Fandral felt his boots sink further into dark gray mud of this Norn-forsaken planet.
He looked around the dusty landscape, there was light coming from somewhere, there had to be- But he saw no sun in the sky. He felt no wind, but he heard it. It whistled and howled all around him- but yet it never brushed his skin.
He continued on his trek, his eyes scanning the horizon.
There should be mountains. There should be dunes of dust and rocks. The ground shouldn’t be this soft- he looked down to see his boots sinking further into the sand. He remembered it being dry, he remembered there being many deep cracks within the dirt, that intertwined into a large web of connecting lines.
But he didn’t see that now.
In fact- he didn’t see anything.
There was no horizon.
It just went on and on- he couldn’t tell where the land stopped and the sky began. There were no mountains or hills, or dunes, or large rock formations - it was all flat.
Flat and dark- like an endless void of nothing.
Nothing but this stupid dark gray mud- sand? He didn’t know what it was.
He also didn’t know what he was supposed to be searching for, but he knew he was searching for something. He felt this sharp pull in his chest, like a string was tied around his chest bone and someone on the other end was tugging him along. He followed it willingly, because he was curious.
And he didn’t know what else he was supposed to do in this wasteland. Maybe they would have some answers.
Fandral continued walking - he didn’t know for how long - it felt like an eternity. Somehow, in some way, he felt like he was running out of time. Whatever he was doing- whatever he was searching for- he wasn’t doing it fast enough.
The pull in his chest turned more into an ache, an undeniable pain. It surged through his entire body, forcing him to stumble forward into the sand. His hands were buried, and a thought raced quickly across his mind- if he stayed there, he would drown.
He fought to get back to his feet, it was a challenge- but he managed. With every stride he tried to take, the heavier his boots became. They sank further and further beneath the sand. His muscles burned, and his chest ached, but he could tell he was almost there. He could feel it.
There- just up ahead. He saw a body lying in the sand.
He recognized it immediately, and suddenly every fiber of his being understood what his mission was.
He ran as hard as he could, though the sand made that very difficult. He could see the body slowly start to be engulfed by the ground.
“No,” He choked, pumping his arms as hard as he could, “No, I’m- I’m almost there- Loki! Just wait- Just wait for me! I’m almost-” Fandral screamed, hearing his voice echoing back at him from every direction. His eyes stayed focused on the outreached hand that was the only thing still above the sand.
Fandral felt like he was trudging through a thick slop- the sand was up to his knees now as he trudged as hard as he could. He ignored the hot tears streaming down his cheeks.
He was still a little ways away, but he reached as far as he could as the last bit of Loki’s fingertips were swallowed by the ground.
“No!” He screamed, lunging forward. He dug and dug, trying to reach him - trying to find him- trying to get to him.
“Loki please- I’m not too late- I’m not-” His sobs wracked his body, he could barely see past the tears building in his eyes. Everything was gray- everything was dark.
And he felt an unimaginable pain wash through him - Loss. Grief. Agony.
He was completely alone.
***
Fandral sat up right, panting heavily.
He looked around the room quickly, seeing the moonlight softly streaming through the cracks of their blinds. The digits of the clock sitting on his bedside pulsed regularly. Then his eyes drifted over his shoulder, to the figure laying beside him.
He felt every muscle in his body immediately relax. Like a heavy stone had just been lifted off his chest- he felt like he could breathe again. He inhaled deeply, rubbing his eyes.
“It was just a dream,” He muttered to himself, “It was just a dream,”
He shook his head, looking back over at the sleeping form next to him. He figured he had been screaming, or at least muttering- but he guessed he never had to worry about waking the man next to him anymore.
That’s your fault, remember?
A voice hissed in the back of his head. He grimaced, recalling the string of events. What his dream had partially been about- or at least drew inspiration from. After their fight with the dark elves, Thor had told Fandral to reach his brother quickly, because he didn’t have much time. Fandral had tried - Norns knows he tried. But he wasn’t fast enough, or at least he didn’t think he was.
