Chapter Text
“If you were here, I might even give you a hug.” Thor ponders, idly tossing the bottle stopper in the air before launching it in the direction of Loki’s supposedly fake double.
Loki is quick to raise his hand, allowing the stopper to slap against his very real palm. “I’m here,” he says reassuringly. The fond smile spreading on Thor’s lips makes Loki’s chest ache, for he is not allowed to complete his sentence before Thor is approaching him with open arms. Loki reaches out to lightly push the stopper into Thor’s chest, effectively halting his advancement. He swallows and finishes, “but I can’t stay.”
Thor’s face falls then morphs into a wide eye and a pouting lip.
“Oh, don’t give me that face, it won’t work.” Loki rolls his eyes.
“It worked when we were children,” Thor says, adding a slight quiver to his pout.
“That explains it!” Loki exclaims, throwing on an expression of mock-surprise, “You still are a child.”
Thor dissolves his immature begging and returns to a tired composure. “You’re right. I still am a child, for the hope that you will stay is utterly juvenile. Merely fantasy, like one of the stories mother would tell us before bed.”
Loki holds up a hand, silencing Thor, wishing to spare himself from listening to the metaphor any further. “I’m not finished,” he states plainly. He drops both his hands, keeping the bottle stopper in his grasp. “You may hug me when I return,” he adds. “And when I return,” he takes Thor’s hand and presses the stopper into his palm then curls his fingers around it, “you will throw this at me to make sure I am truly here, whether I like it or not,” he pauses, “I do not by the way.”
“Don’t you mean ‘if’? If you return,” Thor points out and Loki’s features twitch. “Where are you planning to go? Or have you not decided where to escape to yet? There is no point in calling it a return trip when it is truthfully a one-way.”
“I’m going back to Sakaar,” Loki blurts, naively hoping Thor will just hand him the Commodore and let him be on his way. When Thor only offers a confused stare, Loki continues, “In hopes of finding the Grandmaster.
“Why in the Nine Realms would you want to see that lunatic again? That man forced me to compete in his life-threatening so-called game. He imprisoned all of us on that trash heap. He thought us his property!” Thor exclaims, his voice borderline yelling. He stops, reevaluating Loki’s words. “Wait. Why are you telling me this?”
“I am simply informing you of my plans.” Loki explains, using a graceful outwards sweeping gesture with his hands.
“No. No you are not.” Thor points an accusing finger at him and narrows his gaze. He cracks a knowing smile, so devious it almost matched that of Loki’s, almost. It looks odd on his face. Too sinister for such a sunny composure, but still sufficiently threatening. “You’re asking my permission.”
Loki straightens and hardens his features, “I am not.”
“Oh, but you are.”
“I do not need your permission to do as I please.”
“Then, why are you here?”
“Like I said, I am here to inform you, nothing else.”
“That’s a lie! Since when do you ever inform me of any of your plans? All you do is sneak around behind my back, then occasionally stab me in it.” Thor stalks closer, his sly grin gaining more childish glee. Like he caught Loki stealing sweets from the kitchen late at night and he is about to run off to tell their mother. “You never bother telling me anything. You would have just stolen the ship and flown to Sakaar without even considering informing me.” He is standing face to face with Loki now. He taps his chest with a finger, “You’re asking my permission.”
Loki smacks his brother’s hand away and puffs out his chest. His gaze pierces into Thor skillfully and his lips tighten into a straight line. “The day I ask your permission is the day – “
“You come back from the dead? Odin dies? Asgard is destroyed? I lose my hammer? I lose an eye? Stop me when I’m close. We have had a peculiar last couple days. You asking my permission is simply another oddity in the mix.”
Loki clenches his fists and heat rises in his body. It would have been easier and less embarrassing to simply steal the Commodore, rescue the Grandmaster, and fly to a deserted planet to rebuild what the revolution had collapsed. And Loki considered this, many times.
But here he is. Standing in his brother’s quarters, asking for permission.
As if Thor’s approval meant something.
“Fine.” Loki grits out painfully. He exhales sharply through his nose, like a beast preparing to charge. “May I take the Commodore, Your Highness?” He spits, plenty of venom tainting his words.
