Thor couldn't accept it, couldn't come to terms with the reality of it all, couldn't believe that he'd let it happen. He could have done it, somehow, he kept telling himself, could have reached out with his free hand to grip Loki's wrist. He could have pulled him up to safety, could have prevented this tragedy, could have convinced Loki not to throw himself into the dark abyss.

He could have, should have, stopped it, but he didn't and Loki was gone and the world was left darker because of it. He could still recall the bright shine of the unshed tears lurking in Loki's green eyes, the pallor of his cheeks as the wind tossed his dark hair all about his head, the sadness in his face as Odin denied him. It caused a cold sting in his heart and a terrible sadness, heavy and unforgiving, to rest upon his shoulders.

It was actually quite unbearable, and Thor would often find himself just barely resisting the urge to visit the spot at the edge of the Bifrost bridge, where Loki had fallen, where Thor's heart had broken. Even Frigga's comforting words and motherly, loving gestures could not quell his grief.

After months of living life without the trickster, Thor soon realized that he'd have no choice but to get accustomed to looking over his shoulder and seeing empty space, that he'd have to simply accept the absence in his life, that he'd have to live without a brother.