Notes: So I decided I preferred the idea of shorter chapters and more consistent updates, just like with Lilies Say Sorry! It's easier and less stressful for me this way :D

Chrysanthemums Say You Have My Fidelity

The first thing Loki felt when he stirred from his slumber was the streak of warmth across his face - an unmistakable ray of sunlight dancing across his cheek, a gentle and comforting sensation; he took a deep breath, sucking sweet air into his precious lungs, and noted that there was a nostalgic scent about the room, something homely, like the smell of old books.

Loki felt content to lie quietly for a while longer, revelling in the peacefulness of his surroundings and the lack of demand or hurry to get up; gradually, he became aware of the softness beneath him, subconsciously stroking his fingers through the material he lay upon, thinking idly that it seemed somewhat similar to the pelt of a bear.

Opening his eyes, Loki was greeted with an impossible sight.

He rested, reclined upon the bed in his old room within Asgard's palace, surrounded by all of his belongings and oddities that he knew had perished in the flames of Surtur along with the rest of his home. But here he was, and here was everything he had owned, tidy and neat as the last time he had left it.

Loki pushed himself up, sitting on the edge of his bed which was adorned with the softest hide of a slain beast - killed so that he may have slept cosily - and he noticed that he was dressed in lavish linens, a green tunic with a golden trim, and brown leather breeches. He slipped his feet into the slippers by his bedside and stood, eyes drawn immediately to the curtained aperture before him.

He stepped towards the window where a beam of light shone through the parting, and pulled back the drapes to reveal a scene that filled him with wistfulness; Loki took in the view of Asgard, his beloved home, shining with a radiance that brought him bright memories of growing up alongside his brother - back when the world was lighter and he was not burdened with the pain of loss.

In the distance, he saw the rainbow bridge leading to the Bifrost, and the city below - he could not make out much from his position, but he imagined it to be bustling with resplendence and liveliness.

Loki turned his gaze from the rich, golden buildings and scanned his room; the view evoked a powerful feeling of merriment within him, but he stalled himself, ignoring the willingness to accept his surroundings in favour of searching his mind for an answer as to why he was there - his recollection was fuzzy, confusion buzzing around the edges of his memories, and he found that he could not solidly remember the last thing that had happened to him.

What Loki did remember was a sense of urgency, something so incredibly important that it seemed ridiculous that he had allowed it to slip his mind; it panicked him, and he wondered vaguely if somebody had manipulated his mind, putting a mental block around his memories, but who would be powerful enough to do so? Loki was not one to be caught unawares.

Strange, though, that he remembered enough to know that the room he stood in should have been nothing but ash, drifting through space, but if he attempted to think of anything more recent, his efforts returned nothing of value.

Perhaps he would find a clue in his environment.

Loki took a short walk around his room, enjoying the tingle of sunlight on his skin, and went immediately to his bookcase. The collection of books before him were amongst some of his favourite texts growing up, and Loki caressed the bindings, scanning the titles of various spellbooks and history volumes that he remembered reading over and over as a child.

He pulled one from its place, finding it slightly grimy, and blew away the dust before opening it to a random page - it was a publication that detailed the many advantages of illusionary magic, and Loki faintly smiled, casting his mind back to the days he spent studying the tome by candlelight many hours after the sun had set.

Loki dipped his head to breathe in the musty odour of the old pages and the leather-bound spine, sighing at the reminiscent thoughts it provoked, before placing it methodically back on the shelf.

Beside him on a small table was a golden candlestick, and Loki thoughtfully rubbed his fingers over the flawlessly shiny metal, finding it warm to the touch, having heated in the lustre of the sun; by its side, there sat a corked bottle filled with red wine, and Loki distantly discerned that his throat was parched. Water would have been preferable, but since the wine was the only drinkable liquid in sight, Loki happily pulled the cork out and took a swig, delighting in the vivid, fruity taste that danced over his taste buds. Only the finest Asgardian wine.

