What They Do.

An Eavesdropper's Woe

Prince Loki is gone.
The palace is in highest commotion. The last one to see him was Sif. That was yesterday, in the
library. Where she witnessed him having a painful aftershock of his dubious magic tricks. Once
she ran to get him help he vanished, leaving nothing but an utmost chaos; hundreds of books on
the ground, and the window, the grand one in its artistic iron curls, completely broken. As if a
storm raged through the book hall and grasped the prince away. An angry storm of uncontrollable
magic, perhaps, taking its revenge in the one who irresponsibly and hungry for power called upon
it. Loki has always been known for playing far too easygoingly with the dark flames of magic.
And now he's gone. Oh, what a tragedy on the verge of his brothers coronation!
"Do you know where he is?", the all seeing Heimdall has been asked by a breathless Thor; this his
closest friends claim to have seen.
"No", shalt the answer have been, a heavy weighing, shortest decline of any hope. Nothing else
was asked or said then, so Thors closest friends told the warriors, nothing but an intense glare was
exchanged between heir and guardian. And so Thor stormed to meet Odinfather, the Warriors
Three and his Lady Sif always at his heels.
Prince Thor wore that mask of deepest dismay on his grave face when he rode onto the Bifrost to lead the search company to realms and places prince Loki is known for favoring to visit: the
Darkelfs floating book markets. The underground hills beneath the Dwarvens mines. The
Changeling Forests growing at the edges of worlds, the places in between. All Asgard had already
been turned upside down at this point. The chambers, every single one of them, the hallways and
halls, that labyrinth of a library of course, and drill grounds, gardens, plazas, hot springs, kitchens,
stables, all rooms locked, even the roofs and the dungeons. But no trace of the second born royal
son had anywhere home been to be found.
The (soon to be) Queen Mother Frigga herself has been spotted out on her highest balcony, hiding
her lips with a trembling hand, eyes wide in worry, searching all the kingdom for as far as she
could gaze. Some even claim to have seen tears on her. And Odinfather didn't speak up to the
masses about the matter yet. No good sign. No, no.
They can't know I'm not gone. But I wonder why they didn't set their sorcerers on my tracks yet.
Loki didn't go anywhere. Set no foot out of Asgard after he vanished in front of Thor this
morning. Nothing in the world would have made him face Heimdalls judging eyes in this so
sensitive state of mind he was in right after the fight with his brother. And anyhow, something like
embittered curiosity held him back. To stay and watch. And listen. And see the worlds reaction to
his sudden disappearance.
It doesn't satisfy him. It doesn't surprise him, either. All this expenditure … is not meant for him
anyways. Only for formalities. And for Thor, of course: No one in Asgard wants to see Thors
coronation ruined by his selfish little brother probably cutting his dramatic last caper.
Loki could have ended this boring hassle with a snap of his fingers before Thor rode out to hunt
all realms down for nothing. If only he'd just shown up and laughed and shrugged his shoulders at
it all as if it was nothing but a silly misunderstanding.
Actually I felt better the instant you left me, Sif. Told you it was nothing. And I didn't want to meet
a healer if not absolutely necessary. You know, they tend to finger you in your most private
places. With a glare at Thor, of course, who would probably have choked on his own spittle at
this.
But something held him back. And holds him back still. Something in the panic shining from
everyones eyes, meant for him or not, the confusion fed by that trembling uncertainty he alone
possesses the power to clarify … soothes his innermost and calms him.
Only when he followed Thor to secretly meet father … and when he saw his mother cry, only
then he felt a sudden knot inside tearing his chest apart.
What am I doing here? What have I done?
For a heartfelt moment of love Loki wanted to directly show her that he was alright and nowhere
gone. But he couldn't. Loki didn't feel alright. And he hadn't ever felt that far away. That gone. So
he turned from her, numbly hurting, unnoticed and invisible (as he has always been before, so
what's the matter anyways?), to steal away, stalking through the palace, not knowing where to and
why.
He watched as the search company galloped across the Bifrost, he stood by the very side to have a
best view up to his brother on his horse, face pale like war-torn. But Thor passed by too fast. And
the riders following him were of not interest to Loki. So he watched their horses hooves beat
angry sparks from the surface of the rainbow bridge. And headed back to the palace.
