Fanfic #115 Give me a reason by RileeTheRiddler(TheAvengers)
This fanfic is a time travel fic in The Avengers universe following Loki. I really like this fic because it expands a lot on the Asgardian side of things and brings a new perspective on the story. I also really like that the fic doesn't wallow in the angst of Loki's story, like there are moments but it doesn't drag on.
Synopsis: When you're not fed love from silver spoons, you learn to lick it from knives. Loki wakes up a week before Thor's coronation.
Rated: M
words: 43k
https://archiveofourown.org/works/32737756/chapters/81222550
Here's the first chapter:
Loki opened his eyes and a gilded golden ceiling greeted him. He jolted up and drew in a sharp breath as his hands came up to his neck.
It wasn't broken.
Air rushed past his lips as he took several more gulping breaths. His long fingers felt along his trachea, pressing hard until it threatened to interrupt his breathing.
It was whole.
As if the humongous hand of the mad titan had never cradled Loki's life and ended it in the blink of an eye.
Vaguely, Loki was aware his hands were shaking. He slowly fell back onto his bed and tried to calm his racing heart.
Minutes ago, he had run at Thanos with a dagger to give Thor a chance of escape only to be dangled in the air like a slab of meat over a fire in the grasp of a giant. And then his neck was snapped and Loki fell to the hard metal ground of the ship, paralyzed and suffocating.
Now, he was in his bed in a room that had long since been destroyed by the fires of Hela and Surtur. The remains of his life surrounded him in lavish silks and stacks of tomes he'd borrowed from the palace library once upon a time.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted his armor glistening on its stand without a single scratch or singe anywhere to be seen.
He turned his head towards it and the ceremonial gold gleamed from the horns of his helmet, reflecting the deep emerald green of his cloak.
Loki hadn't seen that cloak since Thanos let him out of his cell to lead the invasion of Midgard. He'd been wearing it when he fell from the Bifrost and it survived many rounds of the titan's hospitality before the fine Asgardian cloth was reduced to nothing more than a ratty blanket.
He'd left it in the cell once Thanos used the mind stone on him. The green fabric hadn't been important anymore, only the mission and the tiny little voice in the back of his head fighting for control.
Loki supposed he was in Valhalla now.
Surprising.
He'd thought it would be more ethereal. Singing sirens, shimmering air, and peaceful fields.
More surprising was the fact he'd actually made it to Valhalla. Loki was under no illusion what type of life he'd led, full of trickery and lies. He wasn't like Thor, who reveled in battle and thirsted for combat, ensuring it very unlikely the golden prince would end up anywhere but the gloried halls of the slain and heroic.
Loki supposed he did die in battle, as one-sided as it was. And he had sacrificed his life so Thor might escape. Perhaps the Norns finally took pity on him.
Exhaustion tugged at his bones. Loki was so tired. He was tired of living and struggling and fighting every day just to survive.
He turned from the golden armor and pulled his blankets over his head. He just wanted to rest. Here in the hallowed halls of his ancestors, maybe he finally could.
——-
The next time Loki woke up, the crust in his eyes and a full bladder took him to his adjoining bath. As he splashed water on his face, several bottles and bowls caught his eye and Loki's lips quirked up in amusement.
Vanity was one of the vices he'd never given up, despite how difficult it had been to maintain his appearance ever since he left Asgard. The various poultices, creams, and serum for his skin and hair sat where he'd left them so many years ago.
"Thank you," he said to the Norns. It was terribly kind of them to indulge his vices in the afterlife. Perhaps they found his vanity amusing. It never hurt to be polite though.
Nonetheless, Loki wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He selected the blue glass first and set to completing his long disregarded morning skin routine. It took effort to look as good as he did after all.
The mirror in front of him showed his skin lacked several of the marks of age that had scarred it and his hair was lush and soft. Loki appreciated it, he much preferred this more youthful skin than the one marred by the horrors and scars he'd lived through.
When he was done, he went to his wardrobe and selected the softest shirt he owed, slipping the emerald silk over his shoulders and pairing it with a well-worn pair of black leather trousers softer than butter.
