Memento Mori

Summary: Of the many people capable of carrying the fate of the universe on their shoulders by travelling back in time, Loki would have been the first choice of exactly nobody. With no allies, no plan and nobody on his side, Loki will just have to wing it.

Or: That awkward moment when you've completed your redemption arc, but nobody else got the memo.

Chapter 25

Thanos' troops did not surrender after their leader had fallen. News of his death spread quickly – a wave washing over the assembled crowd that drew disbelief, horror and grief in its wake.

By the time all of them had heard – endless seconds, stretching into minutes, stretching into what felt like hours – some of them panicked. The troops scattered. Some of them fled.

Many redoubled their efforts fueled by anger, determined to bring down as many of their enemies as they could in the name of their fallen leader.

Time moved in a haze. Tightly-wound tension and anticipation had fallen from Loki's shoulders in the wake of Thanos' death, and it took all of his effort not to lose his life in the remaining battle.

He didn't stray from Thor's side. His brother was trying – fighting like he'd been born for it, brandishing Mjolnir like he'd done nothing else in all of his life – but Thanos' treatment had taken its toll.

Frigga was always close. She fought with vigor that ought to be impossible so long into the battle.

By the time it was only a matter of picking off the remaining stragglers, the sun had dipped low. Shadows grew long, painted the battlefield in subdued colors and lowered a veil on top of them all.

They won. Hours after returning to their home, it was finally over.

The palace had not survived the battle unblemished. Fighters had entered and left havoc in their wake: smashed stone pillars, cracked ornaments and shattered glass lined its corridors and filled its halls.

They chose an undamaged chamber and dropped into exhausted slumber without changing out of their battlegear. Loki slept only as long as he could hear Thor's breathing alongside his own.

Whenever he woke, Frigga was close. She fetched blankets and water and supplies for first aid. Not once did he see her resting. If Loki's tongue wasn't as heavy as his eyelids, he would have chidden her for it.

The sun rose high and sunk low. Loki's consciousness came and went. His family was always near, and Loki allowed himself to drift off feeling safe and watched over.

Loki woke to find Thor's eyes open. The sun filtered through the colored glass of the palace windows and drenched the room in muted orange-golden light.

It made the blotches around Thor's neck stand out sharply.

"Are you awake?" Thor's voice was barely above a whisper. Loki would have appreciated the consideration if he weren't convinced Thor couldn't have spoken louder if he'd tried.

"Where's Mother?" Loki asked in lieu of an answer. He pushed himself into an upright position. At least three blankets slid off his shoulders.

Loki tried blinking the sleep from his eyes. They felt itchy and raw like they wanted nothing more than to fall closed and drag him back under – Loki's exhaustion wasn't rid by merely a few hours of uneasy sleep.

Thor nodded towards a corner of the chamber. Frigga and Odin conversed in hushed voices, but stopped once they spotted Loki watching them. They came over.

"How are you feeling?" Frigga spoke quietly despite them being alone in the room.

Loki made a half-hearted attempt at smoothing over the wrinkles in his clothes before deciding that he didn't particularly care. He rubbed his eyes and carded one hand through his hair.

"Well enough," he muttered, eyes drawn back to the necklace of bruises circling Thor's throat.

Thor caught his glance and gave him an almost cheerful smile. It did little to reassure Loki, seeing as he did so instead of using his voice.

"What have I missed?" Loki asked, trying not to think of the moment he knew would torment his nightmares.

It already had.

"Not much," Frigga said. "We haven't begun clearing the battlefield. Our armies deserve their rest."

"Your... comrades have been offered rooms in the palace," Odin said curtly. Grudgingly, he added, "For Midgardians, they have proven themselves formidable."

Loki nodded. He didn't ask about casualties or damage reports or about how many of Thanos' vermin had managed to escape. Now, they had time.

"I believe I was promised a story," Frigga said.

Loki looked up. "Do you wish to hear it now?"

Frigga paused. "Almost." She stepped forward and wrapped Loki into a hug – firm and warm and the best Loki had felt in ages. He melted into the touch and couldn't bring himself to feel self-conscious.

Thor joined without hesitation. Odin hovered; Loki felt the warmth of his presence at his back. It was more than Loki would have dared to expect from him.

They settled down in between blankets and cushions that had found their way into the chamber. Odin hesitated the longest. He looked disgruntled at being made to sit down on the palaces' marble floor, but he swallowed his pride and followed suit.

Loki took a grounding breath and began telling their long overdue story.