“Ooh, so close. I suppose I’m not ‘Your Highness’ anymore since I’m no longer a prince.” Thor huffs loudly and places his hands on his hips, looking off as if in thought. His attention snaps back to Loki, this time he is wearing a cheeky grin. Loki hates it. “I’m king,” he pauses and there is a brief spark in his eye, “Your Highness.”
Loki clenches his teeth so hard he fears they may shatter. “You are an blundering idiot and you always have been,” he shoves Thor’s chest then points a finger at him as sharp as he would hold a dagger, “You will be an absolutely incompetent king. So far, you have reduced Asgard to ruins and had a significant population decrease. If you ask me, this doesn’t seem to be the best start to your rule, Your – wait. What was your title again? Lord of Thunder?”
“It’s God of Thunder and you know it!” Thor snaps, smacking at Loki’s hand. He looks upset. More offended than angry. Loki snorts. The funniest part is that he’s offended by the incorrect title and not the insults to his rule.
Loki sighs, dropping their immature fight. “Brother,” he begins with a shockingly even tone, “may I take the Commodore? I wish to make a trip to Sakaar.”
Thor’s lips sprout a gentle grin, clearly pleased with the chosen title. Unfortunately, them being brothers meant that the teasing never ends. “I’m not sure, I’ll think about it.”
“Oh, come on!” Loki groans.
Thor lets out a bellowing laugh, tossing the stopper back onto the liquor table. “Come, brother,” Thor reaches out to grip the familiar place at the crook of Loki’s neck, “we must attend my coronation.” He pulls Loki along, dragging him out of his quarters and down to the main hall.
“I attended your first one, why must I attend this one as well?” Loki whines, dragging his feet to slow them down.
“Because you ruined my first one and got me banished.”
“Details.” He brushes him off with a coy hand gesture.
Thor exhales a huff of laughter then playfully shoves his brother, who stumbles, but laughs warmheartedly. Thor reels him back in, throwing a heavy arm around his shoulders. For once, Loki doesn’t mind the weight bearing over him. He would happily support his brother.
They wander down to the main hall, which is already packed with every remaining Asgardian and the Sakaaran refugees. They break away from one another, Thor taking the throne as the Valkyrie courteously invites him and Loki stepping to the side.
Their positions aren’t all that different from the first time. With Loki, off to the side, and Thor parading down the aisle, always the centre of attention. But this is different. Loki doesn’t mind this arrangement. He may be standing to the side, but he isn’t cast aside. He is welcomed, maybe even wanted.
He steps closer, feeling drawn to his brother – his King. He supposes that Thor will be a benevolent king, an honourable one, unlike Odin, who only chose to lie and burry his shameful past. Thor was always good, there was no doubt about that, but now he could bear the responsibilities of a king and make thoughtful decisions. Something he was surely incapable of the first time around. He was immature and arrogant, and while he still is, there has been significant improvement. No king can be perfect, but Thor will be the kind of king who knows this. He will take the word of the people and whoever he shall admit as his counsel, knowing full well that he cannot do this alone and that he will never have to.
Loki isn’t surprised Thor chose Earth as their destination. It seemed to be what their father wanted on his dying day. Perhaps the plan was to settle in the place where their father passed. Loki will admit it was quite beautiful there, so peaceful and secluded.
The course is set for Earth, and despite recent events, the Asgardians are eager to congratulate and greet their new King. Citizens rush up to the King dawning bright smiles and expressing great thanks. Thor is warm as he interacts with his people, shaking hands, pats on the back, and the occasional hug. He received their praise so easily.
Loki slips out into a smaller corridor, feeling overwhelmed. He refused to push himself back into thinking he lived in Thor’s shadow. He knew Thor never thought that of him, and that his insecurity was perpetrated by Odin. It wasn’t like that anymore. Loki leans against the wall, feeling grounded by the cool metal plating. He inches to the edge of the corridor so he can peer into the main hall. He sees his brother holding a young boy who was clinging to him tightly with the brightest possible smile on his face. Loki grins at the sight. The citizens have every reason to adore their new golden King.
“Excuse me?” A small voice says in time with a light tug to Loki’s cape.
