Loki was awake, which was rare these days.
As soon as he opened those dull green orbs, he had demanded Kieran pick some things up from Superstition Supreme.
The poor man was still grieving but Loki wasn't functioning well enough to care.
Thor had disappeared a few moments before. Loki could hear retching and he winced. His poor love had been working so hard. He was certain he hadn't slept in days.
Kieran came back with a doggy bag full of herbs and zealous potions.
He raised an eyebrow at the kid but didn't question it any further.
"Loki," he started, sitting on the bed and placing a hand on the teenager's knee cap. "I'm going home. To Spain,"
"Oh," Loki croaked, feeling his heart shred another layer. "That's wonderful news, Kieran. For your family?"
"You betcha, kid. It's all we have, after all." The blue haired man's eyes brimmed with tears. "Come here," he wrapped the fragile teen in his arms and wept. Loki cried too, but he was too exhausted to feel much other than numbness. "I've grown to love you and your dipshit brother. Please, come and find me when everything is okay again."
Something about the way he said that made Loki think he knew it wouldn't be.
"Thank you, Kieran. For everything."
"Love you, kid."
"And I you,"
And then he was gone.
And Loki was left with his bag of goods.
"Come and find me," he whispered, removing the Harpsy gems from their case. They were notorious for channeling powerful, first-hand magic. They were Loki's first ever weapon. "I've had enough of being frightened and weak. So come and fucking find me,"
Thor returned soon after with a relieved smile and Loki returned it, gems hidden safely under the blankets.
***
Screams.
Blood-curdling screams which seemed to carry across the universe. It was the sound of suffering.
Heimdell sliced his sword through yet another ghastly Spirit, heaving with exhaustion.
Odin was right beside him, mirroring his every action with equal gusto.
The pair had been fighting alongside each other for centuries; they knew each others battle strategies better than their own.
It was noon by now but the creatures just kept coming; exploding across the horizon like an infestation of termites.
"We cannot fight them, my King." Heimdell gasped, inhaling as much air as he could before he was swarmed again. "Retreat!"
"Never," Odin growled, plunging his sword through a head and decapitating it. "We fight until our hearts stop beating."
Then Heimdell heard it.
The Spirits must have too because they stopped dead in their tracks.
A summoning.
Come and find me...I've had enough of being frightened and weak. So come and fucking find me.
"Oh Loki," Heimdell muttered, and the Fire Spirits started to retreat. Odin appeared confused, yet frightened at the mention of his son's name.
"What has become of him?" Odin growled. "WHAT HAS BECOME OF MY SON?"
