Explanation
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There were so many…
Ranks upon ranks of Einherjar, glowering up at him. They had lost all individuality, only suits of armour, with faces covered almost completely by helmets, horns rising up decoratively atop their heads to create a shimmering sea. What little he could see of their features… All strong-noses, bushy eyebrows and stern brown eyes. Light, harshly bright, reflected on the metal to blare blindingly in Loki’s face. A blink, then he could see more clearly. But still not well enough.
His jaw worked. Perhaps an excuse. The flippancy he had somehow managed before was completely gone, went up in a puff of smoke. Why did they all look like that ? Exact same faces. Which… Which wasn’t possible. The average Æsir didn’t even have brown eyes!
Thankfully, Thor chose that moment to interrupt.
He dropped down from the roof with a thump and stared out at the battalion, uncertainty in the set of his shoulders. It was rather strange, seeing loyal Einherjar not even waver in the face of their Crown Prince. Something was definitely awry. More than a simple siege.
“You don’t recognise me?” Thor said after a beat of almost-silence, filled by the peaceful ambience of the garden. Grass brushing together, insects buzzing and whispers of the trees.
None answered and some shuffled their feet, seemed unsure from what little Loki could tell behind Thor, almost blinded by the light. But at least whatever spells he had used to combat the heat before had hung on and that awful burning hadn’t returned.
“Lower your weapons!” Thor demanded, hands tight fists by his sides. Thrumming with nervous energy, though he did a good enough job of hiding it.
And still, no response.
Perhaps Loki’s first judgement had been wrong. Perhaps they had been overrun, made into mindless goons by Hela. A worse fate than finding piles of corpses in the streets, but only slightly. It didn’t line up with their knowledge of the situation… However, panic-ridden thoughts weren’t well known for their logic. And this one refused to be shoved away, curling into Loki’s mind insidiously.
“Thor,” Valkyrie said behind them, a pang of urgency in her voice, despite keeping it quiet. “Not visited in a while. This count as normal, now?”
“... Not exactly.”
“Are they waving pointy sticks at all the important guests?”
Banner decided to chip in; “Maybe since they know Loki’s on board?”
Thor tilted his head, “I doubt it.”
Loki hummed, stared down at rows of Einherjar. Whatever had them so riled up at their offer of help couldn’t be good.
“Asking might work,” He volunteered after a moment.
A shrug, then; “We are here to help you fend off Hela. I am your Prince, Thor. My brother is with me and-”
“Quiet,” A faceless Einherjar said. Finally, communication! “We can speak once your identity is certain.”
Oh. That didn’t sound good.
As usual when something of magical nature was mentioned, Thor turned and stared at Loki. Who bit back a sigh. How was he supposed to know what sort of abilities Hela possessed? “... I suppose we wait, then.”
“That’s a terrible idea,” Valkyrie hissed from behind him.
“Have a better one?” Banner said, helpful as ever. “I’d like to hear it, since trusting the crazy alien isn’t my favourite.”
“Thanks for your vote of confidence,” Loki said, scanning the crowd. Whatever they had sent for - and he had a vague notion of what it might be - he hoped it arrived quickly. There was only so much nattering he could take before attempting to strangle the mortal. Then the Valkyrie, those insufferable Einherjar and eventually himself.
Thankfully, he soon spotted a ripple in said Einherjar, towards the back but growing steadily closer. Ominously, but steadily.
It pierced straight through, soldiers stepping aside without a second thought. Someone important. Easily recognisable and known to every Æsir in the throng below. And, since they were all from different divisions…
“Týr,” Thor said, low and barely audible.
Asgard’s General pushed through the last of his men and stood before them. Right hand loosely rested atop his sword pommel. A golden pommel. Loki stared at it. He should have assumed that, with the danger they were in, the weapon’s vault would be in use… But to see Tyrfing off its stand and at its owner’s side was a shock. He had known, somewhere, in the back of his mind, that this was war. True war. At the very gates of Asgard’s palace. Not in some foreign Realm on the far branches of Yggdrasil, but here. Home. And that meant everything was allowed; all the dirty tricks the Realm Eternal had been hoarding for so long.