With a tome in hand, he went and sat in his chair near the balcony, intending to read and relax and not worry about anything.
The sight that met his eyes was Asgard as he remembered it from his childhood, golden and grand with rainbows shimmering in the air from the cascading waterfalls and in the distance, the rainbow bridge.
An odd sort of niggling began to percolate in the back of his head.
Nothing in Asgardian legends said Valhalla looked like the city. It was all tales of feasting and drinking and endless partying.
His eyes narrowed on the midday sun setting golden spires aflame in reflecting light. He took in the pale skin on his hands.
The itching in the back of his mind grew. His thumb idly caressed the spine of the tome in his hand as he settled more in his chair. Whatever it was, whatever was going on, Loki had no desire to deal with it.
He was dead, he had died. He was going to sit here, read his book, and not worry about a damn thing.
——-
Despite the promise to himself to ignore his worries, Loki's stomach soon demanded attention. He strode from his room and the two Einherjar guarding his room snapped to attention at his appearance.
Loki stopped. The two soldiers were familiar to him, for they had been a part of his guard since he was a child. "Egil."
"Yes, your highness!" The Einherjar on the right said with a bow. Geir was on the left. Both men had been killed when Hela first began her reign of terror on Asgard. Loki knew Egil had a family but he never knew what happened to them. He doubted they survived, so few did.
"What's the date?"
"Moon's day, The third day of the Strong Moon, your highness," Egil said. If he was confused by the question, he didn't show it.
Loki found it odd he still had guards in the afterlife. Weren't they supposed to be partying with their fellow Einherjar in the feasting halls?
In fact, he spotted a servant polishing the floors down the hall. Valhalla's floors shouldn't need polishing.
"Thank you," Loki said. He left them to guard his room as he made his way to the kitchen. Loki hadn't needed a personal guard since adolescence and he found himself grateful for it. His head was spinning and he had the oddest thought that perhaps he wasn't dead after all.
Dead people didn't get hungry, nor need the toilet, nor keep track of time.
Egil hadn't said what the year was but Loki had a sneaking suspicion he knew.
His gleaming armor, the servant polishing the floors, and the near frantic rush of the palace staff he saw on his way to the kitchens confirmed it.
They were preparing for a celebration. The last celebration the palace held was Thor's coronation. Which, if Loki was correct, would be exactly one week away.
Loki found his fingers worrying the material of his trousers as anxiety crept into his veins like ice.
He shut the thought down.
No. Loki was dead. He didn't need to worry about any of this.
The kitchen was in a state when he arrived, a quick spell had him slipping in unnoticed to steal some warm loaves and meat pies. The head chef was yelling at an apprentice and a table in the back was being loaded down with huge racks of meat and sacks of tubers.
The chef's raised voice joined the din of background noise Loki was trying unsuccessfully to filter out. "Are you trying to ruin the coronation, you imbecile? Get out of my sight! Dishwashing duty for the next week!"
The apprentice was near tears as Loki slipped out. He didn't envy the kid, the chef's temper was legendary among the staff from what he heard when he eavesdropped.
He determinedly ignored the confirmation of his fears and made for one of the gardens near the east wing of the palace. It was secluded and seldom visited by the nobility who frequented the palace on court business.
Einherjar snapped to attention as he passed and servants dropped into hasty bows and curtsies. Loki had forgotten what it was like to be respected and honored for all that had been all he knew for the vast majority of his life.
Before the coronation and the revelation of his true parentage. Before he threw himself from the rainbow bridge and fell into the clutches of a madman. Before the death of his mother, the destruction of Asgard, and a broken neck.
Loki controlled his breath and quickened his step.
The garden was in bloom and slightly overgrown, in the style the queen liked. High walls enclosed the area and in the center, there was a fountain of three Valkyries astride their mounts.
It reminded Loki of Brunnhilde, the Valkyrie he'd met on Sakaar. She'd been a formidable warrior for all that she tried to drown her sorrows in alcohol. The two weeks he'd spent on Sakaar before Thor's arrival had been the closest Loki had gotten to a vacation in years. He remembered the Grandmaster very fondly, the hedonistic bastard that he'd been.