Loki nearly died. Or well- he was dead when Fandral first arrived.
But luckily, Fandral had managed to get him breathing again, and it was enough to keep him somewhat stable until the healers could get to him.
But it wasn’t enough- was it?
Fandral sighed, covering his face with his hands, his elbows digging into the tops of his thighs.
The healers did what they could, but they couldn’t fix everything. The poison from the blade was already too far into Loki’s system, it had to run its course. Fandral had stayed by the prince’s bedside night and day- He was there even when the healers were not. He tried to learn from them, he watched them carefully when they would do their rounds. How they dressed his wounds, what they checked for, how much of every dose they gave him. Fandral memorized it all - but it wasn’t enough.
As if the stab wound to the chest wasn’t enough to worry about - the poison had quickly caused more problems. Loki was struck with an awful illness, ridden with high fever that caused severe hallucinations. He couldn’t keep anything down for days- Fandral was forced to keep a bin by Loki’s bedside for every hour. He would sit there and gently comb the sweat drenched curls away from the prince’s face, as he resorted to coughing up his own stomach acid.
Fandral didn’t think it would ever end.
Thor had all but been banned from the room- after getting into too many fights with the healers, they all but warded him out of the infirmary. Fandral didn’t think it was fair. He had a right to be worried, it was his little brother after all. But some part of the blonde warrior was envious of Thor, because he had the luxury of staying ignorant and oblivious as he paced out in the corridor. He wasn’t forced to watch as the poison practically ate his little brother alive.
Just in a matter of days, Loki’s health was stripped away from him. His muscles were eaten away, along with his strength and energy. He was drenched with sweat, his skin a pale ashy gray- it was unnatural, and it caused even harsher shadows to creep into the hollowness of his body.
It had gotten to the point where Fandral had to physically roll him over to the edge of the bed so he could be sick- Loki no longer possessed the strength or ability to do it himself anymore.
It continued to get worse-
The hallucinations started in at the end of the week- Fandral found that it was easier to just go along with whatever nonsense Loki was spouting off with. He felt like he had become just as worn and tired as Loki by the end of it all. He had just wanted it all to end, he wanted him to get better- He wanted this feverish nightmare to be over.
Unfortunately, Fandral almost got what he wished for.
Fandral had only stepped away for a moment, to talk to Thor out in the hall about Loki’s recent behavior and ailments. But ruckus coming from inside the infirmary caught both of the blondes' attention. Ignoring the healers past curses and orders, Thor rushed into the room alongside Fandral. Seeing the healers gathered around Loki’s bed, where he was jerking and thrashing violently. Fandral tried to reach him, but a wall of sturdy nurses held him back.
His chest all but collapsed as he saw the whites of Loki’s eyes as they rolled back into his head, and white foam escaping his mouth as he continued to convulse.
The older prince and warrior were pushed promptly out of the room, they felt and heard the hiss of magic as the doors were barricaded shut.
Fandral had stared blankly into the center of the door, his chest feeling empty- In fact his entire body felt like it was just floating in a pool of nothing.
He thought that was it. It was over. After a week and a half of suffering, of trying to keep Loki alive- It was all for nothing.
If only he had been fast enough.
Fandral laid back down, staring up at their dark ceiling.
It had been hours until either one of them were given any news. They paced trenches out in the corridor as the night wore on. Eventually they took a seat on a nearby bench. They were both reluctant to do so, but were left with no other choice once their heels started to bleed into the bottom of their boots. They both had unwillingly started to doze off, when they finally heard the wisp of falling magic. They jumped back to their feet ignoring the aching pain of their probably bloody soles.
They rushed into the room, ignoring the healers posted at the doors. Fandral halted at the foot of Loki’s bed. A sigh of relief escaped his aching chest as he saw the gentle rise and fall of Loki’s breath. His hand came up to rest lightly on top of Loki’s blanketed foot.
