Outcast's Love (Loki Fanfiction)

Chapter Seven:

Father.
Odin moved restlessly inside his sleep. His body twitched, subdued in sleep and reality. He saw his son’s face, flittering inside his subconscious mind. He looked so alive. Fresh from sleep, sweet and young.
Father.
Odin’s body jerked. He tries to call out to his son, but he had seemed to have lost the power of speech. Instead, he watched in bewilderment as Loki approached him, his skin shining like marble. He held a goblet in his pale hands. He offered it to Odin in silence. Odin accepted the goblet, holding Loki’s gaze. The goblet felt cold to the touch. To Odin’s disbelief, he recognised the goblet; it had belonged to Loki. He eyed Loki warily. Loki gestured to the cup with pale slender hands. Odin peered into it. It was filled with a dark red liquid that looked like wine. Pressing the cup to his lips, tilting it back as he allowed some of its contents to pour into his mouth. His mouth became filled with a bitter iron taste, still warm. Odin crumpled his face is disgust, throwing the cup to the ground. The last of its contents spilled out, pooling around his feet.
Blood.
Odin woke up with an unexpected jolt. He sat up in bed, his skin breaking out into a shivering cold sweat. He blinked, his old eye adjusting to the partial light that passed through the room. Entangling himself from the bed sheets, Odin went to stand beside the window. He peered out, blinded by light. He could taste the wrought taste of iron to his tongue. He could feel the coldness of the goblet seeping through into his bones. He had seen his son’s face…

***

Thor knelt before the tomb of his sleeping brother. That was how he liked to think of Loki; sleeping peacefully, rather than lying inside a tomb like a slab of cold meat. His head was bowed, eyes closed. His hands were clenched against his sides. He thought himself the murderer, the one to have caused Loki’s death. Loki wouldn’t had committed his death to him if he hadn’t opened the portal and allowed the frost giants to pass through. Thor flashbacked to the memory of watching as Loki threw himself in front of him and the dagger driven through his chest. Anger bubbled through him, coursing through his veins like fire. He lifted himself from where he knelt, his fists smashing down against a wall. Several perfectly constructed cracks zigzagged from one corner of the wall to the other. There was a splattering of fresh blood dusted on his knuckles. Thor brought his fist to his mouth, his eyes closing in pain.
“Thor?”
Thor slowly turned round. Odin stood beside the entrance to the room. The old man’s eye flickered on Thor, to the wall, before finally settling on Thor again.
“It’s my fault,” Thor said bitterly. “I killed Loki.”
“No son,” Odin said. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“But I caused his death!” Thor retaliated. “If I hadn’t opened the portal, allowed the frost giants to escape, Loki wouldn’t be dead.”
The old man crouched beside his son, resting a hand lightly against his coiled back. He could feel the muscles jump in Thor‘s skin.
“No son,” Odin repeated. “You are wrong. Loki approached me in a dream last night.”
Thor stiffened. He lifted his head, meeting Odin at eye level.
“Father, Loki is dead,” Thor said quietly. “I watched him die. He - he’s dead.”
“This hasn’t been the first time,” Odin said. “Loki has appeared in my dreams several times. Last night he asked to drink from a goblet. His goblet. It was filled with blood. I think…I think I may know how to wake him.”