Severe Illness
When Thor sees the blood streaking the sheets, he panics. He scoops Loki into his arms as he keeps coughing wetly, the blood blooming on his lips. He feels so hot through the fabric of their clothes. He carries him through the halls of the ship to the makeshift infirmary they had painstakingly set up. It is early and he meets no one in the halls. The solitude in the halls makes him feel all the more afraid. It’s eerie, to be carrying Loki through the halls, the only sounds being the creaking of the ship and Loki’s increasingly weak coughs.
Thor bursts into the infirmary, startling the apprentice healer who was drinking tea in the quiet of the morning.
“You have to help him,” Thor cries.
She starts to tremble. “Um, lay him there…I’ll just fetch the lady Gudrun, she’ll know what to do,” She says frantically, rushing from the room. Thor lays Loki on one of the cots.
Loki grabs his arm. “Basin-” Thor rushes for it, getting it to Loki in time for him to retch into it, coughing up a good deal of phlegm and blood. He breathlessly falls back.
“She’s going to get Gudrun,” Thor says. His voice shakes. “It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay.”
Loki grabs his hand and holds it to his chest. “It is,” He croaks. His eyes are glassy but they manage to focus. “It’s okay, stop looking at me like that.” Thor’s face crumples. He hides it by kissing Loki’s forehead firmly, then burying his face in his hair. They stay like that until the apprentice returns, trailed by the older healer. Gudrun tries to shoo Thor away but he refuses to relinquish Loki’s hand.
“Young man, you should have come to me earlier.” She takes his temperature and listens to his lungs, then putters about finding and combining drugs. “This should make him feel a little bit more comfortable. We have not heard of anyone else falling ill,” She says softly. “But I will put out a notification. It’s possible you picked something up on the last off-planet visit.” Loki seems to be breathing a little easier as the medication takes hold. “Can you tell me your symptoms, your highness?” Loki explains how he had first felt fatigued, then began to cough.
Gudrun frowns when she hears how high the fever had gotten. “Has there been any delirium?”
“No,” Loki says at the same time Thor says, “Yes.” Loki glances up at his brother, frowning.
Thor clears his throat and squeezes his hand. “Last night, when we were going to bed. You thought…you asked for mother. You seemed to think it was decades ago.”
“…oh.”
“That’s not that bad,” Gudrun says softly. She quietly continues her examination, feeling his neck, taking his pulse. “I’ll need you to remove your shirt, your highness.” Loki hesitates, looking reluctant.
“Must I?” He glances at Thor. It’s absurd, that he suddenly is reluctant to bare his chest in front of Thor. They’d seen in each in various states of undress over the last thousand years, they’d been sleeping in the same bed for months.
But something clearly is making Loki uncomfortable about this.
“I’m sorry, your highness, but I do need you to remove your shirt.” Loki won’t look at him as he unbuttons his tunic and draws it aside. There’s a moment of dead silence when it comes off.
In the center of his chest, over his sternum, is a gnarled and discolored scar, roughly the size and shape of the Kursed’s blade.
Thor’s mouth goes dry as his mind flies four years in the past, watching Loki pierced by the massive blade, falling back with his hands grasping at his chest. Holding him in his arms as he apologizes, as his body grows limp and cold. Thor can’t breathe.
“I’m sorry, brother,” Loki says. “That you had to find out this way.”
“So, it was real.”
“Yes.” Thor grasps his shoulder and wavers slightly. He can’t process this.
“This wound…I have not seen a wound like this in an age. How did you come by it?” Loki won’t look at either of them as he summarizes he and Thor’s misadventures on Svartalfheim. There’s a buzzing in Thor’s ears. Gudrun places her hands on either side of the scar, feeding her magic through the grotesque flesh. “Hm, I think I recall some of the young ones discussing a similar plot from some theatrical performance,” She gives him a half smile to show she is joking. Loki returns it.
Thor doesn’t find any of this funny. “I thought you’d faked it…when I saw the play, when I confronted you, you said-”
“I said nothing. neither to confirm or deny, you drew your own conclusions.”
“Loki, do not lie and imply that you didn’t want me to believe you had faked it.” Thor scrubs a hand through his hair. “What…Loki, you stopped breathing. I swear, your heart…I would not have left you if I had thought…you know that, right?” Thor is on the verge of tears; they are becoming more and more difficult to hold in.
“Your majesty, there will be a time to discuss this,” Gudrun says. “But first, we need to talk about what this means for this illness.” She fixes her eyes on Loki. “The scar has healed poorly. It is tying up pieces of your magic. The virus, whatever you picked up, is eating through your seidr, making the illness far worse than it would normally be. I believe it may be slowly opening up the wound, which would explain the blood. Does it hurt?”
