It Began With Blood

Thor/Loki - chapter format - Loki persuades Thor to the dark side and he gets a lot more than he bargained for, the prompt said. I kind of twisted that, so Thor decides for himself, but it will follow the lines of that.

A/N: Eventually there will be a MASSIVE trigger warning list. For now it's tame, a bit of foreshadowing of what is to come.

EDIT: TRIGGER WARNINGS

Please have a care when reading. This story will eventually include the following themes. The list is tentative for now and most of these elements are not yet canon, but most of them will be. This is not to deter you from reading. This is a warning about upcoming events which might be offensive or harmful. PLEASE turn back now if you can not handle any of the following themes.

You have been warned.

Non-Con, Dub-Con

Suicide Attempt

Violence

Gore

Again, these themes are not yet part of the story, but most of them will be.

That said, read with caution.

It Began with Blood

The mortals are cute, thinking him restrained by some scraps of metal and links of chain.

The cuffs are cold and this does not bother Loki. The shackles are linked by chains so flimsy Loki must be careful in how he swings his arms when he walks, lest he break the clumsy clinking things. The muzzle serves not to hold his tongue. All it keeps Loki from doing is smiling about his bindings, for how utterly useless they truly are.

If Loki wanted to be free he would have long since cast aside the mortal's trinkets but he wears them still.

Let them think him confined. Let them think they know ways to shackle Loki's power.

His brother leads him to a clear space in the center of some clearing, a park with long stretches of planted false-field, trees constrained and trimmed to grow to the shapes mortals favor. The flowers scream for water and the grass moans for how it has been sheared short. Loki dims their voices as he walks ahead of Thor. Their cries are among so many that plague the open airs of Midgard and Loki will not hear them all lest his heart blacken entirely at ignoring every last one.

He wrenches himself from Thor's hold as they approach the dais, a clumsy circle of concrete meant probably for ceremonial purposes. How plain it is. Loki is insulted and quietly loathes the stones he steps on. Thor does not seek his arm again, knowing Loki will not attempt to escape. Not will all the Avengers gathered nearby and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents scattered about the park.

When the scientist (Thor's friend) returns the cube to his brother Loki lets his eyes flicker to the ground. He knows well they watch him. They have fought hard to earn this prize, the sight of a god cowed in defeat. He knows what they expect of him, that he will try for the cube or make some show with his brother before them, but more realistically that he will simply hang heavy with the weight of his defeat.

Loki knows what is expected of him. He will grant them this last privilege.

His brother does not waste words in parting with his mortal allies. He has done enough of that in the hours since Loki's recapture, making known his intentions: that he and Loki will return straight to Asgard, that he will see Loki before their (before his) Father, before he returns to tell of Loki's punishment and to fight alongside the Avengers once again. The Avengers linger close by, content to stand lax in comfortable clothes as Thor steps to stand facing his brother, the cube in its case between them.

In this moment Loki plays the part the mortals seek and his eyes dart up to cast about them. He sees their arrogant gazes and offers resentment, quiet malice, as much as he can muster in his gaze before Thor gestures with the cube set between them.

Loki's gaze falls to the cube. How strange, that he should suffer so much humiliation and such indignities, for so small an object.

Thor does not speak but Loki meets his eyes over the cube nonetheless.

The request is clear. Ever has it been Thor's way to be straightforward with what he wants.

Loki reaches out with a hand and takes the end of the cylinder.

Blue erupts around them and they disappear from the face of Midgard.

When the blue stops, they are not in Asgard.

They are not in any realm known to Loki, though it is also not a place unfamiliar to him. The demi-god finds himself in his shackles and his muzzle in a cave carved deep with runes. The walls are layered in carvings that reach the high ceilings and rove the edges of the floor. Rocks are ruined by symbols run too deep. Stone and slate alike are pierced by writings, long chains of command, and Loki finds his eyes wandering hurriedly over everything that there is to see. The cavern is large and not of a uniform shape. It has many corridors, each a different size, every last one overrun with runes and symbols in languages he knows and more he knows not. The floor is marred here and there but mostly just dusty from what must be long centuries of negligence. No one has been in these ancient chambers a long while.

There is nothing in the cavern save for the traces of fire, some echoing dampness from water or blood, stains of sacrifice and ritual but no tools exist in this place.

Loki cannot help the tremble of wonder that runs through him. He has been here but once before.

A noise calls Loki's attention. When he looks down, Thor is snapping the shackles on his ankles in his fingers.

Emerald eyes blink wildly at this. They are not in Asgard. Thor has lied to his precious mortals.

