title: hail the tyrant saint, the great bereaver
summary: you were supposed to be beside me, always.
a/n: welp i tried. i hope you liked it. (:
Thor doesn't remember life without Loki in the peripherals. When they were young, Frigga told them, Stay close to each other. Protect one another. You are brothers, and there is nothing closer in this world than that bond.
And for years, Thor thought that she was right. Loki was always by his side. When Asgard cheered his name, when he wielded a knife for the first time, when he made his first kill, Loki was beside him, smiling.
He will look back on this later and wonder what went wrong, how he never noticed the tightness in Loki's eyes, the way his smile was as sharp as a blade, how his fists tightened until they nearly broke at the end.
As they say, hindsight is twenty twenty, and Thor never even bothered to open his eyes.
When Loki was three hundred and twenty-five revelations of the earth around the sun, he went through a phase where he never looked up from his books. He would wave Thor away, tell him that he had more important things to do than play with swords.
Thor had never been ignored before. He was the golden prince of Asgard, and no one turned him away. He was pet and admired and sometimes feared, but never was he treated as though he was not important.
He could not react to Loki as he could to someone who was lesser than him, however. They were equals, in rank if not in the other ways that counted.
But brother, he tried. I need your help.
We both know that your training requires more brute strength than my own. I do not have to always be with you.
He knew that, of course he did. There were certain things that Thor needed to be taught that Loki did not and vice versa. Not only that, but they both had certain responsibilities to see to, certain things expected of them. Thor was to rule and Loki was to advise, to watch out for his brother.
What could be in these books that interests you? Thor asks, because he does not see it. He hated reading as a child, and avoids it when he can. He would rather be doing the things described in books than reading about someone else doing them.
More than you could possibly imagine, Thor. That's the point, Loki had told him, and Thor wondered if that was the moment when he should have suspected something.
Thor had a fantasy, once, that was bathed in gold. In it he was sitting on his father's throne, the sun streaming behind him as the people of Asgard roared his name and blessed him and his future sons.
It was a happy day, a good one. There was to be a feast that night with all of his favorite foods and wines, and the whole kingdom was invited. He would show the people that he was to be a generous ruler, a good king. His father would have made the right choice, having him be his heir.
And beside him through all of this was Loki, smiling and glowing like the moon, a reflection of the sun.
Thor was ready—more than ready—for this dream to become a reality.
Only then his dream was shattered into a thousand pieces underneath Loki's heavy boot, under the weight of Loki's crown and his greed. He never understood Loki's bitterness and even after everything—after everything, Thor just wanted his brother to come back home and be beside him.
But that, too, was to be only a dream.
The only place that his brother belongs now was a prison cell, far from Thor's side and the sun.
You must be truly desperate, to come to me for help, Loki says, as though Thor had not asked him for help a thousand times in the past, and had assumed that he would be able to ask thousands more in the future.
Just know that if you betray me, I will kill you, Thor answers, and he means it. It as though this is not fratricide. He says his words with no emotion, none at all, and watches as Loki looks up at him, amused.
When do we start? Loki asks, and for a moment, it is just like old times.