Mercy (part 5)
I stayed up late last night watching some of the 9/11 programs on the History Channel. Ten years... wow. It seems like it didn't happen that long ago and yet it seems like we've been at war for so much longer. So while the tissues are still out I figure I'll give you guys some more to cry about. Luckily, this story will get happy. Eventually.
Fandom: Thor
Title: Mercy
Rating: PG
Length: long
Disclaimer: Thor and franchise belong to Marvel, not me.
No one was allowed inside his room but the healers. Thor made that perfectly clear when he barred his own mother from entering. She had taken a long look at his puffy, blood shot eyes and the grim corners of his mouth, nodded once and gracefully turned back down the hall.
The healers were only allowed in because Thor could not save Loki by himself. He had not been in time to save him with his fists, to take out the threat before it had time to wreak such damage. Now he hovered as they made their assessment. They would have liked to move Loki to the healing chambers, but Thor would not allow it. So instead they brought in poultices and magic crystals, set up intricate spells around the bed and nervously washed the blood from their patient under Thor’s suspicious eye.
They had been afraid when they had found out the extent of abuse Loki had suffered. Thor, when shown the blood running down the inside of Loki’s thighs, had roared and thrown them all out. He finished cleaning Loki himself.
Loki remained unconscious for two days. Thor remained locked in his room, keeping a silent watch over his brother’s limp form. On the third day Loki woke briefly, let out a moan and choked on the broth Thor poured down his throat. Then he was unconscious again.
Thor promised in whispers to keep him safe, to never let anyone hurt him ever again, to love him no matter who he turned out to be. He whispered these things while Loki slept, finding them easier to say when he might not be able to be heard. Thor sat beside him on the bed and gently pet his hair. He had washed it along with the rest of Loki days previous. He had washed everything again and again until the water no longer turned pink with lingering blood. He put salve on the wounds and cleaned them day by day. With some effort he had changed the bloodied blankets upon which Loki lay unconscious. At night he combed through Loki’s hair and gently removed all the tangles. It was women’s work, all this nursing, but Thor found that he did not care.
He had learned much on Midgard about humility and honor, but now he found Loki teaching him yet another important lesson. At the moment caring for Loki was more important than battles and training and all the glory and honor that he could ever wish for. Sometimes it took more strength and courage to do what was right, to show mercy and compassion, and to be selfless, than it took to run like a fool into battle.
He would have stayed there indefinitely, but it soon became evident that he must balance his duty to his brother with his duties to his kindom. There had been many knocks on the door, many from the healers and a few from his friends. Frigga had remained aloof for now, biding her time until the right moment. Eventually though came the knock that Thor dreaded. It was powerful and confident and without even opening the door he had a sense of who was behind it.
“Father,” Thor greeted unsurprised. He did not step back to allow Odin entrance, instead standing just inside the door, his hand still on the knob as if he could slam the door shut on the King of Asgard.
“You have been remiss in your duties,” Odin told him gravely, but without anger. “I have shouldered you with responsibility that you might learn. You have proven yourself worthy to be my successor, do not undo my faith in you.”
Thor nodded and waited, tightening his grip on the door and planting his feet firmly to the floor. But the confrontation never came.
“I have made your excuses for the meetings and lessons you have missed, but do not expect me to continue. You will sort out your priorities on your own now.” And with those words Odin left. Thor watched him stride away in astonishment and then shut the door. He turned to find Loki still asleep.
He returned to the bedside with much to mull over. His father was correct. However selfless an act caring for Loki was, it was still in a sense... selfish. There were others that relied on Thor. He had begun to oversee the palace guards and work more closely with the military commanders in charge of the army. He also began to train some of the younger warriors, taking delight in how they clambered for his favor. He praised them all in turn, noting each one’s strength. From Loki too he had learned equality.
He made certain that Loki slept soundly before he ventured out of his room on the fourth day. He summoned Fandral and stationed him outside the door, but still felt terribly guilty to leave Loki alone.
Loki stayed awake longer on the fifth day of his waking, a week since Thor had brought him home. He watched Thor with tired and unhappy eyes, but made no attempt to speak or move on his own. Thor gave him the broth which he could now hold down.
Loki was leaner. His muscles were hard and sleek even as his bones protruded in all the wrong places. His diet had not been balanced and his body was malnourished. The broth could not give him the proper nourishment his body needed. It was made of too much fat and not enough protein.
“You need proper food if you hope to get better,” Thor said when the broth was gone. He cut up a piece of meat into very small pieces and placed one to Loki’s lips. Loki opened his mouth to receive it and tried to chew. His jaw worked slowly and the effort caused pain to flare up in his tender cheekbone.
“Unng.”
