Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1709816.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Journey_into_Mystery, Thor_(Comics), Thor_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      Loki/Thor
  Character:
      Loki_(Marvel), Thor_(Marvel), Ikol, Victor_von_Doom
  Additional Tags:
      Body_Horror, Consent_Issues, Violence, Incest, Size_Difference, Alternate
      Universe_-_Canon_Divergence
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-05-29 Words: 5286
****** you can't choose what stays and what fades away ******
by cm_(mumblemutter)
Summary
     Loki saves Thor.
Thor returns from the void - different.
No one questions it, no one even notices. Who questions the very heart of
Asgard?
But - Loki greets him with a smile as he walks down a hallway and receives
nothing in return. The barest of nods, that's all. There is no expression on
his face, none at all.
Everything starts to change.
Everything.
*
Loki ventures to the great hall, finds the All-Mother gone.
Thor sits on the throne instead, his legs wide apart and his hands resting on
its arms. There is no welcoming smile on his face for his little brother, no
warm greeting that Loki enjoys a bit too much, for the shiver it sends down his
spine.
Instead Thor merely watches him, his blue eyes flat and dull.
In the library, there are entire books dedicated to poetry about Thor's eyes,
his fantastic hair. Asgard's bards tend to get a bit exuberant about the
Odinson.
Not so much the Laufeyson. Loki tries not to read what's been written about
him.
Ikol flies to the throne, perches on it. Loki almost calls him away, but he
returns on his own accord, screeching loudly to land on Loki's shoulder. If
Loki didn't know better he'd think the wretched creature was afraid.
"Where is the All-Mother," Loki dares to ask, after he clears his throat a few
times.
"They sleep."
"Ah, so. Fantastic, you are king then. Congratulations all around."
"Leave me," Thor says, as Loki creeps closer, despite himself. "I am in no mood
for your - childishness."
"I am not a child," Loki says, but he's already backing away. "Still, I
recognize your need for some alone time, and I respect it. I'll leave you to
it."
He doesn't start to shake until he's out of the hall and the doors are firmly
shut behind him.
*
There is a feast, and it's strange, because everyone is silent. Save for the
sound of teeth tearing into meat, no one speaks a word. To say that Asgardians
are a boisterous lot is an understatement, especially when there is food and
mead involved.
Loki's not even afforded the usual insults and accidental bruising.
Curiouser and curiouser.
"Brother," Loki says, leaning over. Thor turns a flat gaze at him, as if
noticing him for the first time. "Nevermind. Pretend I didn't say anything. In
fact, pretend I'm not even here. A fly on the wall, as it - ah." Loki shuts his
mouth as Thor returns back to his food.
The time passes by interminably slow, until Loki almost wishes to be assaulted,
just so the time might move faster.
Thor stands abruptly, finishes his drink and puts the goblet back onto the
table. "Come, my brother," he says. When Loki doesn't immediately respond Thor
grabs him by the back of his tunic and picks him up.
"Hey," Loki says, startled more than anything.
Fandral looks up briefly, his eyes clearing for a moment before they dull once
again and he returns back to his food.
He's dragged carelessly to Thor's chambers and tossed onto the bed
unceremoniously, landing in a most ungainly heap. He scrambles up, but at
Thor's look lies back down. "Thor," he says. "Brother. We should talk,
perhaps."
Thor's fingers clench themselves into Loki's tunic, and Loki stills. His fist
is half the size of Loki's entire chest. Curse this body. Curse his lack of
magic. Curse whatever it is that's gotten into Thor.
After a moment, Thor releases him. He sits heavily on the bed and stares at his
hands for a while. "I feel strange," he says. " I feel - wrong."
Loki dares to get onto his knees, to venture close. He wraps his arms around
Thor, or as much around Thor as possible, tentatively rests his cheek against
Thor's head.
Thor always shines so bright.
Loki doesn't know what to do.
Thor turns to press his face into Loki's belly, and Loki takes Thor's face into
his gloved hands and tilts it up. Asks, "What do you want?"