Licking his lips, he savoured the flavour, placing the the bottle back down atop the table - as tempting as it sounded to drink the whole lot and grant himself the glee of tipsiness, he had more pressing matters to attend to, like uncovering the mystery of why Asgard had been seemingly restored, and why he was there.

He turned around, and across the room, he spied his full-body mirror beside the dresser, and stepped closer, observing his reflection closely. He looked fine, green eyes clear and lucid, his hair straightened and orderly, his pale complexion housing a healthy glow around his cheeks, but as his gaze travelled lower - across his jaw, over his chin, down his neck - he saw something unusual.

Creeping above the rim of his collar, he saw odd marks, and pulled back the material of his tunic to reveal dark bruises of a garish, purple shade.

The recollection hit him all at once, and the memory of having the life choked out of him assaulted his mind, prompting him to draw in a swift gasp to confirm to himself that he could still breathe fine; gently rubbing his fingertips over the contusions around his throat, Loki thought hard about what might have occurred following his confrontation with Thanos.

What happened exactly? He could easily replay the events in his mind's eye as the Mad Titan squeezed the air from his lungs - he very clearly saw the pain on his brother's face as Thor was unable to prevent Thanos from carrying out his onslaught, and he remembered the dark amusement in the titan's eyes as he slowly strangled Loki with sick pleasure - but after that, there was nothing.

Had Thanos succeeded in taking his life?

Loki was struck with a sudden thought - if he had died, did that mean he had come to Valhalla?

He gave his room one more questioning perusal and then left, exiting out into the corridors that he found to be strangely bare - there was not a guard or a maid in sight, as was customary the last time he walked the hallways of the palace - and he navigated the passages in silence until he reached the royal dining hall.

There, he was granted a vision that sent waves of pleasant tingles throughout his body; Loki smiled as he drew his eyes up over the large, long table that was generously piled with many sorts of mouth-watering dishes and platters, goblets filled with wine and mead, bowls of fruits and desserts that he yearned to sample - and at the end of the table, he saw his mother engaging cheerfully in conversation with his father and his brother.

Frigga was as beautiful as Loki had last seen her, with her fair hair tied up and plaited, a few wavy curls framing her elegant face, and she was dressed in an exquisite, yellow gown - graceful and sophisticated as the Queen of Asgard should be. Loki felt his chest grow tight with emotion as he watched his mother laugh and smile.

Loki stared in wonderment, wondering if he truly had arrived in Valhalla - but then his eyebrows furrowed in dismay, because Thor was there, and Thor was not supposed to be dead.

A flutter of anxiousness pierced through him. Had Thanos won? Had the Mad Titan achieved his goal and eradicated half of the universe?

If so, what had become of Amelia? Was she dead too?

Loki wasn't sure what concept ailed him more - the thought that Thanos had killed Amelia and she had not been granted passage to Valhalla to return to his side, or the thought that Amelia had been one of the so-called lucky ones, and fallen among the fifty percent of lives that were spared - alone, devastated, suffering greatly from loss.

The sound of his brother laughing brought him back to the scene before him, and Loki realised his family had not yet become aware of his presence; he took a silent breath and stepped forward, preparing to greet them, but his eyes remained first and foremost on his mother - his mother, who he had missed dearly, and loved so very much.

As he approached, however, they raised their heads, and Loki was met with abhorrent looks from his mother and father; the warmth that had previously settled in his stomach drained away in an instant to be replaced with apprehensive confusion.

"Mother?" Loki spoke gently, wondering what he had done wrong to deserve such a look - of course, he thought with self-loathing, there were many things he had done wrong in his life, many things that merited much more than just a detestable look - but his mother had never before stared at him with such resentment, as if he were nothing more than a lowly piece of dirt.

The worst he ever saw from his mother was a look of sad disappointment, but now she watched him with contempt.

"What is he doing here?" Frigga asked, her voice scathing and cold as if she was referring to a stranger - but no, even Frigga treated strangers with base kindness and respect, Loki was even lesser still - and her words cut into him like a well-sharpened blade. He almost recoiled at her disgusted tone, "Who let him in here?"