Tony spent several confusing seconds trying to remember when he'd bought an ornamental gold ceiling for the penthouse and just how drunk he'd been to do it. He then remembered that it wasn't his gold ceiling, it was Thor's gold ceiling, and he wasn't sleeping off a drunken slumber in his penthouse, he'd crashed in Thor's palace after... After.

Tony rubbed his eyes and contemplated falling back into sweet oblivion. His muscles ached – not the sweet, pleasant ache of sore muscles after a workout, but the bone-deep exhaustion of a drawn-out battle. They'd fought for the Earth (and the universe). Tony definitely felt like it.

"Your friends considered dunking ice water over your head to check whether you were still alive."

Tony covered his eyes with one arm and groaned. "Let me be old in peace."

Strange was definitely smirking. It was audible. If Tony'd had the energy for it, he'd have come up with a way to wipe it off his face.

"How is everyone?" Tony grumbled.

"Your team is fine." Stephen paused. "As well as they can be, I suppose."

Tony had meant it when he'd told Steve that none of them were soldiers all those years ago. No matter how many battles they won and how many lives they saved, there was always the part of Tony nagging him about what he was even doing.

Thor had been brought up to be a warrior since birth. The rest of them had been forced into it through circumstances and trauma and there being nobody else who could have taken their role.

What made them responsible for saving the world? What made them responsible for fighting a war?

"I'm taking a vacation after this," Tony said, gesturing vaguely with still-closed eyes. "Several, in fact. All the vacations. I'll grow old lying on a beach and worrying about nothing except how much longer my next daiquiri is going to take."

"Good luck with that," Strange said dryly. "Let us hope this was the last intergalactic threat we needed to stop in our lifetime."

As much as Tony wanted it to be true, he doubted it. With everything that had happened over the last few years alone, he couldn't believe in a happily-ever-after until it stared him down with eyes made from rainbows and cotton candy.

Tony dragged one hand over his face. The room they'd been given was messy – uniforms and battle gear lay strewn around, discarded in favor of more comfortable, less bloody clothing. Steve's shield leaned against a wall. Tony would appreciate the sign of trust, had he been actually conscious to guard the shield.

"What are we going to do with the stones?" Tony asked when the silence between them threatened to become uncomfortable.

"They served their purpose," Stephen said. "You won't have to carry it much longer."

"I meant afterwards. After removing it."

Thanos couldn't be the only person in the universe itching to get their hands on them. As long as the stones existed, there was the danger of someone trying to seize their power.

"I swore an oath to protect this one," Strange said, looking down at his amulet and touching it gingerly. He paused, then added, "Though I've long suspected that my predecessor wasn't as all-knowing as she liked to pretend."

There was hope yet. Tony didn't want to risk having to repeat the ordeal because they couldn't bring themselves to get rid of a handful of space rocks when they had the chance.

Nebula resisted the urge to poke at her injured arm. It was one of the body parts that had been metal before the reality stone had unmade it. It needing medical attention instead of repairs was odd.

Nebula relished in the pain, knowing it was an ache she could not turn off by deactivating artificial pain receptors.

Gamora showed no intention of leaving. She'd been sitting in vague proximity since Nebula had begun treating her injuries – in the old-fashioned, bloody way she hadn't needed to do in years. They weren't talking. Nebula didn't know her sister well enough to tell whether the silence was uncomfortable.

"Thor wants to know whether you have all that you need," drawled a voice from the doorway. The younger prince. Loki.

The older one, Thor, stood beside him, a scarf wrapped around his neck that did not suit him. He threw his brother a look. "I can speak for–"

"Shush."

"There's no need–"

"Quiet."

"But I can–"

"Don't force me to involve Mother."

Thor hesitated. "You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?"

The brothers looked at each other in a silent stand-off. Thor's eyes were narrowed while Loki wore an infuriating smile.

"You sound as though your vocal chords have been mangled by a mace," Nebula informed Thor. If Rocket's words were to be believed, his neck looked the part. No wonder he'd chosen to cover it up – Nebula would not have cared for the looks of sympathy, either.

Thor opened his mouth to answer when Loki jabbed him in the side with his elbow. Thor grunted in protest and glared some more, but admitted defeat.

"We're fine," Gamora answered, throwing the brothers a thin smile.

She'd been quiet since the battle had reached its conclusion. Nebula didn't know if she was expected to do something about it.

Years of interacting almost exclusively through sparring matches were taking their toll. The time on the Guardians' ship had been different, but neither Nebula nor Gamora seemed to know the new rules of a bond outside of Thanos' influence.

A knock on the door made all four of them look up.

