Mother
Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ
Panic coiled in Loki’s chest. There were so many.
Rows upon rows of blank glowing eyes stared impassively back at him, still climbing out their graves, most peering out of a dirty white skull, but some still had flesh attached. Rotting flaps of skin twitched, as if still trying to lever open the jaw manually.
Above them all, the wolf snarled.
Loki’s grip tightened on Thor’s shoulder. Then he blinked. He’d not let go apparently and he ignored the warmth in his cheeks at the thought, “Absolutely,” He addressed Hela, “I am moving to an area which is out of the way.”
Thor dug an elbow non-too-subtly into his ribs. Which Loki responded to with a squeeze.
“I’ll keep an eye on the news about being ‘stronger than ever’, though,” He slowly began to back away, dragging his imbecilic brother with him.
“Loki,” Said imbecile hissed, nearly drowned out by the continuous wave of Asgard’s dead forcing themselves up from their graves.
“We need backup,” He whispered back, “We’re exhausted and outnumbered. Only a fool would continue to fight, in which case I should leave you to it.”
Another dig in the ribs, though he looked more resigned now, “I’m not tired and we can’t just flee,” Thor sounded more pleading now, as if he knew that was their only real option left.
“We certainly can,” Loki hissed back, shot another smile at Hela and took off to the stairs, shoving a few of the undead Einherjar away as they feebly tried to attack, tugged Thor along behind him, followed by the pattering of other feet running after him. Not enough to be the freshly re-incarnated warriors. He sighed in relief, but didn’t stop sprinting until they were out into the light, the clattering of half-hearted projectiles on the steps behind him.
Brunnhilde immediately turned on him, sword drawn and knocked his hand away from Thor’s shoulder, who began to move but stopped when he glanced at him, “What was that? We could’ve killedher!!”
Loki glared, “How stupid are you?”
But no, that didn’t seem right. The blade pointing at him shook and she really didn’t seem the type to quiver. Not from fear or nerves, at least. Anger made more sense.
“No,” He interrupted her before her mouth was even open, “Calm down. You’re useless like this. You want to kill Hela? Stop trembling like a newborn.”
Valkyrie let out a shout, stabbed the sword forwards, but it stopped an inch from his chest, “You’re lucky we need everyone to take her out,” She hissed. Turned away and marched up to Týr, sheathed her weapon, “Where’s the decent booze?”
He looked down at her with a vaguely disapproving frown, raised a hand to dissuade her.
“Shut it, you know I fight just as well hammered.”
With a one-sided shrug, he gestured roughly towards one of the tents and Brunnhilde stormed off.
Odin stared at his General, who promptly answered the unspoken question, “She will return when necessary.”
After another uncomfortable moment, Odin dipped his head. Evidently, there was a lot of trust between them; Loki couldn’t imagine him dropping something so important with anyone. Well, except Frigga, but she wasn’t around, was she?
Then Odin turned to the catacombs entrance, stared into the darkness with Gungnir ready at his side.
But nothing happened.
Loki’s fingers began to cramp around his knives and his eyelids grew heavy. Even Odin, the ancient bastard, didn’t look as tired as he felt; something had to be wrong. Had Hela done something to him? A quick assessment of himself, which was rudimentary at best, but he couldn’t do much more without his seiðr. Nothing seemed off except his already-healing injuries... Just lacking energy in all the usual ways for exhaustion. Exhaustion which was far too prominent for a small bout!
They stood in the silence, Einherjar stock still, weapons at the ready. Týr at their head, Odin before them all, Gungnir casting light down the first few steps.
Next to Loki, Thor shuffled, “Where are the Warriors Three and Sif?” He asked the crowd, craning his neck.
Of course. Loki blinked. He hadn’t seen them. Or Heimdall, thinking of it. That was unusual. With all the running and nearly-crying and revelations, he had forgotten all about his brother’s insufferable friends. Which was not good. Forgetting important factors in a situation like this… Was he really that tired? He shouldn’t be.
Týr glanced across at Thor, a blank yet immeasurably sad look in his eye, “They died in the first wave,” He said without hesitation. It wasn’t the first time he’d delivered information like this, and it likely wouldn’t be the last.
