Story (Thor) Worst Fear

Summary: One brother is hurt. The other sits by him. Post- TDW. No slash. Brotherly love. M for paranoia.
Rating: M (R)
Genres: Family/ Horror
Warnings: Dark/Insane!Loki, torture, lots of blood, and spoilers for TDW if you haven't already seen it.
Words: 2,259
A/N: This is my first M rated work and so much darker than what I usually write. I think the reason for this is because Loki wanted to go darker, plus I was having a pretty crappy week and needed to let some of this out. Anyway. A few things. First, Loki is very twisted and crazy in this story. In my head, he was really screwed up mentally by Thanos and/or the Other and it took this long for his insanity to manifest. Second: This is, also, my first time writing this version of Loki. If he's OOC, please let me know. Finally, this is mostly from Loki's POV, if not all of it. You have all been warned. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Worst Fear​

He was standing at the foot of the cot, willing his brother to wake up. In fact, he was willing this entire skirmish to be a very vivid nightmare. In the back of his mind, he was aware that his latter wish was would never be. As for the former… He only hoped his brother would wake soon.

Loki silently moved to stand at Thor’s bedside and stared down at his brother’s bandaged wound in the center of his chest. It was never supposed to happen like this. Thor was too strong, too alert for this to happen. Plus, Loki had always assumed in distant recent years that the one to strike the crippling, if not fatal, blow would be himself. He never thought some lowly random marauder would do it in his stead.

It was nearly a decade after Malekith and after Loki was discovered impersonating Odin. Instead of facing his punishment, which was imprisonment until execution, he fled.

Over the years, Asgardian warriors were sent to find him and bring him back alive if they can. If they couldn’t, they were ordered to kill him and bring his body back as proof that he was dead.

Loki made his displeasure known and killed them all in accordance with his mood. He sent their bodies back sometimes as harmless, easily dispatched zombies if he merely wanted some fun. If he felt indifference, he merely sent them back, posed for their funerals. The worst would be if he was in a foul mood and irritated at the Asgardians for sending rabble to find him. He would kill these warriors as usual, but he would, then, reanimate them. They would seem to be alive and perhaps they were in a sense, that is, until they went home to their families. The dead warriors would slaughter them all. It would be a literal bloodbath. Needless to say, they received the message after only the first time this happened.

The guards were sent out less and less, while Loki only caused chaos on whatever world he fancied just enough to catch Asgard’s attention. Just to taunt them. Eventually, Odin sent out Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three. They became the closest to capturing him, though he always fled before they could restrain him. No matter how fast they were with the newest device that would be guaranteed to immobilizing him. Loki never harmed the Warriors Three and Sif beyond a few broken bones and he never hurt Thor beyond cuts, bruises and, once, a burn. He, also, never killed any of the natives of whatever realm he was on to gain Asgard’s attention. This didn’t go unnoticed.
When an enemy of Asgard arose and they couldn’t defeat them by themselves, a fact they discovered much to their everlasting despair, Thor would be sent to find Loki, without his friends. Loki was usually aware of Thor’s presence. If Thor was close enough to whatever hiding place he had made for himself, he would allow him to find him. Thor would, then, bargain, cajole, beg, and threaten Loki in turn for many hours. Loki, eventually, agrees to help him. He would, then, disappear after the enemy was defeated and before the blush of victory could have a chance to wear off and the Asgardians could come to their senses and arrest him.

Thor had often asked him, at first, what his reasons were for helping them. Loki would merely give a
smirk that could have meant anything and everything between ‘because- the- more- I- help- Asgard- the- more- they- will- be- in- my- debt’ to ‘because- your- offer- was- better.’

