Darkness There, and Nothing - CH.3 - What Was She to You

Chapter Three

What Was She to You?

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Thor stared at his younger foster brother, unsure if he'd heard correctly. Loki gazed back at him impassively. Not a flicker betrayed him. But then, his brother had always been a good liar. He'd had centuries upon centuries of practice. After all, hadn't Loki fooled Thor—fooled them all—for however long he'd been plotting to usurp the crown prince and take the Asgardian throne? Why should Thor be surprised that his little brother could lie convincingly?

But the words the crown prince had spoken only the day before slipped into Thor's mind, taunting him with the echoes of a promise made to the younger foster brother who might just be going mad.

Loki, I don't understand. Please, explain it to me…Why should I bother? Loki had asked. You won't listen…I will, Thor had said. He'd promised to listen. And when Loki had predicted, You won't believe, Thor had promised to try. Perhaps such an oath had been rash, because how could he believe that Loki had gone from the Chitauri's unwilling prisoner to their general and the leader of their invading force? It was preposterous.

"The cell next to yours?" Thor echoed, not even bothering to hide his disbelief. "Did you take it and feign imprisonment in an attempt to woo the girl's confidences? Gain her trust? What did she have that the Chitauri could want so badly?" Was this Thea that Loki spoke of even really dead? Did she even exist?

The green-eyed prince shook his head wearily. For a moment there was something in the disguised Frost Giant's face that caught Thor's eye, an almost-feral desperation—there one instant, gone the very next, pulling at the concern always hanging over Thor like a threatening cloudburst. But then, replacing that whisper of bestial phobos, was Loki's familiar disdain. Rolling his eyes, he sneered, "Of course that was my design. After all, of course the Chitauri would seek to harness the power to destroy entire worlds in an eye-blink, with just the wave of a hand."

Thor's eyes widened. Horror shivered through him. Could his enemies truly possess such power? Midgardians were advancing at a frightening pace. Some of them, like Banner and Steven, possessed powers beyond the norm for their species. Could there be a Midgardian as powerful as Loki claimed? Then if the Chitauri ever returned to Midgard in full force, they could wipe out the mortals in seconds. Blue eyes stared at Loki in dismay as the pseudo-Æsir's thin lips curved into a smirk.

"Such power, and all in the hands of a single Midgardian. Truly a powerful weapon. Of course the Chitauri wanted her abilities under their control. Once the girl fell under my power, it was a simple enough matter, wooing her to our side."

Thor stepped back from the ensorcelled glass. The buzz of the seiðr dissipated as he put distance between himself and the containment spells. Sick disappointment churned in his stomach, mingling with the ever-present simmer of anger. Silence descended, broken only by the snap and crackle of the torches in the corridor. Shadows danced along the walls while coldly enraged blue eyes locked with taunting emerald.

"You almost had me fooled, Brother," Thor muttered, no little bitterness tingeing the words. He'd thought they were making progress. He had truly thought he was getting through to Loki a little. But it had all been a cruel little game to his brother. What was the crown prince supposed to tell Frigga? "I should have known better than to trust anything you said," he added softly. "A soldier for the Chitauri to the end, I suppose? You tricked the girl into using her powers for your twisted master and then killed her yourself, did you? And here you had me feeling sorry for you."

A flash of vicious hatred and something that might have been betrayal in Loki's eyes should've sliced Thor to the bone; he tried to shove the feel down, where he could ignore it. Surging to his feet, Loki stalked forward. The smirk was gone; all traces of amusement had vanished. In a voice smoldering with abyssal fire, Loki snarled, "Sorry for me. You felt sorry for me. Let me be the first to tell you how very much I appreciate your pathetic and so-sincere sentiment, Brother."

Pale hands slammed against the glass. Under Loki's strength, normal glass would have buckled, cracks spiderwebbing across the smooth panes before shattering under the blow. The enchanted window merely shuddered in its frame. Sparks of blue magic shot across the pane in incandescent waves. Loki pressed his forehead against the sparking, crackling glass, despite the fact that the seiðr had to be pushing at him, vainly attempting to shove him back with little needle-pricks of pain against his skin.

From between clenched teeth Loki spat, "Are you stupid? Are you blind?" Thor bristled, but before he could snap a reply, Loki jerked his hands back from the glass and brought them crashing forward again. The glass rattled harder under this second blow. The magic in it blazed with cobalt fire that reflected like dancing flames in Loki's eyes. The younger prince added with savage heat, "You sanctimonious idiot! You really are a fool. Will you believe anything I spoon-feed you? You've not changed at all."

