Loki dragged his hands down his face with a sigh. To say he was tired would be an understatement. He was completely and utterly drained in every way, but then again, who wasn’t right now?
It had been just hours since the remaining shards of their once unstoppable nation had witnessed their home planet being blown to pieces. The shrieks of Surtur and the smell of smoke and blood had been branded into the minds of every person on that ship.
Loki was no exception. He may not have been born there, but Asgard was the only home he’d ever known, and in a single blink of an eye it was all gone.
Fate had a tendency to be like that. To catch one quickly when they least expected it. Like that dreadful day back on Jotunheim.
But Jotunheim was the last thing on Loki’s mind as he trudged down the hall towards the room that he and Thor had been assigned to share. He had spent the day assisting the remaining healers in caring for the wounded, and his magic had been run completely dry.
With him having already given everything he had to offer, he had decided to call it in a couple minutes early while Thor and the Valkyrie made sure that everyone had a place to sleep.
At last, he reached the door with the appropriate number and pushed the button that triggered it to open. He flipped the light on and quickly surveyed the room. There were two small beds. One was in the back right corner, the other in the back left. In between the two was a small table with a lamp and an empty wash basin and cloth sitting on it. To Loki’s right was a small desk with a second lamp. To his left was a door that led into a small bathroom.
He peeked his head in. No shower. How shocking.
He half sat, half fell onto the right bed and brought his hands back up over his face, letting out a sigh. After sitting there for a moment he looked over at the empty wash basin and suddenly became incredibly aware of the blood, sweat, and grime that clung to him.
Instinctively, Loki reached for his magic then cringed as he came up empty.
He considered simply going to bed as he was, but now that the adrenaline high of all the drama that the day had held had worn off he found that he truly was uncomfortable and grabbed the basin, heading to the small sink that sat in the equally small bathroom.
After filling the basin he sat it back on the table and pulled off everything above his waist. He sat back on the bed then began to wipe down his arms and chest.
He would find an actual shower after he had gotten some rest, but for now, this was proving to be quite refreshing.
Loki vaguely registered the soft footsteps that came down the hall, and a second later the door clicked and opened to reveal his brother. Thor barely acknowledged him as the door shut behind him, and he immediately collapsed on the other bed with a groan.
Loki smirked, still running the cloth along his arms. “Yes, brother. I’d say that’s a pretty fair assessment of today.”
Thor huffed, and glanced over at his brother. A response was on the tip of his tongue, but his words were halted as he caught sight of Loki, or more specifically, Loki’s chest.
He simply stared for a moment, sure that the dim lighting in the room must be playing tricks on him, but as he sat up and looked again he decided that it was definitely not the lighting.
At this point, Loki had seemed to notice the unusual attention he was getting and paused his actions to look up. Thor looked like he had seen a ghost, but his eyes weren’t on Loki’s, and bemused, Loki looked down, trying to figure out what had made his brother look so spooked.
Then he realized and suddenly felt a pang of self consciousness. The three inch long scar sat vertical and centered on his lower sternum. He knew that on his back, just right of his spine sat an identical, though slightly higher, one. Both were dark grey. Not tan as a normal scar would be. And even though Loki had done his best to tend to it while it would have still made a difference in how it healed, it was quite nasty looking.
He looked back up. “Brother?” He said tentatively.
At this, Thor finally snapped out of the trance-like state he had gone into and looked up at his brother. He looked lost, and Loki swallowed hard, placing the cloth back down into the basin. The scar had become a normal sight to him at this point, but he realized now that Thor hadn’t actually seen it before.
He was about to say something else just to break the silence, but Thor spoke up first. “I don’t understand.” He said quietly, mouth dry. “You faked your death. It was a trick.”
Loki looked at the floor, and despite the fact that he knew Thor’s conclusion was completely reasonable and fair, he felt a pang of hurt. “Well,” He said in a voice just as quiet as Thor’s had been, “not all of it.”
“How much is ‘not all’, Loki?” Thor asked, sounding more unstable.
Loki still didn’t meet his eyes, but said, “Everything you were there for. All of that was… real.”
“Then, I don’t understand. You were dead. How?”
Loki shrugged, bringing his gaze back up again. “Honestly? I don’t really know. I mean, everything blacked out, and I thought that was it, but then I woke up and— It was something to do with either my magic or the Dark Elves’ magic. I know for a fact that the dark magic in the Kurse’s blood had some effect on me. That’s why it scarred instead of healing over as it should have. That much I know, but… well, beyond that, I’m not really sure.” He said, watching his brother nervously.
Thor sat silently, now taking his turn to study the floor and thought over the words. When he had come back to Asgard and found Loki on the throne he had instantly written off what had happened on Svartalfheim as just another trick, but now the memories flooded back with all their sincerity.
‘I know. I’m a fool. I’m a fool.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’
The desperation that had been on Loki’s face had been pleading. Begging Thor to forgive him before he no longer had the ability to ask, and Thor had gladly done so, mentally making his own pleas with the Norns to not take his brother away from him now that they had finally begun to heal.
And, unbeknownst to Thor or Loki at the time, they had answered him.
Tears began to form in Thor’s remaining eye as he looked back up at his brother. Loki just stared back, looking increasingly nervous.
They had answered him.
And with this realization solid in his mind, Thor leaned out over the small gap that sat between their two beds, and wrapped his arms tightly around Loki.
Loki froze, going completely rigid, but Thor didn’t let go. He simply buried his face into the warm, breathing, very much alive shoulder of his brother. Loki’s arms slowly came up as he returned the gesture, tears now pricking at his eyes as well.
And in the back of his mind, Loki whispered a silent thank you to whoever or whatever it had been that had caused him to wake up that day back on Svartalfheim.
Thank you.
Thank you for giving me one last chance.