Thor just stared back blankly.
Then he started for the entrance, but Loki had been expecting it.
Dove at his brother, wrapped his arms around his chest, preemptively dodging the elbow and it brushed his hair, “Thor, they’re dead. Killing yourself won’t change that.”
“I will avenge them, unhand me you-!”
“Avenge later!” Loki hissed, flinching when a fist connected with his ribs with a resounding crack, “Later, and you might even stand a chance.”
Thor struggled against his hold for a moment, but it was surprisingly strong. Then he paused, breathing heavily, “She killed them…”
“Not all,” Týr said. He’d backed up a step, one hand on his sword, “Sif is off-Realm searching for you.”
Hearing that, he relaxed slightly and Loki slowly let go, “Sif’s alive?”
“Yes.”
Loki hesitated for a moment, then leant against his brother’s shoulder, providing wordless support. Because fuck it; Thor had actively been nice earlier, if only for a small time. He wasn’t going to repay that with distance and snark. Maybe later, but not now. They needed to be united against Hela.
Thor glanced at him from the corner of his eye, then the tension soothed and he leant into the contact a little, not visible but enough that Loki felt it.
Instead of continuing his suicidal mission to single-handedly take on the Bane of the Nine, he simply glowered at the dark staircase, shoulder-to-shoulder with his younger brother.
“I will be annoyed if you’ve broken my ribs again,” Loki said jokingly.
Thor looked at him, rolled his eyes, “I didn’t hit that hard.”
He hadn’t, but it still hurt, “Tell my poor, horrendously broken ribs that.”
A snort and they lapsed back into silence.
Even standing was starting to feel like exercise and, before long, Loki was leaning heavily on Thor, who at first simply leant back, then began to shoot him worried looks. Finally, he grabbed his younger brother, “You alright?” He whispered.
“‘m tired…” Loki replied after a moment. Why was he so exhausted? It felt almost like burnout, but somehow not. Then he sat heavily.
Now Thor looked truly distressed, “It wasn’t that long a fight,” He knelt down, felt Loki’s forehead. As if that would magically tell him what was wrong, “Father!”
Loki’s protests were ignored and Odin’s wrinkled face was soon far too close. He was saying something and Thor was replying. Banner was probably celebrating somewhere.
Fingers on his temples and everything went black.
♛ ♕ ♚ ♔ ♜ ♖ ♝ ♗ ♞ ♘ ♟ ♙
Blankness.
Loki was falling.
Falling, falling falling fallingfallingfallingfallingfa-
Pinpricks of light swirled. Popped. Exploded.
No one was there. No one existed.
Someone had to save him.
Someone…
He was tumbling, head over heels and a glimpse of something different. Gold. Streaked across his vision.
Larger, closer, faster.
Plunged through and air burst into his lungs. Loki gasped, coughing and heaving, spluttering.
A hand on his shoulder and he ducked away, lashed out and felt his boot connect with something frail. Old.
Odin grunted, “Get a hold of yourself, boy.”
“Father?” He managed to get out somehow, “Where-?”
“The edges of my conscience, we were just in yours.”
Loki forced himself to stay still, deep breaths. He remembered fingers at his temples. Some sort of… Mind probe?
Confusion must have shown on his face as Odin deigned to explain, “Something is wrong with you, we are here to ascertain what.”
“I guessed as much,” Loki grumbled, pushing himself up, “Have we collapsed in the physical world? Because I don’t want to come round with my face in the dirt.”
A sigh from Odin, but he didn’t deign to reply. Instead, the old bastard went for the metaphorical juglar, “Why is your conscience taking the form of the Void?”
Loki looked up, through a green-lined rectangle and into blank space, “Perhaps it’s an automatic reaction when pretentious coots invade my mind.”
“Or it has entrapped you.”
“The inanimate space between Yggdrasil’s branches?” Loki snorted, “Really.”
“I meant in other ways.”
Oh. He didn’t really have a response for that. And they lapsed into silence.
