Brotherhood - Loki & Thor ♡

48. in the dusk with your memory

"I have blundered alone in the dusk with your memory, so many countless nights. There is not one disquiet recollection that I have not danced a wounded stretch with you, at least a thousand times." -- Helaena C Moon

Trigger warning for slight gore and disturbing content.

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Thor wanted Loki back, the thing was that Loki was dead.

But then, suddenly, someone with a face of his brother came knocking on his door in the middle of one storming night. Thor knew that someone wasn't his brother, even if he wore Loki's exact face and possessed Loki's exact voice.

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After the dust settled and the universe was finally free of Thanos.

New Asgard was nothing like Asgard, and that had nothing to do with the lack of golds or the absence of enormous castle. It had everything to do with the emptiness by Thor's side, in Thor's chest. Thor stood at the very spot where Odin took his last breath; Norway's cliffside. The sun was shining just above the far horizon where his eyes carried -- both his real eye and the false one given as a gift by the rabbit friend. Loki wasn't there.

You promised, Thor thought. His soul engulfed by grief, the loss of a brother who died saving him from the Mad Titan on Statesman, the crack of Loki's neck broken in two still haunted Thor's nightmares, but if anything there was also a hint of anger. The helplessness that turned sorrow into rage. You fucking promised. The sun would shine on both of us. Not just me. Both of us, Loki.

But it was just Thor, now bathing in the morning sunlight, alone, no matter if he liked it or not.

Thor had thought, hoped, that it was one of Loki's tricks. Him faking his death just like he did on Svartalfheim, but this time it wasn't. This time it was real. Loki died and it was just Thor, doomed to live with such agony until the Norns decided he shall join his family in Valhalla.

Thor looked up at the open sky, it was clear and bright, just the opposite of Thor's gloomy and dim heart. "I'm sorry, Loki." He said for the hundredth time. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you."

~~~

2012, HYDRA Base.

He was born today. Born not an infant like any normal creature would but as a grown-up Jotun with Aesir's skin. He did not have a name, but they called him Clone Zero. They talked about him over his head and he listened obediently -- would only speak if he was spoken to.

"So it is a success," said a man's voice. Clone Zero half opened his eyes at the silence being broken. There were men, with masks covered half of their faces, hovering over his body that was being strapped down to a metal table, an operating table.

(He wouldn't put up a fight, anyway. He knew what his purpose was and that was to serve. To obey. Whatever they - his creators - wished to do to him they had all the rights. They owned him, after all. Though Clone Zero figured they didn't want to take the risk. When the blade made contact with his stomach, cutting open flesh, he couldn't resist the scream forced out his throat as the sharp pain shot up through his spine. He was grateful for the muzzle being shoved into his mouth, and the restraints being there to ensure he wouldn't try to betray those who made him by trying to run away. Clone Zero was grateful, and shameful at the same time that he might even think about escaping from the hands that brought him life)

"You could say that, Doctor Zola," said another man's voice to the previous one. Clone Zero heard that name a lot; Doctor Zola. He never had the honour to see the man's face, but he knew to be grateful nonetheless. Doctor Zola made him into being.