nine_realms | Welcome To Asgard

Loki chuckled softly. "I know you want to. We are ... perhaps not the same, exactly - but I believe we are similar enough that I can tell what you are thinking even before you are thinking it."

The hold was brotherly, as he would grip arms with Thor. It wasn't meant to be a restriction, more of a reassurance.

Of course he wanted to. Months it had been, of sitting upon that throne, continually unwanted, unrecognized, and mourned.

With quiet breaths, Loki allowed himself to cry. The tears were forced out of him by resentment of Odin, but beneath that fragile lie, he wept for what his life had become. He would not grip his alternate's arm back, pretending to fight this, even as he gave in to it. Pride could be an odd thing, at times.

"...There is nothing left for me, there," he breathed out, after a long pause.

"Then do not stay. Change it."

Loki was not surprised. Even if he gained the throne and could be himself he knew he still would not be satisfied completely. Ruling would grow tiresome, as would the casual disrespect he'd already taken note of from those on Asgard - even his so-called friends - when he had been briefly King. And that had been legitimate. He had been given the rule by succession. He hadn't underhandedly stolen it, even if certain circumstances he may have encouraged had made it fall into his lap.

But he liked things to be fluid and changeable. It would be far too dull to be stuck in one place - and even worse to be stuck under one mask. Particularly that being the face of Odin. To maintain that he would have to act like him and he knew that would grow only annoying over time. Oh, at first it may be fun to fool people and have the position but soon... Well, obviously his alternate was unhappy.

"Change it?" he scoffed.

Because of course it would be so easy to change his species, that he might be better accepted. To bring back his mother, and have any family to love him at all. Even telling Thor he was alive, would be a gamble he was likely to lose. It was over.

"Do not tell me you have given up...," he hadn't let go of Loki's arm and now he gave it a squeeze - possibly a little too tight a squeeze as if trying to wake himself up.

Trying to wrench his arm away in response, Loki snapped back, "I can't very well, can I? Do you think he's going to take the throne, while I go my merry way? I would have to explain Odin. Thor would lose me again. ...No."

Fuming now, Loki looked bitter. "And yet there is no hope, for any of it. Only for them."

"So are you caring what Thor thinks? Of what he'd do?" Loki lets him pull away but is watching him closely.

"What?" Loki gaped at his alternate. Of course he cared; Thor was the last person who the Liesmith could honestly prove had love for him. Odin, he did not think had any care left. Frigga was gone. Sif had ever been a lost cause.

After Frigga... Loki did not want to make such a mistake again. He would not hurt those that loved him. Not unless there were no other paths.

"I am sure you would be clever enough to come up with a story that would not disappoint Thor... He wants to trust us. You know that. He would not turn his back so easily," Loki reasoned.

"He left me there, last time; he would have no trouble doing so, again," Loki insisted.

Of course, Loki had been trying to run Thor away, at that point. But even knowing it was his own fault, the abandonment had still hurt. It had still proved that Thor had been willing to walk away.

"Where?" He suspected what he meant but wanted to hear him say it.

Or maybe it was something else. Something this other Loki had gone through that was different.

Bitterly, Loki sighed and looked away, his heart aching. "The dungeon. Where else?"

Loki sighed as well.

"There must be other ways around that. After all that we did for him and his mortal, you should be able to convince him to let you go free."

Odin might not be able to be convinced, but surely Thor would show a bit more compassion, especially finding his beloved little brother had survived.

As long as he didn't think that Loki had planned his 'death'.

"If he sees me alive," Loki insisted indignantly, "he will accuse me. You know this. No words will convince him otherwise. Just as before. 'The Liesmith has lied again'. Words do not stand in my favor."

"What can he accuse you of? His mistake for thinking you dead? That he did not check thoroughly enough?"

"That I put him through months of grief. That I illusioned my death, then watched him mourn. There is nothing for me to return to," the other Loki insisted.

Why did he have to explain such grueling information to his alternate? Why didn't his alternate understand? He had understood Svartalfheim!

Loki frowned at him - at himself. "Then tell him otherwise. Stop being so negative."

Betrayed, Loki stood from his chair, headed for the door. He did not wish to leave this place, yet. The other Loki was the first person in months that had not met him with words of harshness or hate. The only reprieve he'd had from such ostracizing, was under Odin's guise.

This place was an oasis of sorts, and Loki did not yet want to leave it. But he had to get away from his alternate, because the other version of Loki did not understand him. It was a recoiling of sorts. They could not understand each other, and this issue was far too close to home. Loki had bared his soul, and his alternate was judging him critically.

"You are not me. You are not me, and I will not stay here!"

"You're right. I am not you. I would not run away so quickly. I would not give up so easily as you are right now," Loki stood as well, watching his twin. His voice was stern but not without some compassion lurking at the edges.

"Perhaps I have not lived these extra months that you speak of. I thought I was gone, dead in Svartalfheim. To find that I was not and... all that you have told me..."

