Chapter Text
Loki had magicked himself only as far as the garden terrace in order to feed Sleipnir, stroking his son’s muzzle softly. The little horse was a contradiction: of violent conception and loving birth, intelligent and a beast all the same, a symbol of Loki’s defeat and yet the most precious lesson he could ever have learned. Soon Loki would adjourn to the battlefield, where he must put his time as a horse and its much-loved result far from his mind. “I will see you once more before I go, my love,” Loki told his son. “You will not suffer my loss.”
When he returned to Thor’s rooms, his brother still stood by the door looking utterly lost for a man who could slip on his battle armor wounded, half asleep, and in the middle of a good fucking. Sif and Thor rarely fought, so aligned in temperament were they, but when they did fight, it always proved incendiary. Loki really should have stayed to observe the end of it, but a dramatic exit had proved too tempting.
“I must apologize, brother, for Sif’s impertinence,” Thor said, falling heavily to the bed and still not moving to adorn himself with his armor.
Loki scoffed. Sif was ever impertinent. It was one of her finer qualities. “She is her own woman, Thor. Let her stand for her own discourtesy or risk her wrath by speaking on her behalf as you would a courtly maiden.”
Thor nodded, letting his head fall forward in defeat. The back of his neck looked pale and vulnerable from Loki’s vantage point above him. “Again, you shame me with your wisdom.”
Thor cupped Loki’s jaw, staring deep into his eyes. Loki wondered, not for the first time, what Thor saw when he gazed at Loki with all of his attention. On one hand, Thor was a man of simple wants and coarse understanding; he would only see his love for Loki and be blinded to the jagged edges of resentment and malintent that Loki knew defined him. On the other hand, Loki was never so naive as to believe that he could understand his own soul in its entirety. Perhaps Thor had scouted good, on the outskirts where Loki’s vision could not reach.
Thor kissed gently, but his muscles were tense with anticipation. Thor was forever a beast tied by a tenuous lead. He spoke softly: “Know that I would never doubt your loyalty.”
Thor, as always, appeared utterly guileless. But that was the beauty of a blunt instrument such as Thor: he could lie to others with utter conviction so long as he could be made to lie to himself. “Do not promise what you cannot know,” Loki snapped. “I have the blood of our enemy running through my veins. You would do right to fear it.”
Thor grasped Loki by his shoulders, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to bruise. “I could never fear you, Loki. I love you with all my heart.”
Loki sighed. He had often dreamed of a day like this, when his control of Thor became utterly complete. It had felt magnificent, sharing solitude with Thor as a horse, to have his brother all to himself for once. Then it had felt even better to have the duties of the crown break Thor so thoroughly that he would actually listen to Loki’s council. And then, even though it was a perversion of all Loki felt for his brother, it had been impossibly beautiful to hold in his hand Thor’s manhood and steal away his heart.
However, Loki had not imagined the burden of that trust placed on him. He had never wondered who would check his power if not the future king of Asgard. He could not have anticipated how adrift he suddenly felt with no one to question his motives or reign in the darker impulses. This was the burden of power, the lie of ultimate freedom. Loki felt no surer at the top than he had while striving towards it. He had arrived at the end of his journey to power to find himself alone in a room without even Thor, the ever-present disorderly nuisance, to keep him company.
As he let his own brother ravish his mouth, fueled by fledgling romance and warlust, Loki wondered if he could even trust himself after he'd allowed such base perversions in his quest for power. They were not brothers in blood, he reminded himself. But Loki did not love Thor with the all-consuming power that Thor loved him. Loki honestly did not know if he was capable of it. He found that he wished he was, even though it was a foolish sentiment, meant only for children.
“I am born of ice, with winter in my veins.”
“You are the sun and the moon and it is pure magic that spurs your heart to beat.” Thor’s palm was so warm on Loki’s breast. Did a heart even beat beneath his firm caress? “I do not care if you were conceived by monsters. You have been by my side since you were but a babe. You are Loki of Asgard. I will not hear you say otherwise.”
Loki thought he would relish to see Thor so crippled by his love and blind to Loki’s intent, but it was a cold pain in his chest, knowing that he had succeeded in so decimating all of his brother’s shields. It only made him despair to see the brother he loved so cowed. Thor was not glorious like this.
