•Pulled on the Harp Strings•
(Thor/Loki Fan Fiction)
All Characters Property
of
Marvel™ Studios
Written by DaDreadedJester

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Welcome to my first ever fan-fiction!

After seeing Thor: The Dark World twice and watching Thor and The Avengers, religiously, I decided to regurgitate my suppressed Loki/Thor feels!

I kept picturing Loki playing the harp and that image made me happy inside! Also, after I started writing this, I listened to The Trial Of Loki (Thor: TDW OST) and - to my delight - discovered the lead melody is played by a harp! Fate, much?!

Anyways, enjoy, my darlings! X

•'Pulled on the Harp Strings'•

•Part One of Three•

Thor walked purposefully - well, normally, for him - down the eerie halls, which he called home. The tentative, amber-flamed candles lit his way politely, as if they knew exactly where is was headed.

As he approached his destination, he came into range of a rather peculiar, yet pleasant sound. The moderate tempo and delicate melody seemed to dance upon the surface of the shining, sapphire tiles.

It was music.

Thor had no doubts of whom it's maker was. At the thought, he grew slightly apprehensive, as he was drawing nearer and nearer to the to the ornate, wooden door.

The door to Loki's room.

The reverberation of his echoing footsteps died, gradually, as he quietened his walk and slowed his pace. As daintily as his physique would allow him, he paused to appreciate the purity of the notes; they fluttered as if melodic butterflies.

Thor inhaled, exhaled, wrapped his palm around the golden handle and opened the door.

Loki did not even acknowledge his brother. He remained committed to his instrument with his entirety; his skeletal fingers proving meticulously agile as they plucked the silken strings; caressing them, lovingly, as he customised the piece with the occasional glissando.

That harp was his pride and joy.

There were times Loki would pass hours upon hours, embracing the curves of grandiose, golden swirls; tied to the tune with such devotion, until his fingers bled.

This was one of those times.

Thor hadn't even seen him for three consecutive days, now. Loki had not eaten, bathed or even spoken, as far as he knew. Still, that form of behaviour was typical of his little brother. When fond of something, Loki would utterly saturate himself with it; he would live and breathe his passions, whether that was books, magic or music. 'Almost obsessive', Thor would ponder with concern.

The God of Thunder stepped forward, cautiously and then dared to converse with the porcelain prince:

"Loki, father insists you dine with us."

Silence.

"Loki, please; he is worried about you."

The younger God omitted an ironic snort; it was soft but still embroidered with bitter malice. He gave a sarcastic smirk, attention still fixated on the antique harp.

"Loki-"

"I'm not hungry."

Loki's voice was cool and calm; however, the undertones of ominous acidity in his words convinced Thor that it was foolish - and potentially hazardous - to persist any further.

Instead, Thor began to circle the sculptural scene of the prince and the harp, observing his brother with curiosity.

Loki appeared in a trance of unadulterated serenity. His piercing eyes swam with surpressed emotion, gazing solemnly into the abyss. All the while, his slim, spindly fingers continued to attend to his precious tune, as if the art of making music was merely subconscious to him. Thor sighed; why was the mind of his little brother always somewhere else?

Thor decided he would attempt to make conversation:

" 'Tis rather sombre, is it not?" He critiqued of the piece, gesturing towards the harp.

Loki sighed, wearily. "You forget that music is more than a mere soundtrack of which to consume alcoholic beverages, brother." Loki tried to conceal a smirk at his own cunning jibe, still refusing to submit to eye contact.

Thor clenched his fist, slightly, "I'm just saying you could put a bit of life into it-"

"No." Loki sighed, wistfully, as he began to recite his muse, "no, brother. Music has the ability to articulate such content of the soul, that even we - as Gods - cannot verbalise." He gave a romantic sigh, gazing dreamily at the harp.

Thor rolled his eyes with a slight smirk; Loki liked to think of himself as a philosopher. However, the smirk turned into a warm smile of sincerity, as he saw a feeling of content dominate his brother's pale countenance. Loki smiled, whimsically.

A rare event, indeed.

The raven-haired God paused momentarily and an eerie silence occupied the room. Loki then closed his eyes as he emersed himself in a rather tender but tragic concerto.

"Who's piece be this?" Asked Thor softly, not wanting to disturb his brother too severely.

"An original composition."

Thor widened his eyes, eyeing Loki, as if rather impressed. Sombre or not, the piece was beautiful.

"You play exceptionally, brother." Thor reached out to lay a warm hand upon Loki's skeletal shoulder, as a form of appraisal.

"Don't patronise me." He muttered, darkly. Thor pulled his hand away, in silence. He should've known any attempt to compliment Loki was futile. Then, again, sincerity had never been his brother's expertise... in any context.

"That was not my intention." Thor replied, as he turned to leave, admitting defeat.

"Thor?"

Loki's voice echoed in the sudden silence. The music had ceased. The call to him seemed sad and questioning, lined with the innocence of a mere child.

Thor turned back to find his brother staring at him, intently. His emerald eyes wide and expectant, sparkling in the candle-light, like precious diamonds. However, the diamonds seemed... liquefied. He mimicked his brother's gaze. It almost looked like he was cr-

"I'm sorry." Loki could speak with such tenderness, when he allowed himself. He swallowed and inhaled; his breath quivered, slightly.

"I thank you," he concluded, gently.

"Are you sure you will not join us?" Thor had to try once more, at least.

"No."

"But-"

"Thor, please." His eyes closed in an attempt to compose himself.

"But father-"

Loki plummeted upward from the stool in impulsive anger, clenching his fists, adopting a maniacal stance.

"I care not about father!"

His burst of rage tore the silence apart, like a rabid animal. He spat the last the last word with such venom that droplets of saliva projected from Loki's pale, pink lips.

"Then do you not care of mother? Of me?"

Thor's voice wavered with emotion... and Loki noticed. For he responded with a gaze of such apology and guilt, it would've broken the heart of a Frost Giant.

"Of course, brother." His voice so soft and sorrowful, as he stared with dismay into the ground.

Both God's heads snapped simultaneously towards the doorway, as a face peered cautiously behind the great, oak door:

"Apologies, sires but Odin wishes to speak with you Loki, at once. I think it's-"

The tentative voice of the quivering servant died away, as Loki threw him a murderous glare. His face then twisted into a foreboding sneer:

"Am I in trouble?"

"Sire, I must insist you accompany me. Your father requests-"

"Oh, well, if "All-father Odin's" tooting his trumpet, we mustn't dilly-dally, must we?" From an inexperienced ear, Loki's voice would seem genuine but Thor could detect the bitter taste of sarcasm, bubbling below the surface.

The obsequious servant nodded frantically - cowering, slightly, in Loki's presence - before shuffling awkwardly from the room.

"Sycophant." Loki hissed, sotto voce, into the servant's retreating back.

He appeared to smile - but what really was more of a leer - as he bounced playfully out of his room. Thor merely sighed, eyed the now- abandoned harp for one last time, turned on his heel and left the room.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
End of Chapter One! Hehe!

Hope you liked it! Please review! XD