Chapter 27 : THE BROTHERS' TALK
The gardens were quiet at evening.
Loki had escaped there after another exhausting day of briefings and training, seeking a moment of peace before the next cycle began. The palace gardens sprawled across multiple terraces—flowers that bloomed in impossible colors, trees that had been ancient when humanity was young, fountains that sang with water from realms beyond counting.
He'd found a bench near the Vanaheim dream-blossoms that Frigga had shown him during their first real conversation. The flowers shifted colors as he watched—blue to purple to something that had no name in any language he knew.
Footsteps interrupted his contemplation.
Thor approached with none of his usual thunder—no dramatic entrance, no booming voice, no hammer crackling with energy. He walked like a man uncertain of his welcome, each step carrying hesitation that seemed foreign to the god of thunder.
"Brother." Thor stopped a few feet away. "May I join you?"
Loki gestured to the bench beside him. "It's your garden as much as mine."
Thor sat. For a long moment, neither spoke. The fountains sang. The flowers shifted. The evening light painted everything in shades of gold and rose.
"We have not spoken," Thor finally said. "Truly spoken. Since my return."
"We've been busy."
"Have we?" Thor's voice carried an edge of frustration. "I have found myself busy with nothing. Father assigns me no duties. The Warriors train without me. Even Mother seems occupied with matters she won't discuss." He paused. "You, however, seem occupied with everything."
He's noticed the advisor position. Noticed that I'm receiving what he's being denied.
"Odin asked me to learn the political landscape. I'm learning it."
"While I sit idle."
"You nearly started a war a week ago, Thor. Perhaps some idle time is appropriate."
The words came out sharper than intended. Thor stiffened, and for a moment, the old dynamic threatened to reassert itself—the favored son bristling at his shadow's criticism.
Then something shifted.
"You're right." The admission cost Thor visibly. "I was reckless. Arrogant. I endangered the realm for my own pride." He turned to face Loki directly. "And you protected it in my absence. Father told me. You governed well. You defended my claim when others would have taken it."
"I did what was necessary."
"You did what I could not." Thor's voice dropped lower. "I expected... when Father told me you'd been regent, I expected to return to ruin. To schemes and manipulations and the throne positioned for your taking. Instead, I returned to find everything in order. Better than in order."
He's genuinely surprised. The original Loki would have confirmed every suspicion. I confounded them.
"What did you expect me to be, Thor?"
"What you always were. The trickster. The schemer. The brother who smiled while planning betrayal." Thor's hands clenched on his knees. "I have been a poor brother to you. Too absorbed in my own glory to see what you might become if anyone gave you the chance."
The words echoed something Loki had said to Odin, back when the All-Father was still sleeping. I never wanted the throne. I wanted to be seen as worthy of it.
"I never wanted to be your enemy."
"I know that now." Thor exhaled heavily. "When I faced the Destroyer—when I believed you'd sent it to kill me—I felt... betrayal. Anger. But also grief. Grief for the brother I thought I'd lost to shadows I should have helped dispel."
"I didn't send the Destroyer."
"So Heimdall testified. And I believe him." Thor's eyes met his—blue and earnest and carrying something that might have been hope. "But even if you had... even if everything I suspected was true... some part of it would have been my failure. I pushed you toward shadows by refusing to see you in the light."
He's apologizing. In his way, obliquely, through the lens of shared blame—but he's apologizing.
"We were both different then."
"We were." Thor reached into his cloak and produced a flask—silver, ornate, probably older than most human civilizations. "I believe I promised you a drink."
Loki almost laughed. The drinking challenge from the coronation day felt like a lifetime ago—Thor boasting about his tolerance while Volstagg matched him cup for cup.
"I remember."
Thor pulled the stopper and offered the flask. "Asgardian mead. The strong kind, not the diplomatic variety they serve at banquets."
Loki accepted the flask and took a cautious sip.
The liquid hit his throat like liquid fire wrapped in honey. His eyes watered. His sinuses burned. His stomach protested violently against an alcohol content that would kill most mortals.
He managed not to cough. Barely.
"It's... potent."
Thor laughed—genuine and surprised. "That's the face of someone who hasn't touched proper mead in years. Have you been drinking water like a mortal?"
"I've had other priorities."
"Clearly." Thor took the flask back and drank deeply, showing no visible effect. "Now. We drink. We talk. And you explain everything that happened while I was learning humility on Midgard."
Everything. Right.
Loki took another sip—smaller this time—and began speaking.
He told Thor about the council sessions. The political maneuvering. The challenges from advisors who saw opportunity in the crown prince's absence. He described defending Thor's claim, deflecting suggestions for "alternative arrangements," maintaining the succession that Thor had thrown away through recklessness.
Thor listened without interruption, his expression shifting through surprise, guilt, and something that might have been gratitude.
"You protected my throne while I knelt in the mud, unable to lift my own hammer."
"I protected the realm's stability. Your throne was part of that."
"Don't deflect with politics." Thor's voice carried intensity that the mead hadn't diminished. "You could have taken everything. Claimed the crown. Positioned yourself to never relinquish it. Instead, you..." He trailed off, searching for words. "You acted like a brother."