He strolls through the hallways now, listening here and there to what the people have to say about him; nothing all too kind, of course. But nothing unexpected, either. Nothing to break his heart,
although there definitely ARE cruel things whispered among Asgard. Lokis heart just appears to
still be numb from fighting with Thor. The peoples evil tongues are just like distant voices
dribbling distant words in a dream.
"That's so typical to him", says one maiden he never ever even met to one he never ever even saw
as they snootily walk through one of the gardens, "disappearing like that! I always knew there was
something strange about him. That's just all too selfish of him! Even as the younger prince he's got
his duties towards the public."
"Good we have Thor as heir and not him. What would Asgard do if he was the elder prince? No
one could trust a king like that!"
"And his nasty magic tricks! As clearly came out now they've always been dangerous! He could
have destroyed the whole palace by accident!"
"Oh, if only he would never return … then life would finally be safe!"
"Shhhh, don't you tell anyone: But I have heard some people talk about how they think that there's
no hope of finding him alive, anyways."
"Yes, that could be true. Considering the facts. Let's just hope so … "
Loki narrows his eyes and lets two ripe red apples fall from a tree and hit the beasts on their pretty
heads to make them squeal and stop their stupid talks.
They want me dead.
But somehow ... it doesn't matter. Does it? And so his soundless feet dream him away, walking
the paths of home as if he never knew them.
Up on the defense walls there linger two bored guards having a break. Dump faced they chew on
bread and cheese and owe their shining armors an amount of dignity they'd possibly never be able
to afford. Loki absently wants to walk by as he hears them talk about him, too. Silent footed he
stops.
"But … now he's dead, well, it's a shame. I just mean-"
"What?", chews the other, cheeks full with cheese.
"What do you mean, what?"
"What is a shame I mean!"
"Prince Loki! Can't you just once listen when I talk to you?"
"Srry..."
"So, that's a shame. That he's dead."
Loki frowns at these creatures of dullness; the day's not even half over and yet he shall be rotting
in the grounds? The beasts in the garden at least had the decency to just wish him dead.
"Cause no matter he WAS crazy … but he was pretty, wasn't he? Like a girl."
"Ohohohow! I see what you're hinting at!" "And have you ever seen his mouth? Thin lipped, but astoundingly wide when he laughed. Deep
I mean. Good to swallow anything."
"Whaaaat?"
"Trust me, he was the type for that. Always strange, so why not strange in that direction? No one
ever saw him with a girl anyways."
"Ohow, so you would have plugged his face if given the chance?"
"Dunno, why not?"
"But remember his many teeth! One moment he looked at you line mouthed, then suddenly there
were these horrible rows of monster choppers! I bet he would have bitten your sausage off before
you even felt his tongue!"
"Naaaah. He wasn't the heir. Second borns are always made to kneel. He's had takin' it in him,
you could see that in his sneaky moves. Someone should just have fed him full from time to time.
He'd probably never died, then, trying to please himself with magics instead of good ol' flesh!"
As they burst into an ugly laughter Loki cramps his fingers, making the food blow up in their
throats til they end up coughing and spitting and choking, faces almost blue from panting for air.
If only you knew. Thighs prickling in remembrance of this very morning and his brothers face
between his legs he cranes and turns away.
He heads to the kitchens, then, slowly, ever so careful not to bump into anyone. Even invisible
men must eat. He hasn't eaten anything since yesterday noon in the library. Besides from that one
candy Thor shoved into his mouth to quiet him like a brainless pet. And he feels weak from using
his magic nonstop. But he doesn't even think of stopping. No, he wouldn't show up that soon. Let
them curse and joke and insult him, let then blabber their voices sore … until they regret it. Until
he regrets it.
So down in the kitchens he lazily leans against a table, watching a sweating cook frantically trying
to safe a purple soup that seemingly appears to be supposed to be any colour but purple.
