His eyes went wide, and then he blanched, taking off at a run. He had not felt this way in an age. For so long had there been rage and betrayal and anger, that to feel now only fear and. . .empty hopelessness. . .was strange. His raven-black hair whipped around him, and he glided twenty feet across the rubble and broken glass on his clawing hands and sliding knees, the noise of his armor colliding with concrete a dull hiss and scrap of metal and Asgardian leather—for he still had his old battle armor, though time had worn it down and the gold was no longer so bright as when it had been new.

He had not felt so childish as he now felt since his first battle on Alfheim.

The leather strap of his right bracer broke with a snap as he scratched his way over a small pile of concrete and metal re-bar debris which had fallen in front of him just before he could reach his desired destination.

He was unaware of the yell of anguish and frustration that strafed his lungs as he hurled a set of daggers at a unit of Chitauri soldiers, felling them without bothering to give the dying creatures a second glance. Then, finally, finally, he stumbled to a crouch beside the foolish oaf whom he l—He lo—

His whole being shook with the weight of repressing his grief as he extended his pale hands and then held them immobile in the air, fingertips trembling.

His vision was clear as the diamond's on a necklace Mother had received from Father—Father, oh Father, how good it felt to put the resentment behind him, but now that it was too late!—on the anniversary of their marriage. He could see everything so vividly, so luridly, that it ached. The split, broken girder rising up like a twisted spire from Thor's middle, the shuddering of the Thunderer's chest as he struggled to inhale a simple gasp of air. And as he took in all the blood he felt frustration and helplessness rising, and rage—rage against himself.

"Oh, you stupid, brutish—And why did you think you could do this without my help? The Other is no match for someone so simple-minded—!"

His fingers trembled terribly as he pressed them down against flesh and blood and bone; as he struggled to use his seidr to free his brother from the mangled piece of metal pinning him to the unyielding, grey Midgardian earth. What gift was seidr now? When he could not even heal with it. He snarled low in his throat as the twisted debris came free of Thor and the blond god groaned in agony. He hurled it and watched to see where it would fall. It sent two Chitauri robots crashing. He bared his teeth in wolfish pleasure.

And then Thor moaned and he looked back to the Asgardian who had been his brother and his leader and his dearest friend for so long—longer than he cared to remember, but knew bitterly in his heart despite all that had come between them.

"Thor, Thor, do not do this to me now, not now— Father will need someone to be proud of, and that is not me," he ended his miserable rant pathetically, carefully drawing the blond, blood-stained god nearer him.

Thor smiled up at him faintly, despite the blood oozing from him at an awful pace.

"You never saw. . .but he was proud of your talent also. . .brother."

"Don't lie to me, you haven't the gift," he spat in return, attempting to sound mordant but falling bitterly short.

"Always so unforgiving. . .Mother said. . ." Thor moaned, panting like a dying dog, and it caused his heart to race like a war-stallion crazed by the field of battle.

He grabbed at Thor's cape, at his armor, at his shoulders, drawing him closer, as he remembered the Thunderer doing to him on a far different plain of battle not so very long ago.

"Do not leave me yet, brother," he rasped, his voice failing him when he yearned for it most.

Thor turned on him another sun-bursting smile, and he felt tears sting his eyes as he smiled back weakly. Sentiment, what was gained by it? Love, companionship, a welcoming hearth on cold and friendless nights. . . His heart ached with a nameless yearning, and he knew what it was to be broken twofold.

"Mother told me. . .you observe most keenly. . .all. . .but yourself. . .I do not think so. . .It seems. . .in my mind…that you observe first yourself in bitter light, and then others in a better. . .I. . ." Thor coughed and panted sharply, and his heart burned that there was naught he could do but be near him and offer such paltry company.

"You are a fool to have attempted battling the Other," was all he could find words to speak, and they came out with such a feral rasp in his tone that he snarled at his own weakness.

"Perhaps. . .but you make a better one. . ." Thor smiled with gentle teasing, and then laid a steady hand against his cheek, thick fingers tangling in his raven hair. "I go to see Mother, Loki. I will wait for you with her at my side. . .do not fail our love."

He crouched over the blond god and watched the light fade and die in Thor's brilliant sapphire eyes; waited until his brother's face took on Death's pallor, and then he shuddered. He looked upwards at the bright blue sky, cloudless and open despite the demons that raced through it and the monster who stood at the edge of a glowing portal leading his armies onward to crush Midgard and all the rebellious—wonderfully, delightfully rebellious—people who lived in this realm.

Loki smiled savagely, laughter and mockery gone from his face; manic desire sparking in his emerald eyes. He stood, and blood from Thor's fingers smeared down the side of his face, and he thrilled in it.

"THANOS!" he screamed over the sounds of war, and his voice echoed like a blast from Gungnir between the towering buildings of New York—why always was it this overly-inhabited city that higher beings invaded first?

"Thanos, I am Loki Odinson, of Asgard, and you say you court Death?" He bared his teeth as the Mad Titan turned his hard, glittering eyes on him and smiled. "Then I shall bring you to her!" He leapt nimbly down off the broken slab of asphalt upon which he had been standing, and his eyes sparkled with madness as he called his seidr to him.

I did not do it for him, or mother; I did it because you are my brother whom I love, and I cannot let you go alone into the unknown.

Nor will I let you die in vain.

A/N:

It appears my eagerness for Avengers: Infinity War caused me to write this.

I'm excited because we have no idea who's going to live and who's going to die. I have no idea if Thor will live or not, but I definitely think that it'd be interesting if he died first and Loki saw him fall. I think that while Loki might strongly dislike Thor, he loves him too. I mean, Loki's a freaking master magician, he never had to accept Thor's terms of "revenge" against Malekith. He could've got out of Solitary and been like "See you later - NOT- sucker!" Only, he didn't. Which, no matter what Thor: Ragnarok brings us, makes me think Loki might hate Thor, but he also has a deeper part of himself that kind of likes the guy despite himself.

I think of it this way: When my siblings are fighting, they hate each other's very existence. But if you come and start trying to get them to knock it off, they suddenly form an alliance and begin fighting you. Then, once you back off, they return to screaming and ranting at one another. I think that's probably Loki's hate of Thor. He hates him, but when someone else starts coming and interrupting his hate-fest he's like "what the hell, dude?! Back off!"

Anyway, tell me what you think, if it was good, bad, too OOC. I live for reviews (even though I'm *coughs guiltily* supposed to be working on other fanfics right now. . . Also: yes, if I was to write more on this vignette, Loki would die. I've always thought he has a death wish. I mean, he's tried to commit suicide! (Technically twice, actually. Once at the end of Thor and then on Svartalfheim when that portal grenade thing implodes and he lets himself get sucked into it. Thor saves him, but he wasn't really fighting it.)

At any rate, happy reading!

WH