"I want -" Thor says, and his eyes darken. But he pulls himself away abruptly,
and there is such pain on his face, such misery. "I will go now."
Loki can't bear it. He scrambles onto his knees and grabs a fistful of Thor's
cloak, the red like blood in his hands. "You may -" he starts. "I won't say no,
I promise."
And it's not the way he would have wanted, perhaps. Not the way that he
imagined, desperate nights with his fist in his mouth to keep from crying out.
But it is what it is, and what it is:
Thor tugging his clothes off, slowly, deliberately, his gaze flat and intense
as Loki squirms and tries to hide his arousal.
Thor on top of him, Loki's thighs wide open and pressed against his waist. He's
so big, and Loki is not.
Thor inside of him, and he's not ready it won't fit he's too small he can't he
can't -
Except he can, and oh.
Loki cannot tell why he's crying, except he is.
Thor licks the tears away, and a faint smile crosses his face. "Oh, who are
you," Loki bursts out. "I don't know you - my brother wouldn't." Thor wouldn't,
Loki knows this like he knows all concrete things, like how the truth is
malleable always and milkshakes are delicious and loss is inevitable even if
you are a god.
"I am the thunder and the lightning and all the cosmos trembles beneath my
mighty feet," Thor says, and wipes a drop of his seed from the inside of Loki's
leg.
"No," Loki says. "You are not."
*
It's almost easy, Thor being the way he is. Everyone being the way they are.
No punching, no jabs, no random attempts on his life. People move as though
underwater, when not given to brief bursts of madness and rage. None of it is
directed towards him. Occasionally there's crying.
"What is wrong with everyone," Loki asks Ikol. But Ikol won't say. He picks on
a worm with vicious glee, caws cheerfully. Loki tilts his head. "You would tell
me, wouldn't you? As awful as you are."
"You know me," Ikol says. "I wouldn't lie to you."
An omission of the truth or a refusal to speak is not a lie, exactly. Loki
tires of arguing with himself, throws him a filthy look which is resoundingly
ignored.
Thor. It would have all started with Thor.
*
The All-Mothers sleep in their dark, silent tomb. Loki stands next to it for a
while, fist against the cool stone. He doesn't notice when Thor comes into the
room, not until he is almost upon him. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing. It's peaceful here. It enables me to think."
Thor's fingers thread into Loki's hair, tugging his head back. "What kind of
thoughts? You are a child."
"Frivolous ones, no doubt. Who will I take to prom?"
"I don't understand -" He lifts Loki up with his other hand, sits him on top of
the tomb. "Do you mock me?"
"I would never." Loki widens his eyes, all measure of sincerity. Ignores the
frisson of fear that curls up his spine.
It is only Thor.
Thor would never hurt him. Surely - he would not.
His hand is still curled into Loki's hair, still tight enough that Loki can't
move his head. He releases his grip abruptly, only to press his thumb against
Loki's cheek. "You lie," Thor says. "You always lie."
It is the truth, and Loki cannot bring himself to blurt out yet another lie
defending himself. Instead he bites his lower lip, says, "You've changed."
Thor steps back slowly. "I am who I've always been."
"No. You said so yourself -"
"You are barred from these chambers," Thor cuts in. "Loki, do you hear me?"
"Yes, yes. Barred," Loki replies, the roll of his eyes automatic. He stops, at
Thor's look. "I promise," he adds meekly, "Over the eternal sleep of the All-
Mother." He starts to push himself off the tomb, but Thor fists a hand into his
tunic, pushes him back onto it. "Ah." The stone is too slippery for him to get
a proper grip, so he curls his fingers around the edge instead. "Okay, okay.
Who needs seduction and the softness of a bed, anyway?"
Thor ignores his words, his gaze focused solely on Loki's mouth shaping itself
into nonsense. Loki shuts it.
It doesn't help.
*
Thor starts a war. It doesn't matter with whom, or for what reason. There is
always a reason to start a war.
Their enemies are terrible, appallingly so.