Following the cooks desperate tries with wide boyish eyes Loki steals one cookie after another
into his invisibility from a plate no one pays any attention to anyways; besides herbal bread and
crusty meat they were meant for the royal breakfast, but that didn't take place when Thor laid the
whole palace waste just to rush leaving Asgard in attempt to find his brother. All foods stayed in
the kitchen, then. None wanted to eat. It's almost time for supper now, however, and just in case
anyone wants to eat now the cook needs to be prepared. Even with a purple soup.
"NINE!!!"
Loki jerks at the sudden outcry of the young and dirty dish washer next to him.
"WHAT IS IT?", the cook snaps without looking up.
"Don't you HEAR that? Someone's MUNCHING! We've got a GHOST in here!"
"Rats, you doofus!"
"Rats nibble, they don't crunch!"
Ooops. Loki gulps, secretly and involuntarily smirking. He didn't intent to have some of his
legendary mischievous fun. Not in his exalted celebration of bitterly licking his wounds life and its countless injustices gashed him. But now that it already happened …
"WHAAAAAAT!!!!"
"So WHAT now, boy?"
"That cookie just levitated from the plate!"
"Are you mad?"
"NO, it's the GHOST, I tell you!"
The cook just groans and hits the boy with a wooden spoon: "Ye, ye, just beware, you poor
minded! That'll be prince Loki! Jealous of his brother soon inheriting the throne he killed himself
for the attention like a wench. And I am left here stressed with the royal families moods and needs
brought into a total mess! That'll go at least for weeks, I KNOW it! 'Lo, we are too sad to eat now.
Keep the oxen warm and fresh all night and day until our bellies have mercy with you!' They
should just hurry mourn the idiot and get over it! It's not like the first born's gone!"
Throwing a cold piece of meat at the back of the cooks head Loki turns away disgusted and leaves
a shouting man and a fainting boy behind. When he mounts the stairs his knees tremble.
Horns and hooves tell of Thors return; his face is even paler now. The sky is bleeding into night.
And Lokis heart pounds like a drum.
Has he found him? No.
Has anyone heard of him? No.
Will the search go on tomorrow? Yes.
In the great hall torches burn and the throne stands deserted; Odinfather doesn't find the strength to
calmly sit on it and air his ancient dignity. Instead he paces slowly here and there, his dear wife at
his arm all tensed with the horror of waiting.
Loki is thievishly at his brothers heels again as he and all his searching companions enter the hall.
The warriors in their golden armors discreetly scatter all through the hall to lean against columns
and sit down on stairs to rest. While Thor vigorously nears his parents to go down on one knee
just in front of them, bowing his head.
" … but what if he found out about-", slips out Friggas weary mouth just before she can realize it's
her son there in front of her. Odin touches her cheek to silence her. Found out about what? Loki
frowns with a stitch through his heart at her anxious sight. But she doesn't speak on. And he
doesn't dare look at her any longer.
"I'll find him", Thor swears. "I haven't looked everywhere yet. He can't be just gone. I'll find
him." But before his mother can reach out and pull him into a desperate embrace Asgards future
king stands up and walks away with an all too straight back.
And there Lokis heart flutters in a mixture of dismay and satisfaction. Creeping after Thor this
invisible he stares at his brothers strong back; now that he knows he cannot see him … Loki has
never felt any closer to Thor. And his hidden eyes read his back like a book, read his stiff
movements like a confession.
Are you feeling guilty, brother dear? When Thor sits at a broad table loaded with plates of untouched fruit and meat he sighs unhappy
and drives his bulky, shaking hand through his golden hair. Again and again. Sif sits on the table,
Fandral to Thors left, Volstagg fell asleep, face in a plate, and Hogun stands some paces off beside
a column, looking calmly out into the night.
"He'll show up again", Sif sighs. "I tell you, he's hoaxing us. He's hiding somewhere safe and
sound, giggling the soul out of his body. I was petrified when I found him gone, but it can't be true
what people say. He's hoaxing us again, thinking all this shit funny. I'm SO gonna welt him once -"
Fandral makes a face as Thor bristles in sudden anger: "You don't KNOW him, so just SHUT
up!"
"I am afraid YOU don't know him", she insists. "Don't you think it's kind of demonstrative of him
to disappear just when all Asgard seriously starts over the coronations prearrangements?"
"Shut it up, Sif, I warn you!"