Since Loki had last seen Týr, his beard had grown down to the upper part of his stomach. New grey strands flecked it and amassed at his temples, now wrinkled with both age and worry. Not an encouraging expression, especially when worn by Asgard’s most experienced warrior. Instead of the usual ceremonial armour, his chestplate was plain, sported only the embossed wolf head insignia. At his hip, Tyrfing. Loki had heard the legends. Dwarves, pressed into forging it, had supposedly cursed the blade to kill a man each time it was drawn, making it a formidable weapon atop the powerful enchantments.
Behind him, the Valkyrie spoke up.
“Týr?” She choked out, voice dry and strangely rasping. “You survived Jötunheimr?!”
The General froze mid-stride. Looked up and stared, right through Loki and to the warrior behind him. Who promptly shouldered her way to the front.
“Brunnhilde?”
Well. At least they had a name for her now.
Thor turned to stare at Loki, the incredulous expression quite gratifying, “How-”
He shrugged, “Penpals?” His brother simply let out a long-suffering sigh.
“I thought you died? I saw you being swallowed by that overgrown mutt!”
“Only my arm,” He proffered the limb, which ended in a leather wrap, then a metal hand clamped on. It was firmly fixed in one position, looked to be grasping the hilt of an invisible weapon. Of course, even the Æsir’s prosthetics were primarily for fighting. Unlike Hiroim’s, this did not immediately look capable of movement, but Loki knew better. Not many Realms - or planets - were capable of advanced prosthetics. Pretending his arm was a stiff, unmoving object was smarter than would normally be attributed to Asgardians. Well, you didn’t become a General through blind luck.
Thor took the reunion as his cue to step in; “Týr! Your men don’t seem to recognise me.” He strode past Brunnhilde and probably gave his best attempt at a winning smile. Loki rolled his eyes.
The General blinked, his face returned to that impassiveness he had worn before seeing Brunnhilde, “My men do recognise you, my Prince. They are simply unsure of your identity. As they should be.”
Perhaps Hela had a grasp of illusions? Glamour? Or even shapeshifting… If she was a shifter, they were in trouble. Well. More trouble.
“I am who I say,” Confusion in his voice. Because, of course, he hadn’t the ability to piece it together. Siege, magic-user, uncertainty about identity. You’d think it was obvious.
Týr waved his metal hand placatingly. “We shall check, my Prince.”
“Check?”
Loki stepped up to stand beside his brother and spoke softly, “It’s fine, Thor. They’re making sure we’re not Hela. Magic, remember?”
“Yes, that much is obvious,” Perhaps some of his old lectures about seiðr had stuck, “How will they do that?”
Or perhaps not, “A vita. Surely you remember that?”
“A veela?”
Sigh. “No, Thor. A vita. It detects seiðr. In a siege against sorcerers, they’re set up at every entrance to the pala-”
“Yeah, yeah. I didn’t forget everything.”
“I’m surprised.”
With a snort, Thor elbowed Loki, though rather gently by his standards. But nothing more came of the little squabble, for there was another ripple in the ranks of Einherjar, steadily growing closer. A moment, and then he could see clear as if he had flown down over the crowd and was hovering just above. Two men - boys, really - lugged a hollow door between them. It was tall, rectangular and the usual metallic gold expected of Asgardian craftsmanship. It rolled along on wheels, but wasn’t purpose built for portability and tipped every so often, sending out a screeching complaint when metal dragged along the cobbled path.
Loki blinked, glanced at Týr. This was unusual; the protocol was for suspected shades or illusions or shapeshifted enemies to be brought inside. Evidently, Hela had been deemed too dangerous to be any closer to the palace than they already were. Interesting. Though not surprising, from her absolute decimation of him and Thor when they faced her on Midgard.
Soon, the vita was set down before them and Týr went quiet, turned away from Brunnhilde and strode to the scanner. With a grim set to his bearded face, he set a hand against it, the dull thunk of metal on metal ringing out with finality.
Without hesitation or prompting, Thor walked down the ramp, up to the vita. Stared through it a moment - the seemingly empty space that would determine his identity, “I just walk through, right?” He asked lightly. Loki could detect a slight tremor.