Thor is worse.
Asgard is worse.
Loki slinks down hallways, avoids everyone as best he can.
Everywhere, the stench of blood and death. Sif stops him once, as he's trying
to duck into yet another alcove. She puts her hand on his shoulder and
squeezes. "Ow," Loki says. "Little shoulders, delicate bones. Please do unhand
me."
"He should have left you dead," Sif says. "I tried to tell him he should have
left you buried in ashes and the bodies of our brethren, but would he listen?
No. He could have brought back anyone."
Loki feels something snap.
Little shoulders, delicate bones.
He staggers under the weight of her grip, blinks back furious tears. "Listen,
Lady Sif. I feel we should have a conversation that doesn't -"
Sif releases him, the rage on her face sliding back into blankness, as if all
life had sunk back under her skin. "Loki," she says, and there's no expression
at all in her voice.
"I'm fine, don't mind me. I'll just leave now, if that's all right with you."
It's Sif that turns and walks away, leaving Loki to clutch his shoulder and
stare after her.
*
"Why not me," he asks Ikol. "You're a bird, I understand. But why not me."
"How do you know you're not changed as well?"
"I think I'd be aware if I suddenly felt the urge to slink around gloomily and
give in to fits of unnatural violence and despair." Loki pauses. "Wouldn't I?"
Do zombies know that they are zombies?
The zombie specialist Romero doesn't seem to have a definite answer for that.
Perhaps they don't. Perhaps each zombie wanders around wondering what is wrong
with everyone else, not realizing that they are dead as well.
He decides not to give Ikol a chance to answer, instead pulling his hood over
his head and heading out the door. "I would. Come, Thori. Pressing needs need
pressing. I have investigating to do." Thori merely stares at him, before
flopping defiantly down in front of the fireplace and putting his head on his
paws. "I know who I am," Loki says.
He knows who he is.
*
Thor was always too busy for Loki. Too busy being noble, too busy being a hero,
too busy being dead.
He's still busy, rampaging across the cosmos, but now it's different. Now he
doesn't sleep, and he makes time for Loki.
Loki would rather he didn't, as it mostly involves him on his back.
And yet, it's Thor.
It's Thor.
He puts his hand on Loki's stomach and says, "I can feel myself in you," a
faint note of marvel in his voice.
Loki's just struggling to stay conscious, trapped on a razor thin edge between
pain and pleasure. Thor is, as always: too big, too much.
And Loki is nothing.
Merely a boy, brought back by love and a god's undeserved forgiveness. Of all
the people in the realms, why him? Thor's lips find his, open him up in a kiss
both bruising and familiar.
Stop, Loki mouths against Thor's teeth.
Don't stop, he mouths again.
*
Thor returns from battle, filthy with blood and gore. He stands in his chambers
and Loki clears his throat, says, "Maybe a bath, Thor?"
Thor beckons him forward, and Loki forces himself to move. He starts to remove
Thor's armor, but ends up pushing Thor towards the edge of the bath instead.
"Sit," he says. "You are too tall."
"No, you are too short." For the briefest of moments there's a hint of humor in
Thor's face, a crinkle around the eyes, but it's gone fast enough that Loki
probably imagined it.
Loki kneels down at his feet. Thor barely looks down as Loki unfastens his
boots, doesn't smile when Loki mutters about the mud and the, "Blood," he says
distantly, holding out his palms. He wipes his hands on a towel with distaste
before he undoes Thor's breeches and then rises to remove his vambraces, the
armor, the undershirt. He allows Thor's cape to fall to the floor, the red
pooled around them both.
He has never seen Thor fully naked, for all that Thor has laid him bare,
numerous times.
"I'll just tend to your wounds first," Loki says, turning away so Thor doesn't
see his trembling hands. There's so much blood: most of it is likely not
Thor's.
Thor remains still and obedient as Loki cleans him as best he can, puts a salve
on any remaining wound on his body.
"Get in the bath."
Thor says, in a voice strange and hoarse, "Join me."