Loki snaps out of his thoughts and looks down to see a young girl beaming up at him with big curious eyes. Her face is smeared with dirt and wisps of her dark hair were frizzing from her braid. Loki crouches down to face her, “Yes, my dear?”
A tiny hand comes up to brush a lock of stray hair from her face. “Thank you for saving us,” she says unexpectedly.
Loki’s breath catches in his throat and he can’t find a reply, but he doesn’t have to when small arms wrap around his neck and pull him in for a hug. Her hands tightly grasp the base of his cape and the fabric twists in her little fingers. When he finds the wits to act, he gently pats her back just before she pulls away.
She pushes away the stubborn stray hair again, making a futile attempt to tuck it behind her ear.
“Here.” Loki shows her his empty palm before twisting his wrist and revealing a green barrette between his fingertips.
Her impossibly wide eyes gaze in wonder.
Loki neatly pulls her stray hair to the side and clips it down. “How is that?”
She touches the barrette gently, verifying that it was real. After all, it did supposedly appear out of thin air. A wide grin spreads on her face, “Thank you!”
“You’re welcome, my dear,” he says, offering a warm smile.
She mutters something about needing to show her mother then runs off into the crowd. Loki looks up and jumps when he realizes how close his brother is. Apparently, Thor is one for spying too. Loki stands and straightens his clothes as his quickened pulse settles.
“You’re getting soft,” Thor says fondly.
“Hey,” Loki replies defensively, “Shouldn’t you be kissing babies or something? What kind of king are you?”
“An exhausted one. I’m making plans to sneak away to sleep in our room.”
“Our room? What do you mean our room?”
“We have to share a room, there isn’t enough space onboard for everyone to have their own sleeping quarters.”
Loki scrunches his nose in disgust.
“Do not give me that face. Come on, it will be like when we were children.” That was hardly convincing. Even when they were boys Loki desperately yearned for his own room, and when he got it, it felt like sweet relief. Like Hel was he going back to that arrangement!
“You snore like a beast!”
“And you kick like one!”
Loki huffs, “I really am going to need the Commodore. I need to get off this ship if it means having to share a bed with you.”
“Oh, so you’re not planning on coming back.” Thor sounds genuinely dejected, as if Loki’s words during this argument truly reflect his intentions.
Loki sighs, taking pity on his brother. “Of course, I’m coming back. But I’ll be with the Grandmaster, so I assumed I would be sharing with him,” he pauses to serve Thor a sly smile, “but I suppose he won’t mind if you’re there too, he did quite like you,” and tops it off with a wink.
Thor’s entire face twists into nauseating displeasure, and Loki has officially won.
Once Thor regains himself, he says, “Let’s not forget. I have yet to decide if you are allowed to take the Commodore.”
Loki shoots him a dirty scowl then smacks his lips, “Fine.” He transforms his scowl to a cold grin, “When you’ve decided, let me know. I’ll be in my room. It’s the one that used to be yours,” he taps Thor’s wide chest for emphasis, then takes the form of an Asgardian woman. She takes Thor’s hand and drags him out into the crowded room before he can do so much as protest, and grabs the attention of a random citizen. “Have you met the King yet? He is simply charming,” she says in a delightfully cheery voice. Turns out this random citizen has a whole family who are just dying to meet their King and take up plenty of his time.
“Loki –” Thor grits out under his breath and masked behind a smile.
Loki wiggles her delicate fingers as goodbye, then slips through the crowd and into a side corridor. His typical form shimmers back as he strides towards his new sleeping quarters. Those Asgardians should occupy his brother for a while, they always do, Loki was shocked at the amount of people who wished to converse with him during his time as Odin. And Odin was barely approachable in the first place, Thor on the other hand was kind and would never turn anyone away. He will be talking forever.
Loki chuckles. That’s what he gets for not giving him the Commodore.
He enters his room and is surrounded in darkness once the door swishes shut. He feels along the wall, searching for the light controls, and when his fingers grace over a control panel, it brightens at his touch. He squints at the illuminated screen and taps at it, attempting to find anything that resembled light controls. Unfortunately, every Sakaaran thing was practically incomprehensible. He groans in annoyance as he hits a series of commands, hoping it would work in his favour.