Loki grabbed Thor’s wrist tight enough that only Mjolnir herself could break his hold. “Thor, you must listen to me. I am a fairer strategist than you and I command your love. But you are the beating heart of Asgard. You feel on her behalf in a way I do not. Perhaps my blood prevents me from ever understanding what it is to be Aesir or perhaps I simply lack the sentiment. You must never forget that your duty is to our people and to our realm and, as prince or king, you must put that duty first, always. You cannot abdicate that responsibility to me. Not ever. Promise me.”
Thor looked so impossibly sad. Loki despised his pity, pushing him away. Thor’s love had always been as belittling as it had been magnificent.
Loki insisted, “Do not speak again, brother, not until you give me your word.”
“How can I promise to trust you less? To love you less? I cannot promise to change how I feel.”
Loki conjured a blade of ice. It came easier now, knowing that it should be natural as drawing breath. He ran the dagger’s jagged tip down Thor’s cheek, scratching but never penetrating the flesh. “Do not change how you feel. I only ask that when you act as king you will use that densely muddled brain of yours rather than sentiment. Especially your feelings towards me.”
“I promise. But Loki, you would never--”
“I am one of them, Odinson. If we win this war, you will carry my true father’s head back to Asgard. We will slaughter my siblings and leave destitute my people. And you and I will rejoice and make love upon the throne of those hateful betrayers.”
“Loki, if this war would hurt you--”
“No, Thor, you are doing it even now. You are compromising yourself out of sentiment. It is pathetic, unbefitting of a true King of Asgard. I will love you only in all your glory. Laufey cannot be allowed to amass more power. If you believe the cause is just, you must follow through. If it hurts me, even if I die, you must continue. If Laufey is guilty of what I believe him to be, they must all perish. You cannot flinch. You cannot think of me when you deliver the crushing blow.”
Thor nodded, contrite, bereft, longing for some comfort that Loki did not feel capable of providing. Loki pulled their foreheads together and they leaned against one another at that single point of contact the way they had as children, scared of night terrors and huddled together beneath the covers. Their breaths synchronized without conscious thought.
“We go to war,” Loki said, allowing his hand to linger only a moment on the soft material of Thor’s tunic. “You must lead your troops and I must settle my affairs. I ask only one favor.”
“Anything.”
That earned Thor a slap. “What did I just say about promises?”
“Then I shall not make you any. What is it you desire, Prince Loki? If the good of the people allows, you shall have it.” Thor was not taking things seriously, but time to convince him was not a luxury they could afford.
“I ask that Sif remain with me.”
Thor frowned. “You and Sif were in screaming disagreement mere moments ago. Would you not rather have Volstagg or perhaps Hogun?”
“Rest assured, brother, no harm will come to Sif and she will do no harm to me.” With his magic, Sif was no match for Loki and despite her doubts about Loki’s own motives, she had never forgotten the day when during sewing circle, Loki had passed her a stolen practice sword. She also had not forgotten that it had been Loki that commissioned her first set of armor and Loki who had persuaded Thor to let her train with them. At first, Loki had only been amused by the chaos a maiden in the training yards would bring, but he soon grew to respect Sif, even though he had never held an exceptional fondness for her. It was the same cunning forethought that Loki used to help her that made Sif wary of him now. And it was the same stubborn determination that had allowed Sif to become a warrior that plagued Loki and his current plans.
“Brother, that is hardly an endorsement. Sif might not attack a prince of Asgard, but she will make trouble if kept too long from the battlefield.”
“She’s eager only because she does not trust the others to curb your recklessness. I would be inclined to leave her by your side, as you will inevitably forget to guard your flank. But I must perform a spell that requires attributes unique to Sif.”
“I do not understand you two,” Thor admitted.
“Nor should you.”
Loki let Thor kiss him one last time. It was passionate and lingering this time, unequivocal. He had made his own brother fall in love with him. It was either Loki’s greatest achievement or his eternal shame.
Loki refused to dwell on the ghost of that kiss as he made his way towards the artifact room.