Fic: The Man Who Had Been King
Title: The Man Who Had Been King
Fandom: The Avengers movieverse
Rating: R+/NC-17
Warnings: suicide, suicide idealization, mentions of rape, mentions of murder, end-of-the-world, language, death, mentions of gore, character death
Prompt: Here at Avengers kinkmeme in detail. After years of constant fighting and struggle against the Avengers and the rest of the world, Loki is the only being at the end of the universe. In order to rectify the damage he's done, he sends his memories back to a younger Loki, one before even Thor's corronation, in hopes with knowledge of the future his younger self will do right. This younger Loki, however, is haunted by the memories of all the destruction and pain he's caused, and finds he can no longer live with himself. He asks Bruce Banner to kill him, convinced he's the only one able and willing to do so.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or their backstories. Title is a reference to the novella by Rudyard Kipling. Lee's Island is a reference to Stan Lee and, to my poor geographical knowledge, is not an actual island. Much of Loki's backstory and characterization does not just come from the Marvel version, but also from various sources of Norse mythology including but not limited to: the Lokasenna of the Poetic Edda, the Gylfaginning and other books of the Prose Edda, and just general descriptions of the Ragnarök and Loki's punishment leading up to it. The same can be said for Frigga's character.
Author's Notes: This is a quickwrite and therefore unbeta'd. I'm sure there are some problems with consistency or grammar or whatnot, given that half of this was written in a notebook on the line for the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland and the other half written during one of my hey-it's-four-am-I've-got-a-great-idea-let's-write-fanfic-and-not-sleep sprees. If there are any noticeable errors, please feel free to point them out. Comments are loved, adored, cherished, and greatly appreciated as always.
I'm really fascinated with the role of the Trickster archetype in various cultures' mythologies. I've often noticed the Trickster's usually an agent of change and is commonly associated with the Villain. Jeckyll and Hyde characters are also really intriguing on a variety of levels (especially when they stick close to the Healer/Monster dichotomy), so I'm glad the prompter decided to specify Bruce Banner. I love his character so much (especially after seeing how well he was handled in the movie), and I'm glad I had a chance to finally write something where he featured heavily. The decision to have the second portion of the fic in third-person limited from Frigga's perspective came from this sort of developing theme of rebirth and origins, and I figured the perspective of a mother figure would lend itself to that. I'm also intrigued by notions of finality, cycles, destiny, and roles, so I wanted to use this perfect plot to discuss these themes.
All this being said, I really did intend this to be a short comment!fic. It kind of morphed into something over 5,000 words long along the way, and is probably darker than what the prompter intended. Whoops?
Enjoy.
- - -
The memories jarred him from sleep and jolted him from waking hours. Loki had manipulated time before, and sending his memories back to avoid a crisis was nothing new. It was one of his greatest strengths and greatest secrets, for being physically weak in a culture that venerated strength made… alternate skills… a necessity if he was to survive and come out on top. His mind was his bow, and his memories the arrows that were able to pierce the armor of his foes. But never before had he been the recipient of this many memories, of this many shades of the future.
And never before had they burned in his mind so brightly.
These memories, these future-truths, did not feel like ghosts or phantoms, lingering on the edge of his consciousness with soft and cool touches to remind him of their presence and their importance.
They burned, refusing to be ignored for more than a few minutes’ time, and they seared into his brain and his flesh. In both moments of peace and conflict Loki would feel the fire and smell the smoke and taste the ashes on his tongue, reminding him he had once been its cause and that he must not be again.
With these memories, these future-truths, came some truths that would never be rectified, and at first Loki was convinced the burning had been a result of the warm Asgardian air on his wretched jötunn skin. It was a notion quickly disabused, for even as he stood submerged in cold water his skin only registered hot fire.
He would walk in the gardens in the noon sun to find respite amongst the pure life of the flowers and the trees, simply to remind himself that there was still life in this world. But even when staring at this present-truth the flames would move across his skin in a mockery of a lover’s caress, and he would remember himself gleefully setting this realm up in bright flames… he would remember setting all the realms up in bright flames. He felt the blood of others bathing his skin as surely as he felt his own beneath it.
It sickened him, and looking at this beautiful life in the garden, a garden that had done naught but bring him some semblance of comfort as he died inside, he wondered what kind of monster it took to destroy it.