Odin continued staring into the blackness, “It is one of the biggest mistakes of my life, what I told you the day you fell. I meant that you did not need to prove yourself to me. That you’re my son, and I love you. I apologise that you did not know me and my intentions well enough to understand that.”
Loki sucked in a breath, but kept his composure, “Are you done? Because I am not here for you. I am here to stop Thor from becoming the last of his species.” He smirked thinly, “And if Asgard is saved on the side, I’ll count that as a bonus, but I doubt it since this is apparently Ragnarök. If there’s a giant snake named Jörmungandr you aren’t telling us about-”
“There is not.”
“Are you certain?”
Odin glared at him, “We are here to find the cause of your exhaustion.”
“Then stop blabbering,” Loki grinned and promptly craned his neck back to peer into the darkness directly above, “We’ll need to get back in there.”
“Indeed.”
A hand gripped his arm, tight enough to bruise and they were soaring upwards, the golden meadows of Odin’s mind shrunk beneath them until they tumbled up into the Void.
Loki felt the very atmosphere disintegrate, the oxygen in his lungs with it and he gasped uselessly. Clawed at his neck. Nothing but suffocating loneliness and the knowledge that no one would come for him. Ever.
And then he could breathe again. Collapsed to the suddenly-there floor in a coughing fit.
Odin stared down at him, face expressionless. Probably to hide revulsion, the judgemental bastard.
Slowly, he pushed himself upright again, ignoring the heat rising in his cheeks. His complete lack of control when confronted with the Void wasn’t good. Especially with Odin present.
“Are you ready, or must we delay further?” The bastard said, but the translucent golden bubble they were in was moving before Loki could reply.
They sped onwards in complete silence. Not even the rustling of fabric, as he didn’t dare fidget and the Allfather was obviously too perfect for such mundane temptations. Prick.
Stars blurred past, became streaks as they accelerated. Nothing seemed to change; just the Void. No planets or nebulae or anything which wasn’t a distant, steady white pinprick. No wonder it felt dead.
Loki waited and Odin did too, they didn’t move an inch within the bubble.
Then something new appeared before them.
It was a… Tear. In the fabric of reality itself.
If this was Loki’s mind, what could this mean?!
Odin was evidently thinking the same and he had a grim expression as they slowed, steered towards the oddity.
A round hole, which appeared flat and simply hung there. Seemed like some sort of tunnel, burrowing out of his mind. The yellow glow which diffused slowly from somewhere along it was eerily familiar.
As was the voice which drifted from within.
“I cannot leave him… I must know what is happening!”
Both of them stiffened. The bubble trembled and Loki swallowed. He didn’t want to be thrown out into the Void again.
“He needs me. He needs me, I cannot leave.”
“She’s dead,” Odin croaked out, “How …?”
The voice’s babbling stopped.
And a form coalesced from yellow light, stood at the mouth of the tunnel.
For the first time in so long, Loki could truly see her. Not the flitting around the edges of his senses, but a physical form he could see. Exactly as he remembered; long hair, a regal dress and hands gently folded in front of her stomach. She stood tall, chin held high and steel in her gaze, a firm look hastily put in place and just-dried tear tracks trailed her face. And then there were parts which were so utterly alien. Like how every inch of her was the same golden yellow. No blue, no different hues in her hair, no intricate colours in swirling patterns on her dress.
“I am indeed one of the dead. Yet here I exist. And here you are, too.”
“Is this some trickery-”
“No, Odin. My husband. No.”
A soft sigh, that forced coldness evaporated from Frigga’s face, back into a gentle smile as she looked upon them.
“Loki has not done this. He thought me a figment of his imagination until very recently.”
“Evidently not,” The King replied slowly, staring at her, almost lost for words.
“Why have you come here?”
“Loki has been suffering from unusual fatigue,” Odin was answering on autopilot. At least ghosts disturbed even Asgard’s esteemed ruler, “I hoped to find the cause in his conscience.”
“That is where I am?”
Loki licked his lips, “Nearly. You are in a… Tunnel, of sorts. It seems to lead out of my mind. Do you know where it ends?” That was not a sentence he had ever wanted to say. Or repeat. The implications of something having broken into his mind…
She closed her eyes and the light she was constructed from began to disperse. Loki and Odin took an involuntary step forward, but then she looked up at them, whole again. The fuzz of light which had begun to float away sunk back into her skin.