Loki's mouth fell open in stunned shock, the power behind his mother's wounding utterance having paralysed him like a jarring blow to the face, and he had to push himself to keep from shrinking back in woeful bewilderment.

"M-mother", Loki stammered, his voice regrettably small, "It's me. Loki."

Odin grumbled under his breath something about the sentries not doing their jobs, and by the time Frigga had yelled out, "Guards! Somebody take him out of here!" Loki had already drawn back a few steps, flinching with every cruel word.

Thor rose suddenly from the table, placing a soothing hand on the arm of his agitated mother, "It is alright, mother, I will deal with him", he assured her, and stepped away from the banquet table to proceed towards Loki, who stood cautiously in place, eyes watering and lips pressed thin and tightly together.

Too lost in his thoughts, pondering why his mother regarded him with so much loathing, Loki did not acknowledge Thor until the man had a guiding hand on his shoulder and was attempting to steer him from the room.

"Come, brother", Thor told him, not unkindly, and the only reason Loki allowed himself to be led away was because Thor was the only one who spoken to him without venom in his tone; Loki took rigid steps as he followed his brother from the hall and into the corridors once more, pushing from his mind the feeling of his parents' begrudging gaze burning into the back of his head as he went.

Swallowing hard, Loki blinked away the moisture in his eyes and tried hard to steel his composure. "Brother?" he asked, ashamed of the way his voice quivered, "What is this? What happened? Where are we?"

"One question at a time, brother", Thor responded, and there was something sympathetic about his tone, as they walked the halls of the home they grew up in. Loki didn't pay much attention to where Thor was subtly escorting him - he was far too desperate for answers as to what he had just experienced.

Loki was quiet for a moment, before softly enquiring, "Why do they hate me?"

Thor sighed, licked his lips, and then replied, "Hate is a strong word, brother… they don't hate you, they just-"

"Despise me?" Loki interjected, his expression pained and bitter; was it fated that even in death, even in Valhalla, Loki would be denied the love of his parents? Forever destined to rot in the darkness while his golden sibling bathed in sunlight. He felt betrayed by his brother, unable to help but feel as though Thor had forsaken him, even with all Loki had done in his last moments. "D-didn't you tell them of my sacrifice? Weren't they watching?"

Thor gave his brother a pitying look, one that Loki was beginning to think was not at all genuine - the God of Thunder felt no real sorrows while watching his younger sibling's misfortunes unfold, and it brought angry tears to Loki's eyes.

"You handed Thanos the Tesseract, brother", Thor told him, "You willingly gave up the final infinity stone - the only thing he needed to achieve his ruinous goal-"

"I did it to save you!" Loki cried, "I had to- to do something, he was going to kill you- I… wasn't it enough?" His tears dribbled feebly down his cheeks as he was unable to quell his dejection.

"Now, Loki", Thor began, a brutish dismissiveness underlying his words, "You've never really been the most benevolent of people, have you? Is it really a surprise that one attempt to be virtuous does not make up for a lifetime of sins, especially in mother's eyes?"

Loki's lip trembled as he absorbed his brother's rhetorical question, "But… mother-"

"All the lies… all the tricks… all the betrayals", Thor shook his head in reprimand, prompting Loki with a slightly more forceful nudge to speed him up when he slowed in step.

Biting his lip, Loki sniffled, digging his fingernails into the palm of his right hand, "I… I don't understand, brother. What happened? Did Thanos win?" This interaction with Thor had not elucidated anything - it had worked only to bring him misery and self-doubt.

Thor cocked his eyebrow, and air of complacency about his face, "Oh no, of course not. I killed him, no thanks to you."

Loki was afflicted with an unpleasant bristling sensation that crawled down his back; he could not muster the wrath or the will to counter his brother's disparaging, offhand remark with a retort of his own - only one question hovered in the forefront of his mind, and he was eager for an answer.

"Thor. Is Amelia alright?"

Loki carefully watched his brother's face as Thor raised an eyebrow, a slight curl of amusement reaching his lip, "Oh, I don't know, brother", his timbre was infuriatingly jesting, "...has she ever really been alright?"

