A/N: To avoid a little of the confusion that will undoubtedly crop up, any entry from the alternate!Loki's POV will be labelled “Loki Odinson”, with the original Loki's POV appearing under the heading of “Loki Laufeyson”. Likewise, the original Thor will be called “Thor Odinson (Donald Blake)”, with his counterpart being referred to simply as “Thor Odinson”

...Confused yet? Good, 'cause so am I...

Title: Through the looking glass, darkly

Status: WIP

Pairing(s): dark!Thor/Loki; also includes a few implications of Thor/Loki, as well as suggestions of other pairings

Film(s)/Spoilers: This fic begins at the end of the Avengers, immediately after Loki is caught; I also strongly advise that you watch Thor before reading this...

Rating: Nc-17

Warnings: The regular universe/plot will cross over with a slightly alternate universe, meaning that you will have both the regular characters, a dark!Thor, and a good(better?)!Loki. Other warnings include: consent issues, violence, somelanguage, and implications of mpreg (because Loki is, historically, a mother of monsters...)

Disclaimer: If I owned Marvel and its characters, Loki would've been in every scene. Seriously...
Previous chapter(s): ~*~Chapter 1~*~

Summary: The Chitauri are defeated and Loki is apprehended, but the brothers' journey home is cut short when the Bifrost of an alternate universe crosses over with their own, paving the way for not only an altruistic Loki but also a Thor of a darker disposition...

~*~/|\/|\/|\/|\/|\/|\~*~/|\/|\/|\/|\/|\(((Loki Odinson)))/|\/|\/|\/|\/|\~*~/|\/|\/|\/|\/|\~*~

The cold, sharp sensation of the wind whipping through his hair, rushing in his ears, stinging his eyes and face is all too familiar to him. This isn't the first time Thor has taken to the skies with his brother in arm, but Loki is not entirely fond of heights, not since the last time the God of Thunder let loose his grip several feet above the ground, so he clings to Thor as best he can and hopes that they haven't got far to go.

His prayers are answered sooner than he thinks as they slow to a sudden halt, his legs inevitably jarred against solid ground. No, not ground—Thor's settled them upon one of the Midgardian buildings, a large, ugly, rectangular thing that lacks the splendour of their home-world temples.

They're close enough to one side that Loki can lean over and gaze down at streets below: dull and grey and bleak, so unlike what he imagined when Odin spoke of Midgard's earlier days, when fields of beryl and gold stretched out unto the horizon and the towering firs of forests old canopied the sky. This...Loki doesn't know how to describe this. He feels a sharp pang of pity in the cradle of his heart and wonders why, if it is indeed true that the All-father protects all nine of Yggdrasil's realms, the mortals would've ever been allowed to fall into such neglect. Surely they are worth more than this. Surely they breathe the same air as he does now and choke on the poison that hangs heavy about their mouths...

A wave of nausea hits him then and he leans gingerly against the ledge. Either it is vertigo or disgust—he doesn't want to dwell upon it. Hopefully, his visit here will be brief.

“Loki...” Thor says, quietly; cautiously. He steps forward and reaches for Loki's hand, but Loki recoils with a sharp jerk, taking a calculated step back.

“Valhalla forbid, Thor, would it kill you to ask?”

Thor fumbles over his next words, looking all the world as though Loki's dealt him a direct blow to the face. “I...My apologies, brother.”

It's Loki's turn to be baffled now, because Thor has never apologized to anyone, least of all him. Taking in the long hair and the ceremonial armour—armour, he might add, that was to be gifted to Thor following his crowning—Loki hasn't the heart to continue fooling himself that this is the Thor he was sent to retrieve.

His stomach lurches at the thought, that his Thor is still at large somewhere, wandering freely across this vulnerable realm...

He takes a deep breath then and blocks out all sight and sound. His vision grows hazy; the roiling thunder softens to a dull thud; his skin tingles lightly but senses nothing, neither the gentle breeze against his face nor weight of his clothes on his back, until he lets loose the marrow of his soul and spreads it out across the world.