His voice softens. "If you do not want to let Thor go, then don't. He may be angry. He may be accusing but he is still... He is still our brother. It may take time but he would forgive... And if he does not, then... well.... You are no worse off than all this pretending you are currently doing. You have to try."

Distracted by his alternate's response, Loki regarded him worriedly for several moments. This was pity and disgust; it had to be. Didn't it? Yet instead his alt's tone was soft, and his gaze unflinching.

Loki almost resented, that his alternate was being so supportive, here. He could have run, otherwise. Yet instead now, it would be a show of weakness.

It would be a terribly difficult task for the hardiest of people, to never speak or act as themselves, for months. To only speak and act as someone who had detested them. Yet added to that, when Loki was acting as himself in the alternate timelines, again he was reviled by all he had spoken to. At one time, he had thought himself looked over and unloved by most. Yet now, to feel the truth of what that honestly was... yes, Loki had weaknesses from it. He needed love. Craved it, now.

His alternate's idea of talking to Thor, suddenly seemed like a good one. Whereas for these past months, Loki had given that up... was it worth fighting for? A life where his brother loved him, but he was on the run from both Thanos and Odin? That... honestly might be doable, as long as he didn't get caught. He might not have to die.

The idea of his own death, was one that he had continually relied upon, for the past several years -- ever since his time as Regent. Everything had seemed so hopeless, and Loki had come to expect everyone's distrust and resentment. So this idea of a future, was something he could only tentatively grasp. What about Thanos? Odin? And so many Realms hated him now; he would have to illusion himself to move better amongst them, but that would not be difficult...

It was possible. If he could avoid Thanos and Odin, it was possible to have a life of his own. "...Thank you."

"You are correct; you have not lived these months, and I warn you now -- you will not wish to. To be Odin, at every moment, or to be reviled by all, and attacked in all alternate timelines." Loki drew a deep breath, and stared his alternate down. "I am not weak."

"I know you are not. I know that I am not," Loki went on, taking steps forward. "And at least some part of us is alike, even if we are not the same. I know what it is like to be attacked by many, to be disrespected and put down and made fun of by my so-called friends. I know all of that...," there was tension in his voice. He could understand the pain. He'd lived through most of it and could imagine what pretending to be Odin for months could possibly do to his mind. It was no wonder his alternate was so jumpy; so sensitive. He hated to see it but he couldn't deny it or not understand why.

"Please...," he reached a hand out to him now. "Stay. For a time. It should be safe here and you can plan your triumphant return."

It made him edgy, when his alternate approached. Loki shifted uncomfortably in response, but refused to step back.

The extended hand left Loki in a quandary. The words of understanding already had him dropping his guard, but it felt too quick, to do so. He knew sweetened words, when he heard them. His alternate was trying to calm him. Yet maybe that was because he cared?

It had been so long, since he'd felt an affectionate touch. Before his alternate's grasping of his wrist, earlier, the last time had been Thor cradling him, almost three months prior.

Thus, that extended hand was tempting to take. It was friendship and understanding and the care that Loki so desperately needed, right now. But it was also the hand of another Liesmith. Another Trickster, and one different enough from himself, that Loki could not predict his every response. There was danger, in revealing his heart to an unknown alternate, no matter how gentle he appeared to be.

So which would it be? Caution, or a basic need? Loki regarded that hand for long moments, then quietly reached to clasp his alternate's forearm. He closed his eyes, resigning himself to the risk.

Yes, Loki had purposefully given him soothing words but he didn't have an ulterior motive for them. While he didn't like to admit his vulnerabilities, he felt the pang of sympathy for himself and what good would it do to make them both upset?

He smiled when Loki accepted his arm and grasped it back warmly.

"Good, good... Do you want a drink? Maybe we can sit and relax and...," he paused. "I know it is difficult and I do not expect you to trust me. I would not trust myself if I were you - which in a way I am - but I do mean you no ill will. I mean, what would be the point? I would rather have two of us working together, than at odds. We have enough enemies."

Loki watched their clasped hands for a long moment, then noticed the delay in his response. He released his hold.

Quiet drinks together, sounded like a good idea, but Loki was wary of poisoning. Not of any lethal poison, or even of any with physical affects, at all. Truth potions were more what he feared, here. That or a possible affecting of his will, but that was less likely. Did his alternate wish to take his place? Probably not.

"I thank you, for your offer. I... would not mind such an evening." He took a step back. Not because he wanted to, but because it made him seem better composed.

Loki had had similar thoughts - his only caution being wary of this Loki wanting to replace him here.

The smile returned, pleasant and usually reserved for when he wanted to butter certain people up with honeyed words but at times it could be genuine.

He waved toward the chairs. "So, please, be seated and I will fetch some refreshments."

Loki made his way to a nearby cabinet, opening it and setting up two small glasses then pouring something of a dark blue liquid in each. He didn't usually go for the flagons of ale that Thor or other Asgardians did. His tastes were a little more unusual and selective. This in particular was a rare drink that he kept for special occasions. It was sweet, if a little tart in its aftertaste. It wasn't poison, despite the unusual colour.

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