A/N: Time to say a few words about the keys that lead me in writing this story. Given that my Thor and Loki love each other unconditionally and no matter what, what I most care about when I write of them is their feelings, their mental action and interaction, together with the whole universe of – sometimes twisted - pleasure and emotion that opens wide in front of my eyes when I envisage them making love. That is what matters to me, far more than fights and battles and whatever else the canon background could involve.
The little precious poem I quote in this chapter is by Lang Leav and it is called “Saving him”.
Title: Until that night
Fandom: Thor (Marvel’s movie), The Avengers (Marvel’s movie)
Chapter: 5 – Into The Dark (words: 6179)
Genre/Warning: OOC, slash, angst, fluff, OTP
The darkness takes him over,
The sickness pulls him in;
His eyes – a blown out candle,
I wish to go with him.
Sometimes I see a flicker –
A light that shone from them;
I hold him to me tightly,
Before he’s gone again.
Until that night – Chapter 5. Into The Dark
Loki has been awake for about a couple of hours. He’s still blind. It looks like he can’t remember anything about his sleep. He’s so weak. So defenceless. So desolate. He almost didn’t speak, not even to me. He refused to eat. Now he’s fallen asleep again. I can’t leave his side, I know I’m needed for that beast issue, but I just can’t leave him alone. I’m forcing my rage down, under control, because if it were up to me I’d already be there, on Jotunheim, to make them taste to the full the wrath of a god. But I know I have to wait. For Loki’s best, I have to wait.
Things in our lives are changing so fast, and so deeply. And priorities. He is my priority, now. I hope he can feel me. While he’s sleeping, I hope he can feel my strength. My warmth, my breath. My thoughts. My feelings. I wish I could do more, but I don’t know what exactly to do, not yet. So, I’m doing something weird. Something I didn’t do I don’t remember since when. I’m writing. For him. For my little one. He likes reading, he likes it so much. And I want him to read these words that I’m writing, when his sight recovers. I want to give him a story, this time. My story, our story, as it happens from now until he will be able to see again. I’m not sure I’m capable to put the right words together to make him shiver with all those feelings like he does when he’s reading his books, but I’ll try, and I’ll do it at my heart’s best.
A while ago they came to tell me that the monster apparently disappeared from Heimdall’s all-seeing in the right moment Loki opened his eyes. They didn’t dare to talk openly to me, but I saw it in their eyes, they are already sure there is a connection between that evil thing’s apparition and Loki’s magic sleep. Maybe that is the incantation the Jotun casted on him. And maybe I’m not so used to deal with incantations, but on one thing I’m sure: one day they’ll have to pay for this, and when that day comes, there will be no mercy.’
In his dreams.
There he remembered he saw that twisted place. In his childish dreams.
It was like Asgard, but it wasn’t Asgard. And it resembled Jotunheim, but it wasn’t Jotunheim.
Rain, frost rain. Wind. Sun. Fog.
Why isn’t it snowing? I like it so much when it snows.
It wasn’t real, it could not be real. But it tasted so real.
“It is. Real. Loki.”
No. This is a dream. My dream. It can’t be real.
“Elsewhere is different. For everyone. Loki.”
Walking warily on a frozen bridge that recalled the Bifrost, but it was not the Bifrost. Ending nowhere. He felt so lost.
“This is your Elsewhere. Loki.”
I’m sleeping. On Asgard. I’m sure of that.
“Are you? Loki?” A chuckle, still unseen. “Come. See. Come.”
Disturbing, the landscape around.
Constantly shifting from shape to shape.
Like his feelings.
Rain, frost rain. On his feelings.
I can feel you. My sweetest. Stay… stay.
At the end of the bridge, a misty rift. An improbable window opened on the other side.
And through that window, he saw.
“I assume you recognize. What you see.”
His heart froze. His breath stopped. His eyes petrified.
As he understood everything.
A pleasantly wide, lonesome, iced place to walk, for him who could not share any part of his existence with any living creature in any Realm. But still, too empty. Too little life to drain. He was now growing huger and together with that his hunger grew, grew his urge, and grew his lust for blood. Grew his curiosity. He was now starting to feel a foggy purpose in his being there. New unpredictable skills in his unstable inner being. Most unforeseen thing of all, he now began to catch random emotions from the creatures he came across and killed.