Something flickers and pops behind him and he glances over to see a hologram of the Grandmaster suggestively reclined on the bed. The static figure beckons to him with odd hand gestures and strange facial expressions, and occasional verbal coaxing crackles through the speakers and echoes against the ship’s hull.
Well…that is intriguing, but not quite the favour he needs right now.
He turns back to the control panel and continues tapping commands. Now he has another problem, because there is no way he is sleeping with that on him. He pauses. He usually loves sleeping with that on him. Odd. He shakes off the thought and continues with the panel. Finally, the room begins to lighten till it reaches a sufficient brightness. Loki sighs in relief, then moves on to vanishing the hologram.
Or, that is his intention till he hears another voice over the speakers. He freezes then glances back over to the bed. Another figure had materialized at the foot of the bed, a peculiar being with pearly white skin and inky black hair that curled at the tips. The being climbs onto the bed in fluid motions, laying down gracefully beside the Grandmaster. Their face is flat and curious. A nose consisting of nothing more than diagonal slits, lips lightly tinted purple, and eyes that are wide, glossy, and entirely black.
A magnificent being. Like all those that find themselves in the Grandmaster’s company. Some he pleasures, some he admires, and some he loves.
This one in particular, falls into the pleasure category. If the way the Grandmaster’s hands tenderly roam over every inch of the spectacular being is any indication of that. It is a meaningless performance conducted merely to produce such self-indulgent porn.
Still, jealousy pangs in Loki’s gut. He wants to be the one in the Grandmaster’s bed, experiencing such affections.
He exhales slowly and a copy of himself separates from his body and approaches the bed, falling into place of the unknown creature. His copy matches the motions of the being, fully replacing it with his own image. Loki inhales sharply as he watches his familiar form receiving the intimacy. Watching the Grandmaster’s hands travel confidently, as if trying to gather as much information as possible, and the way his lips are trying to taste everything just to fill his senses.
It wasn’t right.
Loki set his jaw, tilting his head as he examined closer. The Grandmaster’s actions were pleasurable, but careless. Simply a display to appear desirable and induce arousal. It was all presentation: the wide palms grasping, blatant groping, and sloppy kissing. But that is what it was supposed to be: a performance, and nothing more.
The true nature of the Grandmaster’s affections was effectively hidden from the public. Perhaps to reserve the smallest ounce of privacy, though he seemed unaware of that concept. In private quarters, the Grandmaster was loving. He proceeded slowly and valued every second of warped Sakarran time. His touches were careful and calculated, determined not to waste a single movement. And his kisses – oh, his kisses – were like otherworldly sensations. Each press of his lips felt as if he was creating a new emotion to pair with it. Complex, unspeakable emotions. Kisses that felt like the sight of a freshly bloomed flower, or the sound of morning rain pattering against leaves, or the sweet taste of a ripe fruit, or the smell of a leather-bound book, or the static touch from thin fabrics clinging to skin.
Loki remembers.
He remembers being wrapped up in elegant deeps blues and delicate accents such as jewels or thread-like gold. Soft hands would guide him to recline on a bed, lush with fine silk and fat pillows. Those hands would caress him though thin fabric while familiarly painted lips would mutter words of praise. Time would slip away and each touch would linger for eons. Loki loved the attention, but occasionally the Grandmaster would need some coaxing to move forward. Loki would guide the Grandmaster’s hands over the fastenings on his robes and aid him with each clasp and tie. The clothes would fall from his body like unravelling ribbons, and the Grandmaster would press tender kisses to every inch of newly exposed skin. His long delicate fingers knew exactly where to touch and stroke, and prepared Loki till he was nearly begging for more. Then, he was fucked so thoroughly that his body would ache with the memory for days. Lazy kisses would follow, along with tangled legs and hair twirled on fingertips. They would spend hours – or what felt like hours in warped time – basking in the afterglow. Sharing whispers and stories, occasionally in the company of flirtation and playful groping.
Loki is torn from the fantasy when the door suddenly slides open.
