Chapter 1
Flames.
Violent, scorching flames.
Engulfing all of Asgard with its obsidian smoke.
Gone.
Everything.
Incinerated.
How ironic for the death of Asgard to be its best chance of survival.
It would be funny if it weren’t so hauntingly traumatic.
Where would they go? Who could they turn to? Who could they trust?
Midgard. The Avengers. Nobody.
Loki could do nothing but watch. Watch as his childhood blew away into the abysmal darkness of space, never to be recovered again. Lost to the stars.
In a way, it was therapeutic. To receive a visual of what he had already experienced. How he wished he could enjoy the view. How Loki wished it didn’t hurt so.
He turned away.
Like he always did.
Like a coward.
He turned, and walked away, choking back a sob. The sob a child releases when they lose their parents in a crowd and wish to be found. Loki feels so small. Small and afraid, and all he wants is to be held.
All he wants is for his mother to hold him and tell him everything will be okay, that he’s safe. That no matter what happens, she’ll be there.
But she can’t.
He failed her.
He failed everyone.
Now he and the rest of Asgard must suffer the consequences.
Loki, Loki, Loki…
Whatever will your people do now?
…
Isolation was lonely.
But perhaps that’s the point.
Isolation hurts.
But perhaps that’s why Loki craves it.
Isolation is familiar.
A seduction of sorts. It taunts, beckons, and embraces you like an old friend.
You feel safe for a while, but it only ends in pain. Most of Loki’s decisions end in pain.
Was he cursed? Or was he merely another victim of his parents’ failures manifesting into the form of an adult who never learned right from wrong?
It’s hard to tell.
All Loki knew was that he hurt. Himself. Family. Friends. Even strangers. He was a menace to his body and those of others.
That is why he craves isolation.
You can’t hurt if you’re alone.
“Brother?”
Familiarity. Compassion. Forgiveness.
That voice carries so many memories and emotions— it’s vocalization a tidal wave of love and affection. No matter how unworthy the receiver of that voice is.
His thundering footsteps inched ever closer to Loki’s crumpled up body.
Curled in a ball, like a child.
Tucked away into a dark corner, away from prying eyes.
But that man with his unwarranted care, his heavy steps, and his loving arms that search out damaged individuals to embrace and ignite life and warmth into. That man doesn’t allow isolation.
He condemns it.
Sees it for what it really is.
Self destruction.
A tool to further a man’s descent into madness.
He always was the smarter brother.
He knelt down besides Loki’s curled up body. Placed a cautious hand onto his shoulder and just waited. Waited for a reaction, to see if this type of attention was welcomed. To see if he would be attacked.
“How do you fare?”
It was a simple enough question. How does he fare?
How does he fare?
Loki is so unsure of himself.
Scared? Regretful? Depressed? All of the above?
He settled for no answer at all.
Why bother expending the energy on such a simple question when all he really wants is to fade away into the background. Forgotten.
He’s been forgotten before.
It was achingly painful, but oh so peaceful.
Thor was too empathetic to abandon his little brother, especially after Svartalfheim.
Never again.
He wasn’t letting go again.
So Thor laid down and wrapped himself around Loki like a blanket. He squeezed with a tremendous amount of strength. As if he were trying to hug the guilt and hatred out of Loki. And as they lie there, for just a moment it felt like it was working.
…
Midgard was vast. Space was vast too, but space was empty. Space was fear. Space was where optimism goes to die.
Midgard was vast, but it was full. Lively, green, brown, blue— every color you could imagine. You could walk and walk and walk and there would be more land. More ocean. More life. Midgard would have no trouble taking in more life. Why should it? Its resources plentiful, its landscape wide. The mortals should have no problem accommodating New Asgard.
But they did.
Norway’s SHIELD came and warned Thor that he couldn’t bring his people to this land. That they would have to go somewhere else.
But where else is there to go?
Asgard is nothing but rubble and ash, Svartalfheim a barren wasteland, Vanaheim was too small to accommodate so many refugees. It took New Asgard a year to arrive on Midgard, only to be turned away immediately.
Why?
Why do the mortals fear those who are different?
Why do they hate those who are in crisis?
Why?
So Thor asked for the Avengers.
Surely they could help.
But they couldn’t.
The Avengers were disbanded.
Their members currently arguing over political differences, and those who need them are suffering in their absence.
The Norns are truly cruel.
What will become of Loki’s people now?
Thor cried that night. He cried and cried and cried until he could cry no more. Abandoned. His friends, his brothers in arms, the very people he swore to protect, abandoned him in his time of need. He wasn’t angry. He never was.
He always was the dumber brother.
…
It was night. The stars only a stain of their former glory. So few showed in Midgard’s sky. Funny, Loki remembered there being more.
He stared up into the night sky, thinking. He could help his people, but how? He knew he could. If he could hurt his people he could help them. Everything is a choice and Loki has decided that he wants to make better choices now. But how?
Does he pledge alliance to SHIELD? Regroup the Avengers? Drain his magic to cast a permanent illusion over New Asgard? Hide them from mortals’ eyes? Loki never was good at making good choices.
“You seem troubled, your majesty.”
A soft voice and even softer footfalls. Heimdall, the all seeing. Heimdall, the all forgiving.
“Perhaps I am.”
It’s been a while since he’s spoken. His voice feels raw, hoarse. Sounds far too loud. He regrets his decision to speak.
“Would you like to know what I think?”
It was phrased as a question, but it wasn’t. Not truly. Heimdall was kind like that. Neither Thor nor Loki deserved his loyalty or care, but that never stopped the darker man from bombarding them with it.
“I think you already know what you must do. I think you’re just scared of the outcome. You fear for your fate, you fear the consequences. You fear what you will have to sacrifice in order to save your people. And that’s okay. I also think you should talk to Thor. Ask for his insight. Stop isolating. It rots your brain, your majesty.”
Loki didn’t need to look to know of the smirk on Heimdall’s face. All seeing, all knowing, all too smart.
…
“I’m going to bargain with your Avengers.”
“Excuse me?”
It was out of the blue, abrupt, just at the last minute. New Asgard was rounding up to move on to the next destination. Loki was always good at dramatic timing.
“I said, I’m going to bargain… with the Avengers.” His chest felt tight, Heimdall was right. He did fear.