“There is nothing. It simply tapers off and closes. You are not connected to anyone or anything, my son.”
Loki deflated and leant against the bubble, ran a shaking hand through his hair. It was long again and his missing finger had returned. If someone had been looking into his mind… Or even influencing him! But they had been. At some point, to leave the remnants of a link on his mind. And either they were incredibly powerful, or the object they used had been.
Odin was talking again, but Loki was thinking and their voices became background noise.
The Mad Titan was the only being with enough power to do something like this that he could think of, (other than the Grandmaster, but he couldn’t come up with a reason he would have done this) and he hadn’t wielded seiðr. So something else? If this bond had altered him, perhaps a time when his ideals had fundamentally changed-... Oh. Yes, it made sense. The Titan had given him the scepter and within days, his focus had turned from the shambles which his life had become to the Tesseract. He had been obsessed. Addicted, even, to the very thought of it. From having only distantly heard of the Cosmic Cube, Loki had devoted himself to the recovery of it. So obvious, how had he never seen this before?!
The scepter, then. He had used it to control the minds of mortals, but that did not prove its innate power. If this bond was caused by it, then why was said bond glowing yellow? He distinctly remembered the scepter’s stone, the source of its power, being a sharp cobalt blue. Perhaps another stone?
A yellow stone of immense power with the ability to shape minds…
It hit Loki like Mjolnir to the stomach.
“Oh, fuck…”
That wasn’t good. It was the opposite of good. It was very, very bad.
“-ki? Loki?! Lo-”
“Yes,” He managed, “The Titan had an Infinity Stone!”
Silence. He blinked, looked up and Odin’s white face stared back at him, jaw slack and blood drained from it. His skin seemed paper thin and just as fragile.
“The Mind Stone?” He said it like he knew already. Probably did. Probably worked it out when Loki told him. Still, he nodded. “By the Norns…” Odin whispered.
“At least it explains my continued existence.”
Frigga was calm as ever and her serene, though slightly shaky, voice pulled Loki from his stupor, “How?” If he could concentrate on this for a bit, he could ignore the consequences of… Of the Titan.
“This bond contains residual energy. The Mind Stone’s, if you are correct. As an experienced mage, my conscience automatically latched onto the nearest chance of staying alive, which was this bond. Perhaps before I occupied it, it was still linked to someone else. When I died, it must have preserved my conscience and broke the previous link. Since then, my mind will have been leeching energy from you, my son, to survive.”
Loki slowly nodded. He couldn’t quite grasp it, but he would eventually, when he had stopped reeling. “So my exhaustion is because of you?” He didn’t sound accusing. If his fatigue ensured his mother’s life, that was not a decision.
“I am sorry, so sorry… I do not know how to stop it…”
For the first time in so long, Frigga sounded on the verge of tears.
Odin was at the wall of the bubble, one hand pressed against it, “Do not try. Please.”
Loki didn’t like to agree with him, but nodded furiously.
“I will not, if that is your wish. But I shall avoid manifesting to you, it will be burning far more of your energy than what it’s worth.”
Not true, but she was already fading. He barely managed to not try reach out and force the dispersing light back into his mother’s shape. And then she was gone.
Odin was looking down at him, “You have been seeing her? For how long?”
“Ever since you threw me into the dungeons. I had such a great time, being beaten and-”
“I had no choice, which you well know.”
“No I do not. You could have done something else. Anything else. Now get out of my mind.”
“Not just yet,” Odin was staring at him, his hold on Gungnir tight, “You met Thanos?”
Loki stared at him wordlessly, swallowed. He wanted to say nothing. To leave Odin in the dark and let him wonder. But that would compromise Asgard and Thor. So he spoke; “In the Void. He… Rescued me. Sent me to Midgard.”
Quiet. He could see the King’s mind working, his eyes unfocused and staring out into the blackness.
Eventually, he spoke; “And he is responsible for this bond?”
