Chapter Text
"Can you hear me?"
After the quiet question, everything once again drowned in oppressive silence, broken only by the annoying beeping of the machine that barely kept a fragile life going in this cruel reality they ended up in.
"Brother..."
Loki had been sitting by the bedside for an uncountable amount of time, but he knew he would remain here, by his side, for as long as necessary. The deafening vibration of the medical machine could drive anyone mad—anyone but him. Most likely, he didn’t even hear it anymore. Only the slow rise and fall of Thor’s chest gave him confidence that the body lying before him was still alive.
His brother—motionless, severely injured, possibly broken, nearly unrecognizable. Thor’s face, usually sun-kissed, was now pale, cut by some kind of debris, and disfigured by a fresh bruise that kept darkening on his cheekbone. Loki reached out to carefully touch his brother’s hand with his own, barely pressing, afraid to cause more pain. Then he slowly leaned closer to Thor’s chest to hear the faint but steady heartbeat.
He was still alive.
Loki lowered his head, eyes closed, tears of betrayal threatening to fall. He tried to hold back. No one should ever witness his moments of weakness. Never. And he couldn’t care less that he was alone right now. His brother was right here… He could wake up any moment. He must.
Forcing his heavy eyelids open to face the unfriendly world around them again, Loki looked at Thor’s large, strong hand held in his own — smaller, stained with his brother’s blood. It was covered in deep gashes, crusted blood, and a thick healing gel. The bandage would need changing — again. But he would do it.
Loki had done everything within his power. And more. His long fingers trembled but moved swiftly and skillfully as he injected the last dose of regenerative serum beneath his brother’s skin — the one he had saved for an emergency. And sadly, this was the emergency.
Under his command, auxiliary nanodrones activated — tiny mechanisms that quickly entered beneath the skin, seeking out the deepest, most dangerous fragments. He watched their work unfold on a hovering holographic screen, and with each disappearing red marker, his heart tightened further. It wasn’t enough. Damn it, it still wasn’t enough!
He inhaled a breath of air, too hot from the overheated system, and took one final risk — he turned off the cooling. The temperature around him began to rise, but the energy was now being redirected where it was truly needed: to Thor, to support the vital processes. If Thor ran out of strength to fight, the game would be brutally lost. Loki couldn’t allow that.
And yet, despite everything, the damn fool still wouldn’t wake up.
"You lied to me, brother," Loki whispered — soft, but loud enough for his stupid brother to hear him. If he wanted to. "You promised to come home..."
A dim, anxious red emergency light filled the room. Loki scolded himself yet again for activating it. But it had been the only way to stay alone with his brother.
A piercing screech echoed through the room — a sound scraping against the reinforced walls, as if trying to find a way inside and finish what it once started. This time, though, it didn’t scare anyone. At least not Loki. For him, this noise had only one meaning: Thor was delivered on time, and he did not perish during another storm.
Although to be fair, Thor had done a damn good job trying.
Idiot.
According to the latest data, the frequency of the storms had decreased compared to previous years. But no one knew whether that was a good sign… or the harbinger of something entirely new. Possibly even worse. It was hard to guess anything anymore.
Frankly, Loki didn’t give a damn. What difference did it make what would happen in a month, a year, a decade, or even a century, if it was already too late to change anything? What were all those pompous fools hoping for now?!
Loki didn’t remember, didn’t know, and couldn’t possibly know life before the apocalypse. Somehow, he and Thor had chosen to be born into this dying world where no one was waiting for them. Everything they knew came from stories miraculously passed down through generations. They had been lucky - lucky enough to read books dated from times when people still held out hope that things might change, that someday they could return to a life at least vaguely resembling the one before.
In their reality, obtaining a rare book or discovering old, yellowed documents written by survivors of the catastrophe was considered a significant event. They even had a small collection of such relics — gadgets and recordings preserving traces of a long-forgotten life. Now, they looked like scenes from a science fiction movie.
Only there had they once been able to see the unique blue of the sky — so unlike today’s nuclear red, which hung over them like a heavy blanket, threatening to crush everything beneath its weight. The strange green creatures that pushed their way through the earth’s surface had once seemed beautiful and miraculous, but Loki had never seen anything like them — those so-called “plants” no longer existed. Vast, sometimes endless blue expanses of water — where, allegedly, people had once loved to swim, where so much diversity of fauna had lived — now remained only in faded pictures and videos. All those lakes, rivers, seas, and oceans had turned into toxic liquid that one was terrified to approach. And once, there had even been such a thing as fresh air...
Neither Loki nor Thor had ever breathed anything like that into their lungs.