Trees, plants and bushes spread tears of dust while being plundered of their meagre drop of life. Insects squeaked in grey, almost inaudibly. Bigger animals snuffled their life out with a black growl of anger. More evolved creatures dripped blue stones of fear dented with surprise. And Aesir… Aesir flooded gore clouds of stinging arrogance, mixed with the fire of bravery and with the golden spice of godhood. On every new prey he sucked up life from, he now wasted an instant more, listening to the different way it shifted from alive to dead. Actually not being able to understand the difference between alive and dead.
Because he was not meant to understand that difference, Hel was beyond his reach: not that he cared, for he didn’t need to walk along a Realm where vacant, unsubstantial souls were the only things moving. And, as Nifelheim was not the right land to lead him to his purpose, neither was Hel.
Nor was Svartalfheim, even if that smoky Realm turned out more appealing. At least, more living things walking on it. Though not so satisfying. Not as the Aesir. Those Svartalfheim’s dark creatures were way too weak to satiate him. They even tried to stop him, poor little things, and they called for help, when he showed up in their biggest city excising lives around, as carelessly as a plough cutting the new born flowers on a meadow that was intended to be just sowed with nettles.
Death after death, his urge still kept growing. Beyond his hunger, his instinct was now screaming for a light, a frozen light, calling him from afar. He had no clue of what that was, from where it was occurring, nor why or how. He couldn’t. He was not meant to. Only one thing he knew, he had to follow instinct. And instinct was pulling him after that distant light, upwards across the Nine Realms.
The next few days, nothing essentially changed.
Loki was completely at the mercy of that magic sleep that caught him randomly and all of a sudden, never at the same time, never for the same length, preventing him not only from a fast recovery – at least on the physical side -, but also from thinking clearly. Each time, after waking up, he looked more and more dismayed and incapable to control his own reactions. He was barely talking, still not eating, and getting weaker day by day.
Most of the times he came back to their room when Loki was awake, Thor found him crying. Silently, sorely, nuzzled into his darkness, like he was relentlessly losing himself into that doom. Until someone, the healers or the sorcerers, had found a solution to that heinous spell, the only thing Thor could do was trying to comfort him. As he did, wholeheartedly, with his presence, with his touch, with his words, with his silences. Nevertheless, he could not avoid feeling a sombre distress running constantly under his skin, due to the fear that the spell could not be broken, making Loki’s condition irreversible.
Also that afternoon, when he got back to him after having been summoned by Odin, Thor couldn’t hold a surge of anguish. He left Loki sleeping and now he was awake, standing still near the window pane, wrapped up in a blanket, his face pointing outside, his eyelids closed, like he was trying to catch at least with his skin the light of the sky and the colours of the sunset. A frozen alabaster sculpture, creating which the artist caught the ultimate look of dismay. Tremendously beautiful, as he always was, even if he was starting to look skinner, and even if his beauty now tasted more tormented than ever.
“How are you feeling?” Thor asked in a whisper, getting closer to him.
Loki didn’t move a muscle, not even his mouth’s to answer him. From beneath the blanket, a small white corner of his chest was peeking out, and the smooth wheezing that ruffled it was the only evidence that Loki was alive. After a long while, a sarcastic smile showed up on his face, still aimed to the horizon he couldn’t actually see.
“So,” he said tauntingly “you went to see the All-Father, didn’t you?” He sniggered. “To hear his invaluable advices on how to deal with the new troubles his foster child is causing to the Realm.”
Thor shook his head, perfectly knowing how that was going to end.
He reached his hand out to touch his shoulder, but Loki budged, slowly turning his head in the direction he guessed Thor’s face was.
“No, no, no, please. Tell me what the All-Father said. Come on.”
Thor took a long breath, pierced by the overwhelming angst he felt in Loki’s voice, that uttermost angst he had almost forgotten and that now cut his stomach like an ulcer.
“Fine,” he mumbled, looking into the leading-nowhere transparency of his brother’s improbable eyes. Then he threw up the words as if he was spitting a cancer out of his mouth. “He said there is a link between you and that beast, because it’s a given that it shows up exactly when you fall asleep. He said you’re now a threat, and that it’s not possible you don’t remember anything when you wake up, because of the capabilities of your mind. So, he said you must be hiding something. He said that due to the spell they casted on you there is the real chance your Jotun part will take over eventually, forcing you to act against Asgard again. He said he caught a tremor from the Casket of Ancient Winters and he’s sure it comes from you. For that he wanted to restrain you, but I warned him not to do that, or... He also said the beast will not survive the power of Mjolnir, so he’s sending me to fight it the next time it shows up. And while I’m away he’s going to lock you up in this room and put guards at the door, to avoid any further risk.”
