THORKI Fan Fictions

Title: Bait

And Thor, always being the older brother, extends an embracing arm that could effortlessly snap Loki’s body in half.

Loki knows that he should resist the ache in his arms and accept, with both hands, his brother’s offer. He recognizes that a simple gesture would result in his own homecoming, and that the Earth below him would be felt no longer. But he can only regard Thor with horror, his eyes widened in rejection.

It passes over the male’s face only for a moment, but Loki catches it: uncertainty. The extended hand momentarily wavers in the air, affected by the doubt that leads Thor to cock his head.

“Do you not understand, Loki?” he asks, advancing forward to take Loki in his grasp.

It takes a great deal of effort, but the male manages to raise his palm and smack Thor’s hand away, scrambling silently backwards, tripping over his own limbs.

He keeps his eyes on Thor’s body, monitoring the other’s movements. Thor lowers his arm and his fists clench in protest. “I have risked very much to salvage what is left of you, Loki,” he growls, asserting himself with a sharp step forward. “Now I am demanding that you come back home with me.”

“Thor.”

He speaks, and the weak words come out like smoke, illuminating the air in front of him. “I’m interested in remaining here.” He feins indifference, pressing his palm into the dirt behind him and raising his chin. “The home you speak of offers a kingdom for you, yet is no less than a prison through my eyes. Return home.” He narrows his eyes. “Tell everybody of my tragic death.”

He means it as a quip, but is inspired by his own malice.

“Tell them of your last heroic effort to save your dear brother,” he breathes, eyes locked on Thor’s wary regard. “Tell them that you reached out to save me, the deceitful outsider, but when I refused to grab for your hand, I was thus swept away into the outer reaches of the realms. Let them know how brave you were, and how the traitor you once called brother rejected your hand.”

“Stop this.” Roaring, Thor steps heavily, shaking the ground beneath them. “You may not choose your kindred.”

Loki sighs and presses his head to the ground, letting his wrist hang limp in the air. “I am aware,” he dejectedly murmurs, turning his head so he can see the gelid veins that bulge from beneath his skin. “That is my conflict.”

From his brother comes another howl, and then his golden body becomes a beam of moving light, booming with desperate anger that sends Thor flying back into Asgard.

All at once, Loki is completely alone on the floor of a barren terrain. But he is where he belongs, and does not feel a single tremor for either of his “home”lands.

***

The nights pass like a kaleidoscope on Asgard: the colors change, the sceneries and bodies rotate, but Thor can only see them through a lens distorted by Loki’s absence. It’s like the fabric of the household has been unwoven, and the halls are empty without witticism; the libraries vacant without Loki throwing books into his lap, prompting “page 225, paragraph 3. Come, out loud now.” How be it that nobody else notices, he wonders.
Thor sighs through the ceremonies he’s trained for his entire life.

He kneels to the throne and recites verses of obligation and responsibility. He accepts feasts that are offered by visitors from the other realms and nods with them, reiterating his vows of protection. The only distraction that weighs his mind more than his brother is the helmet that’s placed upon his skull like a crown, gold and shimmering.

But even then, the royal symbol slips down his face and covers his eyes. Odin exhales and says, “Ah, well it should have been suspected that thing would not imperviously fit every heir. We shall find you a fitting one.”