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"Wake up, little prince."
Immediately, he felt his muscles tense, yet his body remained in its death-like state.
"Wake up…"
The moan that floated past his lips only served to aggravate his burning throat even further.
"Wake up, little prince. The game isn’t over yet."
No… Eyelids heavier than Mjolnir, he fought to push the voices out of his mind. Fought to live; fought to wake up.
"Come play with us a little longer…"
No. He couldn’t breathe. No…
"We promise not to hurt you… much…"
Air eluded him. He couldn’t escape; couldn’t get out.
"Wake, little prince. Wake…"
Loki’s eyes shot open.
A strangled gasp tore at his throat as the darkness consumed him. On all sides, it crept closer and closer, seeking to devour every fiber of his being.
He had to get away. He had to—
Ignoring the incessant patches of pain, Loki scrambled to his knees and lunged forward in a desperate attempt to escape the whispers.
In the Void, evil knew no bounds.
In the Void, there was no such thing as escape.
And yet, he had to try. Had to get away; had to get to his brother. His—
Thor!
Thor had been there. Thor had been with him in… But that couldn’t be right. Thor never set foot in the Mad Titan’s hole of despair. No, Thor wasn’t…
Only, he was. He was there. He was just—
Loki’s frantic scramble came to a sudden halt when he collided with something large and solid. Something familiar…
A body. A dead body…?
No.
Thor.
But he wasn’t… He can’t be…
Swallowing his fear, if only for a moment, Loki lit a small green flame atop his palm with the mere flick of his wrist.
Thor was there, all right. Unconscious, yet alive. His breathing was shallow, but at least he was breathing.
Sucking in another gasp of air, Loki forced his lungs to mimic his brother’s. Breathe, you fool!
Breathe…
He wasn’t in the Void. He was fine. He was…
Where in the Nine…?
One glance around their small, earthen prison was all it took for the memories to come flooding back faster than he could reorganize them.
The call.
The Avengers.
The New York bombings.
The building. The civilians.
Thor.
Thor.
Escorting the last of the civilians to safety and going back down to the basement for Thor.
The explosion…
Then, nothing.
Now, this. Darkness. Complete and utter darkness, broken only by the flickering flame. The flame that slowly dimmed with each quickening thump of Loki’s heart.
After checking Thor’s pulse to make sure he was still breathing, Loki’s trembling hand groped around for his earpiece.
“This—” His voice cracked, so he cleared his throat. There would be none of that. He might be trapped who-knows-how-far beneath the ground, but he wasn’t weak.
"With each passing day, little prince, you continue to weaken. Soon, you will break."
“This is Loki,” he began, his voice sturdier this time, though it hurt to speak. Had he been screaming? He must have… Why else would his vocal cords be rebelling against him?
"Thor?"
"Thor!"
“I need backup on 32nd Street. Does anyone copy?”
Nothing. Only the ragged sound of Thor’s breathing.
“Can anyone hear me?” And if his tone was edging steadily closer toward panicked, well… Loki wasn’t in the right frame of mind to notice. “I repeat: Thor’s down and I need backup on the corner of West 32nd and 5th Avenue.”
Can anyone—?
"Because down here, my precious little prince, no one can hear you scream."
“Captain?”
Nothing.
“Stark? Natasha?”
Not even static clouded the line.
Heart pounding, Loki wrapped his hand around his brother’s, as if the physical contact would calm the incessant shaking.
“Stark? Anyone?” Come on! “Tony? Tony, I need backup! Please, I—” He swallowed the rising sob before its pathetic sound could fill his ears. “Tony, I n-need you!” Where are you…?
But no one could hear him. The connection was either out of range or broken altogether.
He was on his own.
At first, he wasn’t sure what to do. Think, fool, think! A shiver ran down his spine as he squinted through the dim lighting at his brother. It had been so long since he was the only one looking out for himself that he didn’t know how best to proceed.
He needed Nat. Nat was steady, calming. Always sure of herself, always ready with Plan B.
Loki sucked in a breath and tried to strengthen his flame.
He needed Tony. Tony was caring, even if he didn’t always show it. Tony ran through walls to get to people. And his sarcastic quips made you forget that you were ever in danger in the first place.
As Loki’s fingers curled tighter around Thor’s hand, he silently begged his brother to wake up.
Because he needed Thor. He needed Thor to be okay; to wake up!