“Yes, my Prince,” Týr replied.
A moment more, then Thor was stepping through. The air buzzed and fizzed, popping and whorls of colour appeared. As if someone had tie dyed empty space itself. As the Asgardian moved from one side of the vita to the other, humming and swirling stripes of bright, rainbow shades shot through with lightning blue coalesced to wrap around his form.
And then he was through, the almost neon flashes disappeared fast as they had come. A negative reading, thank the Norns. Loki felt a breath he hadn’t known he was holding escape. Damn this irrational fear. Banner shot a look at him and he scowled back. Apparently, the mortal was too perceptive for his own good.
Brunnhilde went next, fearlessly. The colours faded the moment she was out.
Banner was similar, though more apprehensive.
And then it was only Loki facing the vita. He was painfully, brutally aware of the symbol burnt into his palm. Of the barely-there glamour only just hanging on which wreathed him. He’d really hoped this would happen out of view. Not before an entire battalion of Einherjar, for obvious reasons.
Týr was staring up at him. No recognition, from what little Loki could see of his face behind that monstrous beard, but he wasn’t too surprised. They had never interacted past rudimentary training and it showed. Only a piece of cloth to cover his face and a haircut made him unrecognisable, apparently. Any other time, he’d be insulted. Now, it might work in his favour.
Predictably, Týr began to scowl when Loki still did not move towards the vita.
Mind scrambling for a solution, he nearly missed yet another disturbance in the crowd of Einherjar. Nearly.
He had to avoid the vita. It would undoubtedly be set off by his glamour and then questions. Týr wasn’t an idiot; he knew what a binding rune looked like. It would be the first thing he looked for. And he knew how to break such runes, too. If it was broken, he wouldn’t be able to fix it, or carve a new one. That required complex and powerful magic. Magic which required his seiðr, which Odin had so helpfully bound.
Stall for time. Yes. He’d blabber or make a fuss. Whatever was coming now might save him. And anyway, even a few seconds more before lethal levels of mortification then far deadlier amounts of anger and hatred from the Einherjar. Which would result in his bloody and untimely demise-
Better to not think about it. Just prevent it.
Týr was getting closer. He was puzzled, with a wrinkled frown and lips pursed and eyes narrowed. Until those eyes were inches from Loki’s own, close enough that he could see the recognition starting to flicker. Oh, that might be bad.
That ripple was growing closer though. Loki mustered a smile and refused to step back, despite how desperately he wanted to. “Since the others are evidently not Hela, it’s doubtful I am.”
The frown deepened.
“Maybe we can just do it inside?” Loki forced a smile, neck bending back to look up at Týr.
Confusion on that too-close face. Maybe blabbering hadn’t been the best idea, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say!
A hand enclosed his upper arm and Loki controlled a flinch. Then Týr froze.
“Unhand my son.”
Loki froze, too. The third ripple had arrived.
He slowly, slowly, stole a glance over Týr’s shoulder. Made to immediately look away and found he couldn’t.
Odin gazed back from his singular eye. Leaning slightly on Gungnir, his lips pulled up at the edges, eyes crinkled warmly and it felt wrong, to see an expression not cold and disapproving and regal. Because Odin was King first, father second and this was the face of a father.
That flickering recognition flared to life and Týr flinched back, as if burned. Then he was looking back and to, back and to at Loki and the vita. Then to the cloth wrapped about his face. Then to his right hand, similarly wrapped. He’d replaced the bandages about his amputated finger recently, but maybe he hadn’t done a good job? Blue had spread from there, up to the join between wrist and hand, when the Hulk had bitten it off.
Understanding, on Týr’s face. Had he seen? Or was he smart enough to figure it out? Loki didn’t mean to, but his hand was behind his back in moments.
“I will escort my sons and their… New friends to the palace, General Týr,” Odin said. Soft, commanding. “You shall see to the walls in my absence.”
A swift salute - right hand over left breast - and Týr was away, barking orders. Thunderous marching as the Einherjar departed with him.
And then silence.
Loki swallowed. Past a boulder lodged in his throat, barely passable.