Loki hesitates, but in the end nods his head, undresses himself hastily to be
lifted.
It's not as if he has much of a choice, anyway.
The water is too hot, rose petals floating pale pink and scenting the air.
This must be Sif's preference. But Loki hasn't seen the lady in days.
Loki splashes around on the far side for a while, before moving back towards
Thor, settling in his lap. Thor cradles him to his chest and runs damp fingers
through his hair. It's nice. Comforting. Loki can't remember being comforted.
Surely he must have been, as a child. Before he turned evil and everyone hated
him.
Loki settles his wet head against Thor's chest and idly traces the scar, pale
but still visible, down his sternum.
A scar.
*
"But where were you?"
Loki is sitting on the bed, Thori in his lap. He's behaving himself because
Loki offered him a chance to chew on his fingers if he'd only be cute for a
while.
A cute boy with a cute puppy: surely his questions will come across as mere
curiosity to Thor.
Thor says, as if emerging from a deep fog, "Latveria, that's where we were."
"Doom? Really, again?"
"I cannot remember. You ask too many questions. It is annoying."
"Do you want me to go away?" Loki shoves Thori off the bed. He turns to snarl
at Loki, his teeth bared, until Thor starts to frown, and then he stops and
slinks away, tail between his legs. Loki has never seen him react in such a
manner before.
"I do not want you to go away." Thor is staring at his hands, as if he has
never seen them before. Loki ventures closer, and when Thor doesn't move, he
dares to crawl into his lap. Thor's arms come up to embrace him, and he's cold.
Thor is never cold. Thor is heat, and warmth, and the searing touch of
lightning.
Loki loops his arms around Thor's neck, buries his face in his throat. "I love
you," he says, and something delicate inside of him breaks, shatters into a
million shards of glass. "Brother, I love you. I will fix whatever's wrong,
whatever happened, I promise."
Thor pulls away so they can meet each other's gazes, and for a moment Loki sees
a glimmer of hope. A glimmer of Thor. A thumb comes up to trace Loki's lower
lip, and he turns into Thor's palm automatically. "You make me feel -" Thor
begins, then stops.
"Yes, I know."
*
Thor is asleep.
Thor has waged war across the cosmos, not returning for weeks while Loki was
wringing his hands and trolling the scribes of tumblr, and now he is asleep.
Loki expected to be taken, to be ravished and violated and assured that his
brother has not forgotten him, and yet he has chosen to sleep instead.
How much sleep do gods truly need?
Loki puts a tentative hand on Thor's thigh.
Ikol shoots him a beady, judgemental look, which Loki ignores. He's a growing
boy, he has needs. And Thor - Thor twitches when Loki allows his hand to wander
upwards, inwards.
Loki steels himself, presses his mouth to Thor's bare belly without taking his
eyes off his face. Thor raises his arm, almost too quick for Loki to see,
presses it down on the back of Loki's neck. But then he drops it again, and
opens his eyes. "Loki," he says.
"Brother," Loki says. "Let me."
There is barely any pain like this, riding on Thor's hard cock, biting his lip
to keep himself from doing something embarrassing like crying out, or
whimpering.
Or perhaps whimpering's all right. Loki lets out a gasp, and then another, as
Thor surges up into him. Loki almost topples over, but manages to steady
himself, and a jolt of sudden pleasure sends him over, spilling copious amounts
of his seed all over Thor's belly and chest.
It is only the first, in a very long, very interesting, not to mention thought-
provoking, night.
When dawn finally breaks, and Loki is in a crumpled, satisfied heap next to
Thor, who is asleep yet again, he opens an eye at the flutter of wings against
his cheek.
"See," he says, "It is not all bad. We can adapt."
"Good," Ikol says, and sounds pleased. It's troubling. And it seals his
decision for him.
"I will do what's right," Loki says.
"Then you are an even bigger fool than I imagined."
*
Latveria isn't quite the void. Loki's never been, although surely it can't be
as great as London. Or even Broxton - does it have milkshakes?