But he knew. It had been a monster with blue skin but a penchant for hiding it as strong as his penchant for hiding the truth. It had been a monster playing at God and deceiving the world until there was nobody left to deceive. It had been a monster desiring to be king but succeeding only in being a servant. It had been a monster who didn’t mean to destroy but would do what it needed to get as it wished. It had been a monster, pure and simple, who destroyed with his words as surely as he destroyed with an army.
It had been him. Loki. God of Mischief. Jötunn Prince of Asgard. Teller of Lies. Destroyer of Worlds. Loki. Monster.
There was nobody to blame for the destruction but himself.
But… even that wasn’t entirely the truth. For, as Loki stared at the green of the palace gardens, he was reminded of another shade of green and a man with a propensity to destroy just as suddenly as he.
And that gave him hope.
Loki had spent as long as he could amongst the gods, but eventually the fire grew too hot and the memories too bright.
On his last day, he took some paper into the garden and set to writing.
His silver tongue worked its magic on the page, and he found himself explaining that the end was near and that he had been chosen to stop it. For once, Loki thought, he would be remembered not as he was but as a hero.
It was not a full lie, but the best lies were always based in truth.
The end, Loki knew, was near. And when they found his broken body-he pictured it now with a grim sort of anticipation-lying amidst the decimation he was sure would occur, they would think him a hero rather than a coward who could not live with himself after seeing what he might become.
Setting the letter on a stone in the garden, where it would surely be found but too late for anything to be done, he gathered up his magic. The burning was always strongest when he did it, and as he pictured the man who would help him end it all, he felt as well the cool sensation of relief and knew then where he would like to die.
He felt the fire on his skin even as he felt the coolness of an afternoon ocean spray and saw the bright flames of the world on fire even as he saw the darkness of a cave resting on an island cliff.
Something licked at his feet and he no longer knew if it was flames or waves or the grass of the garden, and felt death and creation and life.
As the clock struck twelve in a remote village on the Indian subcontinent and an American doctor readied himself to leave a small hut filled with healing patients, he was gone.
- - -
1. Beginning
“Awaken, Doctor Banner. I have need of your skills.”
Bruce opened his eyes, and shifted his head off the ground to glance at his wristwatch. The movement was only habit, but it was hardly comforting as he took in the cracked glass and the minute hand resting uselessly at the bottom of the broken case. The watch still ticked away, as evidenced by the second hand moving in its circle, but served limited use in its damaged state.
He lifted himself up on his forearms, and turned to stare at the voice’s origin.
It was a man and was not a man, for the shape of his body and hunch of his shoulders was much like his own but the set of the horns on his head and the tone of his voice much not. As his vision cleared, the doctor saw the horns did not attach to his head but to a helmet, but still knew it was not really a man who spoke. No man could sound as he did, as worldly and stricken and grievous and sad and broken and sly and empty and wise and powerful and dangerous as he did.
“I don’t suppose you mean you need a doctor.”
Bruce saw the quirk of the mouth, but felt that humor was not going to be tolerated.
“I assure you, Doctor Banner, I am far past healing.”
The not-a-man stood up from where he sat against a wall, and Bruce realized he was in a cave of some sort. Scrambling to his feet, Bruce followed his apparent kidnapper to the opening of the cave, and saw the land cut off sharply a few feet away and though he could not see it, he could hear the crashing of waves against the side of the cliff and knew there was an ocean under his feet.
Heights were never a good remedy for anxiety, and so Bruce stepped out of the light of the sun and went back inside the cave, wringing his hands together in a nervous gesture. A sense of foreboding crept up his spine, and though he did not know exactly what his purpose in the cave was, he had enough of an idea to begin worrying in earnest.
“My other… skill set… isn’t particularly useable.”
The figure did not turn from where it stood, basking in the afternoon light. He did not move for several minutes, and Bruce wondered if he had been heard at all. He glanced at his watch again, and saw the hour hand had shifted slightly and that the seconds still ticked by.
At length, the horns gave a final glint in the light and they were back in the darkness. But they did not travel far, and Bruce watched him lean casually against the rocky wall and run his hand along one of the fissures that lined it. He might have been savoring the sensation of the cold water that dripped from the crack, but the only indication he gave of enjoyment came from the way he seemed to press his hand harder against the wall.