“Loki! Do you have any idea how long it took me to get out of that conversation? I had to promise to eat dinner with them tomorrow evening –” Thor freezes once he witnesses the scene on the bed and his eye widens comically. He snaps his head around to see his very guilty looking younger brother hastily slapping at the control panel, desperately trying to cancel the horrible events occurring on the bed.
The scene zaps from existence, not soon enough for Loki’s liking, but at least it’s gone. Loki faces his brother, hands on his hips as he comes up with an explanation. “These Sakaaran controls are unintelligible. I was simply trying to turn on the lights when that appeared.” Thor had most certainly not caught him watching porn.
“Oh, so then what is he doing here?” Thor asks, jutting his thumb over to the bed where Loki’s double was sitting cross-legged like he was waiting for a command.
Loki clears his throat roughly. “Helping?” he tries pathetically.
“Right…” Thor steps past them both and into the adjacent room.
Loki follows, calling his double with him. They enter one after the other, one leaning against the desk at the end of the room and the other settling into a nearby armchair.
They find Thor by the liquor table retrieving the forgotten drink he poured earlier that evening. “I hope that’s not the only reason you want him back,” Thor muses, soon turning to witness the pair.
The Loki in the chair uncrosses his graceful legs, planting his feet on the floor and appearing more receptive. He raises an eyebrow, “Excuse me?”
Thor glances between the twin figures, “Uh. The Grandmaster. I hope there are other reasons why you – Sorry, why are there still two of you?”
“Well, he was already out,” says the one on the table.
“And you’re always so off kilter when I do this,” finishes the one in the chair, smirking slyly.
“Right. Well, uh.” Thor clears his throat. He really is quite disarmed by this. “I can’t figure out why you wish to see that lunatic again. Everyone on that planet was his prisoner, just pawns he used for play.
“Hey!” The Loki in the chair snaps, while the one on the table abruptly lunges forward. “You don’t know a single thing about that man,” the one in the chair continues, his fingers digging into the arm rests. “He is more powerful than you could imagine. He witnessed the birth of the universe and he will witness its death. Yes, he’s bonkers. But I would prefer him to be an ally rather than an enemy. And so far, we were key elements in the revolution that took down his empire. So, I would say we are inching closer to enemy than we are to ally.” Loki relaxes, leaning back in his chair casually, “Besides –”
The standing Loki sits on a hip and checks his nails, “Those in his favour were treated admirably.” He drops his hand to his side, “Just ask the green monster currently harboured on this ship, I heard his arrangements were lavish and accommodating.” He truly hopes they were, since Loki did not dare check for himself during his time on Sakaar. “While you were trapped in that prison cell, I was treated quite well. Perhaps I enjoyed being fawned over in the way I deserve,” he tilts his chin up haughtily and delicately brushes a strand of hair from his face, “It is undoubtedly better than the way most of the Asgardians look at me, and especially those on Earth.”
Thor’s eye scans over the standing figure, narrowing in on some detail unknown to Loki. Thor set down his drink and stalks closer, keeping his eye on the standing Loki glowering down at him. Surprisingly, he leans away from him and instead snatches the wrist of the Loki sitting in the chair.
Damn.
Thor twists his brother’s wrist a little too roughly to examine his nails.
Loki’s copy quickly inspects his own. Blue. His nail polish is chipped in a couple places, worn down by extensive use, and in-need of a touch-up.
Loki remembers the night they were painted.
That night he was in the Grandmaster’s lavish bathing quarters. He was wrapped in a gorgeous shimmery deep blue bath robe and seated at a magnificent vanity mirror bordered with bright lights. It was heavily stocked. Filled with makeup in every imaginable colour, perfume bottles containing exotic scents, and assorted lotions and creams. There were also different brushes and tools, some for makeup application and some for hairstyling. He was rummaging through the numerous drawers and examining the different products while he waited for the Grandmaster to finish in the bath. He had sought him out earlier that evening, only to catch him in the middle of his nightly routine. Nonetheless, he was welcomed in, but he opted to busy himself while he waited. That is when he found himself curiously inspecting the dressing table.
