On the outskirts of the Battle for Xandar, Loki grabbed his brother's arm and hefted him up from the wreckage he'd been thrown into.
"I hate to say it, but you know who'd be really useful right now?" Thor spat blood, staining a patch of orange dirt a strange, dark color that reminded Loki distinctly of the Aether. "You know who Thanos would really piss off?"
A juvenile voice cried out in fear and Loki twisted, arm outstretched towards the battle afar. His fingers sparked green. Half a mile away, Proxima Midnight's spear ricocheted dangerously off his hastily casted barrier, sparing Spider-Man an inconvenient hole through his youthful face.
Thor clasped his shoulder for balance.
"Don't say it." Loki protested, but his shoulders slumped forward in agreement. "Just… don't say it."
A fire-orange portal opened in front of them, revealing Cull Obsidian's back as he loomed over a fallen Iron Man. A flurry of Loki's daggers found home in his spine. There was no energy to smile as the giant oaf staggered away from Stark's crumped form to turn on them.
Thor heaved a great sigh and, in slow, tired rotations of his wrist, began to swing Stormbreaker at his side. Thunder rumbled as Cull roared.
"Wish we hadn't killed her. That's all."
In all his years, Loki had never wondered about the origin of Asgard's gold. It was a constant in his life and, like most consistent things, he never questioned it. Why would he? The glittering palace was nothing more than a reflection of Asgard's alleged greatness – a fortress that contained the royal family, grand, mischievous, or obnoxious as they were. It was his home.
But Hela had posed the question to Thor: "Where do you think all this gold came from?"
She, not they, had known how bloody their luxuries were. She'd been the one draining armies into the foundation of the realm eternal; she'd written the names of fallen soldiers in their ledger, pen inked in red.
Standing in front of that great, gilded throne, Loki thought of Thor. How he'd been so crestfallen telling the story of his battle with Hela before the bridge – how she, all-powerful, had dismissed her cruel conquests. Dismissed all the lives lost in Asgard's machinations for power. She'd had no second thought for the destruction and shame, but it weighed so heavy on Thor that Loki had feared that their new King might slip into the same madness he'd once dwelled in.
The dust settled into silence around him, littering the already ravaged hall with slabs of broken plaster and debris. Their shattered stories decorated the pillars that had been felled by the Dark Elves. One of those many pieces lay at his feet: Thor, long-haired and golden, cracked across the face, with Loki at his side.
"Tell me." Loki's barrier shimmered into nothingness. He stepped around the wreckage, pacing closer to the throne. "About Hela."
Asgard's court was ravaged. What had once been a respectful, peaceful homage to the royal family was destroyed. Their murals and golden lines, once defining a soft palate of painterly colors, were struck through with jagged crags of red and black. Horrors festered within. Hela rode on Fenris' back as he bounded through the legions of Einherjar. Odin, two-eyed, rode at her side. The Nine realms lay in ruins by their hands.
Odin One-Eye stared up at the record of his crimes. Trembling, he lowered himself onto the throne, gripping his spear as if it was all that kept him from folding over. Loki's feet found the lowest steps of his pedestal.
"What have you done?" Odin's powerful voice shook with stress, lowered to a tremored whisper.
"Pardon me? What have I done? You dare—"
"What deal have you made with her?"
For the first time, Loki heard fear in his Father's voice. It gave him pause, both in movement and speech.
"What deal?" It took him a moment to dissect the question, longer than he was pleased to admit. Kurse's wound still leaked down his front, poorly healed and stinging from front to back. He did his best to hide how it handicapped his steps. "You… you think I made a deal? With her?"
"You claim to have died."
"Died, perhaps, but I've no death wish! I don't know how I returned—"
"Lies!"
Gungnir trembled. Loki's fists trembled stronger.
"Me, lying? That's your accusation?" He ascended one stair at a time, calm and even. It took everything he had not to claw at his chest, growing more painful with every step. "When you wrought that?" He gestured plainly to the depictions above. "All of your lies have led to this! We are here because of you! Just tell me the truth. For once in your life, tell me the truth!"
Odin forced himself to sit straight-backed as Loki found level footing with the throne, but his resolve shook. His steeled expression wavered.
"Your shame will crumple you into sleep, Father. Again."
Memories flashed through his mind; a casket weighing heavily in his hands, deep beneath Asgard. His skin crawling with lightning bolts of blue, consuming him with cold horror. Questions bred in rage, given no answers. Feeble excuses uttered until Odin's strength buckled. They were alone on the stairs of the Vault, Loki's life in pieces around him, and his Father slipped into magical sleep. No one had been quick enough to calm the brewing storm in his heart. Madness...
"Before that happens, you will tell me everything you know about her."
There was silence. It made him acutely aware of the warmth sliding down his midriff, blood slickening skin underneath battered armor. Thor had likely confronted Malekith by now. Odin was supposed to have fallen into sleep. There were still things he needed to know.
"While there is still power in these old bones, she'll be locked away. While I have the throne… she will never…" Odin's eyelids fell heavy and, for a heartbeat's second, Loki let his do the same. Lightheadedness was rolling over him. Something itched in his ribcage. A slow burn kindled his veins. "That is all you need to know… all you will know, my son…"
He sneered, watching the All-Father with heavy eyes.
"You damn us all."
"Loki."
Odin slumped against his staff. Suddenly, the world went tumultuous, turning in a tight spin to the right. Loki took a knee and grappled for purchase on the slick golden floors. Palming the ground and leaning all his weight onto his hands, he tried to steady himself. The world kept spinning. Every slow breath brought ragged pain to his lungs, tearing him apart from inside.
"Loki…"
Too soon, he thought. This had been a mistake. Odin would never tell him what he needed to know. Why would he? He never had before.
One hand slipped from under him and he rolled to the floor, hitting his side with a dull thump. The concern in Odin's voice was almost funny.
This had been so much easier last time, he thought. When he'd just wanted the throne, things were so much simpler. Now it was the weight of the universe on his shoulders. He needed to re-evaluate his strategy. He needed time…
Time.
Aching, he reached out for the time stone with a faint pulse of magic. Green light bled from between his fisted fingers, slowly at first, but gradually growing brighter. It felt cool in his palm, summoned from the pocket dimension of his making.
I need more time.
The world went dark.