hamm3rtime | (no subject)

(no subject)

It was odd enough, for someone as large as Thor to be knocked to the ground, especially as he was currently in full armor.

It was several times odder, to find that he'd been knocked to the ground by his little brother, after having seen Loki die in his arms.

The Trickster didn't look entirely well, but that could possibly be attributed to the violent collision with Thor's chestplate. Breathlessly, Thor boggled uncomprehendingly at the man before him. It felt like a dream. It had to be. Loki was gone, along with their mother. Thor had been mourning them for so long.

Sprawled upon the ground, Thor managed a single, quietly broken query. "...Brother?"

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As Loki insisted that Thor had never had to claim worthiness, the elder brother's heart broke to the extent that he momentarily interrupted with a voice both haggard and desperate. "Loki-ii!"

At the prompting that Thor should fight or recapture his brother, the Thunderer's grimace was deep enough to make his entire face tight with the tenacity of it. "I will not! You do not decide my heart! Nor my choices! I can consider you my brother, whatever your response; I need not your permission!"

"Then you delude yourself, you cling to something that is nothing more than a dream within your head, impossible and fleeting. Why do you shy from reality when I do not have that choice?"

A part of him still longed for his days of ignorance when he had believed himself a prince in truth, when he had been sure of himself and his place in the world. He had been Loki Odinson, nothing could shake him from that, and now he was nothing. Not Odinson, not Laufeyson, but nothing.

"You have always had that choice." The tears were starting to overwhelm him by this point, and his throat constricted painfully in reaction to them. The grimace hadn't left him, but Thor's anger was now met with an equal amount of pain.

His hands hurt. His throat hurt. His heart hurt and he could barely see. The Thunderer had thoroughly had it with this entire situation and he didn't know how to get through to his brother.

"It is no dream; it is a truth you refuse to see. Even as that denial hurts us. I claim no perfection! No innocence in this! I claim to care! Are you so lost to me, now?!"

Loki wanted nothing more than to bury his dagger deep within Thor's breast now and watch as his life's blood pumped over the floor. He wished to grip him by the face and watch as his natural skin froze and damaged Thor's eyes until he was as physically blind as he was emotionally.

He did neither.

Instead, he allowed his skin to shift to his Aesir form, voice and expression a mask of entirely false calm. As if Thor still had hope in this, as if he were getting through in the way he wanted.

"And if I were not lost to you? If I embraced you as my brother, tell me how you believe that would end for us both. Tell me I should be welcomed back through the gates of Asgard as a prince and son. Can you tell so great a lie, Thor?"

For a moment that Thor could swear drew out far longer than it did, he watched his little brother. Loki had just burned him, and tell me how you believe that would end didn't exactly sound hopeful. But Thor was too devoted, too stubborn and loving, than to ever stop when he saw a chance before him such as this.

Three seconds passed, no more. Then the Thunderer had gathered his brother up in his arms. Yes, he feared being stabbed or burned. It didn't make any sense logically, but it was the only answer that he felt was right.

The rest he'd not bother to lie about. They could have that discussion after this moment. For now, the moment itself seemed like answer enough.

It was indeed answer enough, though likely not in the way Thor intended.

Loki stiffened in the embrace before his hand found a dagger and thrust it up and towards Thor's short ribs with the aim of sliding between two and finding vital organs beneath. He knew it would not kill his once-brother, Thor had the constitution and strength of ten warriors, but he wished only for freedom.

"You see? You think with your clouded heart and you do not understand the implications of your decisions. You think an embrace will make all right and that no other obstacle should stand in the way of the family you believe in. You are fool and fool again, Thor Odinson. I shall never be welcomed back to Asgard, only a cell awaits me there."

Choking, Thor released his brother and attempted to remove the blade. But his hands were too badly injured and too wet with blood, than to get a good grasp on the tiny sliver of metal.

He'd meant only to step backwards, away from his little brother. But pained as he was, that step turned into a stagger before his legs gave out entirely.

He didn't answer; he didn't know the words he might answer with. Everything was pain and loss and betrayal. But he wouldn't give up. He didn't know how to give up, and more than that, this was so important.

"...Loki..."

For a singular moment as Thor staggered and fell, Loki felt fear. It was gone in a flash, replaced by intense anger at himself for such a momentary weakness. If his blade had found an even keener mark than intended and this culminated in Thor dead at his feet, then he should rejoice. This was what he wanted.

So why, then, did the victory toll in his chest sound hollow and ache so?

His jaw firmed as he stepped forwards and pressed the sole of one booted foot to the hilt of the dagger still protruding from Thor's ribs, only so he could push it in deeper as if to prove to himself that he was not so sentimentally weak.

"Please tell me you are going to beg, it would be so entertaining."

Choking, then shouting out in pain as the blade was ground deeper, Thor began to pant haggardly.

The pain was too much and he stopped moving, for a second that seemed to Thor as though it lasted forever. Then, even as painful as it was to him, Thor swung out with one padded vambrace, to hopefully knock Loki's legs out from under him.

Between the agony, the rage, and the violence, Thor let out a snarling shout as he swung. Some distant part of his mind was worried that Loki may take such a reaction as a lack of care. But at this moment, Thor had to be focused on the here and now.

A laugh, knife-sharp and brittle, burst forth from Loki's lips as he hit the floor, his legs taken cleanly out from underneath him by Thor's desperate swing. The sound was wheezing and a little breathless for all the air in his lungs had been knocked from him.

"Do you see, brother?"

Loki made no attempt to move or right himself yet. He was not hurt and could come to his feet, but Thor was wounded and bleeding so he was unafraid of a counterattack. He imbued the word 'brother' with every ounce of scorn and venom within him, making it sound a scathing insult rather than a term of familial endearment.

"There is nothing between us but blood and pain."

"Is that your choice?!" Thor howled, still weeping. "It is not mine!"

Forcing his burned hand to clench down on the dagger again, Thor finally managed to pull it out of himself. He didn't look at the blood. Not because of his training to keep his eyes on an enemy, but instead because looking at it would make the betrayal seem too real.

"The time when you had a choice about such matters is gone. You have chosen your affiliates, your Avengers and Odin, you must live with the consequences of those choices."

Just as he must live with the consequences of his own choices. Something that he found hard to do, on occasion. Not that he would admit that even to himself, for to do so would be to risk opening wounds better left closed.

Too much shouting had turned Thor's throat and lungs slightly raw. His tone sounded choking and strained because of it.

"I made no such choices! Do you think they do not think me a betrayer for rescuing you?! Well did you see, the way we fought each other upon that hill, for you left in the midst of it! Need I always choose you?! Above everyone as you hurt them?! Might I not choose all I love?"

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