Even though he felt he owed this person no explanation, as surely as he felt the Other Guy in the back of his mind begging to fight against this potential threat, Bruce spoke again.
“You can’t use him. You can’t control him.”
A tilt of the horns told Bruce the man was listening, so he continued, “You set the Other Guy free… whoever you are… and people, innocent people can and will get killed. He will kill you. You don’t want that.”
A laugh. The sense of foreboding changed into a cold dread. He saw movement in front of his eyes and an icy-hot hand clasped his shoulder.
There was no longer a tall figure standing by the opening and the edge of the cliff and the waves, but one standing right in front of him. Bruce could finally see the stranger’s eyes, and they were green and spoke of destruction and they danced like flames.
“I am Loki, God.”
It was dark in the cave and Bruce had never felt fear as keenly as he did then and the struggle to keep the beast at bay was great. This creature who claimed to be a god spoke again, practically hissing out the words with maddened glee and anticipation, and Bruce almost lost the struggle then and there.
“And that is exactly what I want.”
- - -
2. Middle
“Sir, we’re getting a reading on the hostile and Banner. Coordinates show they’re somewhere in the Pacific.”
“An entire ocean isn’t good enough. Do better.”
“Yes, sir.”
Agent Maria Hill left the room.
The clock in the meeting room struck one, and SHIELD headquarters was alive with energy both human and machine. Personnel bustled around on high alert and computers spat out data with alarming speed.
In the middle of the building were seven individuals, each powerful in their own way, and each one alone not a match for Loki’s power.
“I thought you called us here for a reason, Fury. I’m a soldier, not a computer expert.”
The one who reminded Frigga of her husband turned to the circle of people, all sitting and watching Thor, Frigga, and the man with varying degrees of attention and belief.
“I called you in because you’re a tactical genius, Captain. I called Stark in because, pain in the ass though he is, he’s a technological genius. I called Agents Barton and Romanov in because they are in SHIELD employ and I’m putting all my best men and women on this. I was called in because these two called me in and they made a damned big spectacle of it. Any questions as to who called who in why?”
The man, Fury, was irritated now. She knew though that he thrived in this high tension environment, just as she knew before Stark opened his mouth that the words would be meant to escalate the irritation.
“Yes. Why did they,” Stark quirked his head at the Asgardian pair, “call us?”
Had Loki been with Frigga in Thor’s place, he would thrive. Words had forever been the weapon he favored, and Frigga felt his absence with her whole being. But words were not Thor’s weapon, and acting took precedence over talking with this son. She could not change which son was here with her now, even if she had desired to do so, and like always she knew she must live with that.
“We have called you here because a God is missing. Our sorcerers have never been a match for his powerful spells, and thus we have called upon your Midgard sorcery to see if it may make a difference. We do not have times for your insolence!”
Thor’s impassioned voice was so thunderous that Frigga wondered if that more than anything would convince these mortals of her and her son’s identities.
“I had searched Asgard when first he went missing and found him nowhere in that realm, but my mother has found a letter in her gardens that makes us fear for his safety. We ask not but your help, and if we find him, you have my word as king that your SHIELD will forever have an ally in my people.”
Everyone at the table considered his words for a few minutes, and each held their misgivings, but none wanted to be the one to break the silence that had fallen over them.
Yet, eventually the silence was broken.
“So all we do is find this Loki person? And when that’s over, we gain an army at our back for whenever we need it? That’s too simple.”
This was from the red-haired woman, and Frigga did not have to be the God of Lies to know Fury had not told the entire truth when he explained why she and the man to her right had been called in. This woman could hold her own against gods, Frigga could see, and she would hold her own against a particularly powerful one if the future Frigga saw was to be believed.
The woman from before came back, a readout in hand and a frantic look on her face. “We’ve found them, sir. They’re on… they’re on Lee’s Island.”
The response was immediate.
“Alert the base. Raise the threat level to seven. Mobilize available units to the island, now. And tell Coulson to get a plane ready.”
“But, sir-“
“Now.”
She left the room again.
Silence, broken by the soldier. “I remember Lee’s Island. We won it during the war, didn’t we? Well, that’s what the documentaries you made me watch said.”