A wave of suspicion cresting with excitement fills Loki. His brother has not managed to surprise him in eons. Thor is a creature of habit and truth, predictable as the sun rising from the East every morning, yet he reaches up to pull away the metal links binding Loki's wrists to one another.

Loki dares not hope that his brother will free him entirely. Thor is not so dull as to think that Loki will thank him for this. There is much to be forgiven before Thor can hope that his brother will embrace him in fondness without using it as cover to stick a knife in his spine. His suspicions are confirmed when Thor catches his eye, sees his brother watching him work. The hard shine to his brother's blue eyes steals Loki's breath. There is the determination that Loki recognizes but something he does not know drives Thor as he crushes the metal cuffs at Loki's wrists. They fall apart in pieces. Loki expects a soft bruising to swell at his wrists after, a quick glance down reveals his concerns valid, blood already pooling in protest beneath the abused skin.

Then Thor stands to his full height before Loki. Loki raises a single slender brow and his eyes fall down, indicating his muzzle.

His brother's hands make quick work of the object, shattering it to pieces in an angry grip. The quick cracking of metal away from his face is little relief to Loki when Thor's hand slips past the destruction to cover Loki's mouth.

Quiet, Thor implores with stormy blue eyes.

Peace, Loki says with his, and nods to make sure Thor sees it. Whatever Thor has planned Loki will at least listen. He owes his brother this much for managing to surprise him. The way Thor's hand lingers over Loki's lips is a clear sign. Thor detested the muzzle when it was suggested, a mockery of Loki's punishment more than half a thousand years ago when his lips were sewn shut. He did not tell the mortals how futile it would be, that there was no technology to truly muzzle Loki's magics, but so great was the insult that Thor allowed them to think the muzzle would actually serve. There was satisfaction in Thor's eyes when the metal curled and groaned apart in his grip. The savage handling, so close to Loki's face, had caused him to start. Emerald eyes caught his brother's as the last bits and pieces of the insult fall away from the pale planes of the god's cheeks.

Thor's fingers are warm against his face, a silent request. Thor's eyes burn as his fingers slide from Loki's skin.

Peace, Loki's eyes say again, and he presses his lips into a thin line to show he will not speak. Thor nods this time. He has Loki's promise to stay silent. For what, Loki is eager to learn, and he stands without moving to let his brother play out his wordless appeal.

They stand in silence in that ancient place a long while. Thor's gaze is clouded. Loki is glad that his brother wears his heart plainly. It makes it all the easier to enjoy the warring emotions across his golden brother's face as Thor grapples with the last undone ends of his plans. He has won their freedom from Midgard and they are hidden from Asgard. Loki knows Heimdall cannot see them where they stand. The runes against the ceiling see to that. They are away from judging eyes and the sway of any other alliances they might hold. Here, in this secret and sacred place, they have only each other and all their long history between them.

Loki cocks his head slightly in the suggestion of amusement. Thor is not made for such thoughtfulness. The look of plotting suits him ill.

The thunderer finishes waging war across the planes of his mind and gives Loki his gaze plain. Their eyes hold a wordless conference, Loki looking and Thor looking, too. Loki for Thor's plot and Thor for Loki's reaction so far. The Liesmith holds his own counsel quiet before allowing a hint of approval to color his emerald eyes. They may yet take a turn Loki can find fault in but thus far Thor has impressed. If that is what Thor wants to see Loki will give him a glimpse, but just a glimpse. He must earn more.

The slight shining is enough, however, and Thor is caught between a smile and a grimace as he reaches for Loki's belt.

Loki lets his brother's hand slide along his hip to where his daggers lay hidden.

He keeps his wordless promise for silence as Thor drags out a single silver blade, its hilt too slender for his calloused palm. Loki's entire body is electric with anticipation.

Emerald eyes blow wide when Thor drags the dagger across his palm in an unmistakable gesture.

The cut is deep and diagonal across the flat of Thor's broad palm.

The cut is the beginning of a ritual that Loki knows from accounts rare and whispered.

The cut is a promise, a bond, and Loki knows that he is expected to draw the same shape in his own palm with that blade because that is how two men can become something more than themselves.

Blood splatters against the cavern floor. The dripping becomes a constant, a background to the hurried flood of thoughts in Loki's mind. Thor's own mind is made up. Loki knows this looking across the short distance between them as he stares into his brother's eyes. There is a bit of disbelief in his own, Loki knows this, too. And it only grows when Thor removes Mjolnir from his belt with his bloodied hand, gripping the hammer firmly, and setting the weapon on the floor between them with the handle at Loki's boots.

