In the Process of Preparing
Thor knew exactly how you felt—for there was probably no one better suited to do so than him. Having been forced to break off contact with his beloved Midgardian girlfriend Jane Foster due to him fearing to drag her into danger with him, as well as grieving and mourning the loss of his brother as he had been declared dead, he knew the pain of losing someone dear to them more than he would ever let on. After all he had to continue playing a role; the strong, perfect future King, current Crown Prince being prepared for a future he had never wanted and never will, being forced to neglect whatever could potentially disturb his prospective reign merely to please his father and reassure him of the certainties which lie beyond anyone’s responsibility.
He shifted his gaze to Aldís and Ragnarr, determination radiating off of his being as he delved into creating a plan to help in easing the process of what was about to happen, as he knew he couldn’t disobey such direct orders by the King, the All-Father himself. He couldn’t fight his decision to send you back to Midgard to rid of you, unable to see the value you had brought with you in bringing the Prince, in bringing Loki slowly but surely back to his senses, back to being the very Prince he was meant to be.
If the last thing Thor could do was to help you in saying your Goodbyes’, than this was exactly what he would do, after all you had done for them.
——————
The feeling of fire and flames always having resided within the back of your mind for the past months was gone.
Just like that.
Upon sitting up and stretching your limbs you found them to be much lighter than you remembered, as if there had been heavy weights clasped to your body keeping you down and restricting your mobility, the feeling of freedom you had always valued. You couldn’t help the desperate smile brightening your face as you felt as if you could possibly fly—not as if you couldn’t, possibly, do so—heart light as a feather while your mind felt oddly calm and at peace.
And all of that merely because the memories were gone; what stayed behind a mere remnant of knowledge that something terrible must have happened and the vague remedy of Loki being tortured by a purple titan named Thanos while being in agony beyond belief.
Memories which Loki now held.
That realization pulled you right back down from your high in an instant, heavy breath easing out of your mouth as you struggled to call for him within your mind, over and over and over without receiving any kind of response. Your hands clutched the sides of whatever you were resting on in a hurry, attempting to get down to see for yourself how he was doing, how he was coping with the agony you had burdened him with.
Your name being called made you halt in your movements.
“Loki?”
The blonde hair invading your vision forced you to involuntarily slouch your shoulders.
“Thor,” you tried again, almost sure your accidental disappointment was clearly painting your face—at least judging by the face he pulled himself, looking as if it had been raining for weeks on end while he had planned to bathe in the sunlight,
“I need to know what happened to Loki, I—“
He gently pushed you back down to rest on the bed, and for the first time since waking you noticed the familiar surroundings of the Healing Room, the familiar feeling of the blanket covering your body and the stiff cot digging in your back. In response to the sudden realization your eyes widened significantly, breath halting in your lungs.
“Before I begin to explain,” Thor spoke, carefully withdrawing his hands from atop your shoulders, “Please calm down. You are safe here, and everything is alright.”
You tried to believe him and tried to follow his plea, yet your mind couldn’t manage to stray from the imprisoned Prince; how pained he had sounded as he received his memories, the weight of his body as he fell limp against your chest, eyes closed in exhaustion. The lump in your throat grew heavier with dread and you forced yourself to remember Aldís’ advice and count as you breathed in and out, in and out until you felt your heartbeat return to a steadier pace, which might have taken long enough for Thor to carefully place his hand on your shoulder again, trying to calm you.
“Okay,” you wheezed out, ready to hear his explanation, hands clutching the blanket in anticipation.
Thor began by informing you that you had been unconscious once more, even if merely for a day. They had carried you up to the Healing Room to tend to your body, once more noticing that the problem lied within your mind and therefore forced them to wait until you finished your recovery by yourself.
“But Loki,” you interrupted—an action which might have possibly been some sort of treason to anyone but Thor— “You don’t know what he went through, I know it because I felt it myself. I need to see him!”
Silence was your only answer, as well as Thor’s expression; his lips, tightly pressed into a thin line.
“Wait,” you spoke, fear consuming you like darkness would the light, like fire does the ice as it pierced your heart with uncertainty, “What’s wrong? What happened to him?”
Your face and voice must have been a painful giveaway to the terror you felt, eyebrows drawing together forcing a frown of his own on the Crown Prince’s forehead.