Squaring his shoulders, Thor said coolly, "I'll not be toyed with, Loki."

Loki sneered at him. Thor's fist ached to knock that sneer off his brother's face. His fingers convulsed into a fist so tight his knuckles ached with the strain. Loki's voice dripped contempt when he hissed, "But you make it so disgustingly easy, Brother."

With a roar like an enraged lion, the crown prince took two furious strides forward and brought his fist down on the glass. It shuddered under the impact of his fist. Both princes seemed surprised by this flash of temper from Thor, but Loki's surprise quickly morphed into disdainful amusement. Thor narrowed his eyes as thin, pale lips curled into a cat-like smile. His heart hammered like Mjölnir in his chest as fresh anger flooded his veins like molten iron.

"Fates rot your soul, Loki," Thor thundered. A knife-thin black brow winged upward in mocking inquiry. Every word picked up more volume as Thor bellowed, "For once in your life, abandon your webs of falsehood and tell me the truth!"

The words echoed in the corridor. Thor's chest heaved as he fought to control his breathing, fought to cool his not-inconsiderable temper, fed by hurt, and bring it to heel. Loki merely regarded him with unfathomable emerald eyes. The contempt and condescension faded from his expression, leaving it blank as a brand new sheet of paper. Something impossible to read glittered in the depths of that jewel-gaze as the two brothers regarded each other. At last Loki's mouth curved into a smile with just a trace of mockery in it—mockery aimed at Loki himself, Thor thought with some surprise, not at the crown prince. Loki nodded slowly, as if coming to a decision.

"The truth?" Loki murmured conversationally. He shook his head as if in disbelief and pulled away from the glass, turning his back on Thor to amble over to the table and chair that he so often occupied during these visits. As if too weary to stand any longer, Loki slumped into the chair and stretched out his long legs. Long fingers trembled as they reached for a single sheet of paper on the table.

From his semi-distant vantage point, Thor could see the cramped, spidery handwriting that filled the entire page. The top-most line was the only part of the thing discernible from that distance. The Asgardian thought he saw a word beginning with "A"…but couldn't quite make it out. That small detail seemed important, though he couldn't have explained why.

Loki's eyes roved over the paper for a long moment of silence before he dropped it to the table again. Then he lifted his gaze to Thor's. "You want the truth? Truly?"

His anger finally under control once more, Thor nodded. "It is all I have ever wanted from you, Loki." Silently he pleaded with his brother. Work with me, Loki, he tried to say with his gaze. Will you not help me to help yourself, Brother? Tell me the truth.

Loki sighed and leaned back. Propping his elbow the arm of the chair, he brought his hand to his mouth and draped two fingers across his lips as Thor had seen him do when considering a difficult problem. After a time, Loki nodded again and fixed his brother with a look that was almost pitying. 

"I shall give you the truth, then, since you want it so much."

He straightened, dropping his arms so they draped across his thighs. He leaned forward, jade eyes piercing, and stared at Thor like a serpent watching a mouse. A strange unease shivered through the Asgardian under the full weight of that gaze.

Loki swallowed audibly and a shudder rippled through his tall, lean frame. "Tell me, Brother…do you have any idea what it is to be locked away in a dank, dark pit for days, weeks, months on end?" Loki's brow arched upward as Thor's brows furrowed. "Do you know what it's like, Thor, to be trapped in a box so small you can't take three paces, nor even stand without stooping, but are forced to crawl like a worm?"

Thor opened his mouth to reply…and found he had no words. He couldn't imagine Loki crawling. He couldn't imagine anyone having the audacity to try and make him do so. Even when he'd stood before Odin to receive the judgment of the All-Father for his crimes against both Midgard and Asgard, Loki had stood tall, refusing to kneel before a man he named "a treacherous liar." And Loki hadn't seemed to be crawling under the cruel weight of the Chitauri's torments when he'd murdered Coulson or overseen the attack on the mortal city of Manhattan. When he'd stabbed Thor after the Asgardian had pleaded with him one last time to surrender and come home. What fetters had bound him then?

The fetters that bind me are stronger than any that Father could devise…The words echoed in Thor's brain, a whisper of doubt that he ruthlessly shoved away. Let Loki spin his lies like a slender, black spider biding time in the center of his web intent on ensnaring the crown prince as his prey. Let him try to spin his web of falsehoods. Thor would have none of it.