Loki's heart drums wild in his chest. This is not just the pact of a promise to be one, he realizes with a little reverence.

Thor is asking him to be his Blood Brother.

Loki eyes the dagger in Thor's hand with a new light in his eyes. What Thor is asking is the boldest request two separate souls can make. Loki has only ever heard of one pair truly succeeding along this path, has seen the damage wrecked upon the countless parties who tried it only to have it end in failure, has heard every warning against taking the dagger from his brother's palm and repeating his actions. The weight of the bond Thor is asking for is a weight Loki has never known. He wonders if he will be able to bear it, even for his brother, for whom he would hold up the weight of Yggdrasil and all the realms together.

Thor is asking him to be his other half. They are not soul mates. This would make them the next closest thing, barring becoming one entity.

There is a small pool by Mjolnir now. All his brother's blood against the rocks in the floor, dripping steadily from his palm. The dagger waits. Loki takes even breathes to quiet his mind and ease the thunder in his chest.

He has promised Thor his silence and now he understands why it had been sought. This way is better, he knows, though he cannot help the sting of resentment that comes with understanding. Words and tones and things left unsaid in the empty spaces between sentences would mar this request. Words are for Loki. They are his weapons and his defenses. They shield him and serve him and send many to ruin before him. Loki Liesmith, Wordsmith he is named, and aptly so. Thor has shown great insight in bidding Loki hold his tongue this day.

The bond of Blood Brothers is unbreakable. The familial bonds they share Loki could shatter, though it would take time. The brotherly bonds between them would take longer still, though the ends of them are frayed and worn already. Loki is not certain anything in the universe of his own reckoning or of any other's could truly break the bonds of love Thor finds them bound by. Loki is certain, that, should he take the knife from Thor's hand and cut his own, the bond they forge will connect them in certainty for eternity. It is one of few things in all existence which cannot be unmade once it is forged.

They would share everything. They would feel each other's pain, each other's pleasure, their sorrows and their joys, all their hurts and all their happiness.

They already share so much. Loki wonders if he can bear to share more because there is so little of him left to himself that his brother does not already know.

He has promised his silence but his eyes scream across the distance between them. Not 'why'. Reasons are irrelevant now. Thor has already cut himself open to Loki. The cut will not close until it is burned shut, by fire or by the blood of his brother's hand. It drains steadily onto the stones by their feet. The look on Thor's face does not shift as he bleeds. He will not draw back his hand. He will not take back his request.

Thor is asking a lot here. Loki should really take a little longer considering what his brother is demanding.

The puddle has expanded to a pool at their boots. Red are the rocks beneath Mjolnir.

Green eyes fall to the cut in Thor's hand. The split seeps red endlessly, the blood of his brother. The blood of a god.

It is wasted on the ancient stones, Loki thinks, or at least, it should not fall alone.

The dagger is plucked from Thor's outstretched hand by pale fingers.

Loki's eyes gleam with fire as he handles the weapon with incredible care.

His brother's expression is stone though there is a flicker, lightning flashing in Thor's eyes, when Loki finally pulls the blade against the skin of his palm.

A second stream of crimson starts.

Loki pulls his other hand to his belt and unsheathes his favorite dagger. It is laid with its handle towards Thor at his brother's boots, sinking a bit in the puddle of god's blood, in the exact fashion Mjolnir is placed before him. When Loki draws himself up again he sees the same tremor shaking his shoulders wracking through his brother. The only hint that Thor is also tingling with anticipation of the bond to come. Loki wonders if it shows in his face, lips pinched tight, how breathless he really is. It must. Thor's eyes crinkle at the corners, smiling though he does not. The two brothers allow more blood to run from the cuts in their hands. It falls over their weapons and their boots and the stone floor beneath them. They have only to join their hands at the seams of the cuts to be joined forever in this.

There are a handful of things Loki has at the tip of his silver tongue to say in a moment such as this. Things which cannot be said except falsely in any moment less intense. But his brother has had him promise to still and stow his tongue and so they reach out to each other in silence.

The only sound in the cave is that of their uneven breathing when the blood in their palms meet cupped between their joined hands.

There is no grand explosion of light, no sudden rush of magical flame as they complete the pact.

There is, however, a coil in the middle of Loki's stomach as he feels his magic sing beneath his skin. Something unwinds in Thor as well because his brother's mouth falls open in surprise. The line of their joined hands glows softly and they stare at it as they are flooded with something words fail to describe. It is strength. It is magic. It is love, bold and intimate and passionate and pure.