Loki hesitates, then nods. “Since I fell ill, there has been pressure, constantly. And before that, on occasion…it would wake me up at night, aching.” Thor hadn’t noticed. Loki had been suffering, a wound he received saving his life, and he had not noticed. Hadn’t hesitated to believe that Loki had faked the whole thing the moment he learned he was alive.
“Does it hurt when I press like this?” Loki winces. “I suppose that is my answer.”
“What do we do?” Thor says, voice low.
“This is beyond my skill. If we were on Asgard, I would advise you to go to Eir. Now…we need to make for a port with healing facilities. We have a little time. I believe you’re not in any mortal danger, highness. But this will get worse. If it is not this illness, it could be the next one, or the next. Until healers can untangle your seidr from the knot of the wound, you will be susceptible to illness. Eventually, you will be unable to use your magic. Eventually, it will kill you.”
Thor’s hand forms a fist and he squeezes. “I won’t let that happen. Where is the best place to go?”
“I will provide a list. The Watcher should be able to locate the closest and safest.” Gudrun lets Loki go. “You may dress, highness. For now, we will make you comfortable and keep the fever down. That’s the best we can do.”
Thor has to step out for a minute. He buries his face in his hands and tries to think of nothing.
Gudrun creates a cocktail of medicines with their limited supply that ease the cough and keep the fever in check. They also have a mild sedative effect, leaving Loki heavily relaxed, barely able to lift his head from the pillow.
“She and Heimdall consulted,” Thor says. “We’ll be at something called the Citadel in three days time.”
“And what are they going to do there?” Loki’s words come out slurred.
Thor takes his hand. “They’ll do their best to untangle the magics that the Kursed’s blade twisted in your chest. They may also know this illness, be able to help you recover quicker.”
“Hm,” Loki says. “I suppose that’s just another thing we took for granted on Asgard. Eir. We never had to travel for these sorts of things.”
“Loki, we have to talk about this.”
“About what?” He asks, eyes drifting closed.
“When did you decide to trick me? The truth, this time.”
Loki sighs, opening his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was alive,” Loki says. “It wasn’t yet a lie when last you held me on Svartalfheim. I truly thought I was dying. I felt the cold and the darkness and then the pain was bleeding away and I thought, this, this isn’t that bad. Certainly better than the first time, in the Void. I drifted for a while, but then I felt the pain creeping in again. I awoke laying in the sands and I was cold and alone. And my chest hurt so badly.”
Thor twitches. “I swear to you, if I had even an inkling of hope that you were still alive,” Thor says. “I would never have left you there.”
“Yes, you would have brought me back to Asgard to be healed. And then the cell, right?” Thor says nothing but Loki nods. “I was to be locked away, to live out the rest of my sentence, or perhaps punished worse because I had escaped. You should have known from the second you took me from my cell that I wasn’t going back there. Yes, I had no intention of returning to Asgard a prisoner. I meant it to be by means of my death, when I saw that was the only way to defeat the monster. But then I survived. I wasn’t about to go running after you so you could drag me back like a good dog to my kennel.
“I managed to heal myself, though poorly, as we’re now discovering, and I slipped back through the path to Asgard. I confronted Odin. We argued. I think I was a bit delirious, but I remember thinking…how funny it would be to put him in one of the places the Midgardians squirrel away their elderly. I had just enough power and he was so old. I wrapped him in as many confusion and binding spells as I could and brought him to New York. Made up a story about…let’s see if I remember it…about being an only child, living far away, and I just can’t take care of poor old dad, you see? Went back to Asgard wearing his face. Banished Heimdall so I wouldn’t be found out. Ruled tediously. I started doing more and more…ridiculous things. Because I thought he would come back. I thought you would come back. So I built a statue and fantasized about the fight we would have when you or Father returned and saw it. But nothing. I wrote everything into the play, still nothing. I just kept thinking someone would come back and no one ever did.”
“It sounds like…it sounds like you wanted to be caught. That you wanted to be punished. Loki, what-”
“I didn’t want to be punished, I wanted to be seen. Anyway.” Loki wipes a tear of his cheek. “You did come back, eventually. It didn’t quite happen the way I wanted. But. Well. You were there for that part.”
Thor is silent for a while. “I wish I could say you were wrong,” he finally says. “About me returning you to your cell. But I can’t. I would not have thought to do anything different than return you to the prison when we were done. But…it still pains me greatly to imagine you waking alone, in pain.” He wraps Loki’s hand in both of his. “And even…even being alone for so long under the glamour on Asgard. We can talk about Father later, after this is over. But just know: I won’t leave you this time. They’re going to have to put you to sleep to heal the scar, or so says Gudrun.” Loki’s expression remains carefully schooled, but Thor is good enough now at reading his brother to see the anxiety through the stoicism. “I swear, you will not wake alone. You will not be alone for a moment, okay? I will be there.” Loki nods.