But there was the memory of his anguish when he'd called up the vision of the little girl. Sophie. If the child didn't exist, if she were merely a tool for Loki's latest scheme, then where had he even heard such a name? And what if she did exist? If she and Thea were in fact real…what had wrung such grief from Thor's brother? Why had he needed to swear to protect young Sophie, and from what? And what had caused him to fail?

What was Thor supposed to believe?

He focused once more on Loki as the steady voice suddenly wavered and trailed away. Wrinkles furled between Loki's brows and he bit his lip hard enough that a white spot stood out against the flesh. The pseudo-Æsir pressed his palms flat to the table, bowing his head so that strands of inky hair spilled across his face, hiding his features. Breathing ragged with some unknown strain filled the otherwise quiet chamber and the corridor beyond.

Finally Loki rasped, "Have you ever been shut up in pitch blackness for so long that you cannot remember the feel of the wind, the song of the Asgardian Sea roaring over the edge of the abyss, the sight of sunlight or moonlight or even the faint glimmer of the stars? Have you any idea what it's like, to be wrapped in silence so absolute that you only have the sound of your heart roaring in your ears and your own screams to listen to?" Loki's hands knotted into fists so tight they shook. "Do you know what it is to be clawed at so savagely by thirst that you'd drink the blood of the rats scuttling around in your cell in order to quench it, only to choke on the poisonous salt of it? Have you ever known hunger so savage it tears at your guts like rabid wolves until you think you must eat something—slop or sawdust or glass, anything—or you'll go mad with the pain tearing at your belly?"

Dark lashes drifted down to make black crescents against Loki's pale cheeks as he turned his head away, as if unable to look at his brother any longer. He drew a sharp, shuddering breath. "Tell me that, Thor. Tell me if you've ever known the degradation of being treated worse than the lowliest cur, with no hope of ever escaping captivity unless you give in and do the unthinkable—and yet you still refused. Even when you thought insanity loomed on the horizon, even when your nails were torn and bloodied from clawing at the walls for hours in a futile attempt at escape…even when you sought to take your own life in order to escape, only to be thwarted by your torturers...have you ever experienced such, Brother?"

"Mother and Father never put you in such a place," Thor snapped, masking his horror and unease with irritation. It hurt, like a knife through his heart, to think of his little brother in such a place. But Loki had looked fine when Thor had found him on the mortal aircraft. There was no proof of such torments.

In an utterly dead, emotionless voice the other prince replied, "I am not talking about the prison cells of Asgard."

"Then what are you talking about?"

"I am talking about the Chitauri dungeons."

And despite the wall of doubts assailing him, Thor was suddenly reminded of that first visit and reconnaissance mission to Loki's cell on his mother's behalf. Loki had knelt before the fire as one of the infamous and unknown drawings crackled amidst the searing flames. In an almost-tortured rasp, Loki had demanded, "What do they know of darkness? What do they know of the choking blackness of the void? What do they know of isolation? Nothing. Nothing at all." Had this been what he meant?

Bile seared the back of Thor's throat. No. No, he couldn't believe his little brother had been subjected to such tortures after falling from the Bifröst. Thor wouldn't—couldn't—believe it. Loki was lying. That was all there was to it. For if he was telling the truth, how had he become the Chitauri's commander on the invasion field? But of course, if the prince asked the disguised Frost Giant such a question, of course Loki would have an answer ready; a perfectly good answer, which would come tripping sweetly off his forked tongue, the deceitful snake.

In a lifetime of lies, it was nearly impossible to discern the truth. And Loki could never seem to hold onto sincerity for long, even during these conversations. Not without being poisoned by the mad rage or disdain so prevalent in his dealings with Thor.

Loki at last opened his eyes and stared unseeingly into the slowly-dying hearth flames. Shadows cast by the fire flickered in Loki's empty gaze. His elder brother could only stare in baffled silence. Loki's voice rang with sincerity…but then, it had done so the day of Thor's almost-coronation, when he'd professed his fraternal love for his brother.

For a long moment, Thor continued to stare at Loki and try to fathom what his brother was telling him. Which was the truth? Every word vibrated with such rage and desperation when Loki spoke of what the Chitauri had supposedly done to him…but then, there was the question of Thea. Her identity. Whether she had been intended as a tool for the Chitauri's invasion force, or whether she even existed. And the child, Sophie—what if she, too, were a lie? Was Loki simply attempting to manipulate him? The pseudo-Asgardian had done so many times before: before the ill-fated trip to Jötunheim over two years ago, on the Bifröst during their climactic battle that had resulted in the shattering of the rainbow bridge, atop the cliffs above the winter-sere woods outside of Stuttgart on Midgard, on the SHIELD Helicarrier, at the summit of Stark Tower…What if this was just another such attempt?