Loki knows himself and finds the invasion of Thor strangely welcome. The bond settles deep in his veins and in the vast valleys of his mind. His arms swell minutely and the pull of his lungs is made easier as he draws another uneven breath. He realizes that he is inheriting bits of his brother along the bond. Thor's strength in arms, his stamina. The warmth of a true Aesir. He wonders what Thor is inheriting but he suspects it is his magic and his resistance to cold. He feels a shudder take him as he is warmed from the palm up along his arm. Thor shudders, too, though from a sweeping chill, an icy creeping up along his arm.

Loki looks up and sees a flash of fear in Thor's gaze as they wonder the same thing. Can Jotun and Aesir be joined thusly? Loki curses his brother for not thinking of this important detail as the bond glows brighter in their clasped hands.

The bond swells and grows. It creeps, a physical light over their hands where they are joined, and pours over their wrists. The magic seems to take their races in stride and seeks to begin binding them at the bones. It sinks into their skin as it spreads. The pressure that comes with the light is odd, a distortion like being submerged in water or pulled along in deep space.

The light is slow to crawl over them completely. When it reaches Thor's neck, the golden god tenses, his grip nearly crushing his brother's hand. Loki finds that the pressure is not unbearable where before his fingers might have splintered from the pressure. Then the light reaches his own neck, and he is erased for an instant.

When he returns to himself he is not just Loki. His brother's beating heart thrums strong in his ears.

The glow is gone. Their hands drip but the flow is staunched between them.

Long do they stare at one another in wonder.

Eventually Loki unwinds his fingers from Thor's and turns over their palms to show the scars. Marked for life, marked even in death, two mirror images of the same cut. He traces the shape with his fingertips. It is a clean mark. It will always be. The dagger they used to draw it has sunk into the blood at their boots. The weapons on the stone floor are soaked on one side in deep crimson. The stains may never come out.

Thor's eyes seek his. Loki knows it before he looks up into his brother's gaze. He has always felt Thor's gaze on him before. Now it is as if he looks at himself, so well can he determine the weight of Thor's eyes on him. A spark of lust brushes the back of his throat and answers the question of what else Loki can feel of his brother's private wants.

He is delighted by the tiny revelation. That Thor has wanted what Loki wants.

He has no time to ask about it before Thor breaks their silence.

"Loki."

His name is wretched upon his brother's lips. The smile he offers his brother is incredibly unkind.

"Brother," Loki murmurs in reply, and then Thor is seeking his mouth, stepping forward and planting his boot in a puddle of their blood. The splash echoes in the silent cave. Thor kisses him like Loki will disappear out from under him. Loki kisses like Thor will cast him down and away. They grip at each other fiercely. The cave rocks for the passion eating at the ends of their grips, and Thor takes another step forward when Loki is pressed back. They walk backwards merged more than at the lips until they are at the cavern wall. Loki is pressed into the carvings of rune. Thor looses one of his arms from Loki's armor and braces them against the wall. Loki mirrors him, loosing his grip on Thor's cape and threading his fingers in his brother's golden mane. They share breath as they lean into the rock at Loki's back.

The cave is absent of dripping blood. Their quiet breathes fill its absence as they hold onto each other at the shoulders.

"I have you," Thor rumbles. Loki laughs.

"How long have you wanted to have me?" he snarks, but his brother forges forward, kissing the smirk off Loki's lips. The pressure is all warmth and possessiveness. Loki lets his brother claim his lips greedily, eager to have as much of Thor as he can. They need not fight over this. Loki's fingers grip firm in Thor's hair and he yanks back. Thor's mouth falls open and Loki seeks to fill the space between them with his tongue. The press of it against his brother's is the sweetest sin.

They war without words with their tongues caught between them. Loki lets Thor press him back into the wall and sighs for the firm grip at his shoulder and arm. His hands are busy holding his brother to him by his hair and his hip. Thor's mouth opens without prompting and Loki slips his tongue in again through the narrow parting of Thor's lips. His brother nudges their foreheads close. Loki feels his eyes flutter shut and lets Thor breathe into him.

"Long," Thor mouths into Loki's lips, "Longer than I can remember."

"You have made me wait a long time, then," Loki murmurs. "You must make up for time wasted."

His brother's hand is hot at his neck, his other still braced against the wall. Their mingling breath is hot and Loki can see the heat gathering at the thunderer's cheeks. But Thor holds them together at the forehead, his blue eyes storm-dark, and Loki already can tell that he will be made to wait longer still.

"I shall," Thor promises, "but first I would have your ear a while."