And as much as Loki longed to one day feel what that was like — true air, the kind you could breathe freely — right now he was ready to forget that little dream. To hell with everything, if only his brother could survive. He didn’t know what he could do, or what he was willing to do, but he already knew he would immediately say YES to this madness.
If only Thor opened his eyes… or just one eye, since the other was clearly no longer functional and would most likely have to be removed. And Loki hated it... Why, just why, did his beloved brother have to remind him of someone else? Someone Loki had tried in every possible way not to think about again. Why did this damned world seem to hate him so much? Hadn’t they suffered enough?! Why did new trials keep coming, one after another? When will they ever be able to get something really good for their fierce patience, which all living beings should envy?
His brother will now remind him of their father every damn day. Oh, yeah. His father. Though it was hard for Loki to think of him as such, it was a fact he would never change.
One small, foolish idea lit up above his head like a real bulb. Who would he be if he didn’t at least try to change something? Their father had never once tried to replace the patch that covered his missing right eye, despite the technology and advancements their society had reached. But maybe that was for the best. Whatever happened next, it was unlikely Thor would want to resemble Odin—and Loki would be more than happy to offer him a fine prosthetic, something to replace that arrogant eye which had decided to vanish from Thor’s socket without even asking for permission. In the best-case scenario, no one would even notice the substitution.
Distracted by this idea, Loki finally let go of Thor and moved closer to his desk. It was a true mess, a place where even determined thieves wouldn’t be able to find anything useful. But to hell with neatness. Loki, being the true king of his own chaos, easily found his holographic tablet, which was buried under a mountain of metal parts and discarded medicine wrappers. He quickly made a note about the idea of an artificial eye for his brother.
Not that it was anything extraordinary. He lived in a society trying to survive the end of the world! If not for life-saving technology and the progress of prosthetics, no one knew how long people would’ve lasted. Of course, no one dreamed of replacing body parts with artificial ones, but it was better than nothing. Thor probably wouldn’t be thrilled about his new look either, but who was going to ask him?
Loki couldn’t deal with the radioactive hurricane raging inside his poor head—unsure whether he hated his brother or loved him so much he was ready to forgive absolutely everything. The likelihood of his love decreasing by a few percentage points in the coming hours was real. Because once Thor had been returned, Loki was locked in the lab with him. Their father had not shown up yet. But time was ticking.
Time moved on, drawing ever closer to the moment when Odin would finally stop in front of the door and knock. It was hard to imagine what would happen then. But the doors didn’t stand a chance. As for Loki...
Loki didn’t know how many chances he had to survive another meeting with his father. There was even a chance he’d end up lying on a life-support bed next to Thor. And it wasn’t such a far-fetched outcome. Odin would be furious. The level of his rage couldn’t be predicted, but it would surely exceed anything before... or no.
Maybe Loki was overestimating. It was just fear trying to play on the sensitive strings of his poor nerves, nothing more. No, Odin would certainly be angry — that was the inevitable conclusion of the tragedy they had sunk so deeply into they were at risk of hitting rock bottom. But it would never again be like it was back when...
Back when they lost the only light they had.
For some, it meant memories of a sun so bright it could warm even the cruelest of frosts or light the way through darkness with its radiant beams. Of course, the same sun still existed now, still watching them, miserable people, from the skies, but it had changed far too much to resemble anything adequate. One had to be at least grateful it still gave off light at all.
For them, Loki and Thor, and perhaps even… for Odin, that sun, that true and irreplaceable light had been their mother. Frigga. But when she was gone, the real end of the world should have happened.
Unfortunately, that day — nothing happened. No sudden storm, no mutant attack, not even a damned eclipse to offer a drop of justice.
No. Just nothing.
She simply left without saying goodbye. She died, and didn’t even bother to leave a reason why.
And since Loki had always been fate’s favorite, it was, of course, he who had the luck of finding her lifeless body at the doors of what had once been their laboratory — now was only his. He remembers little of that day. Maybe his sanity is still trying to look after him, still trying to erase that moment from his mind like a bad dream. Too bad it’s not working.
And then the moment came.
A knock at the door.
A loud knock—too loud to ignore, loud enough to rip Loki from any thought. Too loud and too demanding for him to refuse.
There was no choice.
He had to.
He must.
Loki had to open those damned doors, or he would regret it later.
Hurry! Open the door. Open it!
Even the walls began to shake, protesting.
And despite the oncoming chaos, Loki could swear the knocks were so steady, so heavy, that they almost sounded like the pounding of a hammer. And he knew exactly who dared disturb him at such a moment.
Odin.