"You dare tell me what to do? I'm just trying to HELP against all these horror stories of your
childish brother being lost or dead!"
"Well then you FAILED", Thor shouts, making Loki gulp with using particularly these words
against Sif.
All indignant she stares at her fiancee open mouthed. He doesn't waste a glance on her, stubbornly
biting his nails instead.
"Fine", she snaps, jumping off the table and storming away with proud and angry steps. Not until
she's out of earshot Fandral lets out a whimpered: "Ouch. Now what was that?"
Thor only groans. And Loki cocks his eyebrows, not sure what to think about what he just
witnessed. And even lesser sure of why he doesn't end this. I should … But he can't. Not yet.
However, standing behind Thors chair he secretly watches Sif cross the hall and makes a long
neck as she nears a broad shouldered, ginger haired guard: Doing so she shoots a glare over her
shoulder back at Thor who doesn't even notice as much. Loki frowns when she touches the mans
shoulder to make him disappear with her into a side passage.
What is she … ?
Fandral seems to think just the same. Wide eyed he gasps and exclaims: "Nine! What it she
DOING with that – Thor, just - !"
"NO MORE, Fandral, I need some rest", Thor presses out, eyes shut.
"But -"
"NO!"
Loki already sneaked after her, then, a grimace of disbelief on him as he looks for where she
might have slipped. She's not doing that, is she? Loki even sympathized with that arrogant moo
once he realized how Thor cheated her with him. And he felt honestly guilty and sorry. But she's
not really disappearing for a revenge quickie with that ginger guard, is she? Thor did neglect her
late off, yes, and he did just snub her, but ...
One hallway down, though, Loki abruptly stops … as shameless moans touch his ears. And the squeaking of a poorly martyred bed frame. And rhythmically recurring grunts.
Oh Nine. Grossed out he backs away again. But he can't help but secretly feel kind of ... gleeful?
He's not gonna tell Thor, though. Officially he's not even here. Let the oaf find that out on his
own.
As he's back at his brothers side – and Fandrals, for Volstaggs sleeping mass is no person to be
counted and Hogun's still not closer to the table – the invisible Trickster suddenly notices he's
smiling from ear to ear; he feels his cheeks blush hot immediately. He can't keep from seating
himself on the table, though, exactly where Sif sat her butt flat only moments ago. Not that he's
somehow trying to take over her place. Oh, that grin just won't be shaken off! Good no one sees
him anyways. Gloating's always had this telltale effect on his face. Oh, well.
"Fandral, my friend", Thor whispers low voiced and frowning deep.
"Yo?"
"I … have a question."
The bearded warrior doesn't look up as he toys around with a grape, trying to balance it to stand
on the table: "Ask me anything."
"How do men have sex?"
Loki tenses. Thor gulps. And Fandral stares.
"You don't … know?"
"With men I mean."
"Oh … ahem. Why – is it about … ?" Loki? For what else could be on Thors mind now but his
lost brother? Thor ignores this unspoken question, however. And he doesn't notice that invisible
poison glare glued on his face. He takes a deep breath.
"Doesn't it hurt? If they … you know ..."
"Phew ... oh, man. Not that I am supposed to know. But one hears things. They, kind of, prepare,
if you really want to know. Just like, eh, you want to enter a locked house. So you need to open
the door first. Oil the hinges. They don't break into each others like burglars. It doesn't hurt that
way, I guess. Not that I'm supposed to know."
"And … that's sex, isn't it? But if they don't … use the door … ?"
Fandral gasps for air. But he doesn't seem to dare say out loud what conclusions he draws out of
this shit of cut off sentences. Suddenly Loki realizes that he doesn't breathe.
"There are", Fandral bravely continues, "as with women, many places of pleasure, my friend. You
don't always need to be inside. To have sex, I mean."
And Thor portentously buries his face in his hands and groans, leaving Loki nothing to stare at but
a wide eyed Fandral uncomfortably twitching his brows, baring his teeth in burning but
desperately controlled curiosity.