At least the legion of bloodthirsty Æsir was gone. Just Thor (and Odin and Brunnhilde and Banner) to worry about now. No matter that he had apologised; the scene from the arena on Sakaar resurfaced. Broken and bloodied and Loki’s illusory skin failing, Thor hadn’t recognised him. Called him a runt. Probably would have gone on with some more choice insults if he hadn’t been interrupted. May have struck him.
Hands on his shoulders and Loki couldn’t hide how he jumped, heart pounding in his ears, throbbing. He stared down at the old, lined, white-bearded face. It looked sad.
“My boy,” Odin said, “When did you become so scared?”
There were many, many answers to that question. Buzzing around in his throat and chest, bouncing in his lungs and pumping through his heart, thumping and drumming furiously. For a moment, he felt nothing. Not shock, not the fear he was accused of. Not anger.
Then there was rage.
How could Odin ask that? As if-
“-You don’t know?!” Loki was fuming. Slapped the hands away and stumbled backwards. He had to get away. Saying things… No. He couldn’t. Glanced at where Banner and Brunnhilde and Thor stood. He couldn’t say anything. Nothing more. Against his will, his mouth opened again. He clamped it shut. Put a hand over it, pretended like it was that old motion he did when thinking, years ago.
As if he didn’t know! How Loki knew the hatred others felt for him for no reason other than his race because he fucking felt it too. How, if the glamour dropped, he’d be slaughtered. How Loki had been left to rot and burn in that cell and the only friendly face he’d seen had been his mind throwing up images of his dead mother! How that Einherjar had-
Odin didn’t approach again. If he had, there would have been a fight. He had to stay away.
“I… Have an idea,” The bastard said. No yelling. No calling for guards. No anger. “Sending you to the dungeons was a mistake.”
Loki turned his back. Couldn’t trust his face. It was crumpling. Eyebrows pulled at his forehead, mouth was curled into a grimace. His eyes burnt. The boulder in his throat had swelled until it hurt.
A deep breath. Stung. Another tried to force its way in; too fast. No. That was emotional, they would know. They couldn’t see his face, so his breathing had to be even. So they wouldn’t know how bad this was. Held the air in his lungs and slowly exhaled. Slowly inhaled. Under control.
“And what they did was inexcusable. It was a mistake, I simply meant it to hold you. Not-”
“Shut up,” Loki managed to spit out. He hissed it through clenched teeth. Enough anger forcefully injected into it to mask the tremor. Hopefully.
For once, Odin listened.
Silence descended.
“Hela,” He said, “That’s the priority. So shut up and tell us what’s going on.” A laugh, mechanical. Barely a laugh, really. But it was the best he could do. “I didn’t come all the way back here for your useless apologies.”
Soft sigh behind him, “You would have made a good King.”
Loki snorted. One last breath. Everything calm. In control. He turned around with a wide smile. No point making it look genuine. “Hela.”
Another sigh from Odin, with that old, old face. Lined and sad. “Yes… Hela.”
And he began to walk, using Gungnir as a cane. To Thor, looked up and that sadness melted away a bit, “Come! You both have been away from home for far too long.” Patted Thor on the shoulder and continued, spear tapping on the cobblestone as he led them down the path. Towards a waist-height wall in the distance and an open gate which a few Einherjar were still trickling through.
They followed. Banner and Brunnhilde hesitating, the former shot Thor a nervous look, but that was eased after a quick nod from the oh-so-mighty Prince. Said Prince didn’t follow. He was staring at Loki.
They went ahead and Thor stayed behind. He didn’t move; just stood there. Calmly.
Loki shot his wide smile at him, but it didn’t have the usual effect. They stood for what was only a few seconds, though it felt longer. And then Loki dropped it, face back to a blank mask. He walked after Brunnhilde and Banner.
Thor kept pace a metre off his right shoulder.
It was good to be on Asgard again. He tried to concentrate on that.
That familiar smell of campfires and pine needles and spice. Flowers mixed in, too. Grass whispered and insects buzzed lazily, alighting on petals and bumbling along to the centre. Their little legs covered in hairs.