“Yes.”
Slowly, considering, he dipped his head. Then the bubble popped, Void rushed in and-
♛ ♕ ♚ ♔ ♜ ♖ ♝ ♗ ♞ ♘ ♟ ♙
Light.
Loki gasped in a breath. No Void. Asgard. Concerned faces pretending to not be looking at him.
He was sitting on the floor with fingers pulling away from his temples. From Thor’s position, still in the action of crouching down, barely a second had passed.
He stood slowly. The previous exhaustion had dispersed, as if a drain on his energy was gone. Not ‘as if’, actually. Whatever Frigga had been doing, stopping it made him feel far better. At Thor’s concerned look, he nodded and waved him off.
And they returned to standing, waiting for Hela to come up the steps with a legion of undead warriors.
Thor glanced at him, concerned, then opened his mouth to ask, “What-?”
Loki shook his head, still reeling from what he’d discovered. In no uncertain terms; the Mad Titan had held sway over his mind from his invasion of Midgard until his mother’s death. It made sense, and he had suspected something wasn’t quite right, but it had been at the back of his mind. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel even the mildest regret for what he’d done.
“Not now, Thor,” He said softly.
A searching look, but then the subject was dropped and silence returned.
Far too long passed. Even at a snail’s pace, she should have already surfaced and he had a hard time imagining Hela keeping stride with a snail.
Odin undoubtedly thought the same, “Thor, Loki. Investigate the vault, see if she left how she entered the catacombs.”
Both stared at him for a moment, then Thor dipped his head, grasped Loki’s shoulder and began to stride towards the palace entrance. Stopped and turned to address Odin, “He needs his magic.”
Loki glanced at his brother, a little surprised.
“He has been doing well enough without,” Odin was staring unseeingly down into the catacombs, “Now go.”
Thor hesitated, but Loki continued on and he followed after a moment. If he died a tragic death saving the entirety of Asgard, then Odin would see the error of his ways. Or be relieved that his plan to remove his more troublesome son followed through.
Mulling on such thoughts was useless and Loki strode into a nearby entrance, scanned the featureless golden hall. Nothing was particularly off about it… But there was the tingling on the back of his neck that whispered something wasn’t right. For one; where were the people? Servants? Guards? Einherjar? Civilians? He couldn’t see any sign of them. As if the palace had already been abandoned.
After a small while of cautiously padding along, Thor had pulled in front. And when they came to the centre of the palace, only a few turns from the vault entrance, he went the wrong way. Loki paused at the correct turning, but followed. His first, automatic thought was that it may be a trap… However, this was Thor. And whilst his mind wanted to argue that it was still a possibility, he forced it down. They trusted each other, now.
It wasn’t a large detour and soon the brothers exited to a garden. Frigga’s garden. And in the centre, the apple tree she grew. Why were they here? He hated it, but Hela was more important than this at the moment.
“When you got burnt out after fighting the Grandmaster, I promised you one of mother’s apples if you stayed awake,” Thor said softly, stepping forward and plucking one from a bough.
Because sleeping when suffering from extreme burnout could be fatal. Very fatal. Loki barely remembered it, only that he had probably embarrassed himself with slurred words and inane requests, such as this one. Falling into old and childish habits certainly counted - the ancient childhood practice of bribing each other with their mother’s apples. But… He let a small smile slip onto his face and took the proffered fruit, “At least we don’t have to sneak around for them, this time.”
“Yeah,” Thor said, staring up at the tree. Then he shook his head, seemed to come back to himself, “Let’s go.”
And they were off again. Back into the empty palace, turned the corner they had missed last time, only to find it wasn’t as empty as the rest of the palace.
Bodies littered the floor. Civilians and Einherjar and guards. The former often with piercing wounds in their back - they’d been fleeing when they were shot down. This was the sort of scene he had been dreading since first seeing Asgard from the ship…
Careful not to disturb them, the brothers skirted each corpse. These were their people. They were supposed to protect them. And they had failed.
Covering the rest of the distance in silence, the cracked-open vault door loomed ominously in the stillness.
Thor glanced down at Loki, who shrugged and they cautiously stepped inside.
