[THOR] You Breathe Infinity into My World, Thor/Loki, part 2a
You Breathe Infinity into My World
Part II: finem respice
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Loki adores Thor, like the sky reveres the sun and the stars adulate the moon. But this love for Thor, like the fragile buds of spring, so delicate and beautiful, has an air of sinisterness, doomed to conclude into something precious and poignant which will leave Loki austerely hollow.
Loki is fearful of these newly named feelings, because for the first time in his life he feels severely lost, uncertain as to how he should act around Thor now that these feelings have come to light. He is Sigyn’s fiancé, though perhaps not for long, because he now knows that he will never be content with her. But will he acquire a fulfilling ending with Thor?
After the unpleasant talk he had with Sif and this startling discovery of his feelings for the Prince, his despair is carried along into his sleep. Loki does not find peace in his dreams.
The next morning, despite the remnants of forbidding feelings from last night, the absence of his golden Prince causes disappointment as he truly desires the familiarity of Thor’s presence. He seeks for those ardent lips that always make his skin warm under their touch and those summer sky eyes that never fail to seize his heart.
Hogun comes into the room and is also surprised to find Thor absent. He had gotten so used to seeing Thor hanging out in Loki’s room from the crack of dawn that it had become a custom for him to serve both the Prince and the Duke until Fandral came to assist him.
Loki looks at Hogun and he knows that his valet can see the discontent on his face. “Perhaps Thor is still sleeping,” Loki tells him, and he wonders if he is just reasoning with himself to dull the pain in his chest.
“I am very delighted to serve only His Grace.”
Loki merely snorts, amused and grateful that his valet is trying to lighten the mood.
Unfortunately, Thor’s absence even extends through breakfast and everything that Loki consumes taste horridly vile in his mouth. There is a chocolate soufflé and an orange cream cake sat on the table, obviously for Thor, and just the sight of the desserts upset Loki greatly.
He misses Thor awfully and he intends to murder the Prince for making him feel this way.
“I presume that Thor shan’t be having breakfast with us. Let Fandral deliver those to his room. No matter how upset he is he mustn’t go through the morning on an empty stomach.”
Loki moves his gaze to his fiancée, disgusted by her feigned compassion for her cousin, but he diverts to Sigyn’s earlier statement and queries after what troubles Thor.
“There was a telegram for Thor that came this morning. It was from His Majesty.”
His heart falters. The sense of dismay overwhelms Loki to the point that he almost wants to excuse himself so he can run to Thor. Some kind of desperation and rage claws inside Loki’s chest as he pictures Thor leaving Downton.
Downton would never be the same.
But the fact is, Loki would never be the same, not without Thor.
Thor will take away a piece of him, or feasibly everything of Loki and leave behind an empty vessel. It is frightening because Thor actually has that kind of effect on him, and it is distressing because Loki does not want his golden prince to leave him, to leave his world detached and colourless.
As soon as he finishes his anchovy toast he immediately takes his leave, uncaring of the surprised look he receives from his fiancée due to his swift departure as he rushes to Thor’s room. Despite not knowing what exactly to expect, the pain in his chest still fails to mitigate even after his eyes finally land on the Prince’s back that is facing him.
Thor is on the balcony; Loki thinks that he is looking at the garden, or perhaps he is not seeing anything at all but is instead lost in his mind. The telegram is clenched in his hand and Loki dreads to know the contents of the paper. When he steps further into the room Thor turns to face him and there is a despondently vacant look on his face and Loki’s heart grips tighter, fearing the worst.
“I absolutely detest myself,” Thor tells him, his lips pressed into a grim line.
“Wha- why would you feel that way?”
Thor leaves the balcony and walks into the room. He steps closer to Loki and the action elicits the now too familiar fluttering feeling in his stomach as his heart thrums with a strange sort of desperation.
“Look at you, appearing remorseful on my behalf. I do not wish for such a look to mar your lovely face.” Then Thor closes the gap between them. His hand grips his jaw gently to plant a kiss on the skin above his brow like he did every morning. Loki’s face flushes with a pleasant warmth and his heart soars with happiness. He feels so much in love at that moment that he has the sudden desire to reach for Thor and hold him close. He imagines himself laying his head on Thor’s shoulder and staying like that forever. But he does neither of these things as he relishes the heat of Thor’s touch.