The hushed conversation between Thor and the head healer felt distant to his ears. Even though they were a mere few feet away. Fandral kept his focus on memorizing the edges and curves of Loki’s restful face, like it was the last time he’d ever see it- or maybe the first.
Even in the horrid lighting of the infirmary, and the illness that had stripped away everything that made his prince a prince- Fandral still found himself utterly mesmerized by him. How his dark curls sat softly on his pale skin, the soft pink hue of his lips- Fandral knew he would always feel this way for him, there was no arguing - there was no point in denying it. He didn’t even need another second to mull it over- He swore right then and there that this cat and mouse thing they had between them was over- no more playing games, they had been playing them for centuries.
He wanted him. All of him. He could only hope that Loki wanted him too.
It was only a moment later that he had felt Thor’s hand rest heavily on his shoulder. Fandral turned to look at his friend, his heart tightening at the sad look in the prince’s eyes.
“What is it?” He had whispered, not trusting himself to speak any louder. He didn’t want to hear his own voice cracks and sobs echo back at him off of the large stale walls.
After Thor had delivered the news to him - that Loki wasn’t expected to wake up.
Fandral felt like driving a dagger through his own chest. He knew that might have been dramatic, but that was his initial reaction. Just a few seconds before, he had pictured their entire lives together. He imagined it as clear as day. He didn’t care if he had to turn his back on Asgard and rescue Loki from the dungeons again- he would do it. In fact he was prepared to do it.
But in one moment all of that came crashing down. Every delusion he had fed himself, everything he had built within his mind- it was all gone.
“Is there anything you can do?” Fandral managed to ask a nurse. He had spent hours weeping by Loki’s bedside, his throat was beyond repair, his eyes swollen and bloodshot. His head was pounding, but he pushed it all to the side- focusing on the way Loki’s hand felt underneath his circling thumb.
“If he was brought to us sooner, maybe.” Those words rang within his head- he didn’t think they ever really left. It was his fault. Everyone knew it. Whatever the nurse had said after that, it didn’t matter. Fandral didn’t hear it- he didn’t need to.
Fandral rolled over to his side, his eyes adjusting well enough to the dark now that he could see the outline of Loki’s figure much more clearly now. He was facing away from him, Fandral hated that but he never complained. He rubbed Loki’s shoulder, planting a soft kiss to the covered area before he slid the rest of the way in. Pressing his chest to the prince’s back, sliding his arm around his waist.
Fandral doubted he would actually be able to fall asleep, but he figured he could at least get comfortable as he waited for the sun to rise and for Loki to rise with it.
Fandral closed his eyes, his forehead pressed against the back of Loki’s cotton shirt. He tried to wash the memories away from his mind- it made no sense in recalling them all now. There was no need to reminisce. It was over- it was done with it.
Loki is here. Loki is alive. End of Story.
Fandral clenched his eyes shut tighter, trying to ward off the evil hiss creeping its way from the back to the front of his mind.
But he’s different now.
“It’s not a bad thing,” Fandral muttered through gritted teeth. He shouldn’t respond, it just made things worse. He just couldn’t help it sometimes. He tried to force himself to take a deep breath-
He didn’t want this.
Fandral shook his head, prying himself from Loki’s naturally cold body. He sat up again, his hand pressed to his pounding head.
It was three days until Loki woke up again. Fandral had been so overjoyed to see those pale green eyes again that it took him an embarrassingly long time to register the fear plastered on the trickster God’s ashen face.
What did you do?
Fandral chewed his lip, shaking his head.
Say it. What did you cost him?
Fandral was crying now, he could feel the hot tears slowly sliding down his cheeks. He looked over his shoulder to Loki’s still and sleeping form.
“I should have been faster.” He choked, audible enough that Loki should have been jolted awake. “It’s all my fault- I did this to you!” He was yelling now, probably disturbing a neighbor or two, but Loki never stirred. Fandral began to heave, not able to get a complete breath in. He collapsed forward into a fetal position, shoving his face into Loki’s side. He cried harder, not noticing the body he was using as a pillow slash shield had shifted. It wasn’t Loki’s side he was sobbing into anymore, it was his lap. Fandral’s breath hitched as he finally began to feel gentle and feeble hands weaving through his hair and down his spine soothingly.