There was something about the beguiling chuckle in Thor's voice that brought Loki a dark feeling of dread - like a hand encroaching around his neck, tickling the hair on his nape - and he regarded his brother with a cautionary glare, as if wordlessly telling him to be very careful with his next words.

"What do you mean?" Loki asked with a contemptible frown.

"What I mean", Thor continued, "Is that Amelia has always struggled with moving on, forever torn up over the fate of her brother, and- oh, that was all your fault though, wasn't it?" The God of Thunder smiled, white teeth shining as he did so, "Perhaps she's just fine, then. Glad to be rid of you, I imagine."

Again, heavily discomfited by Thor's callous, unapologetic words, Loki could only numbly wonder why his brother was acting so damned cruel towards him. They had come to a stop, Loki finally realised, noting that he was once again stood at the door of his bedroom, and swallowed the lump in his throat, clenching his jaw - this was all far too surreal. The way Thor treated him was baffling, and he looked briefly down to his boots, trying to make sense of his predicament.

"Thor… I can't remember what happened… did Thanos kill me?" Loki whispered, not truly expecting anything from his brother other than a savage, abusive comment, "This… this can't be it. This can't be Valhalla."

A hand settled compassionately on the back of his neck, and Loki looked up to Thor questioningly as his brother offered what seemed to be the first benevolent contact he'd received since waking up in this seemingly false copy of Asgard.

Thor tilted his head down, smiling mirthlessly, "Of course this isn't Valhalla, brother-", he pat Loki's neck, a gesture that was always meant in reassurance or to subdue and pacify, but then the hand on his neck tightened.

"-this is Hel."

Before Loki could react, Thor had shoved him back into the bedroom, sending him tumbling none-too-lightly to the floor, and slammed the door shut behind him, locking it tightly.

Loki scrambled to his feet, swinging around to pound his fists against the bolted exit, "Thor!" he cried, hearing the echo of his rage throughout the empty hallways of the Asgardian palace, "Come back, you witless bastard! Let me out!" He drew back to coax the lock open with magic, but the seal seemed impervious to his spells, refusing to open under his duress.

He let out an anguished cry, kicking the door - which still did not budge - before sliding down against the wall, burying his face in his hands. He pushed down the hurt, ultimately reaching the conclusion that that man had not been his brother at all.

Was he really in Hel? Despite dying a courageous death in the heat of combat, was his soul truly unsalvageable? Was he forever doomed to suffer for all his past crimes and offences?

He pulled his legs to his chest, pacing his frantic breaths, and tried to keep a cool head to figure out why this had happened to him.

Turning his head slowly, he faced the mirror by his dresser, and saw monstrous, red eyes glaring back at him, along with ghastly blue skin that reminded him of his foul, true nature, before diverting his gaze in revulsion.

Perhaps it was because Frost Giants were forbidden from entering Valhalla.

"He's in a coma."

Amelia sat close beside Loki's cot in the Avengers Tower infirmary, her shattered, weary gaze fixed interminably to her bedridden lover, who had yet to show any signs of consciousness since she had found him amongst the rubble over twenty-four hours ago. The shrill but steady beep of the machine monitoring his vitals revealed that his pulse had returned to a balanced pace, and his respiratory system was functioning without issue.

She looked to the intravenous drip inserted into Loki's arm, replenishing lost fluids to keep him hydrated and healthy, and then to the bandages wrapped around his chest, grimacing tearfully at the sight. He lay utterly still, his head supported by a soft pillow that was roughly the same shade of pale white as his skin, probably making him look even more frail than he was, and his black hair - striking in contrast - splayed around him messily; Amelia gnawed at her lip, unable to help but think he looked so lifeless in this state - she hated it, hated to see him this way - Loki was always so strong, but in that moment he looked so delicate. She was afraid to touch him.

"...a coma", Amelia whispered as Bruce's statement slowly sunk in, her chest felt unbearably tight all of a sudden, her nerves fizzling with fear for Loki's condition, and she looked to Thor, who stood leaning against the wall by the door with his arms crossed over his chest, a grim expression on his face. Amelia had hoped Thor would provide at least a smidge of comfort with a small smile or his typically reassuring manner, for her sake if not genuine, but the God of Thunder merely affixed his brother with hard trepidation, wholly betraying the fact that he too was incredibly worried.