Fury’s mouth took on a grim set as the paper was handed to him, and in seeing this man so used to control displaying worry the entire room seemed to stand at attention.
“You’re not wrong, Captain Rogers. Lee’s Island houses an active volcano, one which SHIELD has been studying for years now, attempting to harness the energy its producing. We haven’t had a problem... until now.”
“And now I will go there and retrieve my wayward brother.” Thor made as if to leave the room, but a single look from Fury halted him in his tracks.
“I’m afraid you can’t just go and do that now.”
“I can do as I please, mortal. I am Thor, God of Thunder, and I am going to aid my brother in whatever he has tasked himself with.”
“And I’m Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD, and I am ordering you to stop. This is no longer just about you or your brother. As it stands, Loki has kidnapped a man who can bring a lot of pain in a short amount of time, and he’s made his way to an island that houses both a military base and a ticking volcano.”
The room stood divided, but Frigga could feel the humans uniting with Fury, faced with this potential threat.
It wouldn’t be long now.
“Surely you do not think-”
“Think what?” This, from Stark, who stayed in his seat but assumed control of the room with his sharp words. “Think that your brother’s just hijacked a man who turns into a giant rage monster and transported him to Mount Vesuvius for a vacation? No. If that man gets angry-and if your brother’s as mischievous a God as the debriefing led me to believe, he will get angry-that base is going to be destroyed. It gets destroyed, that volcano blows. It blows, a lot of people are going to go with it. Boom. End of story.”
“It is not end of story!” Thor’s hammer fell with a bang against the steel table, breaking it in two.
All weapons were drawn and trained on Frigga and Thor in a manner of seconds, but Frigga knew Thor did not care about their weapons.
“That is my brother you speak of.” His eyes roamed over the others in the room, challenging them and watching them rise from their seats to meet the challenge. “He would not endanger the lives of your people on a mere whim. He would not see them burn without very good reason.”
Frigga had been silent during the meeting, standing behind one of her sons as the other was fought over.
With each insult flung at Thor she simply stared at the group assembled before her. She saw not the motley individuals that made it up but the heroes that they would become and had become. Frigga knew the cost, and felt the hurt seize her heart like it seized all the mortals that would pay the price, but she did not speak. Frigga knew, as surely as she knew Thor would belong with these mortals and that the world would end in war, but Frigga did not speak of what she knew. Frigga knew her role to play, and she would continue along her path until she met her fate.
Suddenly, everything changed.
The cave vanished in her mind’s eye.
No.
It was still there, but it was different.
The snake was no longer green.
No.
But it was a man, and his venom did not course out of his teeth but through his veins.
The punishment that would lead to the end no longer led to the end.
No.
This punishment would lead to the end-her son’s end-much as the snake and the cave were meant to.
Everything changed, but the end was still the same.
Frigga wept, not as a Goddess who had seen the future and seen two apocalypses averted, but as a mother who had seen her son die and seen her own inability to change it.
And as Frigga wept, unnoticed and alone amongst so many others, she again heard the voice of the only other woman in the room as the clock struck two.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned… Thor… it’s that some men? They just want to see the world burn.”
- - -
3. End
Quiet reigned the cave following Loki’s last words as each considered their next move.
Loki debated telling the good doctor about the end of the world, debated telling him about the utter chaos and destruction both of them had wrought.
Loki wanted to shout and yell that if the world had been as it was, then Loki would hardly be the first innocent Banner would kill, and he would hardly be the last.
Loki yearned to shove the sins of the mindless beast into the face of the mindful man and laugh at the fallout.
Loki desired to dance in the fire and the flames, as he had done for centuries despite knowing himself now to be a creature of the ice.
Loki needed to revel in the destruction and the end-
Loki sobered.
And wasn’t that the truth?
It was not a want, but a need.
Loki had a destiny, and he needed to reach it no matter the path and no matter his own wants.
Loki could see all of the paths before him, as numerous as the branches of Yggdrasil. He could see their routes and felt his own choices, and knew where they all must lead even if he could not see it for himself.
He could see the choice to tell Bruce of the end of his world, and grasped a hold of that branch.
And so he told Bruce of what he remembered.
