My dear brother,

First of all, I want to point out that I meant that. You are very dear to me, and I do, indeed acknowledge you as my brother.

Secondly, I would like to point out the blatantly obvious, as you so enjoy doing. You have not been the best brother to me. I have heard that after a loved one dies, those who are left behind are often stricken with guilt, thinking that they should have been kinder to their loved one, more understanding, or such things. This is my action on this knowledge. You always were a sentimental fool, and I can plainly see you entertaining such delusions.

Therefore, I have engaged a safeguard on my spirit, with the use of my sedir.

I had no intentions of leaving the battle with the Kursed alive. (Odd, isn't it, speaking of oneself in past tense?) You fight better when you have something to fight for, namely, revenge. If you were to defeat Malekith, I needed to die, to spur you to victory. This is the harsh reality of life.

But, back to the safeguard. I'll spare you the "boring details" of how the spell works, although, I must say, it's a perfectly genius charm. All you need know is that it has taken my spirit, and safeguarded it until there was an appropriate, safe place for it to dwell. Most likely, you've discovered what new residence my spirit has taken, and wish to change me back. It just so happens that you are in luck. I have a way to reverse the effects. But more on that, later.

I understand how the dead are treasured. How the fallen heroes of old's sagas are told around campfires. But I also know very well how their faults are overlooked. Nobody but the true scholars know how greedy and tightfisted Bor the Beast-Slayer was, or how Siegfried the Dragon-slayer never listened to sound advice, or how often these faults proved disastrous to those they loved. So, unless you are very sure of what you are doing, please leave me to the tales of yore. Regale your grandchildren with tales of how I defeated monsters with you, how I formulated plans for mischief and mayhem at every turn, and forget who I really was. You love me better dead. When I'm gone, you don't remember that I lied, I cheated, I was a selfish little bastard, and I wasn't worth your time. If you were to follow through with the restoration of my true form, unless I'm very much mistaken, you'll regret it. Don't try to fool yourself.

Then again, if you are positive you wish for me to return, I don't wish to stop you. I do enjoy being alive, after all. Therefore, I've given you an out. A second chance, if you will.

Most uses of this particular spell result in severe amnesia, so I most likely won't remember anything that has happened in recent history; the last few years, or so. I remember quite well, that until my late teenage years, I basically idolized you. Use this to your advantage. This new me will be hungry for approval, and will have no reason to distrust any of you. By this, I mean, you, Father and Mother. He will be younger, and he will be struggling, having not come to terms with who he really is, or, perhaps, not even knowing, yet.

Help him. Lift him up. He needs you just as much as I did. Perhaps more.

You told me, once, that you promised Mother you would protect me, the first time you saw me. I would encourage you to renew your promise for him. He needs it.

This is your second chance.

If you have any intention of blowing it, I implore you, abort your mission immediately. I don't wish to go through rejection, prejudice, lies, and neglect for a second time. It was bad enough, the first time.

This new version of myself will need a home. He will need friends, who care for him and support him. He will need a loving, nurturing atmosphere. You would be a better parent for him than anyone I can think of, so raise him carefully. I cannot stress this issue enough.

If you are not willing to guard him from the despair I was driven to, turn back, now. It would be kinder to simply let me be dead.

With this thought in mind, I can now continue to the instructions on getting me back.

I have a small jar of my blood in the cell I was kept in. It has been enchanted as a sort of "respawn point". If it is crushed, and the blood flows directly onto the ground, my natural form will be retained, and the consciousness transferred from my previous form. This means that I will not ever regain the memories I have lost, I'll be in my Jotun form, and I'll most likely be in the nude. Make sure my previous form has been made aware of these three facts, and please, for the sake of my dignity, have a blanket handy.

I'm not exactly certain as to exactly where in my previous cell the blood is, or if it has been moved, or where in the Nine it is, actually. Ask the warden. As far as I know, he's very unfriendly, as he rarely talks to prisoners, but that may just be his sense of duty. If it has been moved, he knows where it is. If it hasn't, it is under the third tile towards the south from the northwest corner in the cell.

I do love you, brother, even if you decide you're not up to resurrecting me. Please, never forget that. Even despite your mistakes, you have always meant the world to me.

Third, I want to apologize. For my envy, and how I let it consume me. For my maliciousness, for the way I never let you into my life. It was all a façade. I wanted to be as tough and stoic as you. I've always looked up to you, and even now, it's difficult to not hold myself to your standard.

Last, but not least, I want you to know that I was not in control of my own actions when I invaded Midgard. The scepter had me in its grip just as much as Barton. As a dead man, this no longer matters, but I wanted someone to know. To know that I'm not just a villain. That, in my heart, I truly wish to do the right thing. If you even believe me, that is. What is the word of the Liesmith?

Do me a favor, and never call my restored self that. I wore the name like a crown, but in truth, that stung. Badly. I am not a liar. I am a schemer, a mischief maker, one who occasionally enjoys manipulating stupid people, but I am no liar.

That's unrelated.

This is all extremely frightening to me, as I far prefer to be in control of any and every situation I'm in. At this point, I put my entire life in your hands. I have no control, no say, simply taking a step in the dark, praying you will catch me. Yet, at the same time, I also pray that you won't need to. That you're strong enough of a man, now, that you don't need your little brother to sweep up the wreck of whatever trouble you cook up for yourself.

You don't know what it is like to be constantly afraid that those you love most will weigh you in the scales, and have you come up wanting. That they will consider you not useful enough to keep around, and then abandon you. You've always been good enough. That's far more than I can say. I fear whatever option you choose for me, in truth. If you resurrect me, and I turn out to be the same, bitter, wicked person, and hurt those I love, again, I'd rather you never did. But to be forgotten, deemed unworthy, even of life… I'm terrified, Thor. I know I'm not typically this open with the way I think about things, and my emotions, but does it even matter, after I'm dead? Will you forget, either way?

All I can do, now, is accept whatever fate you deem me worthy of. My hours are numbered.

I suppose this is goodbye. Goodbye to the ruined, broken man who was your brother, whichever path you choose. As I shan't have the memories of my family lying and betraying me, I'll not be the same person at all. I'll be better. I promise. I'll make it better, this… (Here, the ink smudged slightly with what appeared to be a drip of water, and the words were illegible.) …love you, Thor.

Goodbye, Brother.

Sincerely, Prince Loki Laufeyson Odinson.

HELP, I CAN'T STOP UPDATING! There's actually only two chapters left, in this, maybe three if I stretch it.

TheOnlyHuman.