"His vitals are stable", Bruce spoke, his words clear and sympathetic, as always, "Luckily, he's able to breathe on his own, he just won't wake up. His brain activity is minimal, but it's there, so that's good news…" the doctor rattled off Loki's short list of ailments, indicating the cuts and scrapes that besmirched his body, the dark bruises around his neck along with various other abrasions, and then motioned his bandaged chest.

"He has three cracked ribs", Bruce informed, and Amelia nodded with a wince. The fractures had no doubt been caused by the impact of being crushed below the metal debris that she had found him partially buried under. Bruce sighed, "It's… difficult to treat him, because he's not human. He may look the same as us, but his physiology is quite different", his eyes flickered to Thor, a hint of uncertainty in his gaze, "He usually has accelerated healing, but I'm not so sure that's the case while he's in such a debilitated state."

"An equitable conjecture", Thor concurred with a nod and a faint shrug of his shoulders.

"Therefore, even though Loki appears unresponsive to pain, I've bandaged his ribs to ease the movement when he breathes, because as I said... I just can't be sure", Bruce gave a weak, apologetic smile, and Amelia sniffled slightly, nodding her head.

"Thank you", Amelia quietly murmured, grateful that Bruce had thought over the possibilities that Loki could still potentially be feeling the soreness while unable to react or communicate that he was in pain.

"Similarly", Bruce continued, "He appears unresponsive to sound, but I can't be sure that he is unable to register noise." He went on to explain that the scans he performed on Loki's brain did not suggest that his comatose state was a result of oxygen deprivation, and that therefore it was entirely unclear what was causing his unresponsiveness.

Amelia sighed softly, far from thrilled at the ambivalence over Loki's insensible state. She knew Bruce was doing everything he could to make sense of what was afflicting Loki, but it set off her anxiety anew to acknowledge how unpredictable Loki's condition currently was.

"He could wake up tomorrow, or in a week's time… or longer", Bruce explained, fiddling offhandedly with the pen between his fingers, and looked to Thor again, "I don't suppose Loki has ever fallen purposely into an inactive state to recover from battle wounds?"

Thor shook his head, "Not like this, no."

Amelia leaned slightly forward, moving to the edge of her seat as she observed Loki's pallid face, inadvertently drowning out whatever more was said between Thor and Bruce - she knew deep down she should have been paying attention to what the doctor had to say, but the sight of her lover's face so colourless and lacking in vigour was enough to draw her into a perpetual, apprehensive trance.

Loki's face, albeit covered with cuts and contusions, was relaxed and peaceful, and if it wasn't for the way his eyes looked somewhat sunken in, or the dull hue of his lips, she may have tricked herself into thinking he was just sleeping - with the blessings of wakefulness in sight.

But he would not wake up if she gently shook him, he would not wake up if she called his name - it was not the same as when he was caught in a nightmare - she couldn't just coax him out of it; she couldn't do anything, she just had to wait.

"Did Thanos do anything else to him, Thor?" asked Bruce, drawing Amelia's attention back to the conversation at hand, and Thor frowned contemplatively, thinking back to the day before when he had to witness the Mad Titan's brutal attack on his younger brother.

"I think… I think Thanos used the Mind stone", the thought made his lip curl nauseously, "...but I am not positive."

Bruce looked back to Loki's sickly form, a pensive expression befalling his face, "...if that is so, then we must be cautious and continue to monitor his brain activity. It may be apparent that Thanos has not done any irreparable damage to Loki outwardly, but in his mind, it may be another story."

His words were entirely unsoothing, and only made Amelia feel worse. She felt clammy and queasy just listening to Bruce's speculation - to think Thanos had done anything to Loki's mind was a frightening possibility. Amelia swallowed tightly; Loki had suffered enough in his life, he didn't need any more complications.