He was poking through the various nail polishes when the Grandmaster straddled the bench next to him. He nuzzled his nose in the crook of Loki’s neck, still carrying warmth from the water. Then, he gently brushed away his hair to press a tender kiss on the exposed skin, and heat seeped into Loki’s body. The Grandmaster gave him a small nudge then rested his chin on his shoulder so he could look over the nail polish as well. His fingertips danced over the bottles, skipping over them like jumping across rocks in a river. Finally, he selected, plucking it from the field of colour. It was like his own blue polish, but instead it was darker and it shimmered instead of sparkled. When Loki reached for it, he realized it resembled the robe he had dawned for the evening. He wore it because the Grandmaster fancied it on him. The Grandmaster asked if Loki liked the colour of polish and when he nodded, he was asked to face him. He took one of Loki’s hands and began pressing kisses across his knuckles. Soon he pulled away and unscrewed the bottle of polish, carefully extracting the inky brush and dabbing the excess away on the rim. He gracefully cupped Loki’s relaxed hand as he painted his lengthy nails with exact precision. Loki remembers a strong feeling of intimacy washing over him, almost to the point of sickness.
Loki inhales a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the memory, and looks up at his brother who is studying him like his attention never faltered. “I miss him,” he admits in a whisper.
The Grandmaster’s public front put him in an odd light, making him out to be a quixotic hedonist. The assumption was not entirely wrong, but it didn’t delve further into his personality. He possesses otherworldly intelligence and makes for lovely company, as he is capable of engaging in playful dialogue pertaining to serious matters. Every occurrence in the universe is a happy surprise that he has witnessed in his lifetime, and he will continue to view the future with the same wonder and amusement. Even with all that knowledge and power, the thing he loves most of all is simply playing games. The arena fights were grand scale entertainment, conducted partially for the public. But the Grandmaster enjoyed intimate games of chess or cards too, especially when he found a particularly captivating being to challenge.
Loki graced that rare category.
He misses the adoring attention. He misses eyes roaming over him with positive wonder. He misses gleeful responses to his magic. He misses the way he was kissed, as if lips were not permitted to touch something so precious so they did so in secret.
When Loki refocuses on Thor’s face, his expression has softened. Loki hates it. It looks like pity. “Do you intend on returning with him?” Thor questions, “Bringing him back here will be a mistake. He will not be welcome. After all, we stole his vessel and are harbouring those who have overthrown him.”
Loki tears his wrist from his brother’s grasp and shoves him out of the way as he clambers up from his seat. He vanishes his copy and flexes his hands, trying to release some tension and calm his nerves. He steps up to the large window, clasping his hand at his front as he admires the endless expanse, the sight is oddly soothing. He falls silent, formulating the point he wishes to make to Thor.
Soon, this brother settles beside him, arms crossed over his wide chest.
“Do you really think it is a good idea to go back to Earth?” Loki asks, breaking the silence.
“Yes, of course. The people of Earth love me. I’m very popular.”
“Let me rephrase that: Do you really think it’s a good idea to bring me back to Earth?”
“Probably not to be honest. I wouldn’t worry brother. I feel like everything’s going to work out fine.”
“Why do you think everything will be fine? I tried to enslave the people of Earth and committed several accounts of murder, and I can’t imagine they have forgiven such acts. Bringing me back will be a mistake. I will not be welcome. Yet, you still decide to take me to Earth.” Loki turns to his brother and cracks a knowing smile, “What is your reasoning behind that choice?”
Is it love?
Thor’s gaze softens when the realization hits him.
“Perhaps that is my reasoning as well,” Loki admits softly.
Thor crinkles his features, appearing comically revolted. “But the Grandmaster? I know you’re not one for good taste, judging by the statue you had built, but I really thought you would have better standards regarding your partners.”
“Do not make me stab you again,” Loki says, his demeanour as flat as his tone.
Thor flashes a brief smile, hardly considering an apology.
He reaches over and pats Loki on the back when he continues to scowl, “Cheer up. You should be happy to know that Heimdall is preparing the Commodore for your departure.”
Loki’s eyes widen in surprise, “You’re letting me take the Commodore?” He begins to grin until a realization sends it crashing down into a frown, “Wait. When did you tell Heimdall to do that?”
“Oh,” Thor looks up as if he is recalling the moment, “I’d say right before I left the main hall to come here.”