One minute. One minute of silence was all he allowed himself before he accepted the fact that backup wasn’t coming—and if it was, he was certain it wouldn’t arrive in time.
In time for what? Thor was not dying. He was just…
For the first time since coming to, Loki realized he hadn’t taken stock of their injuries.
A bloody forehead, shallow breathing, and an unnaturally shaped arm were the only ailments on Thor he could see in the semi-darkness.
For his part, well… His right wrist had lost its appearance of normalcy. He supposed it would’ve hurt, too, if he wasn’t running on pure adrenaline.
His head throbbed a bit, but that pain was dulled by adrenaline as well.
Something itched at his back, too…
Trivial injuries. Ignore them.
Right.
Finding an exit was his next task, so he shot a few green fireballs in several different directions. Rubble and debris littered the ground—some even hung from the jagged ceiling. It was a maze of destruction and Loki’s head spun just trying to pick out the best route.
Left seemed to be their best bet, so he slapped Thor on the face in a vain attempt to rouse the sleeping giant.
Nothing. Not even a string of hard shakes woke his brother.
That’s when Loki noticed it: the sharp piece of metal protruding from the thunder god’s side.
Oh, Norns…
A thin stream of blood trickled from the wound, a steady reminder that the countdown timer was ticking.
“All right,” Loki breathed aloud if only to fill a bit of the emptiness surrounding him. “Come on, Thor. Try to make this easy on me, won’t you?”
Despite what the voices in his head might whisper to him on a daily basis, Loki was by no means weak. He was stronger than most humans, to be sure, and his stamina levels rose well above average. However strong Loki happened to be, though, Thor was stronger, and his muscle mass only added to his overall weight—which, in Loki’s injured state, was beyond his lifting capabilities.
Nevertheless, Loki hauled his brother up by the shoulder guards and proceeded to drag him through the bombsite. Only a few minutes crawled by before the young Avenger realized this tactic wouldn’t work—if the screaming of his biceps was any indication.
“Come on, Thor,”—And he wasn’t sure he quite cared for the way his tone wavered—“you’ve got to work with me.”
A heavy silence filled the air, reminding him that Thor wouldn’t be replying until someone worked that metal out from between his ribs.
When brute strength failed—as it often did when paired up against his brother—Loki turned to magic. Conjuring a rope he’d tucked away long ago (for safekeeping), he secured it around Thor’s chest and under his arms. Then, he tied the other end around his own waist. There.
Taking several deep, preparatory breaths, Loki spared an apologetic glance at his brother before starting toward the exit once more. The rope tugged at first, biting into his hips and stomach in painful protest, but Loki grabbed hold of the device and pulled with all his might.
Out. Get out. You have to get out!
His mind chanted the mantra. Over and over again, it whispered the words, propelling him forward when his legs wanted so desperately to buckle down and rest.
If you stop to rest, you’ll die. You’ll die alone in this hole.
Right. Left. Right. Left.
Is that what you want?
One foot in front of the other.
Thor will die, too. He needs more help than you can give him.
Right. Left. Right—
And the best you can give him is getting him out. Get out!
Out of what? Where was he? How far under the ground did the blast send them? And how long would he have to dig to get them back to the surface again?
He never should’ve gone back down there. The thought was bitter, but he couldn’t take it back. It was true. If Thor hadn’t gone back for the civilians, he would be fine right now.
Great. So, then the people would’ve died. His life for theirs, right?
People die all the time. What’s the difference?
You. And that voice sounded a bit like Tony’s. Even in his solitude, Loki could almost see the motivating finger pointing at him. The difference is you. Of all the things I’ve done—and I’ve done a lot—being an Avenger is definitely the hardest.
Though he’d been going for a scoff, the noise that filled the air sounded more like a strangled gasp as he hauled Thor over a small hill of debris. You don’t say.
You constantly have to be thinking about others—and I don’t know about you, but my first instinct is to think about myself.
Relatable.
Sweat carved trails in the grime coating Loki’s face as he focused on the tiny Tony in his mind. Right. Left. Right—Stumble—Right. Left.
So, here’s the thing: you can either keep dwelling on the past—you know, “what if I’d done this differently,” or “I should’ve been faster.” All that junk—and you can count the cost. Or, you can keep racing toward the future. The future is all about change. What are you going to change? How are you going to change it?
He was trying to save Thor. Wasn’t that the next step in trying to change things?
