Valhalla || A Loki Fanfic

Chapter 1

"How the hell is this dude still alive?"

I blink, nearly collapsing as my knees buckle. The world felt underwater, black spots dancing in my vision. My hands felt slow to move, a ringing in my ears.

What was happening to me? Why couldn't I remember anything?

Wait- Thanos, Neck, Valkyrie, Fylgjur.

Right, I'm dead. And stuck with Thor. This was a horrible and terrible idea.

I could vaguely recognize the idiots in the background talking about his muscles and I fought the urge to throw up in my mouth.

That was also when I noticed three things. One, Thor was unconscious on the idiot's table. Two, I was in my Jotun form, and seemingly unable to change back. And three, Thanos's daughter, Gamora, was standing inches away from me.

Father will not be pleased once he hears you have refused our gracious offer.

She stares as I'm burned at the stake, the flames licking across my body. I scream in agony, begging for anyone to save me, she just stands next to Thanos and The Other

She watches as the corpses and hot coals are shoved down my throat, her face blank as I retch.

She looks at my poor whimpering body, but she doesn't give it a second thought as the mind stone is forced on my head, turning my brain to mush.

She is a witness as blue in my mind consumes me, a sickly power in my hands.

But she does nothing.

Failure.

It's all your fault.

You call yourself a god Jotun scum? You are nothing more than a disappointment, a weakness.

"Wake him up,"

Nononononono that's a bad idea. Thor attacks first and asks questions later, you lot are all going to die.

But the bug lady presses her hand to his forehead, whispering softly, "Wake,"

Thor erupts immediately, bursting from the table. Stumbling idiotically to the wall, lying on it for support.

I should've gone to Valhalla.

He grunts heavily like a barbarian, turning around slowly, panting, to face the other morons who have guns pointed at his face.

Please, as if guns would be enough to kill a god.

His voice comes out low and rumbling, tired and strong and intimidating at the same time, "Who the Hel are you guys?"

•••

I'm not sure how much time passes, it's hard to tell when you're floating in the middle of space. All I know is that Thor now has a bowl of soup and a blanket, and I am unable to turn my illusion into my Aesir form. Realistically, I should've listened to Val and her warnings.

Blood-red, crimson eyes and sapphire skin with raised blue patterns along my body. Grayish-brown, curved horns reaching a few inches above my head. A tail that brushes my ankles, a tuft of black hair on the bottom.

I'm sitting next to a soot-covered Thor, watching his body language. Even though it's been years since we were actually on 'good' terms, I can still recognize what every single adjustment means.