Loki remembered playing as a child near the ash tree, running around it with Thor, and pouring water on its bark.
Loki remembered smelling ash as a king on the throne, reveling in the power over the Asgardians, and setting fire to the bark.
Loki remembered growing older with Sif, hiding after his silly tricks on her in its branches, and partaking in her defilement.
Loki remembered fighting alongside Volstagg against the jotuun, helping find the warrior’s children who hid amidst the leaves, and murdering every single one of them before his war-fellow.
Loki remembered drinking ale next to Odin, listening to his father talk of the time he hung from the its gallows, and striking the blow that took his father’s other eye.
Loki remembered, and his problem was he could not forget.
But Loki was not cowardly enough to call his desire for the end a way to no longer deal with remembering, even if it had some truth.
Rather, Loki had just enough courage to live up to his namesake. He lied to Bruce, appealing to the doctor’s humanity one last time.
“I have seen the end, Doctor Banner. This is the only way to prevent it...” Loki knelt on the ground so that he could stare up into the man’s eyes. He knew how utterly subservient he, a god who would have been king, must look. In that moment, Loki knew just how far he had fallen and cared not. “This is the only way to make ensure you will never take another life.”
“You lie.”
Banner shot away from him, dodging the horns and walking to the threshold of the cave.
Surprise, for one who had known beyond doubt what the future could hold, was a rarity, yet surprise was what Loki felt as this mere mortal brushed off the God of Lies without hesitation.
Did his skills fail him?
Loki prided himself on his ability to deceive, for he knew the role he was destined to play, and it always rested on this.
But the memories his future self had given him warped that pride with disgust, and Loki remembered how poorly duplicity served him when there was nobody left to lie to.
Loki’s hope abandoned him, and despair took its place.
How was he to end it all if he could not even do this?
Desperation, and in rage he knew that if Bruce would not end it here and now that what he said would no longer be a lie. Loki would go out and destroy the world until it would destroy him.
“I have ended your world once to get what I want, and make note, Doctor…”
The doctor skirted at the edge of the cave, and Loki noticed water pooling from a crack in the threshold and dripping onto his shoulder and wondered if it felt as cool as it looked and knew it did not from his own experience-the lava running through the ground and through the mountain ensured that.
“…If I do not get as I wish, come fiery hell or high water I will see to it that it ends again.”
Silence, and the doctor stopped his pacing.
“You’re not lying. You’d really destroy the universe just so you could die.”
A beat, and Loki’s hope returned.
Victory.
“Yes, I would.” Loki lied, but had a strange feeling that he had just told the truth.
Bruce wrung his hands and glanced at his watch out of what appeared to be nervous habit, and leaned against the threshold of the door. The sun beat against his back and cast a light silhouette.
“Isn’t ending the world what got you into this mess? How is doing exactly the same thing going to make a difference?”
The question, as obvious as it was, made Loki give pause.
How is doing exactly the same thing going to make a difference?
Would it make a difference?
Would Loki’s death make a difference to anyone but himself?
Why would it matter then, if he would no longer be around to see the difference it made?
If he had not already been crouched on the dirty floor of the cave, the thought would have brought the mighty god to his knees.
As it was, the feelings that followed made him drop his hands to the floor, pressing them down against the cool stone-and how it seared his flesh-knowing that he must look to the good doctor like a man at prayer.
Banner stayed silent, and watched from the edge of the cave. Hoping he had won and that the end of all this was near, Bruce dropped his guard.
This would be the death of him.
“It won’t.”
Loki grinned.
“But, I will do it anyways. And you will have your role in it.”
Doctor Banner had control over his anger.
His reactions to danger, however, were another story.
The ground trembled beneath their feet, and Loki used what remained of his magic to tap into the veins of the earth and send the lava bursting to the surface. Molten rock began seeping through the cracks of the cave, and yet miraculously the drip of water coming from the fissure up above still hit Bruce Banner as he scrambled away from the danger and out of the cave and almost over the edge of the cliff.
It was enough, and Loki saw the man’s control slipping.
It would be a conscious choice, but one made easier by a simple push.
“Come now, Doctor Banner. If you let the monster free, you will be free.”
Loki felt the lie pass off his silver tongue, and knew it was not the worst lie he had told and not the worst sin he had committed.
