Choices With Consequences

Chapter 1

Flames.

Violent, scorching flames.

Engulfing all of Asgard with its obsidian smoke.

Gone.

Everything.

Incinerated.

How ironic for the death of Asgard to be its best chance of survival.

It would be funny if it weren't so hauntingly traumatic.

Where would they go? Who could they turn to? Who could they trust?

Midgard. The Avengers. Nobody.

Loki could do nothing but watch. Watch as his childhood blew away into the abysmal darkness of space, never to be recovered again. Lost to the stars.

In a way, it was therapeutic. To receive a visual of what he had already experienced. How he wished he could enjoy the view. How Loki wished it didn't hurt so.

He turned away.

Like he always did.

Like a coward.

He turned, and walked away, choking back a sob. The sob a child releases when they lose their parents in a crowd and wish to be found. Loki feels so small. Small and afraid, and all he wants is to be held.

All he wants is for his mother to hold him and tell him everything will be okay, that he's safe. That no matter what happens, she'll be there.

But she can't.

He failed her.

He failed everyone.

Now he and the rest of Asgard must suffer the consequences.

Loki, Loki, Loki...

Whatever will your people do now?

...

Isolation was lonely.

But perhaps that's the point.

Isolation hurts.

But perhaps that's why Loki craves it.

Isolation is familiar.

A seduction of sorts. It taunts, beckons, and embraces you like an old friend.

You feel safe for a while, but it only ends in pain. Most of Loki's decisions end in pain.

Was he cursed? Or was he merely another victim of his parents' failures manifesting into the form of an adult who never learned right from wrong?

It's hard to tell.

All Loki knew was that he hurt. Himself. Family. Friends. Even strangers. He was a menace to his body and those of others.

That is why he craves isolation.

You can't hurt if you're alone.

"Brother?"

Familiarity. Compassion. Forgiveness.

That voice carries so many memories and emotions— it's vocalization a tidal wave of love and affection. No matter how unworthy the receiver of that voice is.

His thundering footsteps inched ever closer to Loki's crumpled up body.

Curled in a ball, like a child.

Tucked away into a dark corner, away from prying eyes.

But that man with his unwarranted care, his heavy steps, and his loving arms that search out damaged individuals to embrace and ignite life and warmth into. That man doesn't allow isolation.