“Norns!” Loki exclaims, shoving Thor away from him rather hard, sending him nearly crashing through the wall. “I didn’t have to tell you any of that!”
Despite hitting a wall hard enough to make a sizeable dent, Thor is on the floor howling with laughter.
“You know what?” Loki snaps, flicking out a knife and pointing it at his brother, “Just for that, I’m not coming back. I’m taking the Commodore and you’ll never see me again.”
He stomps away, only making it halfway across the room till his brother is latched onto his leg. “Get off me!” He yells, trying to yank himself free.
“I’m not letting you leave again!” Thor practically wraps both his arms around his brother’s leg, using his full weight to anchor him. Once he solidifies his grip, he reaches up and grabs Loki’s cape, tugging him down.
Loki crashes to the floor, then swiftly twists over to snarl at his brother. He attempts to kick himself free, but the massive leech is still crawling up his body. He flips the knife in his hand and brings his fist downwards, sending the blade straight into Thor’s arm. Thor recoils and Loki manages to scramble away, shuffling back till he hits the desk.
Thor sits up on his knees and shrugs his wounded arm forward, hissing in pain. He grips the hilt and retches the blade from his bicep, inhaling sharply through his teeth. He chucks the bloody weapon to the floor then clamps his hand over the open wound. “Oh, mother would have so grounded you for that.”
A giggle escapes Loki’s lips, “Well, mother is gone, and now I can get away with anything I want.” His lips twitch, realizing he would happily be grounded for a thousand years if it meant their mother would come back.
Thor notices his falter and offers a sad smile, “You’re right. Mother is gone. But that is why you can’t leave too.” He crawls over to Loki and settles down at his side. He keeps his hand clamped over the wound, but blood is trickling down his arm and through his fingers. “I mean, who else is going to nag me to eat my vegetables and bathe?”
Loki snorts and lightly nudges his brother, “You’re disgusting if you still need reminding for those things.” His head lulls to the side, resting on his brother’s uninjured shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere, you oaf. You would be a disaster without me.”
“And you are a disaster without me,” Thor counters.
“Hey!” he pokes his brother in the ribs, “Consider yourself lucky that I’m staying.” His sits up and looks at Thor, who appears relaxes despite the pain, “But I’ll have you know, you are not the reason I am. I’m staying for that sweet little girl.”
“I know.”
Loki gives a curiously skeptic look in response.
“I know she’s the reason you’re staying. After seeing you with her, that is when I decided to let you take the Commodore. Even if one person, who wasn’t me, were to appreciate what you did, then I know you would stay.” He turns his head and captures Loki’s gaze, “All you wanted was the recognition you deserve.”
There is a long stretch of silence as Loki thinks, keeping his eyes on Thor as he chews his lower lip. “Okay,” he sighs and holds out his hand, “give me your arm.”
“Oh god, thank you.” Thor gasps and spins around so Loki has access. He tentatively checks the wound, but quickly squeezes his hand over it again when the blood continues to pour, “It won’t stop bleeding.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry. The blade is enchanted.” Loki pries Thor’s fingers from his bicep and replaces it with his own, “It prevents the stab wound from closing and the blood from clotting, so the victims are destined to bleed out.”
“That was such a playful fight, why would you use something so fatal?” Thor asks, panic rising in his voice.
Loki shushes him and whispers a healing spell. A green glow swells through his fingers then fades to normal. He retracts his hand, and other than the blood still dripping down his arm, the wound is closed. “You’ll be fine, don’t be such a baby.”
“Yeah, now I’ll be fine.” Thor checks the skin for himself, not even a scar is present, “I would have bled out otherwise.”
Loki finally hauls himself off the floor and crosses the room, retrieving the knife Thor rudely tossed aside. He examines the blade, still wet with Thor’s blood, “You must admit, it’s a pretty good enchantment for a knife.”
Thor rolls his eyes just as the intercom whistles for their attention. Like really whistles. Like in the way boorish men whistle at ladies who do not deserve to be treated so disrespectfully.
Thor rises from the floor and finds the intercom, hesitantly pressing the button as if it might make another disturbing sound. “Hello?” he answers cautiously.