“... Are you okay?” Thor muttered, as if unsure whether he’d say it until the words had slipped out. Loki didn’t look at him, kept his gaze firmly centred on the small creatures to his left.
Rustling of cloth, but Thor didn’t come closer. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” Sarcasm practically dripped from his tongue. Unusual.
“Please do,” Loki turned on his heel, grin firmly back in place as he faced Thor.
“I thought we were doing well.”
A snort and he was looking away again.
“Do you want me to guess?" Thor became calm again, his face forcedly gentle, "The whole dungeon thing. Something happened down there and you won’t tell me what. You asked for trust, but you’re going to have to give it first.”
“And why would you care?!” Loki hissed, whipped around and stepped forwards, refusing to crane his head back and glowered, “I’ve done things, Thor! That was my punishment,” As suddenly as the anger had appeared, it began to slither away. He deflated with a huff, “And it doesn’t matter now, so don’t bother asking.”
He continued walking, but Thor didn’t. A solid, immoveable presence behind him. After a few paces, Loki stopped and waited.
Finally. “Doesn’t matter? Father said they did something to you, Loki. He even said it was a mistake!” Footsteps then hands on his shoulders, turning him round. “That means it matters.”
“Since when did you pay attention to wordplay? I thought it was cowardly.”
“Nice try. Who was it? What did they do?”
Loki sighed and backed away as far as Thor would let him, hands stubbornly staying on his shoulders, “This is novel. Thor? Paying attention-?
“Loki.”
“Alright, alright. When we are inside,” At the accusing look he received, Loki rolled his eyes, “When we are somewhere less… Open.”
“Ah.”
Just when he thought Thor was improving in the mental department, he proved the opposite.
Loki batted his hands away with a barked laugh and began to walk. He had a talk with Odin and then Thor all lined up. What fun.
♛ ♕ ♚ ♔ ♜ ♖ ♝ ♗ ♞ ♘ ♟ ♙
When the brothers caught up, it was to open palace doors and the other three staring out at them. No words were exchanged, they simply continued on. Into the palace.
Down the hall there was a vita with two boys slouching besides it, chatting and laughing. Odin coughed and they immediately straightened upon seeing him.
“Seems alien teens aren’t too different,” Banner chuckled.
Odin stared at him and the chuckle trickled off with a thick swallow. Loki smirked.
The standoff lasted only a moment, then Asgard’s King was striding down the hall, Gungnir held by his side. First Thor, then Brunnhilde, then Banner followed. And Loki started after them, too.
Time seemed to skip and they stood before the vita. Odin strode through without a change in stride, whorls of rainbow bursting about his form. Like a film of oil, hanging, spread thin across the doorway. When his figure had left, they remained. The physical representation of seiðr. Gold burnt the other colours away and twirled into the figure of Yggdrasil. Unsurprising, since magic quite literally sustained him. The Odinsleep was, essentially, burnout on a massive, almost lethal scale.
Then Thor, sparks of brilliant blue flashing through everything else, but dissipated when he left.
Brunnhilde. Swirling blue.
Banner. A slight hint of dark green.
And yet again, it was only Loki left. He sighed. He’d hoped Odin would just let him through, but this was far better than being before a legion of bloodthirsty maniacs. Not to mention Týr.
“I must be certain, Loki,” He looked up to Odin. Through the supposedly empty space of the vita. “I am sorry.”
He snorted and swiftly strode through the doorway. Nothing better than spite to drive you to something, was there?
Familiar tingling and he was out, turned back to stare at a wall of green, burning away the lighter colours, until there was nothing but twisting, swirling sage. Unlike Odin and Thor’s, which were both singular and flat, this had flashes and hints of different shades. Pits of deep and dark, the colour of moss choking a tree’s roots. A peak, the colour of swaying grass and fresh shoots. Bursts of red and blue, spasmed across these others every few seconds, burning out in moments.
“If I were Hela, there’d be more black,” He said flippantly.
Odin hummed behind him, “You know I cannot take that chance.”
“But you know it’s me.”
“I do,” A hand on his shoulder, “Yet there is the possibility that you are not.”