One of the Avengers entered the chamber – the one who'd almost leveled the Guardians' ship after transforming into a monster. Nebula didn't know his species, but she could respect his strength. She decided to make an effort not to glare at him quite as much as she did at everybody else.

"Good, you're all awake." He adjusted his glasses and did not appear cowed in the presence of two (former?) mercenaries and the Asgardian princes. As was right for a warrior of his caliber. "I want to take a look at your injuries."

"A healer has tended to us not long ago," Gamora said. She paused, then added, "Thank you."

"I have been tended to as well," Loki said.

Thor nodded in agreement.

"My brother kindly accepts your offer."

Thor threw his brother an affronted look.

Banner chose not to take note of it. He pushed away the fabric wrapped around Thor's neck and revealed blotchy, swollen skin. He paused. "Has someone checked for internal damage?" he asked, checking Thor's throat gingerly.

Thor turned his head and looked at his brother.

"He will be back to normal within the week," Loki said.

"Of course he will," Banner muttered.

Loki's lips twitched. "Jealous?"

"Hardly." Banner made an abrupt gesture with his arms.

He – in stark contrast to Nebula herself – looked tired but otherwise unscathed. The monster inside of him had not allowed him to come to harm.

Banner's gaze softened. Nebula instantly felt the urge to look away or leave the conversation altogether – she did not feel privy to the heartfeltness that was sure to follow.

Then again, she'd been here first. It wasn't her fault Gamora and the others insisted on occupying the same space.

"I'm glad you're okay," Banner said, looking at the brothers. He paused, then turned towards Gamora and Nebula. "I'm glad we all are."

"... Yes," Gamora said, an odd note to her voice. "I suppose we are."

Nebula found that the word held little meaning to her. If Gamora was any clue, there might yet be a chance of learning better.

The Midgardians requested to be returned home. Thor managed to convince Loki to see them off together, and beyond the occasional lingering look, there was no sign that Loki was anything other than Thor's brother – as well as a newfound, unexpected ally – to them.

The Avengers delivered a message to Jane. Heimdall in turn delivered her answer: she sent her best wishes to Thor, confirmed that all of the Avengers had made it to Midgard in one piece, and asked Thor not to take too long for his next visit.

Thor didn't need to think about it twice. With Thanos and the infinity stones' danger banned, there was no force within or outside the Nine Realms capable of keeping him away from his friends.

Valkyrie was cornered while fetching fresh bandages for the tirelessly working healers.

She hadn't planned on sticking around. She'd come because she'd had no other option – the fire making her blood boil and her soul quiver would not let her shy away when the conflict was this close – but old instincts had taken over once she'd set foot on the battlefield.

Afterwards she found herself sucked into the familiar rhythm of it: the stolen minutes of restless sleep, aiding the healers in the small ways that she could, keeping her eyes open and her body moving because it was better than thinking about what she would do once it was over.

She missed the high of a victory hard fought. She missed the rush of celebrating among sisters, bonds forged through war and blood.

Valkyrie avoided the brothers and the Guardians, and she ignored the small voice telling her she could have it all back if only she allowed herself to. She'd stayed on Sakaar for a reason. She'd left it, all of it, behind.

She hadn't sent herself into self-imposed isolation only to have a pair of princes topple over her painstakingly built barriers and drag her back into a life where she had bonds left to lose.

"You've barely rested."

Valkyrie slowed. The woman blocking her path had bandages wrapped around her shoulder and a deep cut above her right eye. If she was a healer, she was one who'd fought.

"I'm fine." Valkyrie tried stepping around the woman to drop off the supplies piled up high in her arms.

The woman jerked her head. Valkyrie's burden was taken from her arms by two hasty, eager apprentices.

Now that she could, Valkyrie crossed her arms. Her glare had so far discouraged anyone from trying to talk to her. "Do I know you?"

"We have not met," the woman said. "I am Frigga. Loki and Thor's mother."

A tiny spark of interest welled up. Frigga had not been Allmother while Valkyrie had served the crown. Valkyrie found it peculiar that she'd introduced herself as a mother instead of as a queen.

"You're a Valkyrie," Frigga said, eyes lingering on Valkyrie's arm. She'd covered her tattoo to avoid drawing looks. Somehow, Frigga knew it was there regardless. "My sons told me about your role in their quest."

"What do you want?" Valkyrie asked. Her fingers dug into the skin of her arm.

If Frigga was offended by Valkyrie's bluntness, she did not show it. "I'm curious what you intend to do next." She paused. "I want to offer you a place in our court, should you want it."

Valkyrie gritted her teeth and looked away. "Has the Allfather sent you?"