"I told you that you wouldn't listen," Loki murmured, leaning his forearms atop the table. He stared at the paper filled with his careful but miniscule handwriting as if his gaze could devour the words like a starving man at a banquet. A tired green-gray gaze flicked to Thor's face, then back to the paper. Loki sighed. "You never listen. It seems I'm not the only one who's never sincere."

Wondering vaguely if ruthlessness or true curiosity prompted the question, Thor demanded, "And did she listen? Your precious Thea? Did she drink up all your sweetly poisoned lies?" But Loki said nothing. Merely closed his eyes and laced his fingers together so that he could rest his chin atop his hands. "Answer me!" Thor shouted. The blood pounded hot through his body once more as fresh anger lanced him. Did Loki have to be mysterious about everything?

A swift transformation overtook the green-eyed prince. The smooth white brow furrowed, wrinkles snarling betwixt his thin black eyebrows. Thin lips pulled back slightly as Loki bared his teeth in something to savage to be called a smile but too pained to be snarl. That new and all-too-familiar arctic loathing filled eyes like emerald knives that threatened to cut Thor open to the bone.

"Yes," Loki hissed. "She did. She always listened to me, as I did to her, because she feared the silence, as I did; because she feared to be alone in the darkness with only the harshness of her own breathing and the thunder of her terrified heart; because I knew what it was to fear the dark, the unending blackness of a coffin, of being buried alive in darkness. I knew how it felt to be crushed into insignificance and nothingness in the depths of the void."

Thor wavered then. He couldn't shake the timbre of sincerity in his brother's voice, echoing in his brother's words. Beneath the smoldering embers of hatred waiting for a single breath to fan them to blazing life, there was a shadow of something else. Thor couldn't quite put a name to it. Grief? Remorse? Self-loathing? Agony? Whatever it was, it was enough to catch on the Asgardian warrior's instincts. Enough to coax the crown prince to pull his fist back from the ensorcelled glass; enough to soothe his rage enough that he could take a breath without feeling as if he might choke on it. He drew in one breath, let it out slowly, then drew another. When the blood no longer roared like a waterfall through his skull, he met Loki's eyes dead on.

"What are you writing?" Thor asked softly. "Another letter?" After a long moment, Loki gave him a curt nod. "To Thea?" He couldn't be certain, because what looked like the salutation had begun with the letter A, not T. But Loki nodded again. "What do you say to her?"

"I apologize for failing to fulfill my oath to protect her," the pseudo-Æsir replied coldly. His lip curled. "For failing in my attempt to conquer Midgard." Then he bit his lip and frowned, sighed. An expression that might have been a look of defeat flitted across Loki's pale face. "I apologize for the attempt; it was not what she wanted, but it was necessary for the sake of all involved. She didn't see that. And in every letter I…" He trailed off. His expression twisted, as if the words were far too painful to utter.

Gently, forgetting umbrage and acting on instinct, Thor asked, "You what?"

A sigh shuddered out of his younger brother. "In every letter I beg her forgiveness, though it is a futile thing to wish for. She is…she's dead, and in no position to forgive anyone." A malevolent spark flared to bitter life in the depths of the glacial emerald eyes. "I was told her death was a hard one, that she died cursing my name with her last breath."

"I'm sorry, Loki," Thor murmured. And he was. This one thing, at least, he believed. Loki could not fake such grief. After struggling with the idea that it might not be the best question under the circumstances, Thor finally asked his brother, "Did you love her?"

Loki closed his eyes wearily and scoffed. The sound was heavy with incredulity. Irritation sizzled beneath Thor's skin, pulsed once through his blood before subsiding just enough that the golden-haired Asgardian could ignore it. Loki's lips curled into that mocking smile again and he asked, "I? Love a mortal? A mere child? You really are a blithering idiot, Thor."

And yet…the words didn't quite ring so sincerely this time, which kept them from stinging so acutely. Or was that lack of sincerity just another ploy of Loki's to manipulate his foster brother?

"Tell me what happened," Thor said softly. He didn't know what was truth and what was lies...but he had to know what his brother would say. "What happened when you fell from the Bifröst, Loki?"