None of them speaks any more of the matter again this evening. Thor refuses to and Fandral
doesn't dare. Lokis ears ring on and on and on, imagining how the palace would echo the next
morning with a new, completely naughty rumor: Prince Loki did the runaway with a man. His brother Thor saw him whoring with one some time before he disappeared. Everyone talking about
it would of course underline they didn't hear this from Fandral.
But it doesn't matter anymore, does it? There's no one in all Asgard wasting but a single fond
thought on him anyways. Why not let them think the mysterious 'Blondie' is a man? It's not even a
lie.
And weary, just so very weary, it later appears that Loki doesn't care for anything but following
his brother as he stands up to finally trudge to his chambers for some sleep. It's just that a surprise
waits there to slap the brothers completely unexpectedly: It's Sif. In a beautifully woven night
gown she lies like flowers thrown upon Thors bed, no, their bed, Loki remembers, her face a
mask of overboarding sympathy pleading for reconciliation. That two faced cunt.
"Thor", she purrs, standing up and closing in on him like water, directly starting to free him from
his heavy gear in the dim torchlight. "Thor. I never wanted to fight …"
"Yes", he sighs, resting his forehead against hers, "I know."
Loki creeps silently into a corner all fretful and narrow eyed, watching this false intimacy
completely grossed out. Her skin still warm from the Gingers touch she throws herself at Thor?
And he doesn't even SMELL it?
"You know", she starts again, caressing his chest through his tunic, "I think I probably know …
where you should look for Loki tomorrow."
Thors eyes spring open, suddenly wide awake.
"Some weeks ago I asked him to accompany me into one of Vanaheims greatest woods. I wanted
him to track a magical stag for me then. He was pretty fond of that place. Downright hooked", and
she wrinkles her nose before she continues, "… it's just an idea. Maybe he's sulking there."
Thor makes a face, slightly turning away from her. "He's not sulking."
And she sighs. "Whatever you say …" , then her hands are on his face. And her lips on his.
Loki turns away. Shuts his eyes as tight as to see little white sparks behind his lids. But he can't
turn away from hearing how they breathe and kiss, undress and sigh. And fall into their bed.
"I missed you" , she whispers. And Thor lets out a muffled groan.
Just hours ago you claimed to be afraid of touching her. Your fear seems promptly gone now that
I quit being your whore.
Loki should show up just now. And he should spit all filthy truths at both their heads. Truths
telling of incestuous blowjobs and ginger quickies. But he wouldn't be able to prove any of them.
He'd be the liar again. The selfish, the jealous, the childish, the evil, the ruthless, the perverted
second born prince never to be king, made to kneel, lusting for any ridiculous piece of attention
who simply needs to be fed up to his throats brim with good ol' flesh from time to time. The
helpless liar desperately trying to throw up with truth. His hands cramp into painful fists at all this
bitter forlornness.
His brothers rhythmical moans grasp him out of a paralysis threatening to choke him dead, though.
He rips his face around again, wide eyed to stare at two bared bodies moving as one, muscles
tensing, working, shining with sweat and lust, arms slinging, legs intertwining, lips at throats and
hands on skin. Tongues on skin. Helpless hate forcing tears from his eyes Loki stares with a heart aching wildly from cracks of
unacknowledged nature. Hypnotized he stand and stares. Until he can't but slowly creep closer.
Circling the moaning bodies on the sheets he gulps and eyes them like hopelessly consumed,
examines every hurting inch of lust presented to him. And he ends up at their heads. And Thors
next blow makes the Thunderer arch his spine. And give view to even more. Fire tearing Loki
apart he gazes down to where they meet, down both their bellies, deeper down, where Thor slides
in and out of the slick blossom of Sifs swollen lap.
She takes it all. As far and hard as it will go. And doesn't even flinch. Focusing on this flesh in
flesh sliding and swallowing Lokis breath stops and his eyes won't blink no more. For an instant
his body echoes with the overwhelming memory of fingers ... sweetly intruding him. Thors
fingers. After that monstrous spear that forced him open. That spear he couldn't take. Loki gulps
down a sob. Dry eyed he straight out glares into Sifs flushed face and realizes he could easily slap
her. Or break some teeth out with his fist. Push it violently deeper down her filthy throat. Choking
her ugly cries off. He's not the strongest, never has been. But an unexpected blow … in a moment
like this?