Still was. If Loki's growing theory was right.
The branch of the largest tree in the garden was perfect for lounging with a book whenever the drama of the palace grew too much. Now, Loki scaled the limbs easily until he was encased in the leafy canopy and stared up at the sky as he laid back upon the rough bark.
In. Out. In. Out.
His breathing slowed and his heart rate with it.
Loki, however much he wished it, was not dead.
He was in the past, in the week before everything went wrong. If this was some sort of punishment from the Norns or a second chance at life, he didn't know.
Magic was a nebulous force and in the proximity of the Tesseract even more so. The Space stone must have sent him back in time.
But that didn't make any sense.
Space could be bent and folded but it could not be reversed. It needed the time stone for that and Loki had seen Thanos' gauntlet, there had been only the power stone embedded in the gaudy glove.
Perhaps the power stone amplified the space stone and his dying magic in a last-ditch attempt at survival and sent his consciousness back.
Loki groaned.
That made no sense whatsoever either.
Did it even matter how it happened? Whatever happened, Loki had to deal with the present.
And the future. The awful, terrible future that awaited the blissfully ignorant inhabitants of the universe.
He cast his mind back to his past, the month leading up to Thor's coronation had been a month of frantic scheming last time. Luring the Jotunn to the vault to interrupt Thor's big day in an effort to show Odin that his firstborn was ill-prepared for the golden throne.
Loki cringed as he thought of how short-sighted and crazed he'd acted in the days following.
In his defense, learning you weren't even the same species as your supposed family could do that to a person.
It had been nearly a decade since and Loki still felt his foundations were rocky. To think, he'd once thought he'd known himself.
All he knew of himself was that he was a wily, hard to kill, silver-tongued liesmith who survived despite all odds, even when he didn't want to.
A little bluebird fluttered to rest near his feet. Its feathers were tipped purple and it hopped close before letting out a trilling croon. Loki restrained himself from kicking it.
The bird probably didn't realize it shared its coloring with the monsters of Jotunheim.
He ignored it and went back to his thoughts.
What should Loki do?
Follow the steps of his past self? Try to change the future?
Do nothing?
Sit in this tree, wither away, and die before he had to deal with anything?
Loki liked that option best.
But even now, his fingers twitched with the urge to meddle.
At this point, Loki had already laid the foundations for the Jotunn to invade the vault. It would take very little to stay the course and follow the path he'd already walked.
Last time, two guards had died and Thor had nearly started a war.
But if Odin didn't realize Thor was unfit for the throne, more would likely die when Thor inevitably started a war in an attempt to prove himself and sate his battle lust.
Neither option really mattered, now that Loki thought about it. They'd all die by Hela and Thanos soon enough. And a war would keep him entertained while he waited to die.
"Decisions, decisions." Loki mused.
It all really boiled down to one thing.
Did Loki care enough to live? And if he did, what did he want to live for?
The little blue bird took flight and Loki watched it go and idly tapped his fingers on his thighs.
He'd think on it more.
No need to rush the decision.
———-
Back in the privacy of his rooms, Loki stood in front of the large mirror that took up the entire corner opposite the balcony. He's closed the curtains so the only light was from the nearby fireplace.
He'd sat in front of this mirror for hours and hours when perfecting his illusion magic as a child.
Or dressing for some ceremonial feast. Thor always called him vain when he caught him but Loki wasn't the one who'd once been caught with his shirt backwards and dried jam in his beard in front of visiting dignitaries from Alfheim.
Now, he sat on the floor in from of the golden-edged mirror and catalogued his shoulder-length black hair, verdant eyes, and alabaster smooth skin. It was a face he knew very well but it wasn't his true face.
Sharp, angular features reminded him more of Hela than Thor. His coloring mimicked hers as well.
It was odd, now that he was looking, how much he looked like the goddess of death.
All of Asgard knew Thor was golden personified due to Frigga, whose beauty was renowned throughout the nine realms. But in the tapestries and art depicting Odin's victories of the long past, the All-father was as dark-haired as Loki and Hela.
