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The wind blustered around him, whipping his long hair back and forth so quickly that Loki couldn’t see a single thing around him. There were glimpses – flashes of semi-formed surroundings that contradicted each other and seemed to serve only to grow his panic.
Tall trees lining the edge of his vision.
Open plains, with no tree, no bush, not even a blade of grass in sight.
Stones littering the ground at his feet.
Rushing rapids, a great river that crashed and boomed with a noise that rivaled the storm.
Dark, still waters that whispered of a terrible secret hidden in the depths.
Bright white waves that scratched and screamed and crashed against a sea wall.
Golden towers, rising high above the clouds.
Low tents made of stretched animal leathers, clustered together around a smoldering campfire.
A choir, arranged in rising semi-circles, their voices far off and unheard.
The blood-soaked dirt of a battlefield, broken arrows and glints of metal dotting the ruined earth.
A lone figure, standing upon a high cliff as clouds swirled above.
A riderless horse galloping through a hedge with wide, crazed eyes.
Delicate fingers at a loom, gently weaving threads of pure light.
A dimly lit hallway occupied by twisting shadows.
A balcony, looking across blooming gardens in the light of early-evening.
Icicles forming swiftly on the palm of a blue hand.
The flash of metal upon metal in a fight.
Shadows of two children, darting through hallways together in search of mischief.
A broken helm, discarded upon cobblestones.
A hammer, tossed haphazardly upon an unmade bed.
Knives rusting away in a room long unused.
An untreated wound, souring from infection that would never be healed.
Loki choked, falling to his knees as he desperately tried to cover his face, using his hands and arms to shield his face away. From the visions, glimpses, memories and the tumultuous elements.
Distantly, he felt the pain in his legs as he collapsed to the cold ground below him, but that was far from the most pressing matter at the moment.
Loki gasped and cried out, and yet he heard no sound come of it. It was as if the wind stole away those wordless pleadings as soon as they departed his lips. He heard nothing over the predatory whoops and howls of the wind and assorted stormings around him. Rain pelted his back, soaking him to the bone as his clothes clung to him in apparent desperation.
The ground below him, too, was drenched. Cold as ice, it bore no comfort to him. And there was nothing around him to provide protection from the assault bearing down.
“Please,” Loki sobbed desperately, and though he could not hear it, he felt his voice crack. “Make it all stop.”
Lightning crackled overhead, a striking contrast to the raven-black sky. Thunder boomed as well, and the sound reverberated through Loki’s chest – through his very soul .
It terrified him, far more than the rest of the chaos around him. And yet, at the same time, a deep part of himself – a part that he hadn’t dared listen to ever since this hel began – relaxed.
And suddenly, the storm ceased.
Footsteps became the only sound then, the howling of the wind departing back to wherever it had come from. They echoed loudly, the noise of which was so great that Loki found himself flinching.
They grew louder as they approached him, and Loki tensed so much he swore he would break some bone from the stress.
Then they stopped.
Hands – large and calloused and yet oh so gentle – found their way to Loki’s own and peeled them away from his face.
Loki blinked rapidly in confusion, only to find someone kneeling before him. Those hands were there in his lap, and he clenched them as hard as he could to reassure himself that it was real – his hands were weak, though, and could barely be moved.
He looked up slowly, seeing the kneeling form before him. The legs kneeling down to be on his level, the leather and armor that clothed the broad chest and strong arms. The blonde hair littered with braids that flowed despite the wind having stopped. The electric blue eyes that crinkled at the corners as he met them.
Thor smiled. “Hello there, brother. What are you on the ground out here?”
Loki opened his mouth to respond, and yet could not. He found no answer to give to his brother, no explanation for how he had ended up there, kneeling upon the bare ground as the rocky terrain dug into his knees.
Thor frowned, concern etched into every inch of his face. “Shh, it’s alright.” he drew Loki closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around him securely.
Loki shook his head in disbelief, though he calmed considerably as he inhaled the distinct scent of ozone and leather that he would never forget. Not completely, though. He had lived through far too much in recent years to ever fully relax again.
“Nothing will hurt you, Loki,” Thor’s voice rumbled from his chest, and for the briefest of seconds, Loki calmed. But then he remembered.
“It’s too late,” he rasped, trembling. It was too late .
Thor didn’t respond, and the wind picked up around them. Not as much as before, though still enough to know that it was there . That there was some untamable force that couldn’t be stopped, that could still get him.
Loki began to tremble again, caught between the warm presence of his brother and the storm outside that was getting stronger again.
“It’s alright, brother,” Thor whispered, drawing back just barely enough to bring his hands up from his lap. A ghost of a smile graced his lips as he cradled Loki’s face in his hands. “I’m here, and I promise to never leave you.”
*****
Loki blinked awake in bed to find that his blanket had been tossed aside sometime during the night due to his thrashing. He shivered upon his bare mattress from the cold. There was no one else there to share warmth.
It had been a dream. A fantasy.
Loki drew his knees to his chest, wrapped his arms around himself, and cried.