He takes the train to New York first, when Thor is away fighting yet another
unnecessary battle. The humans on the Internet help him with directions, and
what to do. Mostly what not to do, which boils down to: don't talk to anyone,
don't trust anyone. It's not that hard, with a snarling puppy at his feet and a
bird perched malevolently on his shoulders.
Loki takes pictures of the landscape and uploads them to Instagram. It's mostly
trees and stuff, but he filters them and uses interesting angles.
A woman sits next to him after a stop, says, "Oh, hello."
"Hey," Loki says, pushing his hood off his head.
"That's an interesting outfit you got on there."
"I'm a cosplayer," Loki says. "I'm going as a Norse god."
"You're a bit small to be a god, kid."
"So I'm told," Loki replies, faintly gloomy. She gives him a smile, but moves
away when she attempts to pet Thori and he makes a play for her fingers.
*
He's allowed into Stark Tower without much fuss. Stark is sitting at a massive
table, an array of impressive technology surrounding him.
"Hello! Stark of the Stark phones! I love your toys!"
"No," Stark says. "Get him out of here. What's wrong with security?"
Loki deflates.
A blonde woman says, "He's a kid, Tony."
"He's Loki."
"Kind of small for a Loki, isn't he?" But her face has hardened. She leans
against the table and crosses her arms across her chest.
Loki shrinks back somewhat, but barrels on. "I need your help."
"This is how it usually starts," Stark says to the woman. "And it ends with
bloodshed. And death. And him, behind all of it." The woman grunts in assent.
Loki puts on his most sincere face. "But Thor is in trouble, Mr. Stark."
"Mister. I guess you think you're cute." Stark sighs, waves at Loki to have a
seat. Loki chooses the biggest one so he looks the most vulnerable, sits with
his legs crossed. Someone offers Loki a drink, and Loki asks for beer. Stark
only snorts in response.
"Coke?"
"That we can do."
It's ice-cold and perfect. The woman strides forward, leans down as Loki is
drinking and pushes his hood down to reveal his throat. "Hey," Loki says. "Rude
much?"
"I thought gods didn't bruise. Or at least not easily."
Loki touches his neck gingerly. "They do if other gods try hard enough."
"Tony, when was the last time we saw Thor?"
"I don't know. Been busy, remember? He said he had god business to attend to, I
let him be. Maybe that thing with Doom? Yeah, that."
Loki points at Stark with some triumph, "Yes, Latveria. Can we talk about
Latveria?"
*
It's not easy, persuading Stark that everything's fine enough that the Avengers
don't need to interfere. Loki does what he does best: he lies.
And lies.
But everyone seems distracted, and stressed - Loki's heard rumors of some
Midgard crisis that has nothing at all to do with Asgard and is certainly not
Loki's fault, and in the end he manages to get the information he needs without
the Avengers offering their unneeded aid.
"Why not get their help," Ikol asks. "We could use it."
"It's Asgard business," Loki says. Plus they don't trust him. Loki's used to
that, but he can't take the risk that a distracted and harried would-be crew of
saviors will decide that the problem with Asgard is Asgard itself, and not just
something wrong with Thor.
How to explain that the heart of Asgard is gone, and with it its very soul.
He has his prize, tucked away in his backpack, and that will have to be enough
aid from Stark.
*
"Doom is dangerous," Ikol says, because sometimes he pretends he cares. "Do not
trust him."
"I have no intention of trusting him," Loki replies. "I just want back what's
rightfully mine."
*
Loki needs a knife, first. He calls in all the favors he has - whatever few
that he's not exhausted already, and ends up in Hel, granted an audience with
an unimpressed Hela. "You have nothing at all that will interest me, little
godling," Hela says.
Loki can't look at her without thinking of Leah. He swallows and clears his
throat, says, "Did you know that two Asgardian warriors have passed over in the
last two months?"
Hela sits up straight. "They have not."
"They have," Loki says, hiding the relief that his wild guess turned out to be
correct. "But you can't take creatures without souls, or gods whose souls have
been trapped."