Loki’s lips seethed, his breath got faster, and when his voice came out Thor felt the cutting echo of the ancient, twisted hatred that moved Loki’s life towards madness ages before. And that until that moment he thought it had been erased forever.
“Ah, that he stated. That arrogant old fossil. Always acting as if he were the only one carrying the revealed truth… He assumes he is the Almighty, the Omniscient, the Absolute Ruler in the whole known universe. Without realizing, in his selfish, poor petty mind, he’s even blinder than me.”
He cinically shook his head.
“I wonder why he brought me here from the beginning, given that he always saw me as a threat.”
Deep inside his heart, Thor knew he was right. But in spite of that, he could not hold his words back.
“You can’t say that. He raised you as a father would do.”
There, Loki abruptly blew up.
“But he is not!” he yelled on Thor’s face, his blanket slipped down, freeing his skin. “My father!”
He snarled in the dark, grasping the air randomly until he caught the first things handy and threw them blindly against his own invisible demons. Thor flinched, too late to contain his little brother’s wild fit of rage, for he didn’t expect such a deranged reaction after days of almost utter stillness in Loki’s mind and body. For an instant, he feared everything they treasured together until then was about to be lost.
“Why did he take me from Jotunheim?!” Loki shouted, raving, groping around as if he wanted to destroy anything his hands could reach. “Why?!” He escaped Thor’s grasp, he stumbled, grabbed the edge of the desk and overturned it, crying all his tears out as the tangle of bane he kept locked inside his soul could not be controlled any longer.
“He’s going to lock me up?! Is he?!” Again he screamed, his neck’s veins swelled, his whole body was quivering untidily. “Where am I supposed to go, huh?” His face was a mask of frenzy. “I can’t see a fucking thing, I can barely stand on my feet, I can’t even put my fucking thoughts together!”
He laughed hysterically between the pangs of tears, Thor grabbed his arms, tried to curb him, befuddled, Loki wiggled out, fell backwards on the floor, trudged getting up again.
“Why! Didn’t they! Kill me!”
“Loki.” Thor forced himself not to yield to his brother’s prostration. “I won’t let you fall into madness.” Not to break into tears as well. “Not again.”
“What?” Loki yelled, his breath broken by his agonizing sobs. “How do you dare talking of madness?” His misty, hallucinated eyes trembling towards nowhere over Thor’s head. “Have you ever tried what madness is like?” His throat burning in pain. “Have you?!”
He let a scream out, as Thor finally managed to grab him from behind, grasping his wrists and holding them tightly against his breast, his face sunk in his brother’s hair. Loki kept wriggling, and ranting, till his mad shout faded slowly into a heartbreaking crying. He bowed downwards, gripped in his brother’s stranglehold, so twiggy and frail that Thor was afraid he could bust into dust.
“Loki. Stop it.”
Loki coughed, and spitted, his desperate weeping throes were tearing him apart and stabbing Thor’s heart to death. Thor felt his little brother was right on the ragged edge, he knew Loki didn’t need much more to fall down forever. Using violence on his own self he kept his mind clear and didn’t let despair take over his soul.
“You’re scaring me, Loki.” He softened his grip, his lips on his brother’s ear, his eyes closed. “Stop it, already.”
He made him turn around, gently, holding him stoutly in his arms, to force him to remember he was still there, no matter what. Loki dropped his head on the embracing womb of his brother’s chest, unable to control his crying. Thor’s mouth leant on his hair.
“Please, little one.” He scratched his nape, lightly, like he was grazing a kitten’s tiny neck. “Don’t make things harder.” And he sighed mildly on his head, feeling his brother’s anguish at last slackening a bit. “Please.”
Little by little, Loki re-emerged from his abyss of blindness, his face still pressed on Thor’s bosom, his eyes still flooding tears. But his voice now sounded softer, raspy from the crazy screaming, and dreadfully, endlessly grieved.
“Th-Thor… forgive me, Thor… I… I didn’t mean to…”
Thor took his head in his hands and made him raise his face, to lean a soft little kiss on his lips.