Blankness descended over the other man's face, erasing hatred and its underpinnings of grief or loss or regret or manipulation. Thor expected Loki to take his sweet time answering the question—or offering a scathing refusal to answer—so he was taken by surprise when his younger foster brother murmured, "I tumbled through the void of space, through its deathly cold and its star-spangled blackness until at last I plummeted through noxious silver-gray clouds of some poisonous miasma. At last I hit solid earth. The impact jarred my skull, shattered several bones."

Thor's eyes widened, but Loki seemed not to notice.

"For what felt like an eternity I could do nothing but lie there with my body racked by the pain of my injuries," he continued tonelessly. "What your monstrous green friend did to me was nothing compared to that time. My blood soaked the sand and stones beneath my body and the moon burned white against my eyelids until I saw it always, sleeping and waking. I see it still when I close my eyes. And then they found me."

"Thea and Sophie?"

Loki shook his head. "No. I did not meet Thea for sometime after that and as for…as for Sophie…" Though his face remained empty of expression, though his tone was as hollow as that of a dead man speaking in a dream, a terrible agony filled his eyes. For Thor, it was as if looking into his brother's gaze was like being raked with poisoned jade talons that burned like acid. "As for Sophie," Loki somehow managed to continue, though his voice shook and his eyes gleamed as if wet. "I did not…I never…I was never allowed…never truly…"

The pale lips quivered and Loki covered his mouth with one shaking hand, looking away. Thor wondered what could possibly crack Loki's composure so. He recalled Loki's anguish when he'd spoken to the illusion of Sophie. Who was Sophie, that she affected the green-eyed prince so dramatically?

At last, his younger brother spoke again, his voice somewhat steadier. "No, it was not Thea who found me, but the Chitauri. They brought me to their fortress and healed my wounds. Throughout the weeks it took for my bones to knit and my injuries to mend, the second-in-command of the Chitauri armies came to me often with an offer—a command couched in pretty words. I was to join their ranks, for they knew of my powers. They wanted the Nine Realms, and they wanted my help in conquering them. If I agreed, I would become king of my own realm, and win glory for myself and the mighty Chitauri Empire. If I refused…well, one does not refuse Lord Thanos for long."

But Thor knew his younger brother, and knew that receiving an order like that would have been tantamount to a slap in the face to Loki. As proud as Odin had raised his foster son to be and as proud as Asgardians naturally were—as proud as Loki had always been—there was no chance the green-eyed prince had accepted such an offer, threats or no.

"So they imprisoned you."

A regal cant of the head acknowledged Thor's words. "And though I was left to die if I did not give in, though it was as if I'd been sealed away inside a death-casket and left to rot in the wet dark earth like a moldering corpse, I did not give into their demands. I refused to take part in their invasion of Asgard and Midgard."

Thor jolted. "Asgard?" He echoed sharply. "They wanted Asgard?"

Loki smirked. "Thanos, Lord of the Chitauri, fancies himself in love with Death's fairest Avatar, my brother. He slaughters trillions in an attempt to win her favor, in his mad lust to woo her. Of course the Chitauri want Asgard. Don't you understand, Brother? The Chitauri want the universe."

A chill settled in the pit of Thor's stomach. He knew the Chitauri hadn't been killed during their invasion of Midgard, merely thwarted. He knew they could return at any time…or turn their sights somewhere else, like the realm of Asgard. The All-Father would have to be told of this soon, in order to prepare for the potential threat of the Chitauri. Heimdall would have to be enlisted to spy upon the battle-crazed invaders as well, to monitor their movements should they choose to aim for the home of the Æsir. If it came to war, the soldiers of Asgard would—

"They locked me away in the darkness," Loki whispered. Thor's attention snapped back to his brother, who stared unblinking and unseeing into the hearth fire. His throat worked convulsively for a moment. Then he said, almost as if he were speaking to himself, "The darkness has eyes and teeth, claws to rake and fangs to bite. It presses against your eyes until there is only blackness slithering into your skull to devour your mind. Silence deafens, darkness blinds. Hunger gnaws and thirst burns. They gave me just enough to keep me alive, just enough to keep the pain sharp in my throat and in my belly. I thought I would go mad in the dark. I thought I would shatter under the silence. And then…"

Those sightless eyes suddenly focused again, coming to rest on Thor's frozen countenance. Some of the hollow sickness festering in that gaze faded, to be replaced with a dull sort of agony. Somehow Thor knew just what his brother would say next.

"Then I heard music through a crack in the wall of my cell, and knew I must have lost my mind…but I hadn't. I had simply heard a sound at last—her voice."