It was a mess.
Bodies littered the flagstones, mostly civilians. Women and children who had been shoved ahead to where they were supposed to be safe. Loki passed an assessing eye over the vault. He could imagine how it happened - Hela in these halls, storming through with what few Einherjar remained in the palace fleeing, desperately trying to save the civilians. Civilians who should have been safe! They had been brought here, to the most well defended part of Asgard. The vault. But it was also Hela’s destination, not that they could have known.
Loki took a deep breath through his mouth and turned to the podiums lining the walls. If they were idiotic enough to seek shelter in the vault, they deserved this. Or at least that’s what he told himself.
Many weapons stands were empty. Tyrfing’s usual case hung open. It looked odd without the semi-legendary sword, but that wasn’t what they were looking for. He continued along, eyes flitting, searching for the Eternal Flame’s resting place.
He and Thor walked through side-by-side, until something gold and familiar caught his eye. Loki froze, staring at the Infinity Gauntlet, “Why is that here?!”
Not really paying attention, Thor continued on for a moment before noticing Loki was still. Then he looked back, “The glove thing?”
“It’s not a glove,” He replied automatically, “The Titan will come for it.”
Thor gave him an odd look, “Then he can come and be destroyed alongside Hela.”
“No, you don’t understand!” Loki backed up, his heels pressed against a cooling corpse, “He will come for the Gauntlet.”
“And we will destroy-... Brother?”
He was sat on the cracked, dusty flagstones. He didn’t remember sitting. There was brick red on his clothes and palms from where they rested. Coated by the sticky blood on the floor.
Hands on his shoulders and Thor’s worried face blocked his view of the Gauntlet, “Breathe, Loki. It’s okay. I’ll keep this Titan away from you, I promise.”
He laughed harshly, “I don’t think you can.”
Worry became true fear for a second, then it was wiped away by the most reassuring expression Thor could muster. Then he was picking up something - a green apple, the one from Frigga’s garden - from where Loki’d dropped it. He wiped it on his tunic and proffered it. Loki slowly took it, bit into the ripe fruit. The familiar taste grounded him and he stared into space for a moment, “I’m alright,” He said in reply to the unspoken question and got up.
“Was he… Did he do things like that Einherjar in the dungeon-”
“No.”
Thor watched him for a moment, then nodded slowly, reassuringly.
“Let’s just focus on Hela first,” Because if he didn’t, he’d probably break down thinking about the Mad Titan. Who had thought coming to the vault was a good idea? The warlord bitch was probably down here somewhere and he could see where he’d confronted Odin about his race only metres away and now there was the Infinity Gauntlet. Fan-fucking- tastic!
Which reminded him. The Casket of Ancient Winters should be somewhere…
And sure enough, it was.
They walked on for a few paces before Loki saw it. He stiffened involuntarily before continuing on, eyes sliding off the Casket, pretending he hadn’t seen it. But Thor was too close not to have felt his entire body tense, or to not hear the slight pause before he took another step. He glanced at Loki, then around to try and figure out what had caused it. Only took him barely a second to spot the Casket, at which point he sighed. Wordlessly gestured at it with a knowing look and continued on.
When Loki moved to follow him, Thor poked at him, then pointed back at the Casket.
Loki glared at his retreating back. Then glared at the dreaded Casket. Took an angry bite of his apple.
But he understood, somewhat. It was one of the more powerful items in the vault, but only wieldable by a Frost Giant. Meaning that it had simply left when all other weapons were put to use.
It could be helpful. If he could bring himself to touch it, let alone use it.
Helpful meant that maybe, maybe, it could be instrumental to keeping Thor alive. Because Loki couldn’t face Hela and win. He wasn’t strong or skilled enough without his seiðr - he’d never been a warrior. Maybe, with a lot of forethought and planning, he could pull it off. But with how things had been going so far, he doubted that he would have the time necessary. No; if he wanted to have even a slight chance of protecting Thor, then he’d need something powerful. Something like the Casket.