Bruce lets all the air out of his lungs in a long whoosh.
“Magic,” He says, sounding faint. “Magic is…doing what exactly?” He sounds faint and Thor knows he was right to seek out the Asgardian healer first. Bruce still looks a bit wan as Thor explains what he understood of Gudrun’s diagnosis, but agrees to look at scans. He images Loki’s chest and projects the pictures onto the wall.
“Jesus, yeah, it’s like…it’s like pneumonia, or a really aggressive tumor, but I wouldn’t even know where to start pulling it apart. You’re sure it’s magic?”
“It was a wound, poorly healed by use of magic,” Thor replies. “That is the obvious conclusion. Though I suppose we’ll find out if we’re wrong and…take things from there.”
There’s a brief argument about whether or not Thor and Loki should both travel to this unknown planet together, especially when one of them was so severely weakened. It apparently as a bit of a reputation, but the hospital itself is in a relatively safe region. In the end the look on Thor’s face silences the dissenters and the Valkyrie agrees to go with them and the argument ends. Gudrun contacts the administrators and explains their situation. They agree to help, for a minimal cost.
Thor has to carry Loki off the ship, wrapped in a cloak. It takes two days to reach the Citadel, and Loki grows weaker by the moment. The fever was still fighting the basic medications they had on board the ship and he had slipped back into a half-conscious, restless state. Even in his most lucid moments were now confused and unfocused. His magic is fading, down to the color in his eyes dulling. Thor stays by his side as much as he can.
He moans, shifting in Thor’s arms, as they stand waiting for the doors to the Citadel to open. The Valkyrie turns and the expression on her face softens. She lays a hand on Loki’s arm, rubbing the cloak softly.
“I’ve never much liked hospitals,” She says after a moment.
“Me neither.” Thor hitches Loki’s body up, holding him more securely in his arms.
“He’ll be alright, majesty,” Valkyrie says. “If he’s survived this much, there’s no way he’s going to be taken down by a stupid fever and some twisted magics.” Thor nods. He smiles weakly. She gives Loki’s arm a last soft pat before letting go.
The elevator doors open and they are met with four physicians, dressed in sky blue, with a stretcher. Thor’s heartbeat speeds up at the thought of putting Loki down. But the Citadel staff are patient and kind, their hands gentle as they help Thor lay Loki down. Loki twists when he’s released.
“Cold,” He mumbles. He reaches for Thor and grasps his arm.
“I’m here, it’s alright. Can I…?” He asks one of the doctors.
“Of course, your majesty,” She responds. “We don’t believe in separating patients from their support systems here. You’re welcome to stay with him, stay touching him, whatever you believe will keep him comfortable.”
“Thank you,” He says earnestly. The room is small, but clean. A window provides fresh, cool air, blissful after weeks shut away on the ship. The doctors help Loki out of his shirt and place a needle in the back of his hand, taping it in place. They draw blood and take it away for testing. For now, they put him on a general fever reducer and painkiller. It works quickly, and soon Loki is blinking his bleary eyes open.
“Thor?”
“I’m here.”
Loki shifts in the bed, leaning towards him. “Are they going to do it? Do something?”
“Soon, they’re waiting for some tests.”
“Ah.” Loki shifts again, wincing.
“Are you still in pain?”
“A bit. I wish they would just get it over with.”
Thor takes his hand. “It will be over soon. It will be alright soon.”
“Soon is not now,” Loki mutters bitterly.
They have to wait about half a day, but the surgeons come for him. Thor sits by his head, keeping a hand rested on his hair. Loki tries to hide his fear as they lie him flat and remove his shirt.
The scar looks even worse than before, black and gnarled. Threads of it spread over the skin of his chest.
“It will be alright, your highness,” One of them says. “You’ll sleep through the whole thing.” Loki twitches.
“I’m here,” Thor murmurs. They slide two needles into the crook of his arm and start the flow of drugs.
“Are you sure about this?” He whispers.
“It’s going to be alright.”
Loki blinks rapidly, fighting unconsciousness as they start to pull him under. “Thor-”
“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here. Don’t be afraid.”
“I don’t-” Anxious tears squeeze out of the corner of his eyes.
Thor pets back his hair. “It’s okay. I promise.” The drugs prove more powerful than the anxiety and slowly, Loki’s breath evens out and his eyes flutter shut.
“He’s out, let’s get started.” The slip a mask over his nose and mouth and put up a curtain so Thor doesn’t have to watch as they start to cut into his flesh. Thor keeps his hand on Loki’s forehead and closes his eyes. Power spikes as the mages start unraveling the twisted and mutated threads of magic.
It takes hours and hours, Loki unnervingly still for the duration. Thor squeezes his eyes shut and tells himself it’s okay, they’re just on Asgard, after one of their various misadventures. They definitely weren’t on some foreign planet, entrusting their lives to complete strangers. Nope, that wasn’t it. Eir would come along any moment now and console him and their mother would scold him for letting Loki get hurt. Precisely.