The sound rose unbidden out of Loki’s throat. It was a noise of frustration if Thor ever heard one. He carefully plucked the barely chewed meat out of Loki’s mouth and popped it in his own. His own teeth ground it down until it was soft and he leaned down to put his mouth to Loki’s, thinking of a mother bird feeding her young. The analogy was silly in his mind. He considered himself quite the opposite of a mother or a bird. But the tactic did the trick. As the masticated meat dropped onto Loki’s tongue he was able to swallow it more easily, now that Thor had done the work for him.
In a few days Loki was able to remain conscious for hours at a time. His cuts and bruises were almost healed, but he was still recovering from the abuse his body had taken during his harsh existence in exile. It became awkward. Thor did not touch Loki when he was awake unless it was to check one of the wounds. But as they healed there was less reason to do that. Now that Loki was conscious and lucid there seemed to be a wall suddenly built up between them. Thor tried at first to talk about what had happened, but quickly gave up.
Loki did not speak. After a few initial grunts and the occasional sleepy whimper he did not utter a sound. That was a bit worrisome since Loki loved to speak, loved the way words felt inside his mouth and what they sounded like when they burst free.
Loki was clearly unhappy, but Thor had no idea how to fix that. Or even if he could fix that. Finally he decided to bring in some outside help. Frigga had knocked on the door daily and had always been turned away. It was not merely Thor’s decision. Loki had cringed away when asked if she could be permitted in to see him. But it had to happen at some point.
“Loki,” within the word was wrapped all of Frigga’s love, but Loki had spent so long disbelieving in love that he could not even hear it anymore. He turned his face away as she sat beside him on Thor’s bed. One elegant hand reached out and took him by the chin, caressing and warming the skin. When she pulled his face to meet hers he still kept his gaze averted.
“Oh, my baby,” Frigga breathed a gentle smile. How she longed to cradle him in her arms as she had when he was little. But he stiffened at her touch and it almost broke her heart. “Shhhhh,” Frigga soothed, whether herself or her child she did not know, “you are home, my darling. I have missed you so, so terribly.”
And then she began to sing. It was an old lullaby, a long sad ballad. Thor had always asked for the lively songs about great battles and buried treasure, but Loki only ever wanted this song.
Thor left them and went to the training grounds, a short respite from his duties. He had never been skilled at gentle persuasion and often he did not understand his brother anyway. But his mother would succeed where he had failed.
When he returned to his room he was disappointed to find that Loki had not been fixed.
Frigga left with a sad promise to return the next day.
A/N: Thank you guys for all the nice comments. I'm sorry I couldn't answer them individually, but there were quite a few more than I'm used to getting and these past few weeks have been really busy. But I'm glad you all like the story and I hope you like where it ultimately ends up going.
Onward to Part 6
Fandom: Thor
Title: Mercy
Rating: PG
Length: long
Disclaimer: Thor and franchise belong to Marvel, not me.
No one was allowed inside his room but the healers. Thor made that perfectly clear when he barred his own mother from entering. She had taken a long look at his puffy, blood shot eyes and the grim corners of his mouth, nodded once and gracefully turned back down the hall.
The healers were only allowed in because Thor could not save Loki by himself. He had not been in time to save him with his fists, to take out the threat before it had time to wreak such damage. Now he hovered as they made their assessment. They would have liked to move Loki to the healing chambers, but Thor would not allow it. So instead they brought in poultices and magic crystals, set up intricate spells around the bed and nervously washed the blood from their patient under Thor’s suspicious eye.
They had been afraid when they had found out the extent of abuse Loki had suffered. Thor, when shown the blood running down the inside of Loki’s thighs, had roared and thrown them all out. He finished cleaning Loki himself.
Loki remained unconscious for two days. Thor remained locked in his room, keeping a silent watch over his brother’s limp form. On the third day Loki woke briefly, let out a moan and choked on the broth Thor poured down his throat. Then he was unconscious again.
Thor promised in whispers to keep him safe, to never let anyone hurt him ever again, to love him no matter who he turned out to be. He whispered these things while Loki slept, finding them easier to say when he might not be able to be heard. Thor sat beside him on the bed and gently pet his hair. He had washed it along with the rest of Loki days previous. He had washed everything again and again until the water no longer turned pink with lingering blood. He put salve on the wounds and cleaned them day by day. With some effort he had changed the bloodied blankets upon which Loki lay unconscious. At night he combed through Loki’s hair and gently removed all the tangles. It was women’s work, all this nursing, but Thor found that he did not care.
He had learned much on Midgard about humility and honor, but now he found Loki teaching him yet another important lesson. At the moment caring for Loki was more important than battles and training and all the glory and honor that he could ever wish for. Sometimes it took more strength and courage to do what was right, to show mercy and compassion, and to be selfless, than it took to run like a fool into battle.
He would have stayed there indefinitely, but it soon became evident that he must balance his duty to his brother with his duties to his kindom. There had been many knocks on the door, many from the healers and a few from his friends. Frigga had remained aloof for now, biding her time until the right moment. Eventually though came the knock that Thor dreaded. It was powerful and confident and without even opening the door he had a sense of who was behind it.
