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The void was cold. The void was unbearable hot. The void was nothing, and the void was everything. It was chaos and it was emptiness. And Loki fell through it, through the madness and desolation, or perhaps he was motionless and the abyss rushed through him. Loki was not sure. Perhaps everything was occurring at once, or perhaps there was nothing and the trickster's mind was simply playing tricks on itself.
He thought, sometimes, in the void. He thought of a red cape, and bright ocean-blue eyes. He thought of a hand, rough and familiar, grabbing his and drawing him away from this abyss of brightness and darkness, of all that was and wasn’t and is and isn’t and will be and won’t be. He thought of safety in those arms, of rescue.
It never came.
The fall, if it was a fall, lasted eternity. It lasted a few seconds. Loki learned that the distinction did not matter. It was not the last concept he learned after letting go.
He learned of the Chitauri, of the Other, of Thanos.
He learned of worlds and species far beyond Asgard or any of the nine realms. Hundreds of races that the Aesir, that Thor (not brother), that the All-Father (not father never father) could never have dreamt of, perched as they were upon their golden throne in their golden realm. Content and ignorant in the false belief of their superiority in the known realms and beyond.
He learned of the Tesseract, of objects of power spread across the universe, and of some hidden away in Odin’s vault.
He learned of his own might, of spells and magic that the Aesir would never have allowed him to access. Instead they would have stifled his abilities and kept him in dark from his true prowess.
He learned more of Midgard, of an organization called S.H.I.E.L.D., of a scientist named Selvig. A friend of that woman.
He learned of a new purpose, of ruling, of his right to be king. King of Midgard, if Asgard was beyond his reach.
He learned that the humans needed him. That their notions of freedom, free will, were but follies and lies, holding them back from their true potential. A potential they could reach, once he was their king and absolute ruler.
He learned to fear the Other. To fear Thanos. That they were not to be trifled with. That failure could not be an option, not for him.
He learned of his hate, his white hot rage burning inside of him.
And how he hates.
He hates Asgard, the Aesir, the radiant palace that should have been his home, his people, but where instead he been rejected. Cast out for trying to save Asgard from those monsters who would invade and destroy that shining realm.
He hates Jotunheim, the Jotuns, a blight on the nine realms which should have been insignificant but was inherently a part of him. He could deny it with every waking moment, as he did with the Chitauri (Asgardian I am The Asgardian they do not question the lie) but he would never forget.
He hates Midgard for changing his broth- (no no no I was never his brother) for changing Thor. A few days on a realm of ignorant, brief-lived mortals and Thor was different. Softer. Less reckless. All Loki's words and schemes and advice, a thousand years of telling him to stop and think and those mortals and that woman had done it all in but a few days.
He hates Odin, All-Father (but not my father) for lying, for not loving him as he loved Thor, for rejected him after all he did for Odin. Did he not kill Laufey, end the war with Jotunheim, try to rid the Aesir of those monsters? Was that not enough for the All-Father, not enough to make Odin love his stolen Jotun war trophy? No, no it was not enough, never enough, not when the All-Father had Thor for comparison.
He hates Thor, simply for existing, simply for being Thor. For having everything and everyone, all of Asgard’s and Odin’s love while he had nothing and no one. For not being his brother, for throwing him into that abyss and forgetting him utterly.
He cannot think of Frigga. He is angry with her (why didn't she tell me sooner, why didn't she help me) but he cannot hate her. If Loki thinks of her warm embraces and soothing words after a spell gone awry, and her encouraging -
He does not think of Frigga (mother).
He hates being a pawn of the Chitauri, the knowledge that he will be set up as a puppet king.
He hates that he is desperate enough to settle for that fate.
He hated waking up with a smile on face after having dreamt of brotherhood, playing together as children, fighting together as adults. He hated the dreams of warm, loving grins brighter than the sun and meant only for him, a hand easily resting on his neck in effortless affection.
He hated the smile slipping from his face, along with dream, as he remembered. Remembered who and what he was.
He hated when the dreams stopped.
And he hates himself for wanting more.
He hates himself for still caring.
He hates himself for not being the right son, or the right brother.
He hates himself
He hates