He can sense his Thor, but only by the muffled thrum of Mjölnir. Even so, he feels an odd sort of disorientation when he tries to pinpoint its location, as though Thor has finally grown wise to Loki's ways.

This Thor, however, is enveloped in an effulgence that tugs at the frayed ends of Loki's nerves until he has no choice but to centre his attention solely on him. This Thor's Mjölnir sings a song all its own, and, together with its master's glow, blinds Loki to all other life on earth.

All but one.

Somewhere, on the precipice of his cognisance, Loki can sense his other self, a silent vortex whirling off into the darkest recesses of the universe.

Slowly, but subtly, it is sucking Loki in...

“What has transpired here?” Loki asks upon returning to consciousness.

Thor opens his mouth, closes it promptly, and sighs...Licking his lips, he turns away from Loki and begins to pace. “Where do I begin?”

“With him,” Loki murmurs quietly, because he has never imagined it possible to feel such...such dissonance with one's own self. “With the one you call brother.”

Thor doesn't stop pacing, but he glances at Loki long enough for him to catch the glint of grief in his eyes. “He does not consider himself either kith or kin to the House of Odin. He is my brother before all eyes but his own...”

“Why?”

“Why?” Thor laughs, but it sounds more pained than cruel, so unlike Loki's true brother. “...It began as a bid to prove himself my equal and ended with an attempt to conquer Midgard. His mind has been poisoned, though how I cannot say...”

'Because you've always been superior to me,' Loki thinks bitterly, but he buries that thought before it has a chance to take root. Yes, Thor might be Asgard's one true champion, but Loki has always been loved—arguably, more so than his brother. Mischievous as he can be, his pranks can't compare to the blatant cruelty of the would-be king.

“As little as my word might mean to you,” Loki whispers, “I apologize.”

Thor halts and glances up at him again; the look he gives Loki now is almost enough to break his heart.

“I need to find your counterpart,” Loki says just as soon as he's certain his voice won't quaver. “I was charged by Odin to find him and return to Asgard immediately thereafter.”

“Why?”

“You...” Loki licks his lips, mind racing to find the right words. “He was banished, Thor...perhaps untimely so. His exile should not have transpired as it did. Regrettably, that is all that I am at liberty to say...”

“Sif and Fandral can confirm this?”

“Yes.”

“And if not?”

“Then confine me; send me back—whatever you deem fit.” Loki glances skyward at the brewing storm and wonders how much of it is guided by this man and how much of it by his real brother. “I have no quarrel with you. Truly. This is merely...a most unfortunate turn of events.”

Thor laughs a little under his breath, almost as though in disbelief, but then he turns and reaches out for a door, opening it wide to reveal a set of stairs. “Follow me and do not attempt to use your magic. Your counterpart is a considered a criminal here; the Midgardians would just as soon as persecute you as they would him.”

“Then I swear by the House of Odin that I shall keep from all intentional ill-doing and to obey, as best I can, the laws of this realm and any realm you may observe.”

Thor pauses; Loki knows he can feel it too, the way the fabric of this reality binds him to his word,. He hopes that it is enough—that there will be no further hostilities between them. Time is, after all, of the essence.

“Thank you,” Thor murmurs eventually; and then: “If it is within my ability to do so, I will help you search for your brother.”

Loki nods, then steps forward, eyeing the stairwell warily. “...Where is it you mean to take me?”

“A man the Midgardians refer to as 'Fury'. Ultimately, it is his decision as to whether or not you and your companions will be welcome here.”

'Of course,' he thinks, because there is really no contest when you pit a self-proclaimed god against any number of mortal men, and the Midgardians would be foolish to think otherwise.

Sympathetic, though no less convinced that these people can offer him help, he glides past Thor and descends the first flight of stairs in silence, his brother's counterpart in toe. He can only hope that this Fury will see fit to leave him and his companions alone to their business, or, at the very least, not hinder him if he thinks they should be supervised task.