“I feel regret for not being able to do this, and that I was not there to greet you as you awoke this morning. I look so miserable, do I not? There is a lot in my mind right now. Sometimes I wonder if I am going crazy. If one day I do end up in the madhouse, please do visit me, make sure you bring some vino santo and biscotti cookies for me.”
“Sigyn mentioned a telegram from your father.”
Thor leaves his side and practically throws his weight onto the sofa. He heaves a sigh and places the telegram on the table across from him. “Father wants me to go back. Father threatened me! He dared to threaten me with my own brother that he would send to Downton to drag me back to the palace!”
The fleeting contentment in his heart is replaced with something painful. Even though he already knows the answer to it, he asks Thor, “What must you do?”
“I must leave.”
His heart stutters and his stomach drops. He is immensely dismayed and the world around him suddenly becomes a cruel reality; the chirping of the birds from outside annoy him, the cold breeze that creeps into the room feels like an icy chill and the sweet smell of blossoms from the garden repulse him.
Loki is angry, and Thor, who has not discerned the current wrath that is raging within him, rings for Fandral.
The sound of the bell threatens to unleash something inside Loki and he reaches for Thor’s arm when the Prince stands up, ready to pack for his leave.
“Thor,” he calls, his hand grasping the prince’s arm. The skin is warm there and his heart beats painfully for this man. Cerulean eyes look at him and the words on his lips abruptly die. There are so many things he wants to tell Thor.
Please don’t go.
Stay.
I love you.
Be mine.
Don’t forget me.
Somehow, like a broken bond between lovers, it feels like this shall be the last time they are together; Thor would go back to his world and perhaps remain astray without Loki there to be his light; however, Loki feels he is the one who is losing his illumination.
Thor takes Loki’s hand from his arm and cradles it in his own hands, kissing every digit as if he is bestowing his last devotion to Loki and it hurts him so profoundly. Every pressure of Thor’ lips leave a scar deep inside his skin and Loki wants to weep.
“I heard what you said to Sif last night.”
“You were eavesdropping.”
“I’m sorry,” Thor plants another kiss, this time to his knuckle, and Loki falls for him all over again.
“You must know that it is not Sif or anyone’s fault. I cannot speak of my pain nor seek comfort for the grief I feel, but you are different. Being with you has been the best thing to ever occur in my life. You saved me, Loki… in every way that a person can be saved. And for that I am eternally grateful to you.”
There is a knock that alerts them to Fandral’s presence. With a rueful smile Thor lets go of his hand, and Loki stops existing right at that moment.
()
“His Grace has been too apathetic lately. Amora told me Her Ladyship is rather upset with his recent behaviour. She is releasing her irritation upon Amora; criticizing her needle work and belittling every chore that she carries out to a standard that Her Ladyship deems unsatisfactory-”
“Amore deserves it! She is an incorrigible she-devil.”
Jane casts a reproachful gaze at Fandral before she continues, “Lady Sif appears to be restless and His Lordship has been oddly pensive. It seems like everything is going wrong inside this house.”
She pauses in her stitching and rests it on the table as she turns her gaze to the blond man. There is hesitancy in the way she twiddles the needle between her fingers. “I noticed the friendship between the Prince and the Duke was quite amorous. Some might describe it as queer. Isn’t that unpleasant? Such friendship is harmless when two people are devoted to each other. Amora has been spewing vile words of it to Her Ladyship.”
Before Fandral can give any response, there is a loud crash that comes from somewhere inside the house. The two of them, and almost the entire house staff that have heard the noise, rush to the main drawing-room where the crash seemed to have occurred.
They see that Darcy is already there and she appears to be shocked by whatever is going on inside the room. Fandral prays that nothing horrid has actually transpired and that Darcy is just over-reacting. He strides over to her side, followed by Jane who stands next to him, and they watch the scene unfolding before their eyes.
The Lady Sif is hugging her sister, who is crying inconsolably, in her arms, and a few feet away from them stands the Duke with a red mark burning brightly on his cheek. There are broken pieces of cups and tea-pot, and tea is splattered all over the lush Victorian carpet. Fandral wonders if Lady Sigyn has done that in her despair.