The real reason was because of a deep fear he harbored. This fear has been with him ever since he was a young child, listening to the horror war stories the soldiers told about the war itself and the aftermath. He had even seen the after effects on the soldiers after a particularly brutal battle. He became afraid that if he wasn’t at Thor’s side, then his brother would get himself killed. Over the centuries, he tried to remove this fear. He only succeeded in burying it. It resurfaced when he saw the monster, Kurse, pounding into Thor over and over again on Svartalfheim. He couldn’t rebury it again.
Occasionally, the enemy would be smart, or foolish, enough to bargain for Loki’s help against the Asgardians. Sometimes Loki would turn triple agent and caused chaos on both sides may or may not have caused the fighters on either side injuries, if not deaths. Just because he was bored.

This time was no different than the other times before it. At first, then Loki received an offer from their current enemies, which were a few rogue bands of marauders. He refused the offer by not only killing the messenger, but the messenger’s guards, as well. He reanimated their corpses and sent them to their colleagues. His greatest fun was seeing the terror on the Asgardian warriors’ faces as they listened to the horrified screams from their enemies camps. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

The next day, the marauders attacked without warning. The Asgardians were off balanced, at first, but managed to quickly mount a decent defense before too many were killed.

Thor, Loki, Sif, and the Warriors Three managed to find themselves in the thick of the battle, fighting together as if nothing had ever happened. It was almost enough to make Loki sick, though with every throat he slit, one thought kept repeating over and over in his head: Protect Thor! It disgusted him. He was tempted to leave his position of guarding his friends’ backs. Almost.

Loki gave an almost bored sigh as another marauder fell for one of his more simple illusions and fell on Fandral’s sword. They were by far the stupidest creatures he had the misfortune of fighting. He supposed their sheer numbers made up for their lack of intelligence.

There was a sudden wordless cry of warning that sounded like it had come from Sif and Loki, reflexively, spun out of potential danger… and froze.

Before he spun he had his back to Thor’s and Sif’s location, now he faced them and vaguely realized he had strayed from his original starting point. What made him freeze was the expression on Thor’s face: Shock, surprise, and pain. Loki forced his gaze away from his brother’s face as something caught his eye. It was a head of what looked like a spear. It was sticking out of the center of Thor’s chest. Time slowed and Loki saw something that was thicker than Thor’s blood dripping off the tip. Poison. The spear was poisoned. Thor’s gaze widened as the spear was withdrawn, looking as though it took chunks of the crown prince’s body with it, and he crumpled to the ground and his blue eyes slid closed.

Loki vaguely heard someone screaming in rage and grief. He didn’t realize it was himself until he released a deadly pulse of magic. It ripped through flesh, bone, and armor as if they were nothing more than butter. The effect was something akin to a wire cutting across a room full of people at very fast velocity. Thankfully, the pulse died out before it reached the Warrior’s Three, Sif, and Thor.
Loki teleported himself right next to the marauder who had stabbed Thor and grabbed him just as Sif, who had been the closest to Thor, swung her blade in a strike that would have been fatal had Loki not teleported himself and the marauder away.

They reappeared in a desolate, abandoned place, forgotten by all except Loki, who had stumbled across it during one of his escapes from Thor. It was the perfect place to exact his revenge. Or, at least it would be once he took care of something else. He teleported back to the field, leaving his brother’s would- be murderer on the dead world. He had to finish helping the Asgardians. Then he would take his revenge.

After the battle, Sif had found him and asked what had happened to the marauder, to which Loki only replied with a dark grin. He saw the fear in Sif’s eyes. It only made the grin grow wider. Sif didn’t ask anything else.

When Loki teleported back to the desolate rock, he found his prey hadn’t moved, more or less, from the spot where he had left him. He could almost taste his fear.

Without saying a word, or even moving closer, Loki sent tendrils of his magic into the creature to slowly squeeze his internal organs one by one, until they imploded. The marauder started screaming in pain. Loki allowed a vicious grin to spread across his face. This was the finest music he had ever heard.