I am not jealous. But his wounded heart cries out behind his ribs. Oh Nine, I am.
Another grunt unloading from Thors open mouth pulls Loki to his brothers shoulder, then,
stumbling away from Sif on quiet feet, turning his back on her as if she'd disappear once he didn't
see her anymore. But she doesn't disappear. Not her yells. And especially not the blueprint image
of her shameless fold pumping Thors trunk on Lokis eyes, in Lokis eyes, no matter where they
glance, open or shut. If only they were full with something big enough to oust that twisted sight!
Thor. Thor is big. His back is broad and strong and big enough to push anything unpleasant out of
the way. Hectically Lokis eyes shoot up to his brothers spine. Damp hair lies like liquid gold in
that neck. Sweat runs down this moving landscape of strength, illustrated by the torches light. Lost
in his brothers muscles fervently working their steady, unstoppable pace, lost in his brothers
groans, Loki lets his eyes wander and charge and heat his body up with all Thor they can gaze at.
Until he tingles. Until he twitches with Thors every painfully sweet, no, sweetly painful thrust.
Until there's suddenly a feminine Hand clawing into that picture, reminding him that all this
strength is meant for someone else. Like nothing's ever meant for him. Startled his gaze flees from
Sifs fingernails marking Thors skin. And end up in the labyrinth of his brothers ear.
And suddenly Loki licks his lips as a vicious idea crosses his mind ... and directly obsesses him.
Sifs cries are loud enough to drown out anything but herself to her perception. And Loki knows
their rhythm by now, long caught in it himself. His heart beats heavy to Thors blows. And Sif
cries out to them, Thors blows and Lokis heartbeats. Every time.
Loki won't be forgotten. Replaced and left behind. Never.
Bending forward, shivering in a shock of malicious lust, Loki parts his lips against Thors ear,
almost touching it. And then he breathes a voiceless heat into his brother. Thor gasps as his hips
stumble out of their iron pace to dig deep into Sifs lap; she cries out loud. And Loki lets a most
delicious, tiny sigh melt into his brothers ear. One Thor knows oh too well. One to disturb him to
the bone.
Never stopping to rock his hips Thor pants for air and rips his startled head around to stare directly
into Lokis eyes. And not into them. Because they are invisible. And Loki secretly grins just inches
away from him, wondering if his brother's got it in him to smell his presence (and his skin). He doesn't. Or he doesn't dare to. Turning to Sif again he rolls his hips back into their pace. But
Loki's at him like a wolf at a bleeding lamb. Creeping after Thors ear Loki doesn't have to wait
too long for Sif. A thrust, a yell, and Loki moans into Thor, listening with dizzy pleasure how his
groan responds to him in a voice colored a shade of pleasure that it hasn't been with Sif alone.
Thor shakes his head, trying to focus.
But on what, brother? On whom?
Every moan tickling Thors ear makes him lose it more. His muscles get frantic, fevered, pushed.
And every thrust he digs into his queen, every cry he forces out her throat, Loki secretly sighs for
him and him alone. Molten into this haunting Thors neck even leans into Lokis voice. A thrust and
Loki sighs for him. And whines and purrs and pants. A thrust and Loki breathes his name like lost
in sleepy lust.
"Thor", he sighs. And Thor groans.
"Please", he whimpers. And Thor yells out loud.
"Brother", he moans. And Thor comes with a howl.
Once they're done Loki watches him collapse into his bride and her embrace with trembling
muscles, jerking wildly under his wet, damping skin. She sighs as he claws into her flank for
support, and caresses the twitching mass (that Loki left) of him.
Suddenly utmost sick Loki feels himself throb and pulse in a craving disgusting him. And he
imagines how Thor did him just like Sif. Just like he does a woman. He imagines how he must
have looked like. Beneath his mighty brother. How he squirmed. And jerked. And yelped. Like a
beaten slut.
And Loki storms out of the room like a sudden wind banging the door open, storms down the
hallway til he reaches an open balcony, throws himself against the balustrade, only just keeping
his body from falling over, losing his invisibility, and vomits down into a bank of roses. The night
blows chills across his waxen face.