"No. Although he knows about and supports my offer."

Valkyrie kept her eyes averted.

She hadn't planned on returning to Asgard. She'd made her peace and rejected her former home only weeks into her involuntary banishment to Sakaar – around the same time she'd accepted that she truly was the only Valkyrie who had survived.

They'd been the first to be sent into battle against Hela. Hundreds of years, and Valkyrie still could not decide whether the Allfather's opinion of their fighting prowess had been too high or too low.

(Was it better to have failed a task they'd been trusted with, or to have been sent as cannon fodder to weaken a stronger opponent?)

"I don't feel particularly fond of the crown," she said when the silence stretched.

"Yes," Frigga said. The smile tugging at her lips looked brittle. "You have no reason to be."

In her absence, Odin had done a splendid job erasing their history. The thought that most Asgardians did not know of her sisters' sacrifice hurt almost as much as being the only one left.

Frigga tilted her head. "And yet, you've returned to aid us in our hour of need."

Valkyrie shrugged. Discomfort squirmed and wriggled in her gut like snakes. "Call it sentimentality."

"It was my sons who found you. You came with them."

"They're stubborn."

Frigga's lips twitched. "That they are."

A soldier hurried past them, closely followed by a weary looking healer. Valkyrie wished she could follow along. She'd much prefer getting lost in the bustle of the clean-up to being trapped in this conversation.

She was sure that the Allmother was a pleasant enough person. Her status alone put her rather high on the list of people Valkyrie had not planned to lock eyes with for as long as she lived.

Frigga seemed to notice her unease. She shifted her weight and leaned away, subtly putting more distance between the two of them.

"Forgive me," Frigga said. "My intention was not to pressure you into something you do not wish."

"I don't know what I want," Valkyrie muttered. Her nails clawed at the fabric wrapped around her arm.

When was the last time she'd slept? More importantly, when was the last time she'd had something to drink? The conversation would be indefinitely more pleasant if she weren't quite so painfully sober.

"If Thor hasn't done so already, I'm sure he will offer you the same," Frigga said. "A place here, or at his side."

"... As one of his warriors?"

"As one of his friends."

Valkyrie hadn't had friends since she'd outlived them all.

"Consider my words," Frigga said, "That is all I ask."

"... Sure." Valkyrie felt the end of the conversation nearing. She stopped herself from sighing in relief.

"That team you've brought," Frigga nodded into the direction the Guardians had landed their ship, "I'm sure they will be willing to bring you wherever you want to go." She paused. "But if you ever feel the wish to return home, there will be a place for you."

The words made something ache deep inside Valkyrie's chest, somewhere that had been numb and unfeeling for hundreds of years she'd drowned in alcohol and misery. She hadn't thought of Asgard in years – not until the brothers had crashed into her world and torn her carefully crafted indifference away.

The possibility of running into Odin made her skin crawl. But Odin would not be Allfather indefinitely. Maybe one day, when one of his sons had taken over, when Valkyrie was able to return without the reminder of what the crown had cost her...

Frigga laid a hand on her shoulder, the touch so brief and faint that Valkyrie forgot to pull away. "Consider it," she said. "I ask nothing more."

She let go and made her way back to the palace, sparing Valkyrie the effort of having to come up with an answer.

Valkyrie crossed her arms in front of her chest and watched their people work. The sky was clear and the air void of the fumes that enshrouded Sakaar. She breathed in and smelled fresh air instead of waste and garbage.

It wasn't her time to stay. She wasn't ready. But one day...

Valkyrie let out her breath and continued to drown her thoughts in her work.

Loki was slowly getting used to the shift in their family dynamic. Decades seemed to have passed without anything changing – nothing other than Loki learning the truth and feeling more and more estranged from his adoptive family.

Only a few weeks had passed (though he supposed that technically it had been years for him), and Loki felt shaken up as badly as when he'd realized he wasn't Asgardian by blood. This time, the change – while immense – was not inherently negative.

"I ought to thank you and your brother," Odin said, joining Loki in watching the city from one of the palace windows. Buildings gleamed orange-red in the lowly dipping sun. "Few people have dared to call me out on my faults. Less have managed to get through to me."

"Perhaps that is due to your habit of throwing people who disagree with you in the dungeons."

Loki was sure he'd spent Odin's patience with that sentence alone. After several beats of waiting for the explosion, Odin merely sighed. It seemed to take him a great deal of effort.

Odin steeled his eyes and tightened his lips as though the words were reluctant to leave his tongue. "How many times have I failed you as a father?"