“Shush. It’s alright.” And he kissed him again, shivering at the salty taste of his tears. “It’s alright.”
Loki sniffled, helpless like a child who just lost his leading hand, deep sobs still stirring his chest.
“I… just can’t… I c-can’t… I’m… scared…”
“I know, little one.” Thor kissed the tears away from his cheeks. “And I need you to trust me. I’ll rather die than give up with all that is happening.” From his lids. “I don’t care what Odin says.” From the corners of his eyes. “Or thinks.” From his nose. “Or does.” From his mouth. “I’ll never, ever let him hurt you.” From his chin. “Or take you from me.” From the small, cold hollow of his throat. “Or decide in my place what I have to do with my life.” From the still pulsating veins on his dainty neck. “Or with yours.” His fingers ran smoothly on his brother’s forehead. “Not anymore.” On his shoulders, that shivered innocently. “Our lives are just… ours.” On the mother-of-pearl of his chest. “And nothing else, nothing… but you… is my life.”
Again, he covered Loki’s mournful little face with a hundred tiny kisses, he lingered on his lips a bit longer, his thumbs slightly grazing his brother’s cheekbones, until he felt him relaxing. He sighed with relief when Loki put his arms around his waist, laying his cheek on his shoulder, and breathed softly on his neck.
“I’m glad…” Thor’s cosy warmth drove him back slowly from his madness to a more and more endurable reality, where the only bad feeling left in the overwhelming darkness was that deep, crushing impotence, still there to make him feel the weakest creature in the world. “I’m glad he’s not my father.” So reassuring, after that havoc, Thor’s hands tenderly stroking his back. “And I’m glad he took me from Jotunheim.” He just rested in his brother’s cuddle, blaming his own self because he almost forgot what that cuddle was made of. “For… if he didn’t…” It was made of heavenly strength, and sparkling fondness, and crystal commitment. “…I wouldn’t have you, now…” It was made of the most simple, ordinary feeling in the universe, and yet – since they were the not simple, not ordinary two who shared it - the most unique and powerful. It was made of love.
He took a deep, long sigh right on his brother’s mouth, surrendering to the refreshing scent of Thor’s breath. He tried to chase every deadly shadow away from his head, drawing Thor’s homey lips in his mind while moistening them slightly with his own. Just his tears, forced for too long to be compressed inside him, still could not be choked back.
“Oh, Thor… I need… to see you… I need it… so much…”
Thor drove his brother’s hands up to his face and made them outline his profile, mildly, until they ran on his features on their own.
“You can see me through your touch,” he whispered. “And soon, through your eyes again, I promise.”
Everything now was slowly floating into a renewed calmness, on Thor’s fingers running through his little brother’s hair, on his nose soaking the enlivening scent spreading from that coffer of grievous wonders that his Loki was; and in that calmness, shading into the tones of unreal, Loki’s tears quietly became sighs, and sighs became strokes, and strokes became kisses.
Then, suddenly, on the pale whisper of their sparking excitement, Loki chilled and unlocked his lips from his brother’s, his breath hastened again, again a mask of scare seized his face. He grabbed Thor’s shoulders, trembling, panting. Weeping again, helplessly.
“It comes again, Thor…” His head heavier and heavier. “…the sleep… please, please, Thor…” His legs collapsed, Thor held him up. “…don’t let it come, Thor, help me…” His voice faded away in a low, racking sob. “…Th…”
And he was lifeless, all at once, in his brother’s arms. Thor whined with impotence, picking him up and clinging him to his chest, unable to make the slightest movement for an eternal instant. Then he laid him on their bed, thoughtfully, and just sat there at his side, his mind blank under the burden of a situation he was starting to see as actually unmanageable. His eyes kept peering at Loki’s sleeping face, until he finally let his silent tears come out together with his anguish, unseen, unheard, unbearable in the deep blue stillness that wrapped up the room.
After a while, he moved his sight around and saw his notebook, dumped on the floor together with the stuff that fell from the overturned desk and broke into pieces. He picked it up and held it in his hands, the rarest journal one could think about, on which – with a much greater effort than he’d ever imagined - he had already fixed seven days of his life. He raised the table up and leant that little precious on it, safe, together with all that it meant; how easily, while doing that, clarity, self-confidence and resolution took their right place back in his heart, gave him a hit of renewed strength. Among the other things, Odin told him that Alflyse, the queen of Svartalfheim, asked for their help against the evil beast, and he could not delay his duties as an Aesir any longer. At least, as long as that would mean doing Loki’s good as well. He powerfully grabbed Mjolnir and bent his head on his brother’s mouth, he smiled on him.