Because I want a brother. Because the loneliness of this borrowed life is worse than any throne could compensate.
"Perhaps I finally learned what that means."
"Perhaps you did." Thor raised the flask in a mock toast. "To changed brothers."
"To changed brothers."
They drank. The mead burned less the second time. Or third time. Loki was losing count.
"Tell me about Midgard," he said, surprising himself with the request. "About Jane Foster."
Thor's expression softened in a way that had nothing to do with alcohol. "She is... remarkable. Brilliant in ways I cannot comprehend. Fearless despite her mortality. She saw me when I had nothing—no power, no throne, no purpose—and she still..."
"Still what?"
"Still believed I could be more than what I was." Thor stared into the flask's opening like it contained secrets. "On Asgard, I was the golden prince. The favored son. Everyone believed in my greatness because they were supposed to. Jane believed in my potential because she saw something I didn't."
She saw the man you could become. Not the title you were born to.
"She sounds important."
"She is." Thor's voice carried conviction that transcended mere attraction. "When this is settled—when the realm is stable and Father trusts me again—I will return to her. I promised."
And eventually, you'll bring her here. And eventually, she'll have the Aether. And eventually...
Stop. That's years away. Focus on now.
"Father will trust you again," Loki said. "He trusted you enough to give you Mjolnir in the first place. Your failure on Jotunheim was a setback, not an ending."
"You sound certain."
"I am." He met Thor's eyes. "I've seen you become worthy, remember? Watched through Heimdall's sight as you faced death to protect mortals you'd known for days. That wasn't the arrogant prince who invaded Jotunheim. That was someone better."
Thor absorbed this. The mead made another circuit between them.
"The old Loki never would have said that."
"The old Loki is gone."
"So you keep saying." Thor studied him with an intensity that the alcohol couldn't dull. "But who replaced him? You speak of visions and changes, of revelations that remade you in a single night. Yet you never explain what those revelations contained."
Careful. This is the closest anyone's pushed.
"Some things are difficult to articulate."
"Try."
Loki considered his options. The truth was impossible—no one would believe in transmigration, in borrowed bodies, in souls from other universes. But partial truth might serve.
"I saw what I was becoming. The jealousy, the resentment, the desperate need for approval that twisted everything I touched. I saw it leading somewhere dark—somewhere I couldn't return from." He paused, choosing words carefully. "And I decided I would rather be a good man than a powerful one."
Thor was quiet for a long moment.
"On Midgard," he said finally, "I learned a similar lesson. That worthiness is not measured in strength but in sacrifice. That what we are willing to give up matters more than what we seek to gain." He placed his hand on Loki shoulder—a warrior's grip, firm and grounding. "Perhaps we both needed to fall before we could rise as better men."
Better men. It's a nice thought.
I hope it's true.
"Perhaps we did."
They drank until stars appeared overhead. Thor's laugh echoed across the garden—genuine and warm, free of the competitive edge that had always poisoned their interactions before. Loki found himself laughing too, surprising himself with the sincerity of it.
This is what I'm fighting for. Not survival. Connection. A family that actually functions. A brother who sees me as more than a shadow.
"We should do this again," Thor said as the flask finally emptied.
"Perhaps with less mead."
"Perhaps with more." Thor stood, swaying slightly. Even gods felt the effects of sustained drinking. "Thank you, brother. For the conversation. For the honesty. For—" He gestured vaguely at everything. "For being different."
"Thank you for noticing."
Thor clasped his arm—the warrior's farewell—and walked toward the palace. His steps were mostly steady. Mostly.
Loki remained on the bench, watching the flowers shift colors and feeling the pleasant warmth of mead mixing with something deeper in his chest.
This is real. This is possible. Brotherhood, family, connection—all of it, possible.
Now I just need to keep everyone alive long enough to enjoy it.
The stars wheeled overhead. Somewhere in the cosmos, Thanos continued his march toward the Infinity Stones. Somewhere in the palace, Frigga slept, unaware that her son was plotting to save her from a death she didn't know was coming.
And somewhere in Loki chest, the mana core pulsed cold and steady, growing stronger with each passing day.
Tomorrow. More training. More learning. More preparation.
Tonight, I'll just appreciate what I have.
He stood, swayed slightly himself, and headed for his chambers. The drinking had been real. The brotherhood had been real.
For the first time since waking in a god's body, both of those things felt like victories.
Note:
Please give good reviews and power stones itrings more people and more people means more chapters?
My Patreon is all about exploring 'What If' timelines, and you can get instant access to chapters far ahead of the public release.
Choose your journey:
Timeline Viewer ($6): Get 10 chapters of early access + 5 new chapters weekly.
Timeline Explorer ($9): Jump 15-20 chapters ahead of everyone.
Timeline Keeper ($15): Get Instant Access to chapters the moment I finish writing them. No more waiting.
Read the raw, unfiltered story as it unfolds. Your support makes this possible!
👉 Find it all at patreon.com/Whatif0