, both around the twenty-five or so the mutant guessed-- for minutes now as he tried to find away to stop them without killing them. Hurting them was...slightly okay, as long as he didn't do any permanent damage.

Usually the things he dealt with were problems that could be solved with some innocent super speed or explosions. Two extremes that were either useless or too dangerous right now. He skidded to a halt, watching them get up again.

"Seriously?!" the young superhero complained to seemingly no one. "What the hell is up with you guys? Ugh, I should get the actual Avengers or something."

[kneelingbeforelifesgreatlie-blog]

You Who I Called Brother || Loki and Thor

He was tired. He was thin and weak and constantly in much pain. Whether it be in his heart or in his body.

His mind was a chasm of agony and misery: His mother's voice, his father's hatred-soaked words, the last scornful look from his brother before he was abandoned in the dungeons.

The nights spent alone, conjuring himself company to make his existence slightly more bearable, pretending his mother sent him those books they left him so sad and lonely. Forgotten.

And then the last person who ever showed him mercy, who still loved him, was gone. She was gone and he knew it was his fault. Of course it was. Not Thor's, his. And when that last thing had gone from his home he needed to leave. He needed to get far, far away.

No one would care that he was gone. His father would likely think him dead from the force and magic he had to use to disappear. Thor would accept that. Thor would accept his death and likely spit on any grave rectified for him. If there would even be that.

He doubted a funeral would even be bothered with in that instance.

His tortures haunted his dreams with new horrors of his mother's death and his brother's slaying him. The latter wasn't new. He'd had the recurring nightmare that Thor, upon discovering what he was, slayed him as he promised he would. Gutted the frost giant who'd been kept safe under the guise of his brother for so long and with that relish on his face he often had when he'd been triumphant in killing something awful. And Loki would choke on his blood and reach for him, call to him in a gurgled mess and hope by some mercy Thor would give him one more kindness. More often than not he laughed with his friends, with Jane Foster, with Mother and Father and leave him to die. Those nightmares had been joined in with his tortures from his descent. Sometimes the mock-Thor that had been his tormentor in that realm of heat and stink would be holding the knife. Sometimes it would be the Allfather. Sometimes it would be the Avengers and sometimes Thor would simply be watching all of this happening, telling him again and again that he deserved this.

He felt that he did now. He deserved being in the rain and the cold, cast out into it as he had been in infancy.

Only this time if he were found he wouldn't be kept as a future token for peace. He'd be killed on sight if he was recognized. Or imprisoned by Midgardians or hauled back to Asgard by his brother.

He'd die first. He'd have Thor ram that damned hammer into his skull and end this revolting existence he'd fallen into. It scared him to think about, dying. He'd come very close a few times and it frightened him so. But once the fear was gone there might be peace. There might be quiet and calm and the torment of his soul might stop.

Possibly.

He looked up at the deep blue-black clouds that had been sparking with lightning and thunder for hours. He'd been frightened of them when he'd first arrived in this realm, terrified that Thor had found him so soon. Apparently, however these storms happened often here. The lightning and thunder had crashed around him, stifling his whimpers at the sound and hellish storms that cascaded around him.

He remembered climbing into bed with Thor when he was young, frightened of them then with his brother being the only person that could calm his fears. His brother would hug him and tell him that when he'd fully harnessed the power to control the weather he'd never allow them to scare Loki again. He'd sworn it.

Where is that promise now?

He shut his eyes against the violent sounds, not seeing the vast rainbow light of the Bifrost shooting miles away.