“Father,” Thor greeted unsurprised. He did not step back to allow Odin entrance, instead standing just inside the door, his hand still on the knob as if he could slam the door shut on the King of Asgard.
“You have been remiss in your duties,” Odin told him gravely, but without anger. “I have shouldered you with responsibility that you might learn. You have proven yourself worthy to be my successor, do not undo my faith in you.”
Thor nodded and waited, tightening his grip on the door and planting his feet firmly to the floor. But the confrontation never came.
“I have made your excuses for the meetings and lessons you have missed, but do not expect me to continue. You will sort out your priorities on your own now.” And with those words Odin left. Thor watched him stride away in astonishment and then shut the door. He turned to find Loki still asleep.
He returned to the bedside with much to mull over. His father was correct. However selfless an act caring for Loki was, it was still in a sense... selfish. There were others that relied on Thor. He had begun to oversee the palace guards and work more closely with the military commanders in charge of the army. He also began to train some of the younger warriors, taking delight in how they clambered for his favor. He praised them all in turn, noting each one’s strength. From Loki too he had learned equality.
He made certain that Loki slept soundly before he ventured out of his room on the fourth day. He summoned Fandral and stationed him outside the door, but still felt terribly guilty to leave Loki alone.
Loki stayed awake longer on the fifth day of his waking, a week since Thor had brought him home. He watched Thor with tired and unhappy eyes, but made no attempt to speak or move on his own. Thor gave him the broth which he could now hold down.
Loki was leaner. His muscles were hard and sleek even as his bones protruded in all the wrong places. His diet had not been balanced and his body was malnourished. The broth could not give him the proper nourishment his body needed. It was made of too much fat and not enough protein.
“You need proper food if you hope to get better,” Thor said when the broth was gone. He cut up a piece of meat into very small pieces and placed one to Loki’s lips. Loki opened his mouth to receive it and tried to chew. His jaw worked slowly and the effort caused pain to flare up in his tender cheekbone.
“Unng.”
The sound rose unbidden out of Loki’s throat. It was a noise of frustration if Thor ever heard one. He carefully plucked the barely chewed meat out of Loki’s mouth and popped it in his own. His own teeth ground it down until it was soft and he leaned down to put his mouth to Loki’s, thinking of a mother bird feeding her young. The analogy was silly in his mind. He considered himself quite the opposite of a mother or a bird. But the tactic did the trick. As the masticated meat dropped onto Loki’s tongue he was able to swallow it more easily, now that Thor had done the work for him.
In a few days Loki was able to remain conscious for hours at a time. His cuts and bruises were almost healed, but he was still recovering from the abuse his body had taken during his harsh existence in exile. It became awkward. Thor did not touch Loki when he was awake unless it was to check one of the wounds. But as they healed there was less reason to do that. Now that Loki was conscious and lucid there seemed to be a wall suddenly built up between them. Thor tried at first to talk about what had happened, but quickly gave up.
Loki did not speak. After a few initial grunts and the occasional sleepy whimper he did not utter a sound. That was a bit worrisome since Loki loved to speak, loved the way words felt inside his mouth and what they sounded like when they burst free.
Loki was clearly unhappy, but Thor had no idea how to fix that. Or even if he could fix that. Finally he decided to bring in some outside help. Frigga had knocked on the door daily and had always been turned away. It was not merely Thor’s decision. Loki had cringed away when asked if she could be permitted in to see him. But it had to happen at some point.
“Loki,” within the word was wrapped all of Frigga’s love, but Loki had spent so long disbelieving in love that he could not even hear it anymore. He turned his face away as she sat beside him on Thor’s bed. One elegant hand reached out and took him by the chin, caressing and warming the skin. When she pulled his face to meet hers he still kept his gaze averted.
“Oh, my baby,” Frigga breathed a gentle smile. How she longed to cradle him in her arms as she had when he was little. But he stiffened at her touch and it almost broke her heart. “Shhhhh,” Frigga soothed, whether herself or her child she did not know, “you are home, my darling. I have missed you so, so terribly.”
And then she began to sing. It was an old lullaby, a long sad ballad. Thor had always asked for the lively songs about great battles and buried treasure, but Loki only ever wanted this song.
Thor left them and went to the training grounds, a short respite from his duties. He had never been skilled at gentle persuasion and often he did not understand his brother anyway. But his mother would succeed where he had failed.
When he returned to his room he was disappointed to find that Loki had not been fixed.
Frigga left with a sad promise to return the next day.
A/N: Thank you guys for all the nice comments. I'm sorry I couldn't answer them individually, but there were quite a few more than I'm used to getting and these past few weeks have been really busy. But I'm glad you all like the story and I hope you like where it ultimately ends up going.
Onward to Part 6