"And you have come here to resolve this?"
"I do try my best to be helpful," Loki says, standing up straight and crossing
his arms behind his back.
"What do you need." Hela sighs, and Loki relaxes somewhat.
"Just a little sword. Well, it's a big sword, but I need a little knife. So
maybe someone to help me forge it."
"Eir-Gram." Hela's back to looking as if she would rather toss Loki out than
help him. Loki tries his best to look innocent. He'll give the sword back when
he's done with it.
Maybe.
*
Back in Asgard, he makes it before Thor returns, which is a relief, until Thor
actually returns. But still Loki finds himself running towards him and jumping
into his arms, barely noticing the ash settled on Thor's skin, mixed with
streaked blood.
"I missed you," he says, faintly dizzy, and means it.
"I have missed you too, brother," Thor says.
He carries Loki into his chambers, settles him down onto the bed. Loki wraps
his legs around his waist, and kisses him. He keeps kissing him, and he can't
stop. It's not Thor, but it's still Thor, and in his short, surprisingly
eventful life, he can't imagine wanting anyone more.
Thor opens him up and Loki shudders, arches up into him, calls out his name
over and over again, and for a moment light seeps back into Thor's eyes, and
his voice when he says, "Loki," is filled with wonder and awe and, above all
else, love.
"I will fix you," Loki says afterwards, tracing the scar on Thor's chest as he
sleeps. "I promise."
Ikol turns his flat, disappointed gaze towards him.
"Hush," Loki says, before he can speak. "I will do the right thing."
It's what Thor would expect.
Loki takes the knife out, hesitates briefly before he stabs Thor, right against
the scar. Thor gasps, but the knife is also poison-dipped, and so he can't
move. "Loki," Thor says, and he looks betrayed, and furious, and then his eyes
shut and he goes very still.
Thor's chest is thick, and Loki's not strong, so this takes a while. His hands
are covered in blood, and he inadvertently smears some on his face as well when
he tries to wipe away sweat with the back of his sleeve. "I'm sorry," he keeps
telling Thor, who probably can't even hear him. "I'm so sorry."
Finally, he manages to pull the heart out of Thor's chest. It pulses faintly,
but it's pale and glassy and a white fluid oozes out of it as Loki stares. A
heart, but definitely not Thor's.
Ikol lands on the gaping wound of thors chest, says, "He will die soon, if you
don't stop your weeping and find his heart."
*
The simplest of teleportation spells, and yet it takes almost all of Loki's
energy. It doesn't help that Latveria is cold, and Loki is freezing - he's part
Frost Giant, shouldn't he be immune to cold? And yet here he is, shivering in a
cave.
Winter. Couldn't this all have happened in spring? He's read that the Latverian
weather is lovely in spring.
The heart continues to pulse in the jar Loki put it in. Ikol pecks idly at the
glass.
"Get away," Loki tells him.
Ikol turns his beady gaze onto Loki. "He will not forgive himself for any of
this. And so he will keep himself away from you. Is that what you want?"
"I want Thor back."
"You have him. He is yours, in a way he will not be once his heart is returned
to him."
"What do you know?" Loki says. "You are just an old, bitter bird. You
understand nothing."
But Ikol isn't wrong, the way he rarely is. Loki turns deliberately away from
him, curls up closer to the fire. He will do what's right: it's all he has.
*
Doom's castle is visually impressive at least, and sends a spike of fear up
Loki's spine, which is probably the point.
Loki makes a note.
He doesn't bother breaking in, instead he just stands at the giant front gates
and waves until a guard grabs him by the neck, hauls him upwards. "I have a
message for the doctor."
Doom is sitting at a table, a giant steak in front of him. Loki wonders briefly
how he even eats, but decides he would rather not know. "Loki," Doom says. "I
admit I liked you better when you were - an adult."
"Ew," Loki says. Ikol looks smug.
"Have a seat, miniature Loki."