Bruce straightened his posture, cringing as he kneaded his fingers into the crease between his neck and his shoulder - he had yet to completely recover from the strenuous beating he'd received from Thanos after transforming into the Hulk, and Amelia was entirely appreciative that he had worked to aid Loki despite his aching muscles.

"I'm going to go take a shower", the doctor informed, placing his pen down on the bedside table, "-you know, I- I think Thanos punched the Hulk so hard that I've now got this incessant ringing in my ears", he waved his fingers beside his head, giving a slightly nervous laugh, and it seemed as though he was trying his best to break the rigid tension of the room, but Amelia could not muster the will to smile.

"Thank you for your help", she told him in a small voice, and Bruce sighed, nodding his head.

"Of course", he responded, before leaving Thor and Amelia alone with Loki.

Amelia shifted agitatedly in her seat as silence befell the room, with nothing but the emitting noise of the vitals monitor making it clear that Loki's heart was still pumping; her eyes flickered to Thor as the God of Thunder walked around the opposite edge of the bed and sat in the chair there. She wondered what was going through his head, knowing from his furrowed brow and distinct lack of optimism that it couldn't have been anything good, and let her eyes fall to her bandaged hands.

While she still felt twinges and aches all over her body from her ferocious fall down the spiny, rugged slope, her palms had suffered the worst, with tears and lacerations mutilating her skin; she had quickly grown nauseated at the bloody sight, and Bruce had kindly offered to disinfect and dress the wounds while she sat fretfully in the back of the quinjet they had taken home from Wakanda, all the while unable to keep her eyes off of Loki's quiescent body.

The edges of the antiseptic gauze around her hands had started spotting red, and Amelia could feel the raw stinging sensation every time she curled her fingers - still, in the grand scheme of things, Amelia regarded her wounds as quite minor in comparison to the injuries some of the others had sustained.

"Are you alright?" Thor queried after the extended hush, and Amelia shook her head without looking up.

"No."

Another few minutes of quietness passed before Thor inevitably broke it again.

"I'm sorry", he said, and this time Amelia did meet his eyes.

"Don't apologise, Thor", Amelia murmured, her lips pulling down into a prolonged frown. Loki's condition was not Thor's fault; Amelia knew the God of Thunder would have done everything in his position to ensure no harm came to his younger brother, which meant that Thor had been put in a situation where he was helpless to intervene.

Amelia felt an eager ache to know exactly how the Mad Titan had met his end; she wanted to know that the tyrant known as Thanos had suffered for what he had done. Her violent thoughts surprised her, because she generally wasn't the type to wish pain on others, even when they so maliciously deserved it.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Amelia asked, distantly fiddling with a loose strip of bandage peeking out from the gauze on her hand.

Thor looked at her, hesitation in his mismatched eyes, clearly preferring to withhold the explicit details of the brutal battle, "Amelia, I… I don't think-"

"Just tell me", Amelia implored, "and don't sugarcoat it. I want to know."

Thor sighed, but ultimately conceded, "I was confined, exhausted and barely able to move. Thanos demanded the final infinity stone from Loki, threatening to kill me if he did not hand it over, but the Hulk interceded, buying just a few moments of time… and then Loki faced Thanos again. He looked confident…" Thor bit his lower lip, eyes flicking questioningly to Loki, "I thought he might have had a plan, but then… Thanos grabbed him- strangled him-" he subconsciously clenched his fist as he relayed the recollection.

Amelia swallowed, prompting Thor to continue with a nod.

"It wasn't until Thanos used the gauntlet that Loki actually fell limp. It didn't cross my mind at the time that he may have still been alive… Thanos just tossed him aside like a ragdoll", his jaw tightened, "I… thought he was dead, again. Just- the thought of losing Loki after everything, after he'd finally seen the light", he looked meaningfully to Amelia, "...I was enraged, my strength reignited, I called my axe and all the power I had left, and I severed the titan's arm before he could affix the final infinity stone."

