Mischief Redefined | Widow-Soldier-Mischief | Closed
“I’m not dressed up like your brother, Thor. I am me,” Loki replied as he entered the room. The man in front of him barely resembled the brother he knew. Not just in appearance but in attitude. The way his hands shook as he struggled to breathe. Never in his more than a thousand years of living could he ever recall his brother ever looking so weak.Â
Loki stepped closer. His hand moving to rest along Thor’s shoulder. “Brother, I am here… I’m not entirely sure how but I am… I am here and you are needed. It is time to sober up and stop playing these Midgardian games. You are the god of thunder not the god of ale.”
Thor's voice broke and he instantly started sobbing. "Loki it's you...! You were dead. I saw you get killed and this time it wasn't a trick. He just-- Just snapped your neck. You fool!" he cried loudly.
Thor pulled his brother into the tightest hug possible and simply relished the fact he could hold him. It was more than he could have ever asked for. "I missed you so much. I failed you brother. I failed everyone!"