And with that he continued, voice heavy with pain as much as your own as he explained how you had wound up in the healing chambers in the first place. How Loki had fainted first, shortly before you did, Thor having barely managed to get into the cell in the nick of time to catch your limp body, having clearly seen the signs of distress early on and rushing to help. He explained how the two of you had started screaming in unison and your heart couldn’t help but ache, as you felt how deeply both of your agony was affecting him, how much he was hurt hearing his own brother and his friend scream out of pain and anguish for memories he held no knowledge of.
“He has not awoken yet,” he continued, hands heavily sitting on his lap, folded but restless, “Aldís and Eir are currently down with him in the dungeons to see to his condition.”
Seeing your incredulous expression he added on,
“Our father would not allow for him to be tended to outside of his cell, which is why we had to provide slight changes in order to help him despite those restrictions.”
Even though the exhaustion was already drawing clear lines of distress onto your features, the bad news didn’t stop.
“Following your recovery, the King has ordered me to escort you to Midgard tomorrow at noon.”
There was not a part of Thor’s face untouched by his sorrow—he clearly was against his father’s orders, yet couldn’t find it in him to go against his words. It’s not like you couldn’t understand that, having seen and heard enough from the man to wish to never actually lay your eyes upon him. Yet no knowledge of the world could help you in coping with the dread that immediately started blossoming in your stomach; a rose, thorns sharp and deadly as your face paled with every jab.
So there was no goodbye? Considering he was unconscious and couldn’t even communicate with you through your connection, considering it wouldn’t even matter if you went down to see him to at least gift words to your goodbyes, whether he could hear them or not? For he had most likely withdrawn to the far crevices and corners of his tortured mind, to tend to the wounds which had been created?
Thinking back to your arrival on Asgard, everything clicked audibly into place in your head, like a children’s toy for learning shapes; at least as loud, if not with the same feeling of I should have noticed earlier.
All the times you had felt immense agony, times in which you had fainted or were close to it...It was your mind trying to understand, cope with and digest the memories which had forced themselves into you, trying to come to terms with what apparently had happened to your body and process the pain that your head wanted to convince the rest of you it went through, despite it being false. All these times were a mere reaction to the images and noises and sounds soaring through your brain, trying to find their rightful place inside, despite there not being any.
And now Loki was going through the same process which had taken you two whole week to survive, only that it had actually happened to him and therefore brought a lot more traumatic revelation with it than it had to you; backstories you couldn’t hope nor wish to connect to what had happened in the first place, things that led to it and things that resulted from it all of a sudden making sense to his traumatized and confused mind.
And you didn’t know how to help him.
“Come now,” Thor spoke again, giving your shoulder a gentle pat as he saw the pain shine in your eyes as clearly as you saw it in his, “Rest for now. I will call upon Aldís and return around late evening.”
You couldn’t help but notice a light twinkle in his eyes, appearing almost mischievous despite the saddened expression shining through from below, before he turned around and left through the door, forcing you to wait for someone to enter. The dread within you refused to settle, only rising in intensity as you felt the time run like sand through your fingers, as your heart run rampage against your chest, every beat sending another bolt of panic surging through you like lightening as your anxiety grew exponentially.
And all the while, orange light shone dangerously through the windows to your left, colors already mixing dangerously with red and purple hues and bathing the room in nearing darkness, safe for the few bowls of fires in the corners.
———
A knock on the door anchored you back down to reality, Aldís taking the empty cup of tea from you and placing it on a table to the side, while your eyes followed the opening door, followed Thor and Ragnarr as they stepped into the room, the latter carefully closing the door behind them. All of their collective and sort of knowing smiles only helped in confusing you as your eyes hushed from one person to the next, questions upon questions forming in your mind as you pushed the urge to read their thoughts away like a flame being put out with a wisp of air.
A last walk on Asgard, Ragnarr had said, the four of you leaving to enable you to see the wonders of a plate-like planet floating across space for what appeared to be the very last time. You savored the sensation of the light breeze rushing past and swirling to pick up a couple of leaves from the ground, savored the feeling of unfamiliar and undeniably pretty petals of strange flowers against your fingers as you brushed them in passing, savored the way the light shown softly above your heads, the last remnants of the sun leaving pink, purple to dark blue hues in its wake, stars glistening in the nearing night sky as prominent as never before.