“Time to take a stand, my little sleeping one.” A flash of hesitancy, at the idea of leaving him like that. Tamed at once. “I’ll be back soon. And with that monster’s head.”
He kissed him on his forehead, before he left the room.
Outside the door, he found two Odin’s guards already there. He stopped right in front of them, a few inches from their nose, he stuck into their pupils the cutting blade of his gaze, that didn’t blink, not once.
“Listen carefully, both of you.” His voice was carrying the power of thunder itself. “Just leave him alone until I come back.” He gritted his teeth, as he measured his words and the tone of his voice to make it as daunting as he could. “And don’t. Dare. To touch him.” The lightning of his look still fixed into their eyes. “Because I won’t think twice about snapping your neck, if you do.”
He painfully forced his voice out, without turning back.
Even when he felt another shape finally taking form behind him.
“Not only you took all my powers.” His hand tightened around his spear. “You gathered them into that thing. And you gave them… life.”
“Yes. Loki. But. I would better say. All your darkest powers.”
He let a scream of rage out, he turned around, perfectly knowing what he was going to see.
He swung his spear forward, piercing thin air through the enormous figure towering over him. Dark, cold. And sneering.
Giant. Frost giant. Not one he remembered he saw before.
Or rather, many he remembered he saw before. Melted in one.
“While you sleep, you are seized here. Loki. And it walks there.”
His panting echoed through the improbable land that surrounded him.
“You can do nothing. Loki. Except. Watch.”
The giant grinned.
“Watch your other self. Dooming your Realms to death.”
The lightning of Mjolnir.
His heart throbbed.
“Watch your unaware god. Being taunted like the last of the morons.”
In his eyes, a veil of tears.
Suddenly, there, Thor.
Standing as the living incarnation of upmost handsomeness, and might, and lust.
Carrying the dazzling brightness of their love in front of his Nemesis.
This one was different.
He came with the glare of lightening and with the clap of thunder, he came from the sky, roaring, and the whole land quaked when his feet touched the ground.
Delightfully Aesir, but amazingly unique. Excelling, not only among the scanty dark beings of Svartalfheim, also among his fellow Aesir brothers. Taller. Mightier. His muscles shouted out his stamina together with his deity.
The Aesir gods could not be killed just with one glance. They were the only living creatures who needed to be attacked in order to be slain. That was the thing that made their heart so… tasty. This one was even more.
He snarled with excitement, his drool poured on the ground, his eyes lit up with irrepressible greed.
That Aesir god was such a challenge. And challenge fired up his craving.
So powerful. So rabid. So tempting.
And yet, as he got close enough to be sniffed, so… unexpected.
His smell tasted… familiar.
“He is not realizing. What he is facing. How funny. Is it not?”
My treasured. I should be there. Fighting. At your side.
“Do you think if he knew. He would still share. All those sentiments. With you, Loki?”
That thing is not part of me anymore. I’ve changed. He made me change.
He ground, flinging green arrows of rage through his gaze into the giant’s eyes.
“Maybe you did me a favour, instead. I will finally be able to erase that part of me once and for all, when I’ll destroy that creature.”
Cruel, mocking, the laughter of the giant.
“It is not up to you. To destroy anything. Loki. You can not even. Get close enough. To your other self.”
“For you are here. When other you is there. And when you are there. Other you is elsewhere.”
“And you will not take back any memory. Of all this. When you wake up. There.”
“That thing is not me.”
Again, the giant sneered.
“It is. Loki. More than you can. Ever. Imagine.”
The instant their glances cut across froze the whole land in an eternal, motionless in-between, together with all the life around. And in that instant, he had the strongest hunch that god meant something. Even if ‘meaning’ was not a concept he could get. All around the mighty body of the Aesir, he clearly smelled the light. How, he could not tell; but nonetheless he felt his purpose closer. An instant later, he heard the Aesir screaming out some words; suddenly the other warriors nearby, Aesir and not, a while before frozen into the stillness his crazy eyes had forced on them, moved some steps back, leaving the two of them alone on the field, looming over each other.