Loki scowled and the two teens backed up a step. “Fine. It’s this,” He held up his left hand, showing the rune. It was a circular-ish scar, with lines cut hastily, shakily.
“Blood magic,” Odin sounded incredulous, “When did you-?”
“Just after I arrived on Sakaar. It’s a simple glamour.”
Nothing. He resisted turning around to face Odin. Better not. Didn’t want that anger coming back.
Then the hand grew heavier, pulled at him. Loki let it pull him round with one last deep breath. Only to find it was his brother, not Odin.
“That’s all it is,” Thor said with a miniscule nod, “He cast it before you locked his magic completely,” Odin opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted, “And it’s breaking, too. Loki?”
He blinked, glanced up at Thor. It had been a long time since they last banded together against Odin. Loki dipped his head, swiftly unwrapped the cloth covering his amputated finger and hand, proffered it. Looked away.
Moments trudged past without change. The wall he stared at was composed of natural material. Golden, of course. Sandstone, probably. Each block was as tall as him and over twice as long, joined to its identical surroundings by what looked like concrete. An ancient practice, like the rest of this hall’s construction. The palace had stood for many generations, after all.
Wrinkled fingers on his and it burnt. He flinched, more from the contact than vicious heat which burst in his hand.
“Believe me now?” He ground out. Nothing he knew of could imitate Jötunn skin or its frostbite effect. He’d checked.
“I do.”
The fingers dropped and Loki swiftly re-wrapped his hand, stared down Odin, “Hela.”
A sigh, “There is no need to hide, my son.”
“No?” His grin was back, wide enough to hurt, volatile, “I am not here for your explanations or apologies. I am here for Thor and Asgard and Hela. Nothing else. So get to the point.”
He hadn’t the right to look so fucking sad! Odin was every bit the ancient Allfather in that moment. He seemed to crumple inwards, leaning on Gungnir and shoulders bowed. As if all this wasn’t his fault!
But it didn’t last long until Asgard’s King was back, with no hint of anything even resembling sorrow, “Follow me.”
And they did.
♛ ♕ ♚ ♔ ♜ ♖ ♝ ♗ ♞ ♘ ♟ ♙
Odin led them through tunnels and halls and vast rooms. Down staircases and slanted, sloping passages. Parts made of the usual golden metal, or ancient sandstone of the entranceway and yet more ancient groaning wood.
As they marched onward and downward, the only others they saw were a pair of Einherjar, bending under teetering piles of boxes. As they passed, Loki brushed against one, careful to not send the load crashing down.
Descending into the depths of Asgard wasn’t completely new to him; exploring the palace had been a favoured hobby of his long ago. But even he hadn’t been so far down that the walls rotted away and became unhewn stone, the golden light from Gungnir swallowed up by it. Dirt rained down in random spurts, creating an ominous echo of rough pattering throughout the tunnels.
Timeless lengths later and the damp, dark passage opened out. Gungnir’s light cast a feeble circle, despite its incredible power. Odin tapped it on the flagstones and the circle expanded, washed over a massive chamber. Round and ceiling held up by towering pillars, it was an abandoned replica of the Thing’s meeting hall which resided far above this forgotten place. Or perhaps, it was the forgotten first version, and the one above was the replica.
So high that it faded into darkness, the ceiling had a patterned mould. Loki squinted, could clearly see it after a moment and bit back a gasp. Because every inch was coated in images of war. Hela astride a huge wolf - Fenrir, if his knowledge of ancient myth served him well - striking at numerous beasts. Jötnar, Dokkalfar and even Vanir, each twisted to nearly beyond recognition, with fangs and horns and claws. Even to him, the depiction seemed crude and wrong.
“What is this?” Thor was the first to speak, stepping out into the room, gazing up, face wary. Good. Loki had a feeling this wasn’t going to be fun.
“A spare room of the War Council, from the Great Conquest,” Odin moved to the centre with a sigh, “Of course, you know a little of that time.”
Brunnhilde froze and Banner leaned in, the spark of curiosity lighting up his whole face.
