Bróðir.
Loki's Perspective
It is a foolish decision, but it is one I make without thinking twice. With three of the Infinity stones in hand, power surges through my veins like liquid fire, and I feel my being slowly begin to unfurl, coming undone at the very threads that tie me into existence. It is a sweet pain, a beautiful burn that consumes me, but I have little time to dwell on it before I exist wholeheartedly. Everything that I am, or was, or will be, become one with a simple click that makes perfect sense.
I begin to understand who I am meant to be, and it was not who I masqueraded as. How stupid I had been. In the grand scheme of things, what are we? Why do we exist? We are but small insignificant things, living our lives to our very best ability. My father tried to teach me that a God was not above the lives of mortals, but I had refused to listen. I wasted my time wallowing over things I could not change. There are things that happen because they must. There are events that exist to lead us onto our destined paths, to reach our destined journey. So, I ask, am I supposed to be here?
With the stones, I can walk through time. I stepped through centuries to watch as innocent jokes filled with joy turned into cruel ones filled with malice. I noticed things I had never noticed before while living them. I saw the way my brother's expression changed when he looked my way, as pain flooded his eyes because he knew he was losing me but did not know how to stop it. I saw every failed attempt to reach out. I remembered every hand I slapped away.
I was not forced to behave in any kind of way. It was anguish, I saw now, not strength, that made me act out. How odd it was to witness your life from the third person point of view, realizing every false step, every mistake, judging your own actions from a different perspective. I had been childish. I longed for something more, but what I longed for was presented before me. Perhaps I had a choice, and I made the wrong one.
Perhaps there was only an illusion of choice?
Bah, that is far too philosophical. Of course, there is a choice. I made choices that led me here, to this place now, caught between my past and my present. I hear my mother's voice, but she sounds distant. She is teaching me, lecturing me about the importance of patience. She has not formed yet. Her colors are still blurred together.
"These things do not come easy, Loki."
Holding the stones tightly in hand, I open my eyes. I am standing inside a room I recognize.
* * * * * *
"But, mother, I understand," I tried to argue, but she shook her head. She would not listen. She had been in my shoes once, and she had reacted in a similar fashion. A small smile spread across her lips, an expression I had come to love.
"You do not understand, Loki, or you would be patient," she replied softly. Quietly, she sat down across from me and proceeded to pick up a large leatherbound book off of a table's surface. She cracked it open, and her eyes fell to the words scrawled across its pages. For a moment, she remained that way. She did not move, and she did not speak. Then, her eyes rose to my face.
"How does one read without patience?"
"They cannot."
"And why is that?"
"Because they would not wait for the ending, so they would miss it," I answered simply. Her smile stayed. She, once again, glanced down at the pages.
"You chastise your brother for his impatience."
"Yes, but-"
"But nothing, Loki. You need not chastise someone for making the same mistakes you make. There is a term the Midgardians have for such a thing. Do you know it?"
"Hypocrisy," I muttered.
"Hypocrisy. Do you know...when one nitpicks at another's bad traits, it is most likely because they themselves have similar traits they cannot stand," my mother questioned, closing the book and setting it aside. I had no reply, so I held my tongue.
"Learn to be patient. Learn to be understanding. Learn to be wise. Go now, play with your brother."
I did not need to be told twice. I did as she said, gathering up my things from that day's studies and heading toward the door.
"Loki."
"Yes, mother?"
"You are an intelligent boy, but that is not everything. To be well-rounded, you must learn compassion. Your brother has his own skills. Take the time to appreciate them as you do your own."
* * * * * *
I see her, but I know she is gone. Not now, not in my timeline. Not yet. I know that it will happen, just as I know I will die. Still, I watch this place I called home fade from view as I step out of it. It is a cool breeze, leaving my skin frozen. I continue forever more.
I hear Thor's boisterous voice before I see him. He and I are running through the woods, but I am far behind him. I see my past self struggling to keep up before giving up, preferring to walk instead. He runs on, leaving me in the dust.
His body whips past mine, but he does not acknowledge me. I am not of this time. I am of little concern to him.
* * * * * *
"Thor, the tr-" I shouted, but it was too late. I winced at the crack that resonated through the silence as Thor's face collided with the trunk of a tree that I had seen long before he had. He stumbled back into me, and our legs gave out. We tumbled to the forest's floor. I barely managed to roll out of the way of his weight, huffing in annoyance as he lied there dazed.
"You big oaf! What did I say?" I hissed.
"You were trying to warn me..."
"And?"
"And I did not listen." Thor slowly sat up, rubbing his head with his hand. I watched blood bubble up from a cut on his forehead, and I hesitantly reached out to swipe it away with my thumb. My eyes fell to it, and I noted the way it seemed to sparkle on my skin. With a quiet hum, I wiped it off on Thor's clothing. He looked at me incredulously but said nothing.
"Does it hurt?"
"No."
"Are you sure that is not because you have damaged your brain? Mother would be most upset..."
"Loki, I did not damage my brain."
"I believe your brain is already damaged enough if I am being quite honest."
Thor grabbed at me, but I moved out of the way with a big smile spread across my lips. He pulled back, suppressing a pained groan. It was nearly imperceivable, but it was enough to wipe the smile off my face. I crouched down beside him, peering into his eyes.
"It hurts?" I asked again.
"A little, yes."
"I knew it did. Stay still."
* * * * * *
I want to kill Thor, or at least I try to convince myself of that fact. I believe myself incapable of doing so. Though in my present, I have recently tried again, I have seen into a future where I am much more than that. A future where I am much more than the things I fear.
It is odd, seeing my brother and I acting as siblings should, but we were there without murderous intent glinting inside of our eyes. Without knives hidden behind backs. I was genuinely concerned for his wellbeing, and he genuinely wanted me there by his side. It is equally as odd to see a version of myself ignorant to the truth.
He has yet to hear the cruel things his brother has to say about the origin of his birth. He has yet to discover that he is nothing like his "people". They are not his family. He has yet to find out that he was lied to by his supposed father.
I envy him. When I close my eyes now, I am haunted by images of cerulean skin and the ice in my veins. My hands are cold to the touch. There is frost inside my lungs, and it hurts to breathe so instead I hold my breath. The tears that choke me are not caused by anger as I initially believed but by fear. I am afraid of being different than everyone else. I do not see it as a gift because I do not want to stand out. I already do, enough, and any more would be another's excuse to push me away.
I understand now that I am afraid of what my brother would do if he knew.
I am destroying our relationship to prevent my brother from doing so. The last word, if you will. I know that now.
So, if I hurt as much as I did, why was it Thor that looked devastated? I have to find out.