Of course, the Allfather would never visit him alone. Loki doubted Odin even believed in solving things privately, behind closed doors. Most likely, a crowd of guards and his personal retinue were waiting outside as well. The entire sacred council, which Loki likened to a flock of scavenging vultures. That species, he thought grimly, would live forever.
Loki sighed heavily. He had already exhausted all his chances to stall. He took off his glasses, smeared with tears and the grime of work, and placed them on the table. He wouldn’t be needing them for now. Then he rose slowly, swallowing a heavy lump in his throat like poison, burning him on its way down.
There was no need to approach the door — one annoying button was enough to let them in. And he pressed it with trembling fingers.
The door hadn’t even fully opened when Odin slammed into it with his shoulder, stormed inside, and charged straight at Loki — shoving him aside like an obstacle in his path. Loki barely kept his footing, catching himself against the wall, reluctant to turn and face his father. He delayed it for as long as he possibly could.
One of the guards moved toward him, perhaps to steady him, but Loki stopped him with a sharp gesture. Not in Odin’s presence.
The Allfather had already rushed to the bed where the injured son lay.
His eye locked on Thor’s body — unconscious, bandaged, stained with blood.
“What have you done?!”
That had been Loki’s own reaction, more or less, when they brought Thor in. But Odin wasn’t addressing his elder son.
“What did you do?” Odin’s voice broke into a full-blown scream, hoarse with the fury that boiled inside him.
“He returned from the mission barely alive,” Loki replied. His voice was calm, almost melancholic, but in truth, every muscle in his body had tightened to the point of breaking. “I did everything I could…”
“What did you do?” Odin finally turned to face his younger son, voice quieter now—like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.
“Were you with him when it happened? Oh wait — no, of course not.”
“Father, I don’t know how it could’ve happened…”
Odin's questions were obviously rhetorical, but Loki could not help but at least try to say something in his defence. But there was no room for justice here.
“You don’t know! You weren’t there! That’s all I ever hear from you, worthless scoundrel.”
Odin advanced now — slowly but steadily.
“And how could you know anything, when you never leave this shed, always playing with your flasks and powders — just waiting for others to do the hard work for you!”
Then Odin lunged forward, closing the distance between them. His single eye blazed with fire. His hands gripped Loki’s forearms too tightly, his fingers digging into the blood-stained fabric of his coat.
"Look at him!" Odin turned to everyone present—though they stood silently nearby, hidden in the shadows. "Not a single scar. Not one disfiguring scratch to ruin your perfect, girlish skin and pretty little face. And your brother — a true warrior, a man — is rotting right now between life and death so you can sit here in safety!" Odin paused — but only briefly. "You’re not worthy of it."
He struck without warning, the blow slicing through the air with a sharp, frozen sound.
It wasn't even remotely gentle — no one had any intention of holding back. It was enough to knock Loki off his feet. He fell, hitting the edge of the table hard. His cheek instantly flushed red and throbbed with pain. Yet he made no sound. No hiss of pain, no gasp. He didn’t even reach for the injured spot.
Despite knowing how to act in such moments, Loki still made a mistake when he tried to rise again. He barely made it to his elbows before another, heavier strike hit him, sending him right back to the floor.
Odin’s breath was ragged and loud. He even raised his hand for another strike, but for some unknown reason, he stopped at the last moment.
He fell silent, breathing heavily with his one eye shut, resembling a beast after the hunt. His jaw clenched with a low snarl. Then Odin turned away from his younger son and back to Thor’s bedside, leaning on it with both hands as he struggled to steady his breath.
"Enough," he said coldly. The sound of it ran a shiver down Loki’s spine.
"You’ll go beyond the walls. Just like your brother did. And you will, damn it, find out what happened to him and to his squad out there. And finally make yourself useful. Finally... Otherwise, don't even try to come back. It won't work.
Loki said nothing. His eyes stared anywhere but at his father. Or at his brother, who lay unconscious—unable to hear a word of what had just been said. If he had heard… he wouldn’t have allowed this. He never would have let it happen. But he wasn’t here. Not with him. Not now. Not today.
There was nothing to say. And no choice left.
Loki remained on the floor, slumped against the wall, already thinking of what fate awaited him next.
No one present — those who had the misfortune of witnessing this shameful scene — spoke a single word aloud. They stood like statues, frozen in inaction. And when Odin waved them away, they followed like obedient dogs, trotting after their master and leaving Loki behind.
Only one of them hesitated — perhaps considering whether to approach Loki.
But he left too. Lacking the courage, of course.
At last, their heavy footsteps faded behind the armored doors, which shut again with a loud clang.
Only silent, unconscious Thor remained. And Loki — who now urgently needed a plan.