Hidden Troubles

13 | Emeralds Akin

Thor spent the first week of his return to Midgard constantly watching over his younger brother. But rather than his protector, he felt more like a witness. A witness, a bystander to his younger brother's deterioration. The broken god looked impossibly worse—somehow thinner than before; his face taking on a sickly yellow pallor at the beginning of each day, and then fading to a stark white by the end.

The son of Odin was at a loss at what to do; he'd tried getting Loki to eat but his younger brother seemed so distressed at the sight of the soup Thor bought that he couldn't bring himself to try again. He wondered how long it had been since his brother had last eaten anything. Anything other than the strong caffeinated drink he showed a love for and the small sips of water he rarely ever had.

Loki spent all his time sleeping—and if he wasn't doing that he would find himself regurgitating blood and dry heaving into the toilet. Of course, Thor didn't know this—despite the trickster's mental exhaustion he still had his old talents of sneaking around and avoiding attention. He'd memorised Thor's rough schedule, allowing him to hide the more serious effects of his declining health from his overprotective brother.

His thoughts had descended into a sort of comforting insanity. The voice persisted still, constantly reminding him of how fat he must be, how lazy he was, and Loki couldn't be bothered to argue against the voice. He was too tired. Tired of being tired. Tired of the torturous thoughts, the never ending pain, the absence of his former greatness and power. The voice could say whatever it wanted; as far as Loki was concerned it had won. He would be more submissive to it than he had been with the Mad Titan. And the voice wasn't even real.

However, no matter how inconspicuous Loki tried to be, his false facade of better health would've been discovered anyway. And it was. During the second week of Thor's return, Natasha found herself walking through the Asgardians' floor whilst the others were eating lunch. She'd just returned from a simple two day mission—a mission far too easy for the likes of her, but it showcased her varied skill set greatly. A short, revealing dress and a small act of flattery was all it took for her to capture the corrupt weapons dealer and hand him over to SHIELD. Men like him were just too easy to play.

She'd just passed Loki's door when a sound of violent retching came to her ears. Natasha pressed her ear to the door, in time to catch another painful retch.

"Loki?" Natasha pushed the door open slightly. Part of Loki's punishment was that he could never have the door of his room locked—shut yes, to allow the god the right to privacy, but never locked. His room was conjoined to Thor's and an ensuite bathroom, but it was the link to Thor's quarters that had pacified the Avengers at first. Natasha was starting to see another handy use for the "no locking Loki's door" rule; to ensure his safety as well as theirs.

"Loki?" She said again. She received only the sound of another dry-heave in return, and the sound was all it took for her to burst into his room and head right towards the ensuite.

"Loki, let me in! Please I can hear you—I need to make sure you're ok." A small click later and Natasha opened the bathroom door cautiously. The sight she was greeted with horrified her. Loki, leaning heavily on the toilet near the door, collapsed onto the floor. Blood covered his lips, a small drop racing another all the way to his chin. His eyes were red and heavy. And tired. Tired as though he were Atlas, as though he had been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for too long and he wanted to give up. Just too heart-breakingly tired.

"Loki, stay awake. Loki!" Natasha quickly cupped some water from the tap in her hand and washed his face with it. His eyes flickered open only slightly, but Natasha grasped at the thin thread he'd thrown her.

"Loki, look at me. Look at me, come on. What colour are my eyes? Tell me what colour?"

"Pretty...pretty eyes." Natasha almost laughed. Ever the charmer.

"Tell me the colour, Loki. What colour?"

"Green. Like me." He sounded deliriously childish, words slurred with exhaustion.

"Describe them to me." Natasha wiped away the blood on his lips gently before calling JARVIS to summon the other Avengers.

"Like emeralds...shining emeralds..."

Natasha's heart broke as he fell silent, finally giving into the blanket of darkness that must've been awaiting him. This god once had the power to manipulate words like she could men, could wield words so they hurt more than the sharpest knife or even the most painful betrayal. And now he was just broken beyond belief, forced into silence by whatever ailment he was suffering from. She never thought she'd be feeling something close to pity for the god of mischief.

But what hurt more was how much she wanted to see his eyes again. His eyes were green also. A washed out green, as though he'd cried too many times and the colour ran. That churning, passionate green ocean turned to during a storm. Interwoven shades concealing the chaotic nature beneath. She could almost imagine how those eyes must have once been; a glimmering color of emerald, sparkling with youthful mischief like a fresh sheen of morning dew.

When the other Avengers finally arrived, Natasha couldn't explain the suffocating tightness in her chest, nor the stray tear lingering on her cheek.