They jumped at the same time against one another, his jaws rabidly gaping, the Aesir’s hammer crackling with a rumbling burst of lightning. The clash made the ground tremble. His claws ripped the armour on the god’s chest, he foretasted his baffling blood, but the light darts the god threw against him bumped him on the ground. His rage exploded, he shook his head ferociously, he jumped again, growling, the Aesir swung his hammer and hit him again, again they both fell down, again they lunged at each other, both somehow stunned by the mutual inability to deliver the crucial blow. As though some higher force prevented them from ending the fight, that became ruthless, and chaotic, and gory, till…
A growl, this time, from the giant.
A growl of vexation.
…a sudden violent tug, come from nowhere, inescapable, and he was roughly pulled off to elsewhere.
The more I write, the easier it gets. I wonder why I didn’t do this for such a long time. It’s a nice way to give vent to emotions when you can’t do it by mouth. Loki is sleeping again now, but he was awake when I came back from the fight. I was so burning. So enraged. I couldn’t slaughter that monster before it vanished from my sight. I guess Loki felt my mood even if he couldn’t see the rage on my face. I’m sure he did. We spoke a bit. I told him I felt weird when my eyes stopped into the creature’s. For a short moment I had the gut feeling there was something more behind, I can’t figure out what. Except it’s one of the most powerful, ruthless, hellish demons I ever fought against. And most of all, I actually can’t understand how that twisted being could survive the power of Mjolnir, since it’s not godly offspring. Or at least, I assume it isn’t. Loki kind of didn’t know what to say. Still, he can’t remember anything when he wakes up, but now he is sure that something’s going on between his sleep and that monster; he’s even more dejected, for he can’t understand it, or manage it, nor do anything to help.
When I look at him, I see the depth of his frustration. Of his weariness, of his resignation. I told him the healers are working on a potion to recover his sight, they’re almost there, in a few days we will know if it works. They’re confident, I’m confident. I need to be confident. Because I need to have him back as he was before everything happened. Or I will lose my mind.
There are some other things, some little things, however, that keep my hopes alive. After almost ten days, today I made him eat. I was eating in front of him, and at some point I boosted him to take the food directly from my mouth. A morsel of meat, a strawberry, a grape. A sip of ale. He did it, it was a sort of little game, a bit of fun, it made him smile. I was so happy that I saw him smiling, even if for a short while. It had been ages since the last time he did. I told him he must regain his strength, so we can fight together soon. Together, I am sure of that, we can just win.
But then, again, he fell asleep.
It’s quite late now, and he’s still sleeping. I’m going to get some sleep as well. I’ll sleep next to him, as always. Holding him in my arms, as always. Breathing his breath and living on the pulse of his heart. As always. And as I always will.’
And in that night, the tangible echo of Thor’s soul.
I know you never left me. I know you’re here. Even if you’re there.
He could see peeve in the giant’s eyes, burning into his.
“You are stronger. Than we expected. Loki.”
“Your mind. Is stronger. Than we foresaw.”
Why are you telling me this? Is that a trick?
“No trick. Loki. Because anyway. What has been done. Cannot be undone.”
The giant’s gaze, cold fire, overwhelming him.
Everything we started to believe that could get better suddenly crumbled again. The potion didn’t work. Loki just crushed. I don’t know what held me from unchaining my rage against the healers, they swore they’d fixed it in three days at most, but I was about to kill them. And I’m still here on Asgard, and not on Jotunheim bringing Loki with me, just because Odin sent a dozen of his guards to stop us on the Bifrost before we could reach Heimdall. I didn’t dare to slay twelve of my people. Next time, I am not sure I will be strong enough to restrain myself so easily.
Leastwise, it looks like Loki now can keep himself awake for longer time, even though this seems to consume his strength; I want to think he’s gradually retrieving at least his mind skills, it would be so encouraging for him.
Today he asked me to read him something, some poetry, because – he said – poetry has the power to make your inner self fly over the mere dreariness of hard facts. I picked one of his books, “Poems from the Nine Realms”. I felt a bit awkward, I’m not so good at reading, but when I began Loki gifted me with a soft smile, and that was enough to warm my heart up. Until, flipping through the pages, I came across that little poem. It’s called… “Saving You”. Again, Midgardian. When I started reading it, I just… I heard my voice… trembling. I could not help it.
The darkness takes him over,
The sickness pulls him in;
His eyes – a blown out candle,
I wish to go with him.