Slowly, Loki pulled at the enchantment that made him Aesir. Tugging at the strings of magic until his hands turned pale cerulean then azure and finally dark indigo. Pale ridges covered the back of his palms and ran all the way up to his arms, he felt the lines brush against the softest linen of his clothes and shivered.
Loki had never taken the time to explore his Jotunn form. He'd never had the time or inclination.
He didn't want to raise his eyes from his hands to the mirror. He was enough of a monster already, no need to add fuel to his nightmares.
In. Out. In. Out.
But he wasn't a coward.
He dragged his gaze from his hands to the ornate rug to the stone floors to the golden frame and up until his red-eyed gaze locked on itself.
He had horns in this form, he noted idly as panic tried to force its way from inside of him.
Not large ones, maybe a hands width high and mostly hidden by his hair. Curved, black protrusions contrasted against his red eyes and blue skin.
In. Out. In. Out.
Loki stood up and stripped his clothes until he stood bare in front of the mirror.
The pale ridges covered his entire body He'd known they would, Laufey and his soldiers had been covered only by their loincloths and it didn't leave much to the imagination.
It seems they had covered the truly interesting bits though, Loki thought as he took in the changes to his nethers.
Loki let his finger run over himself clinically.
He supposed if he'd not spent half his life using illusions to shift seamlessly between the male and female form, he'd be more concerned.
As it was, the Asgardian concept of gender had always struck him as flawed in some fundamental way he could never articulate.
Not the least of which was their disdain for male sorcerers or female warriors.
Loki let the regal posture mother had trained into his as a child take over. As much as he hated this body, Loki was a prince twice over. He would not cower from ugly truths.
He tugged on the magic again, an odd mix of Loki, Odin, and Frigga, and let his Aesir form take over.
His horns receded, his eyes turned back to green, and the blue faded from his skin.
Loki took a deep breath and went to lay down.
That was enough introspection for one day.
———
The next two days passed in a blur for Loki, he sat in his rooms and took longs baths and when he grew bored, he meandered through the palace and stole food from the kitchens. He could have the servants bring it but he had not the desire to speak with anyone.
If he caught sight of his brother in the halls, he turned the other way to avoid him. He skipped meals he'd shared with his family in the past and lounged in the branches of his tree.
The first time he caught sight of his mother, regal and warm and looking so much like her firstborn, he locked himself in the nearest closet and broke down.
It was the cold reality of her imminent demise that shook him to his core.
Could he stand aside and let her die when it had nearly destroyed him the first time?
No.
He couldn't.
But even if the dark elves didn't kill her, Thanos would.
Loki would not let Thanos kill his mother.
Damn Asgard and damn the universe, he could care less. But losing his mother had revealed to him the depths to which he loved her and he would not survive losing her again.
Whatever happened to him, he could not stand aside and leave her to her fate.
It was the turning point. Loki was still exhausted, heaviness weight his limbs at times and he could barely rise from bed in the morning, but he could muster up the energy for this.
So on the third day in the past, Loki determined that he would save his mother.
His mind, sluggish from inactivity, churned to life.
He needed a plan.
He needed power and influence.
Ideally, he needed the infinity stones, if only so Thanos couldn't get them.
The Tesseract was on earth but he wasn't sure where the rest were. He had an idea of the mind stone's location.
More immediately though, his concern was for the coronation.
Loki decided he would let the Jotunn invade the vault. Thor's actions afterward had earned him a banishment, but his time on Midgard had humbled the arrogant oaf.
It would also get him out of the way. Loki could barely stand to look at this child who paraded around with his brother's face.
His Thor had shaved his hair, lost an eye, and mourned for their parents with him. This Thor was golden blonde and had not a single burden on his shoulders.
It sickened Loki to look at him.
His ignorance and hubris were a slap in the face to all Loki had survived.
So as much as it might be seen as a betrayal if ever revealed, as much as it would anger his brother and frighten his mother, Loki would let this part of his past repeat itself.
——-
Loki stood among the golden banners silently as he waited for Thor in his full ceremonial garb. Last time, a sense of mischief and the pride of a well-laid-out plan had filled him.
How naive he had been he thought with a scoff.