“Millenia ago, Asgard gained control of the Nine for their own protection. But that’s ancient history, father,” Thor glanced between his brother and Odin, as if checking that what he remembered from long ago lessons was correct.
“... Yes, although your teachers omitted many details.”
“How surprising,” Loki muttered.
“We fought to control the rest. I-... I was power hungry and young, Thor. The wars were furious but over swiftly. Asgard won and became head of the Nine Realms.”
Loki felt a sardonic smile twist his lips, “Then named yourselves ‘protectors’?”
“Yes,” Odin bowed his head, “But before that… Hela was the ultimate weapon of the Conquest, alongside the Valkyries. The largest, most well-trained and deadly force to have existed,” A sigh. Pride and shame mixed into one, “We meant to destroy everything else and rule the ashes, though we did not see it as that at the time. Because I thought them lesser.”
Loki flinched.
Odin caught his eye, “I no longer believe that. I am ashamed to have thought such in the first place,” Then he was facing Thor again, who had backed away, an incredulous expression firmly in place. “I changed my mind halfway through the conquest of Jötunheimr... Frigga changed my mind, despite knowing little of what occured. I ordered a retreat, but Hela refused. She was too like me, you see.
“I raised her as a warrior and I did so far too well. She refused my orders to retreat and decimated what was left of Jötunheimr. When the Valkyries turned against her, she slaughtered them. I could not stop her, so I banished her to the Void. The rest, you know.”
Loki stared at Odin. ‘Raised’. Hela had been raised by Odin. She was their sister? But the Conquest had happened long, long ago! Long enough for Odin to be a newly crowned King, long enough for Frigga to be only a distant acquaintance. Long enough that almost everyone who had fought was dead or senile.
Yes, it was common knowledge that the Allfather and Allmother had life spans stretched past the norm for Æsir, but Hela was still alive, young and well! Brunnhilde must have fought in the battle against her, but Sakaar explained her - time on that planet passed far faster than on Asgard. Týr was old by anyone’s measure and supposed to be well into his retirement. Perhaps he was ancient enough to have been present.
“How did you keep it secret?” Loki blurted out, interrupting Thor who shot him a glare, but Odin was answering before he could argue.
“Those that knew were sworn to secrecy. Those that weren’t died in the wars that followed. From there, it was a simple matter of what to teach the younger generations. Hela was not mentioned and she disappeared from history,” A sad smile, “Some wanted to tell you both and Frigga. They were kept from doing so.”
Thor snorted, “Why? Because you didn’t want us to know we had a sister?!”
“To protect you!” Odin drew in a breath, hand going white as he gripped Gungnir, “Hela was too much like me. You were going down the same path and you didn’t need another warmonger role model, Thor! And Loki!!” A rough laugh, one that usually came from the youngest brother, “Between you, you were everything she was! If I let you learn of her, what would I have damned the Nine to?!”
Thor scowled, closed in on his father and towered over him, thrumming with anger, “I would not do what she has!”
“Really, brother?” Loki whispered, but it was easily heard in the heavy silence, broken only by heavy breathing. “‘I’ll hunt the monsters down and slay them all’? Doesn’t sound very peaceful to me.”
Thor flinched, whirled to face him, “I didn’t mean it. You know that!”
“No, I really don't.”
“Both of you shut up!” Brunnhilde yelled, stalked out to the centre of the room. Grabbed Thor’s face and forced him to look at her, then she whirled to point at Loki, “I thought you were all about ‘only Hela matters’?! Well fuckin’ act like it! ‘Cus all I’m hearing now is ‘boo hoo, pity me, everything is awful because I’m blue and my family hates m-’”
A blade was at her throat. It rested on the bare skin, digging in just enough to create a line of red, then more lines streaking down. Not enough to cause permanent damage, but Loki could feel her pulse through the hilt. It had been calm when he first approached. Now it raced.
“You want to finish that sentence?” He said, polite and cold. Colder than the metal of his knife.
Brunnhilde just grinned, “I was a Valkyrie, little snowman. You sure about this?”
Loki didn’t answer and then the knife was shoved to the side and a palm flew up, connected with the underside of his jaw, snapping his neck back. Fingers grabbing his thumb pressing the tip until it slid off the grip, then a hand wrapped around his, pushing down until pain was bursting in the joint. She was trying to break it.
