"every rendering of heaven"
Characters: Ensemble Cast
Summary: Where Thor was all the ferocity of thunder and storm winds, his brother was like the rain, consuming and clever – apart they were formidable, together they were a circle, complete.
Notes: This year I am playing around with the 50 sentence challenge over at another site - which prompts one to write four stories a month based on a set of fifty prompts. The fifty prompts result in one sentence each, and then a whole story is formed from the snapshots provided in those sentences. Obviously, this challenge will slaughter grammar, and bring out the seldom seen fandom from the muse - but is a fun and curious thing that has already been incredibly interesting. If you wish to, you can track my progress in my profile.
Past the whole professional blurb – oh my goodness, but this movie. It stole my muse. And my brain. And I was only too happy to turn this our in return.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, but for the words.
"And you, my friend, will behave – and not ruin this day for your brother," Sif said firmly - not trusting the innocent complacency on Loki's face for a second as she tugged on his collar as if they were still children – and the burden of the throne a far off reality to all of them.
Before her her readings pulsed with an almost majestic chaos that didn't compute within her scientists mind – but above her the skies swirled and opened, and this once, Jane was left to trust her senses rather than what her mind told her should be real.
Around him, Jötunheim laid in ruins, and her people screamed their losses to the frozen skies – but before Odin, the child was all possibilities and a new life amongst the bloodshed – something that his battle weary mind saw almost as redemption.
Where Thor was the harsh rendering of thunder and the ferocity of storm clouds within battle, his brother was like the rain, his aim unerringly accurate as spells flowed from his fingers with a liquid sort of grace – apart they were formidable, but together they were unstoppable.
"Well, now they'll know," Sif hissed when the brothers snickered, snapping down the concealing visor to her helmet and joining the other young men who gathered to fight for the Allfather's approval – for today was her moment to prove herself, and prove herself worthy as a warrior she would.
In her senses, her husband's heartbeat and the strength of his pulse anchored her, but the sight of Odin still and lifeless within his slumber burned an aching point into Frigg's heart as she prayed for him to return to her side – for within her visions she could see her world set to unravel, and she could not hold it together by herself.
"If you were to stop at a mere boar and two pheasants, you wouldn't have nearly as much of your meal in your beard – and then just maybe Frejya would come and sit next to me," Fandral complained as Volstagg tore the meat from the bone with his teeth, annoyed that his friend's manners were encroaching on his plans for wooing that evening.
Before him, the nine realms danced across his unblinking eyes from one century into the next, while behind him Asgard carried on, protected by the unceasing vigil of their watchman.
Odin wearily felt the weight of the crown against his brow as he appeared on Jötunheim – seeing the promise of war in Laufey's eyes, and the bloodlust in Thor's, and in Loki's . . . there was an understanding, a quiet sort of horror that Odin knew had finally caught up with him at long last.
"And this, my friends, is coffee – brewed from the bean of java," Thor announced mightily as he placed the ceramic mug down before the enraptured Sif and the Warriors Three, "but gird yourself – for its punch is powerful, and the might of espresso is even more formidable."
Mjölnir sang as he commanded the weapon – sealing her power until her wielder would be worthy of her – and then he hurtled the hammer to Midgard along with Thor, the necessity of his decision soothing over the memory of betrayal on his son's face.
"Allfather, your son is the brightest pupil that I have had the honour of tutoring these last millennia – indeed, if instructed properly, he could become the greatest sorcerer Asgard has ever known," the Head Mage spoke with pride in his ancient voice – but his report was cut short when Thor came running up to Odin's throne, eager to show the king the newest set of moves he had learned with the sword that day.
Before her, the stars were torn off their paths, and the skies themselves erupted with magic- she was witnessing players of myth and legend before her, and as if she were once more a girl enthralled by fairytales, she followed him deeper and deeper into the myth until she saw the true beings behind the legends.
