Archive of Our Own ^beta

They’d never asked Thor why his brother was the way he was. They knew that Loki was insane, and that Thor loved him anyhow. They knew- in the part of their minds which was locked, chained, and buried- that insanity was bred, not born. They knew all this, yet it was easier to soothe their red ledgers and virtuous beliefs with the lie that Loki was simply, purely evil.

They all wondered at one point or another why it was that Thor loved his brother so, but never spoke to him about his pain. How Thor could profess love while swinging the justice of Mjolnir, how love could accompany no actual attempt at reconciliation. The rest of the Avengers hardly had normal relationships with their blood families, however, so the curious incident was filed away under ‘to ask eventually/never’. They had only been a team for four weeks, after all. The strongest bond they had was in the field of battle. Sure, Clint and Natasha had a previous friendship, and an odd friendship had been formed between Natasha and Steve. Not to mention Clint, Bruce, and Tony were partners-in-crime. Their resident god, however, seemed disinclined to speak to the mortals more than necessary. He followed orders in the field, and that was all.
At the end of the day, they were a team with fragile bonds that could all too easily break.

So it was they found themselves on the roads of New York City without knowing why Thor was simultaneously hurling Mjolnir at his Loki and asking him to come home.
Loki sneered, the expression unstable and brittle. “Iron Man, cover Widow’s left. Hawkeye, can you pick off his trail?” rattled off the Captain.
“No problem, mon capitaine,” responded Clint over the comms. His words, however casual, were strained. None of the Avengers had been quite prepared for the Dr. Doom and Loki team up, and while they were doing admirably, it was more difficult than usual to keep up the light banter that was usually present over comms.

Eventually the Fantastic Four showed up.
“Where were you?” asked Iron Man.
“Alternate dimension,” replied Reeds.
“That’s such a convenient excuse. Sorry I’m late, I was in an alternate dimension. An alternate dimension ate my homework,” muttered Clint.
“…Clint, buddy, you okay? No concussion?” asked Tony.
“Shut up, Stark. If anybody here is brain damaged, it’s you.”
“He’s fine,” said Black Widow coolly. “Now can you all concentrate on getting Loki?”
The Avengers approached the trickster, who stood in the middle of a Doombot entourage.
“You promised with your magic my bots would not be defeated,” hissed Doom from one of the Doombots’ speakers.
“Well, I’m the god of Lies. One would think even your menial minds could grasp the concept,” replied Loki with a smirk.
One of the bots drew up. “You dare insult Doctor Victor von Doom, sovereign ruler of Latveria?” it hissed.
The god glared back at it. “Your doctor means nothing to me. He is another pesky mortal in a series of pesky mortals who survive simply to irritate me. He is-“ a choking noise interrupted his diatribe, and the Avengers (who had finally arrived) stared askance at the blade sticking out of the mischievous alien’s back.

There was no way.

After thousands of centuries of neglect, a few intergalactic wars under his belt, and general survival, Loki Lie-Smith died on the blade of a sub-par Midgardian robot.
That wasn’t even built by Tony.