"I hope it shall not be a long while," Loki complains, but he allows Thor to slip back a bit and put some space between them, enough so they can breathe their own breath and not drown in the gravity of each other's lips. His brother draws a breath to mute the color building in his cheeks and fixes Loki with his gaze.

The demi-god is already wholly captivated. Thor allows for nothing less.

"Many are the wrongs I have done to you, brother," he begins. Loki is a little taken aback by the vein of his confession but he lets Thor speak uninterrupted. "Long shall I endeavor to recover what was lost between us. There is much I must try to make right. I would ask only to be given the chance to redeem myself. You said on Midgard that your slights were not imagined, I did not believe you. But I have seen the shadows to your eyes, the darkness which clings to you, and I know my words were spoken in haste and in boyish anger." Thor licks his lips quickly, as though his courage to say these things will fail him if he pauses a single instant. "You fell. We thought you lost, but I could have sought you. I could have looked. Heimdall does not see all, though there is little his gaze misses, but I know better now, that there are spaces between the stars his gaze skips. Had I any hint of your survival from the fall from the bridge there is no space I would not have looked for my brother."

"I failed you, Loki," Thor admits miserably, "and I beg your forgiveness for this."

"You shall have it," Loki assures him softly, "when I deem that it has been earned."

There is a shudder to his brother's shoulders and somehow Loki knows that he has said exactly what Thor expected him to. Loki longs to pull Thor back against him but he does not. His brother is not finished speaking.

"I let them shackle you," Thor rasps. It is nearly a whisper. "I let them put my brother in chains, like some animal. Like a beast."

"You shall be forgiven for that quicker if you kiss me again."

"Patience," Thor warns, his eyes flashing darkly, "You shall have my lips when they are finished making my piece heard."

"Then speak, thunderer," Loki hisses, rolling his shoulders back and exposing the pale of his neck enticingly, "and let me know plain your intent. I would have you beg of things other than forgiveness from me."

Thor snarls wordlessly and stares into Loki's eyes. For a moment Loki feels something like fear although it is twisted. The twist comes from the new bond they share, and Loki realizes that it feels different because he is not the only one feeling it. Thor is afraid, too.

"I lost you."

"I am here now," Loki breathes, barely audible. The cave sings with electricity ready to cackle. At any moment can the quiet be pierced by an explosion. Every breath may be the last pause before a sudden shift in atmosphere. Thor shares Loki's insight to this and chooses his words carefully, and it shows in how slow he next speaks.

"I would let everything burn, brother, for you. All the realms and Yggdrasil itself. I choose you over everything."

Loki cannot hear himself as he swallows.

"Over all the realms," Loki echoes, "and everything they hold?" Thor nods. "What of Midgard? What of your allies? What of your maiden there?"

"I choose you, bother," Thor repeats, and Loki bites back a groan at the sudden roll of lust this brings. He wonders how far Thor has thought to promise him.

"What of (our) your Father?" Loki asks, "What of the Warriors Three, and of Lady Sif? What of Asgard?"

"I still choose you," Thor says. There is no pain or pause in this admittance. Loki finds it steals his breath.

"I choose you, Loki. I refuse to let you fall. I will not let you go." His hands are already in a vice-grip around Loki. His gaze is a heavier weight to be under, though the pressure at his wrists may be enough to break his bones. "I am yours, brother, and now you are mine. We are each other's, through this. Let me make up for my transgressions past. Let me seek forgiveness from you for letting you fall." The golden god, son of the All-Father, great thunder-bringer and storm-summoner Thor, burned into Loki with the intensity of his gaze.

"I will follow you, whatever path you take. I shall step beside you into Valhalla or forge us a path at the gates of Hel. You need not fear loneliness now. I have you, and you have me."

He took Loki's hand and looked into his palm. The cut was healed along his palm but the scar remained. Thor pressed his lips down into it.

Loki leaned his head back into the wall of the cavern.

By blood was it begun.

By nothing ever would it be undone.

A grin split his face.

"I am hungry," he said suddenly, unable to keep the delight from his eyes as Thor swelled with anticipation before him, "and long have I been away from Indunn's orchards. Let us pay her a visit, brother, and sate both our hungers." He slipped his hand from Thor's hair to his waist and pulled them flush against the cave wall. "Then perhaps I shall let you seek the forgiveness which starves you so."

They parted only to retrieve their blood soaked weapons from the stone cold floor. The puddle remained long after they vanished from the cave.

A/N: FIN part 1 aka the prologue. This turned much longer than planned incredibly quick. Fuck.