“Let the monster out. You will do no harm to those who do not deserve it.”
The good doctor shook his head, and because the rock and the ground around them trembled greatly Loki did not know whether it was in acquiescence or rebellion.
“I… won’t… can’t… let him out… there’s still… you don’t have to… destroy it again… I don’t know you… but I can hope you’d do… the right thing,” the good doctor shouted above the rumbling of the earth, and clutched at the stone to keep upright even as the monster clearly raged against his mind.
It did not matter anymore. The ending was almost near, for Loki could feel the burning creeping up his legs.
The lava had not yet reached Bruce Banner. But mere lava wouldn’t kill either of them.
Only pure fire would do that.
“Would you really place the safety of the world in the hands of someone you could only hope would do good? Of someone you knew had the power to end the world and only could only hope he did not? Could you rest easy knowing that it was hope that made you believe he would choose the right path every time? Let the beast free, and ensure you do not have to rely on just your hope to save the world.”
Freedom, Loki reasoned to himself, was not life’s greatest lie.
Life’s greatest lie was hope. Loki had hoped that the memories would be enough to prevent the end a second time. Loki had hoped the searing agony would lessen if only he changed his course. Loki had hoped to die a hero even as he lived a coward. Loki had hoped the man in front of him would kill him so that he himself would not have to. Loki had hoped...
Loki could no longer afford hope, and so he did not hope for action but took it himself. It would be his last act, an act of destruction, and it was fitting and the only thing he knew for certain.
An explosion rocked the ground, and as he pushed the memories of the end into the doctor’s head his magic was used up and he was weak.
“Would you trust a monster? A murderer? A rapist? A liar? A destroyer? Would you really hope he could do right?”
He was so close, and the searing agony of the flames were real.
For what have we to hope for?
And he realized then that he was still yelling and the good doctor was changing and the winds were rushing and the grounds were shaking and the waves were crashing and the volcano was blowing and it all ended here.
“For what have we to hope for…” Panting, and he could not tell if it was him or the growing green body in front of him, and he looked into the face of this doctorkillerdestroyer “… when everything must always end?”
And the good doctor was no longer that, and last things he knew were the roar of the beast and the waves and the last things he felt were the burning of his body and the lava.
Pain.
Fire.
End.
- - -
Doctor Bruce Banner wakes to destruction, and knows the end as he stares down at the dead body laying beneath the rubble of the cave.
A sloshing sound and he realizes the cave had not collapsed on its own but with the entire cliff, and also knows then how he had fallen and how he had survived. He stands up in the water of the ocean to take in the sun. A plane-military and heading his way-comes out from the horizon to eclipse it, but Bruce still feels its light and warmth.
A glint to his left reflects the sun, and from a nearby rock he pulls free the wristwatch. Glass bites into his skin and draws blood, but Bruce focuses on how now the second hand, like the minute hand, has fallen off and how the hour hand rests on the black number three. It would not make much of a difference, for the watch appears truly broken now, and only tells the time of its death. That too does not matter much anymore, and Bruce drops the watch into the waves brushing against his legs.
He does not look back at the broken god, nor what remains of the last three hours.
He steps fully out of the water, naked but alive, and waits for the plane to land on the rocky shore, knowing that with its passengers a new life awaits.
He finds he feels guilt about the end but knows it is better than the one that could have been, and the memories that are not his lave at his skin like a cooling balm. He knows, just as he now knows many things, just who will be in that plane. He will not be heading back to India. As the whir of emergency sirens cut through the air and more people join him on the shore to escape the rapidly cooling lava, the doctor feels that he will be useful to them and that he can heal.
The plane lands, and the people who will become his family step out one by one, weapons drawn and itching to fight. Upon seeing the threat has gone, each one slowly and cautiously lowers their guard to approach Bruce.
They, too, are all ready to help and to heal even if they are meant to destroy. This thought comforts Bruce, and he knows then that it is not the end.
The waves rush against the shore, taking away sand and placing more in its place. Though Bruce does not stare at the granules beneath his feet, he knows that with each brush of the tide the ground below him changes.
He smiles a shy smile at the Avengers-for that is and in all realities will be their name-assembled before him, and sees them hesitantly give him one in turn.
Life.
Water.
Beginning.