I wouldn’t have to if Thor hadn’t gone back for those civilians…
Come now, his inner critic mocked him as he stumbled once more, what kind of Avenger are you?
I’m not. It was just a title—a name slapped on him by Rogers and the rest of the gang.
But you accepted it, didn’t you? Didn’t you?
Think about it this way: Tony’s voice continued, none of us were born to be heroes. Hell, none of us deserve to be heroes—least of all you and me. And yet, for some reason, we are. Call it Fate’s twisted sense of humor. Whatever the case, heroes aren’t born—they’re made. Slowly, painstakingly, they’re built piece-by-piece over the course of a lifetime for some, and for others, in the blink of an eye.
Either way, even heroes stumble. Even the best can fall. So, whatever you’re thinking about yourself, cut it out. Got it?
Because you can do this.
Even as the rope continued to pull and rub against his body, Loki put one foot in front of the other.
You have to do this.
Still, even with his imaginary Tony’s little pep-talk, Loki couldn’t escape the sharp claws of regret in the back of his mind—and the invisible nails digging into his back… Because maybe it wasn’t Thor’s fault. And maybe it wasn’t even the fault of the foolish civilians who couldn’t manage to get themselves out of the basement without assistance.
The blame, he decided, fell on him and him alone.
Because I wasn’t fast enough. I could’ve teleported them all out of the building before the bombs even began their deadly countdown.
Yes, his cynic shot back. You’re definitely that advanced in your magic. Your own mother probably couldn’t even do that!
Loki grit his teeth and tightened both fists around the rope until he was certain his knuckles would bleed white.
Mother can do anything.
Sometimes, he wondered when he would see her again. The Avengers were great—and he meant that in the loosest sense of the word—but they would never be Frigga. No one could ever be Frigga.
A low moan echoed through the jungle of debris, reminding Loki that his brother needed medical attention—and fast.
I’m going as fast as I can!
But it won’t be good enough, will it? It never is…
Gritting his teeth, Loki forced his legs to keep going. He could hardly feel them anymore, this being his only indication of how much time had passed.
Come on…
Just a little further…
Right. Left.
Stumble. Left.
Stagger. Right.
Left. Right.
Stop. Breathe.
Stumble. Left.
Come on…
Right. Stumble.
Fall.
Sharp stones tore through his clothes and flesh as his knees collided with the ground. The pain should’ve been greater. It should’ve hurt more. Why it didn’t, Loki couldn’t tell. He simply sucked in breath after painful breath in a vain attempt to draw more energy from the air itself.
Because he had to get up, get up!
Heroes weren’t made to give up. They were made to fight.
Right, well… Loki hunched over himself, rubbing at where the rope had burned his skin. I’m no hero.
Depends on your definition of the word. And there was Tony’s voice again, still pushing him forward. Still begging him not to give up.
Okay… Slowly, Loki rose once more. Okay.
Right…
It was slow going this time, even slower than before. Though the fall had stirred some feeling back into his legs, it wasn’t much to go on—and it certainly didn’t aid him in his trek forward.
Left… Right.
Stumble. Right. Limp.
Left. Right. Stop.
Right. Stumble.
Fall.
This time, Loki tripped so hard that his entire body came crashing to the ground. A choked cry echoed off the low ceiling as pain shot through his shoulder and back. Then his side.
Then his head, the cruel result of his most important body part smacking against a particularly large stone.
For a moment, he lingered between life and death. That suffocating, deadly realm that both welcomed Loki and scared him more than Thanos himself.
Because in this floating river of black and semi-consciousness, Loki had only two choices: give in to the darkness or pull himself back into a world of crushing pain.
Every time, the latter always seemed the most appealing. And yet, the most deadly.
That’s right, little prince, close your eyes… Heavy as they were, Loki struggled to keep his lids open. It’ll all be over soon…
It’ll all… be…
With a strangled gasp, Loki filled his lungs and opened his eyes wide. He had to get up. He had to save…
Thor.
Struggle as he might, Loki hadn’t the strength left to stand, or even kneel. The best he could do was drag himself over to his brother. Brother…
Blood still oozed from Thor’s wound, like one thick, long stream crawling down a cheek. It was this morbid comparison that made Loki aware of his own tears. They flowed fast and freely, thick droplets that dripped onto Thor’s chest and mixed with the dark pools of blood.