This time, he was condemning two Einherjar and countless Jotunn to die. He was betraying his brother more now because he knew the consequences. He wasn't stupid enough to think Odin would simply postpone the coronation for another hundred years or so as he'd believed would happen originally.
Loki knew Odin's years were numbered. The loss of Frigga had been one of the final straws but even before that, the old man had been withering away.
He wasn't particularly inclined to save Odin. In fact, Loki would go so far as to say if the opportunity presented itself, he would push his adopted father off a cliff and wave cheerily as he fell.
If Odin's death would not release Hela upon Asgard and ensure its destruction, then he'd be tempted to patricide once again.
"Another!" Thor's voice rang out loudly in the chamber, followed by the familiar sound of a smashing goblet. Loki took the two steps forward it would take to reveal him to his brother and tried for a wan smile when Thor caught sight of him and grinned broadly.
"Brother!" Thor called as he came up to him.
Loki cast his mind back. What had he said last time? "…Nervous, brother?"
"Have you ever known me to be nervous?"
Yes, Loki wanted to say. When Thanos held the neck of your brother in his hands and you screamed in despair as it snapped. When the dark elves stabbed Mother. When Hela destroyed Asgard.
Was it nerves Thor felt then? Or despair?
Loki was silent for a moment too long, the space for a timely quip passing. Thor sent him a concerned look before an attendant arrived to distract him with another glass of wine.
Thor downed it and smashed it on the ground. "Fetch me another." He demanded and the servant scurried away. An Einherjar stepped forward to present Thor with his Eagle Winged Helmet.
"Nice feathers," Loki said, for he never could pass up an opportunity to make fun of his brother.
"You don't want to start this again, do you, Cow?" How fitting, Loki thought, for his true form did have blackened horns. He wondered if that was why his helm was so adorned when it was gifted to him by his mother and Odin at his coming of age.
"I was being sincere!"
"You're incapable of sincerity!" Thor teased.
"Am I?" Loki had asked this question before, following it up with a false declaration of faith and devotion and love.
And while he was devoted to his brother then, he had not believed in him. For good reason. On whether he loved Thor…. well he had always loved his Thor.
The younger Thor looked thrown. "Well… with Mother, you are sincere." He said awkwardly.
Thor adjusted his red cape and ceremonial armor one final time. "How do I look?"
Like a fool. "Like a king." Loki bowed slightly to his brother and Thor rested a hand on his shoulder.
"You'll be by my side?" Thor asked with a heaviness to his gaze.
"Aren't I always?" Loki said. Perhaps if he'd let Thor go off alone more often the other wouldn't think himself invincible.
Thor looked reassured. "Go on ahead. I'll be along."
Loki left. His brother wanted to make a dramatic entrance alone. Loki didn't care.
If he had a heart, he'd probably feel guilty over what was about to happen.
As it was, Thor was right. His sincerity was all for Frigga.
———
The next few hours were a blur to Loki. His acting abilities were truly put to the test trying to look happy for Thor during the coronation when on the inside all he wanted was the sit in a corner and be left alone.
It was not to be.
The events played out exactly as he remembered. Thor was furious, flipping a table and rallying his friends to invade Jotunheim. Last time, Loki had sat next to his brother and tried to egg Thor on in an attempt to make him do something rash and Thor had exceeded his every expectation. This time, Loki's prompting was half-hearted at best and his idiot brother still had the bright idea of sneaking into a foreign realm.
Heimdall did not stop them as Loki had once hoped the gatekeeper would. Loki thought he was due for retirement. Or perhaps he was just as ready for war as Thor. It couldn't be interesting standing sentry for thousands of years while life went on by you. Outside, always looking in.
Laufey was not quite what he remembered. Loki wondered if he'd been blinded by hatred before and killing his birth father and destroying his planet had soothed that ache in him.
Or perhaps Loki just couldn't muster up the will to care about someone who had never cared about him. It might have been better if Loki had died as a babe when Laufey abandoned him in that temple. It would certainly have saved many a lot of grief.
The only difference was that Loki did not let himself be grabbed by the Jotun guard, instead, cutting off his hand before it got anywhere near him with a vindictive twist of his blade he'd learned from his time with the mad titan.