“My King, the Commodore is ready for departure.” It is Heimdall on the other end, which makes the whistle feel even more unsettling.
“Right. Thank you. Loki and I will be down momentarily.” He hangs up.
Loki was listening to the conversation while his attention is focused on cleaning his dagger with a cloth he pulled from the pocket dimension, “You plan on seeing me off then?”
“Of course,” Thor approaches to slap a hand on Loki’s shoulder, “and I will be waiting there for when you come back. Besides, you and Heimdall don’t exactly get along, so I may have to mediate between you two to avoid conflict.”
Loki vanishes the knife and cloth, quirking an eyebrow, “Preventing conflict, I’m impressed. Maybe you won’t be such a bad king after all.” Thor beams and Loki rolls his eyes, “Oh, quit it,” he slaps Thor’s hand away then shoves him towards the door, “let’s go.”
With that, they exit, striding through the quiet halls towards the docking area. They fall in step with one another, the sound of their boots echoing against the metal hull. Thankfully, the halls were empty, indicating that all the guests onboard had found rooms to reside in for the night cycle. One sharp turn and a couple long strides further, Heimdall awaits them before sealed doors. He greets them with a courteous bow, to which Loki responds with a slight upward tilt of his chin.
Heimdall eyes them for a moment, no doubt noticing the blood staining Thor’s arm and hand, then turns to punch a code into a keypad, “Rough night?” The door slides open easily and they step through, entering a secondary chamber before the docking bay itself.
“You tell me.” Loki counters, knowing full well that Heimdall saw their fight.
Thor gives him a warning glance, to which he replies with a feigned look of innocence.
The first door closes behind them, securely sealing them in the small box-like room. The second pair of doors were thicker, and there was a window giving view of the docking bay. Loki could see the Commodore, fuelled and ready for departure. Heimdall begins the lengthy process of entering safely, because though it would not be fatal, getting sucked out into space was not ideal. First, he double checks the pressurization. Second, he punches in a series of codes to release the multiple deadlocks. One by one, the locks unbolt, bulky metal groaning and clunking into place. Third, he presses a large newly green-lit button and the doors hiss open till they are slotted in the walls.
Loki heads off towards the ship, completely disregarding the others. He doesn’t mean to be rude, he’s just caught up in his own anticipation. The Commodore is raised on a makeshift stand, giving Loki easier access to its odd doors. He opens them easily, as if it’s second nature, knowing the exact motions without even a glance at the controls.
“You seem awfully familiar with this ship.” Thor comments, suddenly standing directly behind him.
Loki freezes, then spins to face Thor, “Well, you see, I – uh…” he clears his throat, “You already know this is his pleasure vessel, don’t you?”
Thor responds with a cheeky grin.
“When may we anticipate your return?” Heimdall interjects. Loki had nearly forgotten he was there.
“When you see me coming.” Loki answers, quirking an eyebrow, “Isn’t that your job?”
The corner of Heimdall’s lips twitch upwards, slightly. “It is my job to see oncoming threats so that Asgard may be ready. Therefore, I keep a particularly close eye on you.”
“Very funny.” Loki states flatly after punching Thor in the arm for snorting. He hauls himself into the ship, squatting to peer down at Thor. “Any last goodbyes?”
“Just one.” A moment of hesitation. “Please don’t let this be my last goodbye to you.”
“It won’t be. I’ll be back. I have returned time and time again. Even when I have no intention of coming back, we always seem to find each other. So, I think, whether I like it or not I cannot be rid of you.” He gives him a genuine smile. Then, Loki stands, makes his way to the front of the ship, and takes a seat in the pilot’s chair.
He sees Thor and Heimdall retreat to a safe position, then he shuts the ship doors as they contain themselves behind the thick doors from which they entered earlier. Red warning lights begin to flash, then the massive bay doors slowly hiss open, revealing the deep expansion of space. Loki powers up the ship, the controls blinking to life and the body purring as if it is happy to be awake again.
He lifts off. The smooth disc-like ship glides through the doors and is enveloped by vast darkness. Loki inputs the location coordinates to Sakaar and the ship lurches and spins as it corrects its position, seemingly eager to return home.
That makes two of them.