They finish and stitch the wound back together.
“If it worked,” They tell Thor. “The wound will be closed by the time he wakes up. His own magic should take over healing now. There will still be a significant scar but it should be white and smooth. Larger than it would have been if he had sought proper healing from the start.”
“Thank you,” Thor says. “Can I ask…if we had not done this now? How long did he have?”
Two of the physicians exchange a look. “You shouldn’t torment yourself with that answer, your majesty.”
“Please.”
“Your ship’s healer was incorrect in her conclusions. This sickness would have killed him. It was a matter of days, your majesty.” The room spins.
“He was dying.”
“Yes, your majesty. The situation was very grave. But you were lucky, you made it here in time and he will recover fully. He will still be fatigued for some time, and shouldn’t overextend his magic for at least another few weeks, but he will be fine.”
He was dying, Thor thinks, watching the even rise and fall of his chest. He was dying and you nearly lost him again.
The Valkyrie returns to their room. “How did it go?” She asks quietly, touching his shoulder.
“He’ll be fine. But Val…he…he was dying.”
Her brow furrows. “I thought Gudrun said-”
“She was wrong. This sickness would have done it. It was a matter of days, they said.”
“Shit. Are you okay?” Thor nods tightly. “Do you want to get some air?” He very much does want to. He wants clean air, sunshine, the feel of the breeze on his skin. But he will not allow Loki to wake up without him, as he promised, so he stays.
The Valkyrie falls asleep in a chair by the door. The drugs start to wear off around sundown and Loki stirs.
“Worked,” He slurs.
“Is that a question or a statement?”
“Statement.” He still hasn’t opened his eyes. He takes a deep breath, tilting his head tiredly towards Thor. “My magic doesn’t hurt anymore.” He smiles faintly.
Thor reaches out and squeezes his hand. “Your magic was hurting you?”
“Not all the time. Just when I woke up, like it was too tired to wake. Doesn’t, now.”
“You’re going to be okay. And when you’re feeling a little more lucid we are going to have a very long talk about hiding your pain and how dangerous it is to lie to me. Right, dear brother?”
Loki moans. “Must we?”
“No more lies, Loki. No more lies, no more secrets, no more hiding yourself in the dark to lick your wounds like an injured cat.”
Loki blinks his eyes open, wincing at the bright lights. “Fine.”
“See, I know you’re still feeling ill. You agreed with me far too quickly.”
“Hm. You’re getting good at this.” Loki rolls onto his side. “Did you just call me a cat?”
“I said you were like a cat.” Thor smooths back his hair. “Will you deny it?”
“You’re petting me like a cat.” But for his complaints, Loki relaxes, eyes fluttering closed. “I think I need…sleep.”
“Yes. We’ll talk about this later.”
Three days later he insists on walking himself back to the ship, without assistance.
“You heard what they said, I am fine.”
“You’re being selective. They said you will be fine, but that you should take it easy-”
“I am taking it easy, I’m walking three hundred meters onto the ship, not hiking to Vanaheim.” Loki snaps.
“Don’t get cranky on me.”
“I will ask you for help if I need it. Is that sufficient?”
“Fine.” To Loki’s credit, he makes it nearly all the way back to their room. If they hadn’t run into some concerned citizens, who were quite worried now that the news of his near-death had spread, he might have made it all the way. As it happens, he sways and has to steady himself on the wall just as they meet Bruce in the corridor.
“Hey, you sure you’re okay to be out of the hospital?”
“Of course,” Loki snaps. “I’m fine.”
“Loki’s always hated being cared for. As soon as he starts feeling even a little bit better he gets very grumpy indeed.” Thor loops Loki’s arm around his shoulders.
“I hate you.”
“I love you.” He settles him into bed, silencing all protest with a stern look. Bruce catches them up on the goings-on of the ship, what they’ve missed in the days they’ve been away.
“We should try to find ice cream, next planet we land on.”
Loki raises an eyebrow at Bruce’s suggestion. “What for?”
“My mom used to give it to me when I was sick. I had to have my tonsils out as a kid and ice cream made me feel better.”
“Ice cream?” The Valkyrie asks.
“It’s milk and sugar, combined and frozen, comes in lots of flavors,” Thor responds.
“Ah, we had something like that on Sakaar, but it was usually too hot for the actual stuff, only the boss’s favorites got the genuine thing.”
“I could ask the Hulk…” Bruce and the Valkyrie keep talking about the differences between ice cream…and whatever knockoff they had on Sakaar. Thor glances down at Loki. Despite all his protests that he was fine, he’s already fallen back to sleep, hands resting loosely on his chest.
He was dying. Thor’s smile falters. He was dying.