Thor exhaled, disappointment in his eyes, "I wanted to see him suffer, but I knew there was no time. The lightning I summoned pierced the ship above, causing a vast explosion- that is when I lost sight of Loki's body", he grinded his teeth together, "I didn't even get to land the killing blow", he mumbled, "As far as I know, Nebula had the pleasure of ending Thanos's life."

Amelia slumped back in her chair, lightly rubbing her hand over her face; she shared Thor's dismay at not having been able to cause Thanos intense agony in his final moments - but she too understood that it was more important to take the titan out at the first opportunity as opposed to dragging his death out. If Thanos had been able to achieve his goal, well - the thought set her teeth on edge.

"I tried to look for him", Thor admitted softly, "but I had exhausted myself, I could hardly move-"

"It's okay", Amelia interjected, "He's safe now… that's what matters", she looked back over Loki's frail body, hoping she was right.

After a while, Thor stood, declaring that he would allow Amelia some privacy with Loki and that he would return shortly; as the god left the room, Amelia felt just a little bit smaller, finding discomfort in being left alone with Loki's incapacitated form. She said nothing for the longest time, stewing in her unease and flagrant distress over the whole situation, before she remembered what Bruce had said.

While Loki appeared unresponsive to sound and touch, Bruce had no solid evidence that Loki could not feel or hear everything happening around him, and the thought made Amelia swallow guiltily before she shimmied out of her chair and stood by Loki's bed.

Pushing back on the irrational fear of touching Loki in his delicate state, Amelia looked briefly down to her bandaged hand before slipping her fingers below his down-turned palm that lay at his side; she gently held onto his limp, ashen hand, using her thumb to caress his knuckles tenderly, hoping that if he could register the sensation, the touch would be a welcomed comfort.

It was daunting to witness Loki like this - there was not even a hint of a reaction to her affectionate little gesture. Somewhere, deep down, she had hoped his fingers would have tightened around her own, but her wishful thinking was not powerful enough to alter the fact of the matter that Loki was in a coma, and he likely wasn't going to awaken anytime soon.

She leant down, mindful of the IV in his arm, and hovered above his face, watching him closely for any signs of alertness; she blew a light puff of air over his face, but there was no indication that he was aware - not a flutter of his eyelids or a twitch of his nose, just the same impassive look on his slack face.

He looked as still as a corpse, save for the modest rise and fall of his chest.

Amelia brushed her lips across his forehead, before whispering softly into his ear, "Loki, I don't know if you can hear me… but if you can, I am here, and I love you."

Loki knelt precariously on the window ledge outside of the aperture in his bedroom, looking down with furrowed brows, calculatingly, at the ground below, wondering if his legs would suffer too unpleasantly from the lengthy plunge he was prepared to endure. There was no other way out of his room than a quick jump and a swift fall, and hopefully not a couple of broken legs.

He needed to escape, to find a way out of this wretched realm that the fake-Thor had so cheerfully identified as Helheim, if that was indeed true. There had to be a way out somehow, but Loki wasn't sure the rules of this domain adhered to the laws of physics in other realms.

Theoretically, if he was already dead, then he wouldn't be able to die from plummeting to the ground below, but whether his soul would be forced to endure the pain of the impact was another premise entirely.

There was only one way to find out, though.

Loki stood up within the aperture, bracing himself with his hands on the stone frame, and brought his feet to the very edge of the overhang, irked to find that his legs were faintly shaking. It was a long way down, but Loki had willingly fallen into the void once, without fear - it vexed him that the thought of leaping now was apparently enough to make him tremble.

He had looked death in the eyes before and come out only partly scathed. Today was no different. Loki poised himself, bolstering the confidence within him that he could persist and make it out of this unsavoury realm.

Before he could will himself to fall forward, a warmth brushed across the side of his face, and a murmur of incoherent words drifted into his ear, causing him to freeze; he glanced back into the murkiness behind him questioningly, finding nothing but the illusion of peaceful seclusion in his childhood room.

Somehow, for whatever reason, he felt assurance in the warm puff that had tickled his cheek.

Loki took a deep breath, and jumped.

Notes: Please remember to review! It heightens my spirits and makes it easier for me to write! :D