Over the years, Erik had known Jane as if she were his own daughter – but she was like her father when she sneaked gazes at their alien guest, her heart already in her eyes as her mind went past her ability to recognize as it forged an attachment that she would never completely sunder.
Laufey watched Odin's second son with a careful gaze, knowing all too well the price of trusting traitors – but in the end he was too drunk on the idea of finding a way into Asgard's gilded halls to not accept the risk that came with aiding the Trickster's plans.
"Nope, nothing to notice there at all," Darcy mocked wryly, her eyes smug as she watched how Jane's gaze subtly flickered over the strange man they had picked up (tasered, and hit with a car – twice) while he regrettably donned a shirt (a major loss to the female world).
The legends called him a God, but acted more like a spoiled poodle – but the man who smashed his coffee mug on the ground in a show of wanting a refill was the same man who stood when she entered the room, and who offered her a hand to get in and out of the van – completely charming in an oddly archaic way.
"The God of Thunder, the God of Mischief, the Goddess of War . . ." Jane tapped a thoughtful finger against the storybook's pages, her smile wry as she asked, "Just what happened on that visit to Earth to inspire such titles?"
"I am thankful that he has you," Frigg said, placing a hand on her youngest's shoulder – relieved that Loki had returned a bloodied Thor home after the wyrm's defeat (and the second prince didn't bother to add that it was he who had dared Thor to approach the dragon's nest in the first place).
"Loose your mind while shapeshifting once, and it is never forgotten," Loki muttered darkly as Thor snickered at his side – both waiting to the side of the field as Odin put Sleipnir through his paces (although later Thor would swear under pain of death that there had been an almost paternal pride in his brother's eyes as Odin announced that the colt was the finest he had ever had the pleasure to train).
"Nice taser," Darcy approved as she brushed past Coulson, throwing her head back haughtily as the SHIELD agent raised a bemused brow.
"When he falls, I fear for Asgard's fate," Odin whispered, and Frigg frowned when she heard that the possibility of 'if he falls' was replaced by 'when he falls'in her husband's words, so sure was he that his second son would not be able to hold onto his loyalty once the truth was revealed.
Sif bit her tongue as Fandral held her down – mockingly bending her seething limbs in a bow before her childhood friend, betrayal in her eyes and angry words unspoken on her lips – Loki heard them anyway, and his condescension in return bruised almost as much as it burned.
The cold of Jötunheim did not strike him as it did the others – instead it centered him, matching the chill in his veins until he felt as if the wastelands were embracing him – welcoming him home like a lost son.
Like an Arthurian myth unfolding, Coulson watched as the intruder wrapped his hands around the embedded weapon – and a part of him expected the hammer to answer the man's call, and break free from the stone imprisoning it.
His pale skin bled blue, and at his eyes he could feel the white of his pupils loose their brilliance – darkening to a scarlet more adept for winter wastes than the brilliant sun of Asgard; and as the last of the spell fell away to reveal his true form, he turned his gaze on his father – his silver tongue a leaden stone within his mouth as he brokenly demanded answers.
As the second son, it was only natural for Loki to carry around his brother's armor and weapons after training each day – but, over time, he learned how to enchant the items to carry themselves, and it was Thor who looked at him with wonder in his eyes.
"No," Jane snapped harshly, holding the bag of beef jerky away from the blonde man's reach, "you say please, and then you said thank-you – and then, and only then, will I think about giving it to you."
Although not as satisfying as a horn of mead, the mortal brew was pleasing - although apparently potent, for after a mere four glasses, Thor was carrying the human scholar home, bemused as he always was by mortal limitations.
"It's a lovely place this time of year, or so I am told – my brother spend a near decade in your years training there, and when he returned he was almost able to best me in combat."
"My Lady, I thought that you, of all people, would appreciate the need for trickery in battle," the words were spoken in first one ear and then her other – the Trickster's breath a whisper against her skin as he danced in and out of reach of her blade.
"No damsel indeed," Thor chortled merrily from the ground, gazing up to where Sif stood over him, her twin blades crossed at the pulse of his neck; while at the side of the arena, Loki gave into his laughter as he collected his bet from a frowning Fandral.