"Don't mind if I do," Loki says. He sits down next to Doom, bangs the jar onto
the table. Doom displays no reaction - or none that Loki can tell. It's
maddening. "You have something that belongs to Asgard. I would like it
returned, please."
"It's a good heart," Doom says, after a moment. "I'm keeping it."
"Um, no. Kind of not. You can have your own heart back, though. It's only fair.
It is yours, isn't it? I figured it would have to be, to keep both your hearts
beating." He props his chin onto his fist and stares dreamily at Doom's heart
in the jar.
"Or I could just take it back and rip off your head as a bonus."
"Just because I'm smaller in stature than the other Loki does not mean I've
somehow gotten stupid as well. This is just a visual aid."
Doom grabs him by the throat. He lifts Loki up, throws him onto the table.
Loki says, "Ow," or tries to. What comes out is more of a gurgling sound. He
digs his nails into whatever he can, but it's useless. His vision starts going
black -
The pressure is released. Loki struggles into a sitting position to see, and
Doom is standing there, staring at his hands. "I don't understand," he says.
"You mean nothing to me."
"About that," Loki says. His voice is entirely too hoarse. He coughs, as
politely as he can. "It's called having a - ugh, that's beneath me. No, let us
start over: You have something that belongs to me." The air of confusion
continues to surround Doom. "It's his heart. I do hate repeating myself so. He
is a god, not a man. You can't just take his heart and plop it inside your body
and not expect it to change you."
"It's supposed to give me immortality. I'm immortal now."
"And you have Thor's heart," Loki says. "It's the biggest in Asgard, or so they
say. And therefore it must be true. We are only the stories told about us."
"That's nonsense. It's just a heart."
"So kill me then," Loki says. He lifts his chin and waits. Maybe trembles a
little. But not so Doom can see, surely.
"I will." He wraps his hand once more around Loki's throat, but doesn't
squeeze.
"Oh, and by the way. Thor's on his way here right now."
"What?"
"Well, he received word you've kidnapped and threatened his youngest of
brothers."
"But you said you removed his - my heart. How could he possibly be on his way
here?"
"He has an arc reactor. I believe that will suffice."
Doom flexes his fingers, says, "And what shall I do now?"
"A simple exchange, if you please." Loki tilts his head at the jar.
"You said this was just a visual aid."
Loki hoists the heart up to his chest, wraps his arms around it. It pulses
faintly still. Doom is less mortal than he knows just yet. He files this away
for future reference, for a later concern. "Well, I am a liar, or so they say.
So give me back Thor's heart and I promise I will tell him to spare you."
"I hardly need your protection, little godling. And I don't have to give it
back." He takes the jar from Loki's hands.
"Fine, go to war with Asgard. Thor doesn't have a heart - what do you think he
will do to you and your people?"
Doom considers, for all of two seconds. "Wait here," he says.
"Wise choice," Loki says.
He's not privy to whatever Doom does, but it's a short wait before another
heart is returned to him, this one pulsing a vibrant red. "It's his heart,"
Doom says, when Loki lifts it up to peer closely at it.
"I have no doubt it is. Awesome, thanks."
Loki leaves, escapes from the castle before Doom realizes that Thor's not on
his way, that no one's coming for Loki.
*
Thor sleeps.
The arc reactor glows faintly in his chest. Enough to keep a god alive, not
enough to keep him awake. Loki pulls it out of his chest, disassembles it. He'd
been grateful that Stark technology was so easy to adopt. He'd only had to
study the borrowed specs for an hour or so.
If this were a movie, or a fairy tale, Loki would rescue the princess and she
would wake up and they would kiss, and get their proverbial happy ever after.
If this were a movie, or a fairy tale.
Ikol lands on Loki's shoulder, and Loki ignores his whispers.
He puts the heart back into Thor's chest and his body accepts it greedily, as
if he's been waiting for it. Loki holds his breath, steps back. He's shaking,
he finds.
Everything's going to change.
Everything.
Thor opens his eyes.
"Um," Loki says. "Hi."
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