Hesitantly, he reached for it, fingers splayed and trembling an inch from the cold blue surface. Freezing tendrils of air snaked from it, enveloped his hand. Almost welcoming. Without his magic, the only option would be to hold it, since he didn’t have access to his interdimensional pockets. How could he store it then? Because Loki would not walk around carrying it. What little remained of his glamour would completely peel away, and whilst only his hand and part of his face was visible at the moment, the fact that it was so little allowed others to forget it. To think it wasn’t what it was - perhaps some paint or strangely coloured dust instead of his skin. To give it an alternative explanation. To ignore it. If his entire body was like that… They wouldn’t be able to ignore it anymore. And Loki wouldn’t either.
At which point he realised that he had decided to take the Casket.
It was too big to fit in a pocket, but… Loki had quite a few bigger-on-the-inside pouches in his room. They’d been useful both for practicing enchantment and daily use. Didn’t have one on him, though and they hadn’t the time to backtrack halfway across the palace simply for a bag.
“Thor,” He called and heard footsteps approaching him, “Give me your arm.”
At first he looked hesitant. Then opened his mouth to protest. Then evidently thought better of it and sullenly held out the limb, “You better not do anything,” Thor said, more a joke than a warning.
“If I wasn’t going to do anything, I wouldn’t have asked for it,” Loki said automatically as he took hold of the arm, closed his eyes. Doing this was slowly getting easier, and he barely had to search before he found Thor’s connection to Yggdrasil.
A quick spell later and a pouch fell to the floor with a plop.
“That’s it?” Thor asked, somewhat incredulous, “You magicked a bag?”
Loki rolled his eyes and scooped it up, then remembered that he’d have to touch the Casket to move it. Which Thor realised at the same moment.
“I can go back to-...”
“No, it’s alright,” Loki said before he could really think. And the moment he spoke, he wanted to take it back. And simultaneously didn’t. Why were emotions so complicated?! He glanced quickly at his brother and all he saw was shock and warmth.
“... Okay.”
He could trust Thor.
He wanted to trust Thor.
Loki sucked in a deep breath, reached out and grabbed the Casket without another thought. Because if he thought too much he’d think a way out of this.
He felt it creeping up from his hands. Along his palms, through his wrists and into his forearms. Up them. Caught a glimpse of blue as it snuck over his skin and looked away. Felt for the pouch, promptly shoved the Casket inside.
And his skin faded back to ashen white. Slower than what he remembered when he touched it the first time all those years ago and it, thankfully, hadn’t damaged his glamour.
“Let’s go,” Thor said quietly. He reached out and patted Loki on the shoulder before setting off again. That small shred of support made the pouch seem lighter in his hand. Then he followed, tying it onto his belt next to the scrap of red cloth.
It didn’t take long to find what they were looking for from there.
The Eternal Flame had never been one of the artifacts that Odin had focused on when he showed them the vault. Mjolnir, the Casket and some other generic weapon such as Tyrfing or Lævateinn were focused on far more.
Didn’t mean that Loki had no idea about the Flame. It had been stolen from the Fire Giant, Surtur by Odin in a battle around five thousand years ago, to try and prevent Ragnarök. Probably right after or during the Conquest. Fat lot of good it was doing, with Hela laying waste to Asgard-.
Was that Surtur’s Crown? Why was it so close to the Flame??
“Thor,” He hissed, as if talking too loud would make the helmet magically fly into the bowl of fire, “That’s-”
“Surtur’s Crown, yeah,” He said. As if this wasn’t a piece of knowledge which meant Asgard was probably going to be destroyed. Annihilated. The kind of wreckage which left nothing to rebuild with other than your memories.
“How did it get here?” Loki tried his best to stay calm. He really did. It was quite a challenge.
“I brought it.”
Was there no end to Thor’s stupidity?! What sort of utter imbecile with a singular, rotted brain cell would bring these two objects so close together!?
And then he was turning to glare in astonished anger at said imbecile, but he saw the giant hole in the floor. Which stretched down into the catacombs below.
Surtur and the Flame momentarily forgotten, he stepped closer, curious. Leant over to look in.
Only to be greeted by black blades screeching up to meet him.
“Oh, shit,” He gasped.
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