So much more than the tales, Jane thought numbly as Thor marched out to meet the Destroyer who stood blazing in the dessert sun – the glares from the fire glinting off his armor, and his voice echoing with a divine power that something in her instinctively responded to – needed even, and for the first time in her life she closed her eyes, and gave into the urge to pray.
"It was all hisidea," each brother said at the exact same moment, the wrym's head a leaking and bloody thing on the golden stairs between them while Odin and Frigg traded tired and bemused looks.
Even with a lesser form, his body remembered the tide and flow of war – and no warrior that the mortals could throw before him could stop him, not when Mjölnir was so close – a siren's call echoing in his very veins.
His hands were callused and heavy from where they closed over her own - gentle where she had seen them strike and tear asunder – and there was an easy fondness in his eyes, teasing her as he raised her hand to his lips in too chivalrous of a gesture for her taste.
And so it was she who stood up on the tips of her toes and pulled him down to her – pressing her lips to his in a promise and a return to me, and if you can't find me. . . that spoke louder than any words as she stole his breath as her own, feeling the whole of him thunder and pulse in the deep of her.
"Thank-you, peasants, for your hospitality," Thor turned warmly to the small group of humans – slapping a glowering Erik on the back, and bowing regally to Darcy – who punched his shoulder in return.
"How about you let me see you so that I can break your nose properly?" her words were harsh, but her smile was beaming as the second son's laughter reached her ears – for all of his power, that was something that he could not disguise, and triumphant, Sif brought her training sword down hard where the sound had originated.
It was the peace that made war necessary, and words that were needed to men as much as blows were needed to enforce – it was a balance that his father had meant for him to learn early where he had learned to late – and upon Midgard's surface, Thor finally understood.
"Betty Ross," the rather pretty gamma scientist held a hand out for Jane to take, something haunted and missing about her eyes that Jane instantly understood and responded to as her own.
In Heimdell's sight, the second son was only ice – fogging and distorting any around him, for everything he touched turned to silver and ash, and it was only a matter of time before he tarnished even himself as well.
It was for the father of his heart that he felled the father of his blood, his blade sinking deep into Laufey's back as Odin blindly looked upon him – and someday, Loki hoped that Odin would see that he had always been a loyal and faithful son.
"And I missed the party?" Tony Stark smirked as he looked down at the Destroyer's ruins on the dessert sand, his sharp eyes taking in the archaic but flawless designs evident even in the pieces available for him to examine, and once again, he let himself wonder just what exactly SHIELD had stumbled on to.
As he struck Mjölnir hard against the bifröst, he did so knowing that he was destroying his only path left to Jane, but it was for all nine of the realms that he stopped the slaughter before it begun – and an eternity away on Earth, a star disappeared from the sky.
"Brother?" Thor's entreaty was pained as he finally saw the hate in Loki's gaze – but the hate was something more, something deeper – not directed at him at all, but at their father; and when Loki didn't find what he was looking for in Odin's gaze, he let go of the staff, not falling to the abyss below – but embracing it, as if the cosmos revealed its mysteries to him, and him alone.
The pattern for every myth was simple – the King had his Queen, his Knights, his Magic's vessel, and his enchanted weapon; but now their circle was broken, and Thor was not quite sure how to put the pieces back together.
"We will all follow you – no matter where that path will lead," Sif vowed, her hand heavy on her friend's shoulder – knowing that her words were a small measure of comfort against the grief in Thor's heart, a grief that more than he knew shared and felt as their own.
As the ancient markings sank into the Earth, and the stars above swallowed their mysteries, Jane understood that something had kept him from her – something he couldn't overcome - and so, as long as she had breath left in her, she would strive to find him . . . she would find her own path to him.
"And someday, Father, I shall be a King that you would be proud to call your son," Thor vowed, the pride in Odin's eyes answering him where words could not – for that pride was already freely given, and earned in return.