He twisted so his back was to her, ducked the arm around his throat and jabbed with an elbow. Her grip loosened and he dropped the knife, swung a hand under and grabbed it, swung up again. Only to face a kick to the chest. Loki brought up an arm just in time, knocked it aside and she lost her balance, stomping down with it. Stuck the knife forwards, to where her kidneys would be. If it didn’t kill her outright, she’d be permanently maimed - even Æsir couldn’t completely heal damage to vital internal organs.
A hand wrapped around the blade before it could connect. Loki kept pushing, felt the skin split like the surface of an overripe pear. Sliced to the side and bit into bone. Still, it didn’t let go and he looked up.
Oh.
It wasn’t Brunnhilde’s hand.
Thor had one arm around the Valkyrie, keeping her from fighting back and the other was being stabbed, quite viciously.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Loki felt the words tumble out. He dropped the knife and grabbed the wound. He’d been right - it had gone straight through. Cut tendons and carved a groove on bone. The fingers were limp and slick with Thor’s blood. Wrapped both his hands over it and felt the fabric on his right become soaked, sticky. Pulled on Yggdrasil through the contact. He’d never been good at healing, but he could try. Poured energy into the broken muscle and tendon and nerves, felt the cells begin multiplying and then all that was left of the wound was a shallow cut. Any more and he’d risk burnout yet again. Being unconscious or woozy wasn’t a good idea, considering the situation.
Thor pulled his hand back and stared at it, confused then with a slight smile, “It would’ve been okay. You didn’t have to do that.”
Loki scowled, “Don’t get used to it.”
He snorted and was about to reply when Banner forgot any apprehension and grabbed Thor’s hand, holding it up to the limited light, “What?” He whispered, incredulous, “There’s just a little cut!”
Brunnhilde rolled her eyes as Thor pried the mortal off, “Not everyone takes years to heal from little scratches,” She shot a glare at Loki.
And the tension was gone. Loki picked up his knife with a sigh. Maybe he’d get the bitch next time. Let every moment of kidney dialysis be a reminder why you didn’t enslave Princes.
“How did you get that?” Thor asked, looking at the knife and rubbing at his now-healed fingers absently.
He slipped it carefully back into one of the many folds in his overcoat, “The Einherjar we passed on the way down.”
“Of course.”
“Old habits die hard,” Loki smiled. But it promptly dropped away when he saw Odin standing, distant from them. Simply watching.
“You should rest,” The old bastard said, “I will call for you when necessary and we shall see about saving Asgard.”
Then he turned, strode out without a backwards glance. Probably off to kick someone out of his deepest, nastiest cell just in case Loki acted up. What a loving father.
He rolled his eyes. At the thought. At Odin’s comment and everything in general. Then followed him out the door, tapping footsteps announced that the others followed his lead.
Odin took the faint light with him, so all that was visible was his retreating back. At least to the others, Loki guessed. He looked away for a moment and the opaque black became softly lit and he could see how they stumbled and clung to the wall. With a sigh, he shoved Thor in front of him, who shot him an odd look, then pushed the others ahead of them until Loki was trudging along at the very back.
“You can actually see in this?” Thor asked after long minutes of climbing, Banner and Brunnhilde blocking out the light from Gungnir which left Loki to begrudgingly guide his brother up the steps. Norns, this was demeaning.
“Yes,” He grouched, “Careful, next step’s taller than the others.”
Thor stumbled a bit, then continued on, grip tight on Loki’s forearm. When had that happened? Clingy bastard. He didn’t mind, which was surprising.
“You said you’d tell me what happened to you.”
“... A bit longer, Thor. I’ll be in my old room, if it still exists. Find me there in an hour.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
Loki smirked in the dark, “Well, now you’ve said that I have the sudden desire to escape, fake my death and never be seen again.”
“Don’t.”
He sighed. Tightened his grip on Thor’s wrist, “I won’t.”
They continued up through the perpetual darkness, marching soldiers, laughing warriors and the deep booming of Asgard at war echoed down from above.
Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