Somehow, though, Loki doesn't imagine that this is likely to be case...

~*~/|\/|\/|\/|\/|\/|\~*~/|\/|\/|\/|\/|\(((Thor Odinson)))/|\/|\/|\/|\/|\~*~/|\/|\/|\/|\/|\~*~

Seidhr has never been his strong suit.

Even so, the pendant Thor liberated from Loki's chambers nearly a decade ago serves any man, and he, the God of Thunder, is no exception. He doesn't understands its inner workings, only that Loki crafted it lovingly in his youth before he learned to manage the spell himself, and that perhaps he has years yet before Loki discovers it missing. Thor has, after all, only ever used it in secret.

Both Mjölnir and the pendant are the only weapons he has at hand when he descends upon Midgard, his fall hindered only by the fact that his fingers find purchase on the handle of his hammer mere feet above the ground. The wind whips around him upon impact, the ground shuddering at his touch, but no visual mark is made otherwise of his arrival.

He is there for only the briefest of moments, kneeling in the cool grass, his father's jeremiad still ringing in his ears when he feels it: a subtle tug at the core of his being connecting him back to the warm glow of Asgard. It is not drawing him in, per say, but he feels as though the gates of his homeland have been thrown wide open, Odin's cold, hard stare falling heavily, once more, upon him.

He reaches beneath the collar of his tunic impulsively and grasps the pendant tightly in his fist, distancing himself from the point of his arrival mere seconds before an image of Loki manifests before his very eyes. His brother doesn't move initially, seemingly dazed, until Fandral and Sif appear at his side. Then his gaze tracks the horizon cautiously, gliding over Thor as he surveys his surroundings...

Thor very nearly laughs. He wants to—can feel it bubbling up inside his chest, in fact, because if Loki, God of Mischief, sorcerer son of the House of Odin, can't hope to find his brother where he stands now, then Thor has just been afforded an odd sort of freedom he couldn't hope to find anywhere else within the nine realms.

He bows his head then to the heavens, sending the Norn's a silent prayer of thanks, before beginning his retreat by foot. He will return to Asgard, of course, to take back that which is rightfully his, but until then he will enjoy his new found freedom as best he can.

He isn't expecting the storm though, neither the faint rumble of thunder in the distance nor the sudden gust of wind. He turns his gaze skyward, mystified, not entirely certain whether Loki has somehow managed to master the elements as he has or if this phenomena is a common occurrence on Midgard.

A figure descends from the evening sky, clad in red, fire dancing at his fingertips, but does no more than hover when he discovers the trio. The next to follow is a peculiar beast with rigid wings, proceeding no further than the first, but as a flash of lightning illuminates the sky there is no mistaking the man that glides over the field like a raptor after its prey, who grabs Loki with practised ease and, together with his brother, tumbles heavily to the ground.

Thor is far enough away now that he can avoid the battle entirely if he so chooses, but he is insulted by this imposter; wonders what he means by this attack.

The battle is over though almost as soon as it begins. He approaches his brother and the men surrounding him, recognizing Fandral at once but not the warrior opposing him, but by then they have seemed to have reached an agreement and Thor is ready to reach out and grab Loki, maybe put an end to this nonsense; perhaps even wake to realize this is all some sort of drea—

“—slipped between the fabric of two realities...” Loki murmurs. He looks tense—tense in the way Thor usually makes him whenever he walks into the room; lingers too closely; takes him in hand rougher than Loki is expecting—but then an odd sort of peace passes over his expression, and Thor wonders when last he has ever seen Loki to be that relieved. “I suppose it's possible, then, that there exists another Thor Odinson, and that that counterpart could be you.”

Thor pauses, only an arm's-length away from Loki. He glances up at the other...Thor and wonders why the man hesitates in his answer, why he simply doesn't reach out for what is his and bring this matter to an end with the righteous swing of his hammer.

