Dreyma
Loki's Perspective
The water roars loudly, and the volume of it is nearly deafening. I continue on regardless, eyeing the wooden sign he painted with the name of his Kingdom. New Asgard. It is saddening to see that he has not moved on, or perhaps he has, but a piece of him clings to the memory of home. I cannot say that I blame him. For some, it is harder to let go. This place smells of pain. It has soaked into the wood of the structures, has made a refuge for itself. It hides out of view so that no one may find it. I see it, lingering in the cracks, but it is my own.
I am afraid to step foot in this village that rests on the cliff my father died upon. I wish to see my brother, but no. I left my brother behind in my own timeline, and this is not him. But, I suppose at the same time, it is. The brother that I left behind will grow into this man I am too frightened to see now. I stand at the mouth of this place, listening to the water smash against the stones below.
The air around us is a shroud of mist, obscuring this place from view. The sky above is a darkened gray, warning of bad weather approaching. There is one who commands the storms. I figure he must've been unhappy, though I am unsure why. I change my face for his sake, taking a deep breath before stepping foot inside his kingdom.
Thor Odinson, God of Lightning, lives on a small incline at the far edge of the village. It is most obvious. The house that sits there towers over all else and screams of tradition. The entirety of this place looks old, as though it had not been built recently, but I know that this cliffside used to be free of everything that was not grass and stone.
Now the remainder of Asgard lies here.
No one glances my way. In all their years of life, after everything they've lived through, they still have not learned to be suspicious of new faces. None of them notice me as I pass by, or so I thought.
I feel eyes on me. A woman is staring my way, and I recognize her as someone I should know. I do know her, except I do not. I have not seen her yet, but I have. It should have been confusing, but it made perfect sense. I had to stop with the "shoulds" and "should nots". I was Loki Laufeyson, but I was Loki Odinson as well. Prince of Jotunheim, God of Mischief. Thor's brother.
I swallow past the lump that has risen in my throat, but her gaze does not waver. She is approaching. Swearing quietly, I turn away from her and try to seem less suspicious. She is not buying it.
"...who are you," she questions.
Valkyrie. Brunnhilde. I remember.
"Where is Thor? Is he there," I respond, gesturing to the house on top of the hill. At the very edge of the cliff.
"He will not see anyone. Why do you ask? I don't recognize you."
"...It doesn't concern you. I need to speak to m...to Thor. I need to speak with him, so if you would kindly..."
"You can try to speak to him, but he has been busy lately."
My eyes fall upon the house, but I say nothing to her. My mind is elsewhere. With the Tesseract in hand, Space is mine to control. I knew this. I had to. I had managed to search the far expanses of Midgard seeking other stones in the past. Stupidly, I had walked into this town without the need to.
But, there is a part of me that wanted to see my brother's progress. I am impressed with what he has accomplished thus far, but the awkward nature of the reunion with Brunnhilde left me with my own doubts. Perhaps traveling here, to this time, was a foolish decision. There was no need to come here, but I could not deny how I felt.
"I shall visit him then," I answer. Her brow arches.
"Who are you?"
"That is a difficult question to answer because not even I am sure," I say solemnly, my eyes falling onto her face. She seems surprised by my reply, but she doesn't push. After a second, her face hardens.
"Don't try anything funny."
"Of course."
Nothing else is said between us as I walk, closing the distance between me and my brother one step at a time. The home towers over me, casting a shadow across my face as I approach the door. There are runes engraved in its oak, and I am reaching for it before I can stop myself. My fingertips brush against the symbols carved into the wood, and I am surprised by their roughness as they kiss my skin.
Thor, Son of Odin, King of Asgard, God of Thunder.
I do not knock. I let myself into the home silently. The only light inside the room comes from the windows, and it paints everything a depressing color that resembles ash. I see my brother staring outside, and I feel my breath catch inside my throat. I say nothing.
Words do not greet me.
"What do you need, woman?" He questions suddenly, drawing my attention to him. He looks older than when I last have a memory of him. His hair has grown, tangled in dirty locks that rest at his shoulders. Stress shapes his face in clear distinct lines, and I wish to soothe them away with my fingertips or with my lips.
He is not looking my way. Instead, he keeps his eyes glued on the world outside of this room.
"If you wish to be out there so badly, why are you not?"
"...I wish to be alone."
"The name you have chosen...New Asgard, well, it is rather obvious. Is it not?" Now, he glances my way. I cannot read his expression as I often could in the past. As far as I am able to discern, he looks tired.
"I have never seen you before."
"Yes, I expected that much."
"Who are you?"
"I will answer your question, but first I must know...what is today? Why do you look so upset?"
There is a heavy silence that falls over our heads, and for a moment, I am afraid that I have overstepped my boundaries. He turns away from me, and it takes every ounce of my strength to keep from begging him to look at me. He is not the brother that I knew. He has seen things, experienced things I could not imagine, and he has lost everything he has ever held dear. Loss changes a man in inconceivable ways.
"Today is the anniversary of my...brother's death. The day I lost my people, my home. If you were Asgardian, you would know this. So, I ask again, who are you?"
I pause. I hesitate.
I cannot bear to see him look so broken with his inner light dimmed to darkness, where it should have, instead, been blinding.
"I am Loki...Loki Odinson, as I have come to accept."
Again, Thor turns my way, and I drop the illusion.
He drops to the floor.