Loki made sure the creature survived hours, perhaps even days, of feeling his organs, besides his heart and brain, pop like overripe fruit that had fallen on a marble floor. Every time he fell unconscious from the agony, Loki stopped the process and waited until he regained consciousness, then he continued, enjoying the terror and agony that had built in the man’s eyes.
He, then, slowly boiled the marauder’s blood and the rest of his body’s fluids until they were hot enough to literally burn away whatever had contained them. By this point, he had to keep the creature alive through his magic. It wouldn’t last long.

To finish, Loki slowly and, of course literally, tore the marauder’s brain apart. He watched with glee as blood flowed from the marauder’s eyes, nose, and ears. He had made sure he could feel everything that had been done to him. This pain, he made him feel especially. No one hurts Thor, much less almost kills him, except Loki.


Loki started to laugh when the marauder could only voice his pain in a hoarse croak. These were the last things the marauder experienced as he finally, mercifully, died. Loki didn’t stop laughing.
It was a long time later before he regained his composure. He wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes and teleported to the healers’ tent where he knew Thor would be. He never spared a glance at the crumpled body on the ground. It would never be returned.

Loki blinked as he came out of his reverie. All of this had been three days ago. Thor had never woken up and Loki knew his time of lingering was nearly up. The only reason he stayed this long was to see if what he had done to heal Thor would be enough.

Though he had learned enough of the healing arts to be considered advanced, he was a far cry from being called healer. Besides, those lessons were so long ago and so much had happened since then, Loki was surprised to find out that he had managed to remember as much as he had.
To avoid detection from the Asgardians this long, Loki cloaked himself from healers, visitors, and sometimes curious on lookers alike. He knew he couldn’t keep this up forever. Instead of listening to the nagging anxiousness that was steadily growing in the pit of his stomach, he ignored it and slowly sat on the edge of the bed next to Thor’s left hip.

“Oh, Thor, you stupid fool,” Loki whispered. When he didn’t move, Loki placed the fingertips of his right hand on the back of Thor’s hand, which was resting on the cot on top of the sheet. Eventually satisfied that Thor wouldn’t wake spontaneously, he moved his hand so that it covered Thor’s, while slipping his left underneath. “This is my fault, you know,” he continued, looking at their joined hands. “If I had seen sooner, or done something faster… If I had not strayed too far, then maybe…” he clenched his jaw, angry at himself for the tears suddenly running down his face.

His voice cracked. “You should never be in this position, Thor. You were always too strong for this, curse you!” Loki was glaring at their hands now through slightly blurry vision as his tears kept flowing, turning to anger at Thor, at this situation, at everything. He exhaled through clenched teeth. “Thor, I cannot do this without you,” he swallowed. “Despite all my attacks and words, Thor, I never thought you would get hurt. Not like this,” Loki let go of Thor’s hand with his right, but subconsciously gripped it slightly harder with his left. “Perhaps what Odin said was correct. That we are not gods…” he squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of weariness washed over him. He knew that his time to leave was coming far too soon. He would have to make this quick. “Thor, if there was ever a time you have ever considered and loved me as your brother, promise me you won’t ever die. Promise you won’t ever be in this position again. I don’t-“ he stumbled and hesitated, forcing his final guard down, “I don’t think I would be able to survive if you do die.” He opened his eyes again and, for the first time, looked at his brother’s too still face, silently willing him, just for a moment, to wake.

When there was no sign of movement, Loki pressed his lips together and stood. A few moments later, there was a soft flash of green- gold light and he was gone.

Loki never saw Thor open his eyes and blink the tears that he had, barely, been restraining.

I promise, brother.

​

End​

A/N: If you have read it thus far, thank you! One more thing I forgot to add to my beginning A/N, if there is anything I have left out of my warnings, or if you think that I have over- rated this fic, then, please, let me know. I hope you enjoyed. ​

 

Thank you for the advice. I will most certainly ask you if this happens again.

I hope it doesn't, either. Though, it would be way too easy for him to do so.

*passes box of tissues* It broke mine, too.

Thank you so much for your support!