But this Thor is adorned in the armour of a king. He does not attack. Even brushes off the annoying red demon that leans in close to mutter his opinion instead of demanding absolute silence, as though he has lost some of the mettle that had once made him great.

Thor looks back to Loki, sees the war waging in his eyes; Loki is pleased with what he sees, but is unsure whether or not he should truly trust this man.

Thor shouldn't be made jealous by this revelation, but he can't help but wonder who Loki would rather call brother if he had to choose between the evil he knew now and this snivelling excuse of an Asgardian.

He isn't given long to dwell upon that thought. Just as it occurs to him to reach out again, this stranger steps forward to grab his brother about the waist before ascending into the heavens. Thor takes chase; follows them over the vast city of these little people before landing on a nearby building, where he crouches silently and waits.

Almost immediately, he can feel that persistent tug again, so cool and inviting, like the first real blush of spring, but then he feels a heavy weight against his chest, gradually growing warmer, until the pendant is burning him through his armour like a red, hot seed of Helheim fresh from the fires of its plains. He flinches instinctively and reaches up to take it in hand, but by then the moment has passed. Thor's gaze falls on Loki and it is then he realizes that his brother's attention has settled entirely now on him...

Who is he, Thor wonders, this great pretender; this would-be king; this...this other self. He doesn't understand his brother's notion of two realities intertwined, of nine realms lying upon another layer of nine realms, like an almost-perfect reflection of Yggdrasil on the water's surface. If such a thing were possible, how then have these two halves never met before? Surely, then, this must be some ploy to ensnare him—or possibly a waking dream, devised by the All-father and implemented by his brother to punish Thor where he can be a threat to no one but himself?

He moves closer to the edge; watches Loki flinch away from the imposter before he can compose himself again. Thor can't help but wonder why Loki ever gave chase; why, when he knows that Loki has prayed for his untimely demise, he would come all this way to search for him. Or is it merely because of Mjölnir? Is Thor to be stripped entirely of his power, to be left wandering the nine realms under mortal terms, exposed to all enemies and ailments this world might have to offer? Does Odin merely want to punish him, or has Thor been sent here to suffer a natural death, tucked safely into some obscure corner of the universe where no one will ever find either hide or hair of the truth?

No...No, he thinks, because Odin is not without his wisdom and Loki is never without his wit. Thor's untimely demise so close to Odin's surrender to sleep would be an open invitation to all of Asgard's enemies. They need the Mighty Thor and they need his heir; until then, Thor is safe from their wicked games. This banishment, then, must only be a temporary arrangement.

Thor watches them converse quietly from his perch, but does not pursue them when they disappear into the building. He knows where they are; knows too that they will certainly be searching for him. For now, then, he can rest.

Relieved, he sinks to his knees atop the building and leans back against the ledge, mind whirling as he wonders how one might sneak back into Asgard undetected and without the aid of Heimdall. Surely, it can't be impossible, not with how Loki appeared discretely upon that island with both Sif and Fandral at hand.

It is only because he has settled himself down to rest that he feels it—something other than Loki tugging at his mind. It's in there, with his brother, though he can't quite explain how he knows, only that he understands the invitation for what it is, not quite threatening or overbearing, but alluring all the same...

Thor sits there and thinks. Then he looks down upon Mjölnir where it rests heavily in the palm of his hand and wanders what sort of enemies and allies he can hope to make in this backward universe of theirs. Certainly, there are many of both to be had.

Sighing, he closes his eyes.

And then he listens...

~*~/|\/|\/|\/|\/|\/|\~*~/|\/|\/|\/|\/|\/|\/|\/|\/|\/|\~*~/|\/|\/|\/|\/|\~*~

A/N:...Meh. Blah-ending is blah, no?

In any case, thank you for the many wonderful reviews! If you see any odd sentences or glaring grammar mistakes, feel free to give me a kick. Otherwise, just sick back and enjoy, 'cause this ride is about to get a little bumpy... ;D

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