Lady Sif is glaring balefully at Loki. “You are a perniciously foul man! How could you do this to my sister?”
“Do you prefer that I keep my silence and marry her despite how I feel? Sigyn deserves someone who loves her. She is a fine lady and I am certain in due time that there will be plenty men wishing to court her.”
Her Ladyship weeps. “Do not speak like I am not in this room. We are to be married in a year and now you want to call off our engagement because you do not love me?! This is preposterous! Did my cousin entice you into a sinful relationship? Be truthful to me, Loki.”
Something dark and sinister appears on his face. “You wish for my honesty?”
There is a half-mad sneer on his lips and Fandral almost shivers at such a frightening expression. “Very well, if you must know, that infuriating cousin of yours is incapable of seducing me because he is too busy mourning his bloody sad existence! Honestly, I only wanted to marry you for your damn dowry, but I do not want your money anymore. And I do not need Thor in my life.”
Then he steps over the broken china and walks to the foyer where all the house staff are gathered around. They immediately make way for the Duke to pass, but he stops half-way and glances one last time at the two ladies in the room.
“I shall depart today. I appreciate the hospitality during my stay in Downton. Farewell.”
()
Loki steps into the motor-car and Hogun closes the passenger door, shutting out the callous affluence of Downton Abbey. He massages the side of his face, dulling the pain where Sigyn has slapped him.
“I do not need Thor in my life.”
Liar, he tells himself. He shall always feel the lack of it; the emptiness, the void inside him that no one but Thor could fill.
The past five days had been terrible for Loki, pretending to be whole as if Thor was still there with him. He was like a ghost in Downton, searching forlornly for something that he may never unearth. It was worse when the sun fell over the horizon and the sky was enveloped with twilight, then one by one the stars would peek out to stare down at him as he laid miserably on his bed and grieved his loss. Every part of him ached gravely for Thor… he missed his placid smile, desired his precious summer gaze, yearned for Thor’s fervent kiss on his skin, sought the burning heat of his touch, longed to catch a whiff of the other’s unique, masculine scent and, most of all, loathed Thor’s very existent.
Because of this, Loki became utterly angry and wretchedly bitter. He no longer found joy reading mundane encyclopaedias and dreary books in the libraries as he could not resist reminiscing of the comforting pressure of someone’s head on his lap while his right hand itched to feel velvety locks between his fingers. The garden became a site which plagued Loki, and one which he had assiduously avoided; as whenever his sight glanced upon the cascading flowers of violet orchids, white daisies and pink roses that obstinately refused to die, his hearts quivered painfully as they evoked a forgotten romantic summer. The smell of sweet treats like the freshly baked apple cheesecakes, blueberry meringues and cinnamon bread puddings had made him melancholy and nostalgic and the taste of Merlot and Burgundy wine would forever haunt Loki.
That was when Loki made up his mind to break the engagement and leave Downton.
When he arrives at the train station and gets into the first-class carriage as Hogun deals with his suitcases, Loki becomes even more withdrawn into his own world and loses himself in memories of pealing laughter and delirious blue eyes. The train jerks and Loki gazes resentfully at the moving landscape from his window, watching the long stretch of golden wheat which reminds him so much of Thor’s sun-kissed tresses. The sky darkens, and soon the rain descends from the heavens and taints the world with an insipid and sombre ambience.
Loki ponders if he ever comes across Thor’s mind. Does he miss Loki? Is he still drowning himself into a state of feverish drunkenness? Has he met someone better than Loki and is now devoting his entire heart and soul on that person?
Did Thor ever love him?
His sight becomes a blurry mess. He clenches his hand tightly into a fist, his nails digging painfully into the skin as he fights the grieving sob that threatens to escape. Hogun is a silent companion but he can feel the concerned gaze cast his way. So he continues to mask his sadness and ignores the one lone tear that drops to his lap.
Hours later the rain has ceased, and when the sun sets behind a stretch of green pastures he sees his destination. His heart suddenly becomes lighter and it hits Loki how much he has missed his hometown.
His chauffeur, who is waiting for them in the train station, greets him with a smile. “Welcome back, Your Grace.”
He swears to himself that he shall move on. Loki may never be able to forget his golden Prince, but, perhaps, he could learn to let go of Thor.
PART 2B