The Avengers sprung into action, defeating the robots around Loki absent-mindedly while watching Thor stare askance at his brother. Blood leaked out of the side of Loki’s mouth, which was curled up in the facsimile of a smile- as if the trickster had forgotten how to do so without mockery. It was a gruesome attempt at a peaceful visage.
“It cannot be…” murmured Thor as the battle died down and the Fantastic Four (very wisely) left the team alone. The others crowded around the thunderer, looking at the blank face of their foe. Captain gently reached out and shut his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Thor,” said Steve sympathetically.
“Do not be, Captain. It is merely one of his illusions. It must be,” rumbled the thunder god decisively. Silence reigned for a moment in the face of Thor’s blatant self deception. Though maybe…
“Don’t be so sure, Uncle,” said a derisive female voice from the side of the street, before the speaker stepped into view. Appearing to be half blue elf, half Rapunzel, she exuded the grace and wisdom of at least a few centuries.
“Hela,” exclaimed Thor in genuine shock. The woman nodded, occupied by the sight before her. Leaning down, she carefully extracted a sapphire bundle shot through with emerald. Looking closely, Tony could just make out black edges in the energy ball.
“What is that?” asked Clint.
Hela looked up, eyes amused. “My father’s soul.”
The Avengers (sans Thor) drew back before Natasha carefully asked “Your father?”
“Yes. My father. Has my uncle not told you he has many nephews and a niece? Why uncle, I might think you were ashamed of me,” mocked Hela.
Thor looked up at her plaintively. “Hela, do not do this.”
“Do what? Take my father to the peace he has needed for so long? Why shouldn’t I? Would Asgard miss him, uncle? Will you? Is that why the realm of death calls for him so early, in a battle he fought against you? Or were you so accustomed to facing him that you barely noticed?” snapped Hela.
Thor looked forlorn. “Hela…”
“Do not Hela me! For centuries, you and your ilk have committed unspeakable horrors against my father. Excluding him always, neglecting him in favor of brutish war, ignoring him when he saved your sorry hide repeatedly, yet blaming him for conflicts not his fault because you and everyone else assumed he was lying! … Even going so far as to throw his own children out because we were- are- considered monsters! Lady Death is more merciful than you; she is fair, and accepts all. It is because of her I have my realm, with no assistance from Odin or any of you ungrateful tyrants! And shall I speak of my brothers, without whom Midgard would fall apart? Who are afraid and wander alone? Some of whom are driven mad by their isolation, by the fact that Odin decreed my father’s progeny to be pests, and him unfit to parent, as if it was a law to be passed along with tariff prices and hunting seasons! Yet the season for hunting my family never ended, did it, uncle? No, we remain outcasts, isolated, because you senseless animals cannot see beyond your thick noses at who my father truly is, cannot look past appearances to judge who we truly are, and cannot look past the Jotun blood my father never knew he had. Yet you, you who he admired and idolized and was spurned by, you who would not defend your own kin or his beloved children, you who only professed love when the alternative was the loss of something you desired, you who hated him and bullied him and neglected him, you who pushed him into a spiraling path of insanity and despair that not even I, his own daughter, could pull him out of- you dare claim you love him? Care for him? Where has your love and care been all these years, uncle?” Hela spat. “Where was your love and care when his lips were sewn shut for daring to question your less than altruistic motives? Where was your love and care when venom fell on him, droplet by droplet, devouring his flesh and bones before rejuvenating them so it could happen again, because he dared visit his own son? Where were you when Sigyn, who tried to hold the venom at bay with the futile attempt of a caring wife, fell prey to a deep depression which led to her death? Where were you when Loki was released, after a century of torture, to find his wife unresponsive and numb? Where were you when we mourned? Where were you when we bled? You, Thor Odinson, are an ingrate, a fool, and a liar. Your love is a sieve attempting to catch water, and amounts to nothing. It is because of you and Odin that he was broken, and I have never been so proud in my life of my Jotun blood, if it means I do not hold the curse of being related to you.”

The Avengers, stunned into stillness and chilled to the core, were staring at Thor in horror, disbelief, and shock. This, they had never expected. This, they had never seen in the quiet, docile, ignorant god that they worked with. This, this was new. And horrifying. Hela protectively cradled her father’s soul in her hands as she glared at her foster uncle. “You, Thor Odinson, will never receive the honor of being in Loki Laufeyson’s presence again. His soul is mine to nurture, and claim. You had better pray for Valhalla, Thor Odinson, for you are not welcome in my realm, and should not dare consider setting foot in it. I promise you, that you will never see your beloved, tortured brother again for as long as you live and afterwards as well, even if Odin prostrates himself at my feet and grovels for your entrance to my realm. You will never again be able to hurt my father, and maybe, finally, he will receive the peace and love he deserves yet never saw. Maybe, if we’re lucky, you’ll never have to see this monster again.” With that final scathing retort, Hela disappeared, her father’s soul clutched in her hands like an infant in a mother’s embrace.

The Avengers stared at the spot where she had stood for a long while, before looking shakily at Thor.
Not a tear fell from his face.
Disturbed, the five whispered parting words and returned to headquarters.
For a long time afterwards, they thought, each of them, about the illusion in Loki’s jail cell. About the arrow caught before impact. Of a plan well thought out, with enough dramatic flair to rival Tony Stark. Then they thought about the broken man who had stood in the center of a doombot circle and unflinchingly insulted their leader, and attempted to reconcile the quiet insane genius of the former with the insane recklessness of the latter. None of them enjoyed the implication they all individually derived from it. It was almost as if he had wanted to… but none of them could blame him, could they? Not if what Hela had said was even remotely true.

They’d never asked Thor before why his brother was the way he was.
They knew that Loki was insane, and that Thor pretended to love him. They had known- in the part of their minds which Hela had uprooted, shaken, and spread- that insanity was bred, not born. They had known all this, yet it had been easier to soothe their red ledgers and virtuous beliefs with the lie that Loki was simply, purely evil.
They regretted their silence for as long as they lived, and after.