Chapter Three - 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 Loki'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 his 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 blue-tinged 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.

"Norns 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 Odin 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. Loki 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? 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 his brother 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? He'd 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.

"How dare you speak her name?" Loki slowly rose to his feet, gaze fixed on his foster brother. Each word was chiseled from jagged ice. "How dare you speak of her at all? You don't deserve to know her. You don't deserve to even know　of　her. How dare you? How dare you mock what you do not know?"

The words sent an odd pang through Thor's chest. He still couldn't shake the feeling that whoever this Thea was, Loki had cared for her. Perhaps deeply. But Loki had supposedly cared for his foster family, and look what he'd done to all of them. Forcing coldness into his voice, Thor said, "You take offense because I dare to take you to task for lying to her—"

With a swift savagery that seemed to Thor almost to be madness, Loki lunged forward, raging, "I never lied to her!" Thor jerked back from his brother, stunned. Loki roared, "How dare you!　How　dare　you speak of lies when your own　father lied to you since the day I came to this place! How dare you accuse　me　of lying to her when　you are the one who lied to your precious mortal! 'I'll return to you,' you said. You swore it to her; I was　watching. Yet I am the liar?　I　am?　You　had a choice! You didn't have to shatter the Bifröst! You could have gone back! I had no choice!　None!　There was　nothing　I could do! It's　your　fault, damn you! It's all your fault!　You wouldn't let me return!"

"Return　where?" Thor demanded incredulously. "You had no means of traveling between the realms, no way to leave Midgard—"

"I begged you for the tesseract!" Loki snarled. His hands twisted into claws, his ragged nails screeching softly against the ensorcelled glass as his hands flexed. "You wouldn't listen! I begged you to let me go, begged you to—"

"Demanded　the tesseract," Thor contradicted. "Demanded　I release you, and for what? To wreak more havoc? To butcher more innocent people? To shame our house, betray our king and our honor—"

Loki thumped one fist against the glass. His eyes, bright with a crazed light, seemed almost blue in the uncertain illumination from the torches. "I owe the All-Father nothing.　Nothing. Because of him and because of you, Thea is dead now. He sent you after me, sent you to interfere, and because of you, she's dead. She's dead, damn you. They　both　are. Don't speak to me of betraying honor. Where is the honor of the House of Odin now? Drowned in the blood of two innocents. If you had just let me go, instead of betraying me yet again, they would still be alive and all those Midgardians wouldn't have died in vain."

Hiding his unease and uncertainty with feigned disgust, the crown prince shook his head. "You've changed, Brother. At least before your betrayal during my exile, you were man enough to accept responsibility for your own mistakes. The blood of the Midgardians you slaughtered isn't on　my　hands. Look in the mirror to see the face of a true killer."

Thor nearly attempted to leap through the glass and strike his younger brother when Loki sneered at him yet again, his lip curling in obvious contempt. In a hissing, almost snakelike voice, Loki said, "A killer. Oh, yes, I　am　a killer, aren't I? My hands are stained by so much blood they'll never be clean again. I can even tell you where it comes from, all that blood—the blood of innocent women, children. Infants. What was it the little mortal inquisitor said? Ah, yes, I recall it. 'I have red in my ledger, and I'd like to wipe it out.' But you can never　wipe out that much red. Not when the pages drip and gush with it…which is exactly what I told her. Yes, Brother, I am a killer. I know it; I don't need a coward, a traitor, and a murderer like　you　to tell me."

Sky-blue eyes widened. "Traitor? Coward? Murderer? How dare you, Laufeyson? You betray the king of Asgard—to whom you owe your life, to whom your swore fealty, who raised you as his own　son—usurp the throne that rightfully belongs to your brother, attempt to decimate Jötunheim, try to kill me while laying waste to mortal homes, join forces with the Chitauri, invade Midgard, murder innocent people, stab　my　friend and comrade in the back, command a slaughter, and yet you name　me　traitor and coward?"

Loki raised one mocking brow. "Is　that　what I did, Brother?" He asked in a faux-shocked tone. "All of that? Tsk, tsk. No wonder you wish I were dead. I must be such an embarrassment to you. I suppose nothing I did would surprise you after all that."

"Don't　mock　me, Loki! And do not put words in my mouth!"

His younger brother glared, contempt practically dripping from him. "You think you're so superior, don't you? You think you know everything. You think you know how it was. You and all the rest of the Asgardians have always believed yourselves so far above me, even before you knew the truth. Nothing I could do would ever make me your equal. I would always be inferior to you in the eyes of the kingdom." Loki shook his head in disgust. "Get out of here, Thor. Go away, and don't come back. Tell the queen it's pointless. Ah, yes—I knew why you were here: to offer the queen some small ray of hope that her precious foundling was still in here, somewhere. Well, let me tell you this: Loki Odinson is dead, and I am what's left. Don't seek your answers here. I am finished with you."

"Tell me what happened when you fell from the Bifröst, Loki," Thor demanded, only to be ignored as his brother turned and strode not to the chair, but to the cot that served him for a bed. Flinging himself carelessly upon it, the disguised Frost Giant fixed his eyes on the ceiling of his prison. "Tell me! Curse you, Brother, you　will　tell me the truth!"

"You don't deserve the truth," Loki murmured, closing his eyes. "Stop pestering me for it like a child wanting a sweet."

Willing to use almost any means necessary to keep his brother talking, Thor snapped, "Like a child, am I? A child like your little Sophie?" Every muscle in Loki's body stiffened. His eyes shot open, though he didn't look toward the crown prince. "Where did you find her, Brother? Did you trick her into helping you, promising your protection and friendship, feigning affection for her, only to betray her in the end?" Loki's hands convulsed into fists. He took one single sharp breath. His eyes blazed, but he still didn't look at Thor. "What was she to you? Hmmm? A servant? A slave? One of your pawns?" He was using Tyr's goading approach, which Thor realized was pathetic, but if it would make Loki say something, perhaps it was worth it.

There was a long silence, then Loki slowly released the breath he'd been holding. Keeping his eyes focused on the plain stone ceiling above, he said tonelessly, "Still so very blind. Still so dense. How does anything get through that thick skull of yours? I spoke to the king about it some centuries ago; one too many strikes to the head when you failed to catch Mjölnir." Thor growled low in his throat, but said nothing. Finally Loki added, "The question you should ask is not what was she to me, Thor. The proper question is, what was she to you?"

Thor's mouth fell open. His thoughts stuttered to a halt for a split-second, then began racing through his skull. But no matter how Thor prodded or coaxed, Loki closed his eyes and would speak no more.