He brought himself to look up, seeing Loki’s worried and puzzled expression. Fandral couldn’t get a word out (not that it mattered) before Loki turned around and tugged the chain on the bedside table. The light immediately burned both of their eyes, but they could see each other now.
Their eyes searched the other- looking for different things.
Fandral found himself admiring him all over again. Comparing the haunting image he still possessed in his mind. Loki was no longer skeletal, he still had prominent features but they didn’t jut out as much as they used too. He had gotten color back into his skin, his eyes were vibrant again. He was alive. He was alive. Fandral found himself whispering.
Yes- but is he happy?
Loki stared into his wide and almost fearful eyes, trying to gauge what was happening, to search for clues, or an answer- He just saw fear, pain… grief…
“Fandral,” He heard, at least his voice hadn’t changed. Fandral felt himself leaning into it- he could sit and listen to him talk all day. He straightened up when Loki grabbed his shoulders suddenly, getting his attention, “Fandral, what is it? What happened?”
Fandral opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything. He was still too focused on Loki- He wanted to look into those green eyes again, but Loki rarely ever looked him in the eye anymore. He was always too focused on studying his lips- he had too.
Like he was doing right now.
Fandral sighed, turning away as he brought his hand to his head. He ruined everything.
Their lives- Loki’s life- This was all his fault.
“Fandral, please, tell me what’s going on-”
He heard Loki beg. He didn’t know why he was so angry. He could feel his blood begin to rush to his head, everything was too warm, he was burning up-
“It doesn’t matter!” He shoved Loki’s chest, knocking his hands away from his shoulders.
“Fandral,” He heard his name whispered and broken.
The blonde sucked in a breath. Trying to ground himself the best he could. He shouldn’t lash out at him- Norns what was wrong with him?
“It’s alright,” Loki cautiously brought his hands to Fandral’s back, rubbing slowly. “Shhh, it’s okay,” He gently pressed a kiss to his shoulder, squeezing his arm.
Fandral shook his head, but he leaned into the movement as Loki started to slowly pull him into his arms. Fandral shifted, completely burying his face into Loki’s chest as they laid down.
It was nice.
It offered Fandral a moment of comfort- one he knew wouldn’t last very long. Because this wasn't the first time, nor would it be that last.
These thoughts would continue to haunt him for centuries, he was sure of it. They always came when he least expected it, they weren’t reserved for only his nightmares unfortunately. No, they tended to creep into his mind in moments like these- that felt good and warm. On sunny days, when Loki has his hands buried in dirt and a soft blush across his cheeks and nose from being in the sun too long. When Fandral would walk outside with a cold drink in his hand and he would instinctively call for him- and would receive no answer, nor a glance.
His chest would pang with a sharp stab- and he would be left hating himself all over again.
Fandral pushed his nose further into Loki’s shirt, the crying having subdued by now. He could feel the rhythmic flow of Loki’s breathing, how his arms were laxed as they wrapped around Fandral’s back. He was already fast asleep.
Fandral felt himself smiling, if one of them got sleep, he was glad it was him.
Fandral sighed, closing his eyes.
He knew Loki would probably insist on talking in the morning, he always did after instances like these. But Fandral had somewhat always managed to wiggle his way out of it- or lie. It always made him feel worse, but he also couldn’t really imagine sharing his darker thoughts with his prince. He didn’t want to burden him.
Who knows, maybe tomorrow will be the day he finally opens up about the voice in his head that has plagued him for years- all the thoughts it feeds him- all the things it convinces him are true- all the things it lies about…
Or maybe he’ll keep his mouth shut like he’s done thus far.
Either way, he chose to try his best at getting a little more shut eye. He knew more nightmares were probably waiting for him on the other side, but holding on to Loki made him feel a little better about facing them.