Be Wary of Strangers, Part 4

Vampire: Loki/Thor x Reader
Part Four

As he opens the door, Loki feels a pang of guilt. “She’s just another mortal,” he mutters to himself. “I do not envy her task.”
Loki steps into the unlit room. Pillars and alcoves seem to make up the entirety, forming a loose sort of maze. He navigates it easily despite the bones—small, most likely having belonged to rodents—unlit candles, and shattered wood planks littering the floor. “Must you make such a mess, brother?” he calls to the shadows.
The sharp hiss of chains scraping against stone send chills up Loki’s spine. 
“I know you’re here.” His brother’s voice—unusually sinister and predatory—hums through the darkness. “I can smell blood. So warm, so sweet.” Silence drags as surely as the chains had.
“A real treat to eat?” Loki eventually says. He forces a small smile. “You sound almost on the verge of poetry.” He emerges from the odd maze to a raised platform. On the platform is a large coffin, re-purposed as a bed. It used to have four posts; they are missing, likely the result of an outburst of temper. 
He lights a sconce set into the wall above the bed. Twisted blue and red sheets cover it, and the pillows lay haphazardly about. Loki sighs.  “I have supper.” He tosses the small black case. It lands just inside the lantern light with a clatter. 
Another drag of chains, and Thor emerges from the shadows. His clothes are tattered and punctured. His nails are long and sharp, his mid-length hair scraggly and unkempt. Fresh wounds, as if from claws, ooze from his chest. Old blood crusts one of his eyes and numerous areas of his body. His good eye, normally a brilliant blue, is saturated with red from the iris outward.
“You’re looking better,” Loki says.
Thor’s mouth twists in something between a gasp and a smile. Without a word or a glance at his brother, he lunges towards the black case. He tears it open, and scrabbles with the metal lid to one of the canisters of blood.
Loki waits, knowing any help offered will be ignored or reviled. He tries to keep his breathing even, his face impassive, as he watches Thor.
Thor growls at the canister. He squeezes the glass, which begins to crack. The runes etched into Thor’s chains glow. With a weak whimper, Thor sinks to the ground.
Loki moves forward. He carefully unscrews several canisters, leaving them upright, then returns to the platform.
Thor blinks and slowly rises. When he spots the opened containers, he howls in joy and sets upon them.
Loki’s face twists in disgust at the bloody display. It twists still further at his thoughts: I’ve done this to him. This is my fault.
“Are you finished?” he asks.
Thor is leaning against one of the pillars, head lolling back in apparent ecstasy. “Hmm?” He blinks slowly and lifts his head. His single eyes loses some of its red and focuses on Loki. “Brother.” He sounds unsure if he should be saying it like a curse or an exclamation of joy. After looking down at the mess on him and the floor, he says it like a curse.
“Yes, hello,” Loki says with a sigh. He descends from the platform and stands beside Thor. “I’ve found a caretaker for you.” He begins to kneel.
Thor’s eye glows red, and he lunges at Loki’s neck. Instead of finding flesh, his teeth clack against an invisible shield. He shakes his head. “What…? Did I…”
Loki straightens and nods.
Thor slumps against the wall. “I’m sorry.”
“He said you could grow beyond the curse.”
“Who?”
“The one who turned you.”
Thor grimaces, and he laughs slightly. “And you would believe someone who could give such a curse.” He looks as if he’s remembering something. Sounding slightly panicked, he says, “The others. The others you brought before, you said they would be caretakers. They’re gone, aren’t they?”
“No, they’re fine. I managed to separate you before they were drained completely, and returned them to their villages.”
Thor observes him for a minute. “You’re lying.”
“Fine, don’t believe me.” Loki puts up his hands. “I thought that, perhaps, with both fresh and donated blood, you would do better.”
“They’re dead. I killed them. The blood of three innocents and who knows how many more—” Whatever composure Thor has breaks. He leaps to his feet gesticulates wildly as he speaks. “I would have given you a proper warrior’s funeral! A pyre, a boat, anything to—mother—father—” He breaks down and wails. Jerkily, he reaches out and grips Loki’s jacket, hefting him in the air. “Why did you do this to me?!”
Loki wraps his steady, clean hands around Thor’s shaking and blood-stained ones. “Because I need you!”
“But at what cost?!” Thor presses Loki against one of the pillars, still shaking. “I can feel it, this, this, thing inside. This curse. It’s eating me alive. Or, or is it dead? I’m dead, and it’s still eating me…” He trails off and his grip grows slack. Loki’s feet touch the floor.
Hurriedly, Loki pulls away. “It’s keeping you alive. You, apparently, want to stay dead.”
“Yes! That’s it. I died. Why couldn’t you leave me alone?” Thor stares gloomily at his untrimmed nails. “But I can’t give in. Not when this beast inside wishes to…oh.” He glances up, and for a moment almost all red is absent from his eye. “I wonder if this is how…what was his name? I’m having a hard time remembering things…”
“The vampire said mentioning past events would run you into a frenzy. I’d rather not.”
“But he might be able to help! Gah, I think this forgetfulness would drive me mad before the remembering!”
Loki puts a protective ward around himself and readies an offensive spell. “Are you certain?”
“Aye!”
Loki stares hard at his brother. “You’re positive?”
Exasperated, Thor growls, “Yes.”
“Banner.”
Thor’s eye flashes. He cries out in pain and collapses, holding his head. “K-keep go-going,” he gasps. “I shall best this…best this yet!” After another scream, he loses all semblance of sanity. Fangs bared, he launches himself at Loki.
Under his breath, Loki mutters, "This is going to be a long night."