“I ca…” A single, choked sob stole his breath away as he gripped Thor’s arm. “I… I can’t do it. I’m sorry, brother, I… I can’t… I’m not… not strong enough…”
I’m just not strong enough…
Time passed, though Loki couldn’t tell how much. Ten minutes, maybe? An hour?
How long until we die here?
A shiver wracked his beaten frame and he found himself curling up closer to Thor.
Alone.
Alone because I couldn’t save him.
Why can’t I ever save him?
You’re always too late, his demons whispered. In response, Loki tightened his grip on his brother’s arm.
Too late to keep Thor from invading Jotunheim.
Too late to save him from being banished to Midgard.
But… That was a good thing, wasn’t it…?
Too late! Always too late.
Stop it… Shut up!
Always…
And now, little prince, you’re going to die.
A sudden bright light flashed in the distance, pressing against his tightly shut eyelids.
Funny, he’d always assumed death would be darker, like slipping into a deep sleep. Was this Valhalla, then? Wait, one had to die in the midst of battle to be welcomed into Valhalla. So… Does this even count…?
But he didn’t deserve to go to Valhalla, did he…?
Perhaps the gates were only opening for Thor. Figures.
For him, Hel would come next.
No… The crushing weight of their situation slammed into him without mercy. Don’t take him from me! Please, don’t— Loki clung to his brother as if he were truly strong enough to keep them together. Please, don’t take him from me… You can’t…. You can’t take him!
You… can’t…
“I see them!”
That voice was familiar… But it couldn’t be…
“Cap, you wanna get the Big Guy over here? We might need help digging them out.”
Loki’s eyes shot open. Tony.
As if on cue, the iron-clad hero blasted through a small opening in the ceiling.
“You guys hurt?”
“What do you think?” Though his tone lacked its usual bite. Because Tony was here. He was going to save them.
He was going to do what Loki couldn’t.
Tony’s chuckle held the slightest bit of strain. “Good to see you too, kid.”
And worry. Yes, there was definitely worry in his voice.
“Cap, we’re gonna need medical, too. Like, now.”
Though his head was swimming, Loki tried to concentrate. They were being rescued. They were going to be okay—
Thor.
Heart racing, he checked his brother’s pulse. It was very faint, but still there. For how long?
While he blinked, Natasha seemed to materialize beside Thor, her cheeks streaked with dirt, her face pinched with barely concealed worry.
“Hey, you two,” she said with a tight smile. “Long time, no see.”
A snappy comeback danced on the tip of his tongue, yet all Loki could manage was a small hum. Exhaustion continued to weigh him down, and yet he had to make sure Thor would be all right.
He’s gonna be… all right…
“Thor,” Loki groaned. “His side… The shrapnel… You've got to—”
“We’re on it, kid,” Tony replied with a smirk that betrayed his growing concern. “You just relax, okay? Yeah, that’s it. Just don’t move too much.”
What…?
A thin bolt of panic pierced his cloudy confusion. Don’t move. Tony told him not to…
Why?
Blinking away the oncoming darkness in vain, Loki did as he was told. He froze.
“What…?” Norns! Would this pain ever go away? He was so tired… Too tired… “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Natasha’s smile was grim. “Nothing as long as you stay still. Like Tony said: relax.”
What in Helheim…?
Tony bit out a curse before hissing back into his earpiece, “Now’s not the time to play the slow old man, Cap. We need medical now!”
Despite their ominous instruction, Loki shifted, ignoring the nagging pain. Craning his neck, he tried to follow Tony’s gaze, but his lower back sat just below his line of sight.
Bolts of pain shot through his shoulder blades and he sucked in a sharp breath.
“Loki, stop!” came Natasha’s anxious command.
“Cap? We could really use some…”
Tony’s frantic voice faded into the background as the darkness returned, swirling about his vision and crushing his back.
“Loki?” That was Natasha again… Right? “Come on, stay with me, okay? I need you to keep your eyes open.”
Right…
Come now, little prince.
It’s time to sleep.
“Loki? Eyes open, got it?”
Close your pretty little eyes and sleep.
“Like this, see? Loki?”
We’ll keep you safe and sound.
“Loki!”
I promise.
“Loki!”
You’re in better hands now.
That’s it…
That’s it, child.
“Tony, we’re losing him!”
Sleep.
“Hey, kid. You with me?”
Tony.
