Chapter Text
Ch1 -prologue
Loki hadn't always been a complicated man. There was a time, Thor remembers, when his baby brother was just that. When Loki hadn't yet seen his fiftieth summer, and he still fit so neatly in his big brother's palm, premature as he was, cooing curiously at the golden world around him, bubbling over with joy from the simplest of things.
It's painful how strikingly similar that memory is to the current sullen moment Thor faces now. Crouching protectively over a bundle of cloth on the floor of Himinbjörg, waiting as he peers desperately into the all-seeing eyes of the gatekeeper, his voice wavering as he near sobs "please, Heimdall."
The stoic man's gaze dutifully follows the trail of a tear that rolls down the boy's wrinkled cheek. The skin of his hands stretching taughtly around muscles as they clench tightly against the hilt of Hofund.
"The Allfather will know." The words scrape through his throat, quietly.
Thor, shaking by now, slowly rises from his aching knees as he whispers back, "I know, Heimdall."
"I can not deny The Allfather," Probably talking to himself fro how quiet his words are, yet still, Thor replies
"I know, I know," attempting to abate the guilt of The Gatekeeper.
Heimdall's eyes shut tightly as his head rests upon the hilt of his blade. "When he asks, he will know."
The God of Thunder, the hero, frantically clambers towards the gatekeeper -his idol's- station, "There is nowhere else for him, Heimdall." He tilts his head in an attempt to breach the other man's periphy, but alas! He's helpless.
The silence in the room grows thicker, deeper, and profoundly terrified as Thor watches the "stoic protector's" hands quiver. He can hardly bear the sight of it; he absorbs every second of such open vulnerability from such an inscrutible, seemingly indestructable pillar (of society, of his life).
He's shaken from his reverie by that familiar gut-wrenching mechanical sound of the blade twisting in its holster. Thor gasps, looking toward Heimdall as the doors behind him shutter closed and a light emanates dramatically from the other end of the dome of Himinbjörg.
As if he were a fly enchanted by its own doom, Thor makes his way toward the light. He's careful not to look back as he hears a final call from his favourite caretaker, lest he start bawling like the infant in his arms should have been.
"Keep him safe." His voice sounding almost as strong as it had been on every night before this one.
"Of course."
And just like that, Thor, the God of Thunder, son of Odin and Frigga, disappeared in a blinding flash of white light.