Sometimes I see a flicker –
A light that shone from them;
I hold him to me tightly,
Before he’s gone again.
Now I understand. I understand how written words can touch one’s soul. I understand how my little one feels when he reads. This poem is just me in this right moment. It’s us. I can’t believe someone so far from us, someone who never even knew we are here, could feel the same as us and catch these feelings in such a flawless way. I saw tears welling up in his eyes, while I was reading. And I’m sure he felt mine through my voice. He groped for my hand, he held it on his cheek, closing his eyes, just that. No words at all. Just that.’
Beyond the Sea of Space, across the Glowing Desert, he overstepped Skornheim, and Gundersheim, and Nidavellir, on his blind way to the light. Again they tried to stop him, again they sent warriors and even sorcerers, but they just attained the opposite: thanks to their hearts, thanks to their energy and their power, he could get huger, stronger, smarter… and send to Hel even a bigger amount of them than he expected.
Finally, when he smelled the proximity of Asgard, every single cell in his body boiled with unrestrained prurience.
But again that undecipherable Aesir god showed up, making the whole land rumbling, and forced him to stop at the foot of the mountains.
I was back from seeing Odin and the others. They’re worried. I am worried too, for it looks like that thing really can’t be killed. I found Loki crouched up in a corner of the room, half dressed, crying. I was not able to say a word, my heart just… snapped. I nuzzled next to him, took him in my arms, cuddled him. “Is it snowing outside? I like it so much when it snows…” he just said. “I wasn’t even able… to put my clothes on.” And grabbed my hands, sobbing. I can’t even imagine what is like living in that utter darkness, so powerless, so lost. I could feel the deadly chasm of his despair right in my veins, and bones, and soul. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to put into words how hurting that is. For me. I couldn’t, I can’t conceive how much more it must be for him. And I can’t stand seeing him like that for any longer. Why all this, why? Didn’t he endure enough pain already? Why it looks like the only thing he has left when he’s awake is crying? Didn’t he cry enough for his past sins? I held him in my arms, I kissed him, again I told him not to worry, and that I’m going to fix all things. I was sincere, I am sincere. I will fix all things. But I’m not sure he believed me. I am not even sure I believe myself, after I failed killing that doomed creature twice.
I couldn’t keep watching in his sightless eyes, those gloomy, pleading eyes. Those eyes awash with all the sadness of the universe. Those eyes that I adore. I kissed him again, he kissed me back. We melted our tongues together, and our fingers, and our skin. We loved on the floor, I told him “Let’s pretend we are in our secret little glade near Yggdrasil.” His body was so cold. We hadn’t loved since the night I took him back from Jotunheim, he is too weak, and downhearted, and most of the time caught in that exhausting sleep. I was so missing him. His touch, his lips, his shivers under my hands, his little moans of pleasure. He gave himself to me so sweetly, so innocently. So frailly. And when I took him, I tried to be more delicate than I’ve ever been. I still can’t find the words to say the feelings he can unleash in me, not only when we make love, no, even when I just think of him. I don’t know if he realized, but… while I was inside him and felt him close to coming… I cried. For there’s only one thing that now I can think to care about: I want to see him happy, and painless, and peaceful, and totally gratified just because of our love. As he would be, if he just could. And as would I. We spent millennia fighting, together, against each other, and killing enemies, and leading wars for other people’s sake. Now I only wish we both could live just on our love. I know he wishes the same. Is that too a petty thing to ask, for two like us who were born gods?’
All of a sudden, in his elsewhere, a second presence.
Subtle, blurry. And powerful.
Keeping itself concealed.
“Trust in your strength.”
Pale foggy words.
“You still can.”
Directly into his brain.
“You have to go.”
“You have to go.”
Too far into the mist to get more of that speech.
I have to go.
When he came back from the healers, Thor was a tangle of eagerness, carrying in his hands the phial with the right mixture to recover his little brother’s sight. Can’t wait to see you seeing me again, can’t wait to see you smiling at my smile. We will re-write history as though nothing of all this had ever happened.
He burst into their room, “Loki!”, rising his hand with the vial, “…Loki?”, he stood still just in the middle, his breath cut. His heart stopped. His mind, dead.
The heaviest silence ever.
As he could put at least some of the pieces of his severed thoughts together again, he saw.
On the pillow at the head of their empty bed, his journal, opened back-to-front on the last page.
And on that page, halting, Loki’s handwriting.