First, there had only been pain. Endless, throbbing pain. Needle upon sharp needle of—
Now, there was Tony. Tony was good. Tony was…
Tony.
Slowly, Loki forced his heavy eyes open.
“There we go.” Tony’s smile was more relaxed this time; less worried. “I’ve gotta say, the Widow was afraid you weren’t gonna wake up. Like. Ever.”
“How…” Loki blinked, a small attempt to clear his vision. “How long was I out?”
“Long enough to give Cap three heart attacks and Nat a couple ulcers.”
Sorry.
“What happened? Where…?”
“Hospital. Yeah,” Tony began, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair, “the shrapnel embedded in your back was too difficult for us to remove, so we had to take you to the professionals. You’re welcome.”
His foggy brain fought to piece together everything Tony was saying. All the memories… “Shrapnel…?”
“From the bomb, yeah. How you walked around for that long is beyond me. If you and Point Break would quit scaring us all half to death with your heroics, we’d be beyond grateful.”
Point—
Loki’s brain startled awake at the thought. Thor.
Where’s—
“Where’s Thor?” He croaked. “Is he…?’
There were many things for which Loki found it hard to grant himself forgiveness, but that’s something he was still working on. This, however… If Thor had…
Squeezing his eyes shut, Loki forced his mind to shut out that possibility. Thor could never …
Die.
If he’s dead, I’ll never forgive myself.
Tony’s lips stretched into that winning grin of his. “Thor should be back up and kicking in no time.”
The relief that washed over Loki was almost suffocating.
Almost.
“You, on the other hand,” Tony continued, “might have to resign yourself to working through the books in the library for a little while. But then, to you, that’s probably akin to winning the lottery.” His confusion must have been evident because Tony crossed his arms, trying to conceal any last vestiges of worry with a classic casual pose. “All that shrapnel did quite a number on your upper back. You go back out in the field—you go on a light run with Cap or even twist the wrong way—and you’ll tear your stitches. And trust me when I say, there’s a lot of those little suckers to tear.”
Though his hands itched for the opportunity to feel the back of his shoulders, Loki kept them firmly planted at his sides.
Okay, so minimal movement, taking a break, and hanging around the Tower for a while. Not so bad. He could live with that.
What he couldn’t live with, however, is it Thor had—
Stop it. Nothing happened. You’re fine now. He’s fine now. Nothing happened.
Nothing happened, sure…
Just a collapsed building and images of his brother dying that he was certain he’d never be able to shake.
“You good?” It was a loaded question, so Loki locked onto Tony’s gaze. He wanted Loki to talk, to share all his trauma so they could “talk about it.”
Right, well, some things you simply can’t work through that easily.
“Of course,” came his cool reply. Even under heavy pain medication, he could still hold to the title of Master Liesmith. “Or, I will be once I get out of this blasted hospital. Honestly, didn’t Thor ever tell you how much I despise these white-walled prisons?”
A slight smirk. “He might’ve mentioned something like that. Once or twice.” Then, his humor faded as concern clouded his gaze once more. “Seriously, though, you know none of what happened was your fault, right?”
“I never said it was, did I?”
“True.” Tony shrugged, sticking to that nonchalant manner of his. “From one self-blamer to another, though, I know the sort of thoughts you might be tempted to dwell on. Now, I won’t nag at you—that’s Cap’s job—but if you end up finding yourself in a battle with those thoughts, well, you know where to find me.”
A thick swallow and a nod were all Loki could manage.
No, he didn’t want to talk about it, because sometimes dwelling on the pain was so much more satisfying.
Yet, it was no less destructive than if Loki had detonated that bomb himself.
“Anyway,” Tony went on with a grin, “I think the rest of the team’s gonna break down the door if I don’t shut up and tell them you’re awake. They might murder me, too, if I don’t,” he added with a chuckle.
The team. Of course.
It was still difficult to think of that ragtag group of heroes as his “team,” but again, that was something he was working on.
As the group, minus Barton—of course—flooded into the room, Loki tucked Tony’s offer into the very deepest folds of his mind. Perhaps it would resurface someday, though that wasn’t likely. He would definitely have to see how Thor was doing first; see his brother fully awake and on the mend with his own eyes before even thinking about pouring his heart out to—
No. No, he wouldn’t pour his heart out to anyone, save his brother on the rarest of occasions. Not now. Not yet.
Maybe someday…
After all, he had a reputation to keep up.
No use ruining it on account of sentiment…