You settled for the royal gardens upon Thor’s lead, admiring how everything was meticulously trimmed, how gold seemed to adorn every little speck of the many pots and walls and boxes surrounding and containing a multitude of flowers scientists on Earth would kill for. Strong, sweet scent being carried through the air by few, while others glowed brightly in the darkness like little lamps, all by their own.
Yet despite all the external distractions, your mind never strayed from the one person occupying it the most, the one person whose well being was nothing short of questionable, who didn’t answer no matter how much you called. And your friends knew; it was something you couldn’t hide, and didn’t even attempt to.
After an initial reaction of shock as you startled in your step upon seeing the Queen striding alone from within the castle to rest on a bench beside your group of four, Ragnarr had eagerly begun to fill the resulting awkward silence with another multitude of his stories. The tension lifted soon, and you found yourself laughing along with his jokes and retellings of events that had occurred to him, relaxing in the presence of your friends.
“It is time,” spoke the Queen from her seat on the bench after all light had fled the sky, gold around her shining like the sun as it was illuminated by the luminescent flowers as much as her hair did, which appeared like pure strands of gold. She cast a sweet smile to all present and you were once more completely caught up in the grace she radiated, as if a natural talent.
Your confusion was short lived as everyone gathered stood, and you felt yourself merely, utterly and completely trusting your friends as you stood up as well.
“It is time,” Thor picked up where his mother had begun, casting you the same smile with the slightly mischievous glint from earlier, “To help you in entering my brother’s cell.”
———
To say you had been caught off guard would have been not nearly enough to describe the surprise you had felt, which had too many aspects from different emotions to be but put into one box to be classified. In it lingered hints of mischief yourself, at going against the King’s orders, happiness regarding your friend’s attempt to help you in parting, but with it, also, the fear. Fear for many things, for them to be caught and suffering the repercussions and fear for Loki’s condition.
After all there was still no sign of him in your mind as you wandered along the darkened corridors, following behind Thor who led the way to the dungeons below. Getting past the guards was no problem for him, being the Crown Prince, and you tagged behind through the dimly lit staircase spiraling down to the one place you had arguably spent the most time during your stay on Asgard. Perhaps second only to the Healing Room.
The almost childish mirth you had felt upon Thor’s enthusiasm diminished almost completely once you entered the familiar, wide room, eyes immediately darting to the Prince’s cell as you strode closer to the barrier.
There he was, placed upon his bed in the corner not very unlike Snow White in her coffin made of glass; hair just as black as coal, spread around his head like some sort of halo, skin just as pale, just as white as snow and position just as serene. Despite being unresponsive, he held an unrivaled air of elegance and confidence upright, of grace and royalty.
In the corner of your eyes you caught Thor working on the code to open the barrier separating you from Loki, as one of the few who were even in possession of the key to unlock the cage resting before him. Luckily Ragnarr knew the guard’s schedule like the back of his hand, knowing exactly when who and where was to guard, and therefore picking the exact right time where the least interested people were present, barely casting a glance from the far corner of the room as they probably couldn’t even see enough to know what was happening.
The slight whisper-yell of your name made you look up from the sleeping Prince, eyes falling on Thor as he motioned you over with a nod of his head, a silent question.
Were you ready?
Actually, you weren’t sure. Were you?
Nonetheless your body acted before your mind could stop it, presenting him with a firm nod. Even your legs acted on their own as they brought you through the opened barrier and slowly closer towards the Prince.
“I am going to wait around the corner,” Thor spoke in a hushed whisper, barely loud enough for you to hear, “Should anything happen, please do not feel afraid to call for me.”
After you gave an affirmative nod, you saw him turn around to do as he said, your attention immediately snapping back to Loki once he was out of sight. His breaths were shallow but prominent, as he appeared to merely be sleeping, calmly, peacefully. A definite contrast to what must have been plaguing him on the inside, thoughts and memories, fears and doubts replaying over and over and forcing him to lock himself away in an attempt to cope with what he had seen. Probably.
Once your feet had stepped close enough, you crouched down next to him, biting your lip in anticipation before you gently reached for his head. Air almost seemed to fail you as you feared what you would see once you entered his mind, as you feared his possible reaction, his possible rejection, his possible anger directed at you for intruding on him while you couldn’t ask for permission, which he might have denied.
Yet you forced your lungs to work as you took in a shuddering breath, feeling an inward pull towards his mind.