Doctor Who/Norse Myth crossover ficlet

[icarus_chained]

Last one of the night. Again, for a prompt on comment_fic. The theme agrees with me, yes? *smiles faintly*

Title: Bloodied Goblins
Rating: R
Fandoms: Doctor Who, Norse Mythology
Characters/Pairings: The Doctor (Eleven), Loki
Summary: “There was a goblin,” the god said, with that tiny, cracked smile of his. “Wasn’t that it? A trickster, a warrior, soaked in blood. Wasn’t that what you said?”
Wordcount: 500
Warnings/Notes: Eleven, allusions to the Pandorica, and a Loki bound, awaiting Ragnarok. Consequently, not the lightest of conversations. Breakers of worlds, blood-soaked tricksters, and the challenges they lay between them
Disclaimer: Not mine

Bloodied Goblins

“There was a goblin,” the god said, with that tiny, cracked smile of his. “Wasn’t that it? A trickster, a warrior, soaked in blood. Wasn’t that what you said?”

“Shut up,” the wizard said, but quietly, almost gently. “Shut up,” the Doctor said, and bathed the venom-scarred cheeks carefully.

“You should have guessed,” the jotunn whispered, in his chains beneath the earth. Bound before the threat of Ragnarok. But not forever. No, no. Not forever.

There is no prison, in all the universe, that may hold a goblin, a trickster, forever.

“Yes,” the alien admitted. Shrugging ruefully. “Maybe I did. Maybe, a little bit, I did.”

Loki laughed. Low and rough, from a throat ragged from screaming. Breaker of worlds, lying in wait of fire and the world’s ending. His cheek cupped in the hand of a being who had already seen it. A hundred, a thousand times over. Fire-scarred, bringing solace to the bringer of fire.

“Why do you come to me?” the god asked, soft and amused. “Do you see a mirror, here? Or an enemy?” A grin, black and glittering. “Or both?”

The Doctor looked at him. Long and thoughtful, distant and alien. Utterly familiar.

“I see a past,” he said, at last. “And a future.” He smiled, a little, soft and bleak. “I see a goblin, a blood-soaked trickster, caged.” A tilt of his head, a whisper. “I want to free you, sometimes. I want to see a fire set by someone else, a different goblin, one who is not me.”

Loki looked up at him. Leaned up in his bonds to press his cheek closer into hands that had destroyed worlds with one, gentle, push. “Will you kill me?” he asked, gently. “All of us? Every goblin in the world, until there are none left but you?” He laughed, soft and bleeding.

“I want to,” the Doctor whispered. His hand trembling about Loki’s cheek, one small, gentle push from ruin. “I want to.”

Loki laughed, rich and vicious and pained, chained tortured beneath the earth. “Then do,” he snarled, light, savage, compassionate. “Do it, destroy it, all of it. Kill us, one by one, all at once. Set the world ablaze.” That grin, that shining smile. “Ragnarok after Ragnarok. The goblin soaked in the blood of a billion worlds. Until there is nothing left. Do it.”

And for a moment … For one, long moment, while the shadows drew near, and futures clustered close, and the mirrors spun endless potential about them … For one moment, the Doctor’s expression darkened, and the Doctor’s hand tightened, denting a scarred cheek, and, for one moment, Ragnarok, in truth, beckoned.

Then, with a wrench, with a sigh, with a desperate closing of his eyes, the Doctor released his grip, and smoothed away the marks he’d made, the pain he’d caused, and whispered, soft and sad:

“I can’t. I’m so sorry. I can’t.”

And Loki, mouth twisting darkly, turned his face away.