Petty? Yes. But that split second touch had ruined his entire life a lifetime ago and Loki had no care to repeat it.
Thor's bullheaded quest for vengeance came to its vainglorious end with Odin's intervention. The warriors three and sif were beaten and bloody, with Fandral, impaled, as they were all deposited in the observatory.
Odin ripped Heimdall's sword from the control panel and threw it at the gatekeeper. Loki kept his mouth shut and observed as Odin dismissed the warriors three and Sif and turned on Thor with a furious glare.
Loki felt as if his head were stuffed with cotton. Odin and Thor were shouting familiar words and he was watching as if from a great height. A warm trail on the back of his hand drew his attention to a line of blood making its way down his arm and dripping from his fingertips to the polished and gleaming floors of the observatory. It was oddly bright, the red an eye-catching shade reminiscent of the berries
He hadn't realized he'd been injured.
"You're a vain, greedy, cruel boy!" Odin roared with a threatening step forward.
"And you are an old man and a fool!" Thor thundered back. Loki couldn't agree more, with both of them. An old fool, a cruel boy, and a vain liar. What a magnificent family they were.
Odin paused. "A fool. Yes! I was a fool to think you were ready."
Thor opened his mouth in rebuttal but Odin silenced him with a look.
"Thor Odinson. You have disobeyed the express command of your King. Through your arrogance and stupidity, you have opened these peaceful realms and innocent lives to the horrors of war."
His golden brother looked pale now but Odin didn't stop there. Loki wanted to look away.
He didn't allow himself the cowardice.
Odin opened the Bifrost with Gungnir before advancing on Thor. "You are unworthy of this realm." And Loki watched his father strip Thor of the insignia that marked him a part of the royal family. "You are unworthy of your title." And Odin stripped Thor of his position of Crown Prince by ripping his red cloak from his shoulder. Thor was panicking now, looking wide-eyed and scared. Loki swallowed back his grief. "Unworthy of the loved ones you've betrayed!" Odin roared and Loki made brief eye contact with his brother, one second between them of shared terror.
"I hereby take your powers!" Odin roared and Mjolnir came flying out of Thor's grasp. Thor's mouth hung open, trying to get a word in. Odin didn't give him the chance. "In the name of my father, and of his father before him, I cast you out!"
And with a strike of lightning that disintegrated his brother's armor, Odin hurled Thor backward into the Bifrost and his brother disappeared from sight. Thor's eyes were wide with shock and hurt and all manner of emotions that made it hard for Loki to remember why this was necessary.
Odin flung Mjolnir after Thor with a great heave before closing the Bifrost. An eternity passed in the silence that followed, neither Heimdall nor Loki daring to move and bring Odin's wrath on them, for neither were blameless in this mess.
Hesitantly, Loki raised his hands to his cheeks.
They were wet.
He tried to rub his face clean with his hand but ended up just smearing blood on his face. He'd forgotten to wipe his hand free of the blood.
How disgraceful. Norns, what a mess he was.
The movement drew Odin's attention and Loki froze, for one second frozen in the dark glare of a predator. His father seemed to rein in his anger at the sight of him. Putting a tight leash on his words, tabling them for later if he had to guess.
Loki supposed he must look truly pathetic to curb Odin's fury.
Odin swept from the Observatory then and Loki and Heimdall watched him go.
"You should see the Lady Eir, your highness," Heimdall said after a moment.
"It's just a scratch," Loki said. He still felt odd, like he'd been turned inside out and everyone could see him for what he was. It was an awful feeling.
"Lot of blood for a scratch," Heimdall observed. "You've made a mess of my floors."
Loki chuckled despite himself, "It's a few drops of blood, gatekeeper. You've floors have seen worse from whenever Thor returns from adventuring across the nine."
The mention of Thor sent them into silence once again. His brother's absence was a huge, invisible weight.
"I will keep an eye on him," Heimdal vowed.
"Just one?"
"Both, if I can spare them."
"Let us hope nothing so dire requires your attention," Loki said. He looked across the rainbow bridge and could no longer see Odin.
It was all starting now.