Too many, Loki wanted to say, but he swallowed it down.

This Odin – this version of him Loki had helped shape with his decisions – fluctuated greatly between the person a younger Loki had wished for him to be and a stranger. The sincerity of his every sentence took Loki aback even as it made him wonder how many of his father's lies were actually none.

Loki could not tell how badly he'd tainted his father's image through half-forgotten memories and wrongly cast judgement. Did it matter, when this Odin seemed so much more willing to change than his first version ever had?

Odin seemed to be making an effort, so who was Loki to throw it back at him?

"What happens now?" Loki asked. Despite its simplicity, it was likely the most meaningful question he'd asked his father since the fateful conversation about Loki's heritage.

Odin did not answer at once. He turned Gungnir in his hand, and the space stone caught the sunlight filtering through the open window. Loki grudgingly acknowledged that it looked at home in Odin's palm more than it had ever felt at his own side.

"We shall see." Odin reached out to pry the gem out of the weapon in a burst of brief, powerful magic. It hovered above his hand as he held it out for Loki. "Can I trust you to take care of it?"

Mere days earlier, Loki would have likely suspected a trap.

He took the gem and found that he had no intention with it other than to destroy it. The gems had done their part. He'd finish his quest by taking them out of the picture for good.

"You can."

Loki closed his hand around the stone. His father nodded, giving both his blessing and one final sign of his trust.

Loki knew that he was not the only one bestowed with life-altering revelations when he found his brother gazing at his hammer as though he was seeing it with new eyes. He looked as though he hadn't moved from his cross-legged position for a long time.

"Odin told you," Loki said, joining his brother and breaking the silence as gently as he managed.

Thor didn't reply for a long while. "He did."

"How are you doing?"

A shrug.

Loki shifted his weight. "I would have told you," he tried, already wishing he'd left Thor alone until his brother decided to seek him out himself. "If Father had refused to explain–"

"I'm not angry with you." Thor's voice was soft. He let out a sigh and did not look at Loki. "I just found out that the kingdom I am set to inherit was built on lies and the slaughter of thousands."

Odin had a talent of shattering worldviews and making them question their origin. This was one similarity Loki wished he and Thor didn't share.

"I sometimes wonder how many more secrets Father is keeping," Loki admitted.

Thor grimaced. "How did you learn? In the other reality?"

"I learned it from you." Loki hesitated. "You, in turn, learned it from our sister."

"From Hela?" Thor looked at him with startled eyes. "Father told me she was banished."

"She is. It... did not hold."

They sat in silence.

"Will you tell me the entire story some time?" Thor asked.

"Whenever you wish to hear it."

Thor threw him a look of gratitude. Nevertheless, he hesitated. "I believe I've had enough revelations for today."

Loki regarded the runes etched into Mjolnir by the dwarves. He remembered being jealous of it once – a gift he'd taken as yet another sign that Thor was destined for greatness by their father while Loki's only destiny was to linger in his shadow.

He found that he no longer felt envious at the thought of Thor's birthright. The feeling had lingered long after Loki had told himself he'd overcome it, stretching and transforming and burying itself in his skin like a parasite. Being free of it at last was something Loki had not thought himself capable of.

He'd enjoyed sitting on Asgard's throne while it had lasted. He did not think he could do it again without being reminded of its long, bloody history and his father's lies.

"He says he regrets what happened," Loki said tentatively, remembering Odin's confession during Asgard's evacuation.

"Perhaps he does." Thor paused. "I hope so. But even then, it does not change what he has done."

It didn't. Loki wondered how many people were still alive who remembered Odin the warmonger, not Odin the wise king.

Words tickled at the back of Loki's throat, and he let them out without meeting his brother's gaze. Asgard's sun shone brightly and made him blink against its light.

"You will make a better king, one day."

There was a soft noise of surprise. Loki did not turn to look, but he heard the smile in Thor's voice. "I cannot tell you how much those words mean to me."

They sat like that, side by side and letting themselves be warmed by the sun's rays. Loki gave in to the urge to glance at his brother and found the barest curve of his mouth – the smile of someone doing so not because he was being watched, but because they could not help themselves.

Loki turned back and felt the corner of his mouth twitch.

They'd lived through the end of the world together. Loki dared to hope that they'd make it through the rest of it as well.

A/N: That's a wrap, guys. Thank you so, so much for sticking around - this story was one of my favorites to write, and it's a joy to see it completed! :D

Please let me know what you thought!

Beta'd by the wonderful, amazing To Mockingbird, PyrothTenka and Igornerd!

~Gwen