Loki nearly stumbles when he steps closer to the cot; his mind has gone entirely blank, and if it weren't for the deep hum of the Reality Stone at the back of his consciousness, he might be tempted to assume that he's experiencing another distorted vision of his dead brother. There's no mistaking the steady pulse of the Aether's power, though – he's neither dreaming nor imagining things, and wherever the Gems have taken him, there can be no doubt that what he's facing is real.

Which means that the sleeping man before him truly is Thor, even if he bears little resemblance to the brother Loki remembers.

Thor looks terrible. From a distance, one might mistake him for an unkempt version of Volstagg – he has put on a shocking amount of weight, and the disheveled mess that is his beard and hair looks just as badly in need of a good wash as the threadbare clothes he's wearing. Even in sleep, what is visible of his expression is pinched, the deep lines cutting into his cheeks and forehead making him appear centuries older than he is. In spite of his girth, the way he's curled up into himself makes him seem strangely small and adds to the overall air of resignation and defeat that surrounds him; it almost feels like an insult to the vibrant, larger-than-life image of Asgard's Golden Prince in Loki's memory.

Can this truly be the man who once told Loki that surrender was not in his nature, back when they –

When they...

Loki wants to scream with frustration when he finds that he can't finish the thought, that the memory he can feel at his fingertips keeps slipping through his grasp as if he were trying to catch a fish with his bare hands. He knows he has heard his brother say those words, can even recall the sound of Thor's voice as he spoke them over the whistling of Svartalfheim's cold wind while –

That's when he notices that Thor's eyes are open.

Loki freezes, unable to tear his gaze away even as he feels his skin begin to crawl. One of those eyes that are watching him with a strange kind of calm is a dull brown when it should be...

...blue –

...the scarred, gaping hole it has been since Hela ripped it out –

Loki staggers back under the sudden onslaught of images in his mind he can't identify – people and places and scenes he has never seen and yet has, that are as alien as they are disturbingly familiar. They blend together in a blinding, deafening maelstrom of colors and noises, and he has to struggle to keep to his feet as the room starts to spin around him. The phantom pain in his chest flares up, and his throat constricts as the sickening crunch of his neck breaking in Thanos' merciless grip reverberates through every bone in his body.

Like a drowning man grasping at a lifeline, Loki tries to cling to the memory of Frigga's arms pulling him out of that particular nightmare, but he can't seem to hold on to his thoughts because they keep drawing him in two different directions, tearing at his mind like two ravens fighting over a scrap of meat in a flurry of blood and black feathers –

Ravens fighting.

The world snaps back into focus.

Hugin and Munin –

Thought and Memory at odds.

He's standing before his brother, whose funeral barge he sent towards the stars himself, and recognizes the sensation of trying to reconcile the image in his memory with what his eyes are telling him now – the vertigo-inducing feeling of being in two places at once, of looking at the world through two different sets of eyes. It had hit him with the force of a blow to the stomach when, back in the early days of his youth, he had first succeeded at creating a magical double. He was retching for hours in the aftermath, dizzy from the mix of gut-wrenching nausea and triumphant exhilaration, and it took him decades of practice until he finally learned to center his sense of self firmly enough to deal with the sensory input of two, five, ten versions of himself at the same time.

Time –

Something itches at the back of his brain as if some kind of dawning realization demanded to be acknowledged, but it is cut off by the sound of Thor's voice.

"Finally a nice one again." The words are slurred and rough with sleep; the mismatched eyes, bleary and unfocused, are crinkling at the corners as if Thor were smiling under that filthy rat's nest of a beard.

It's definitely not the greeting Loki expected, and it takes him a moment to understand what it means.

Thor thinks he's dreaming.

Thor has the gall to think that he's dreaming?

The flash of annoyance Loki experiences is disturbingly familiar, and the kick he delivers to Thor's ribs is consequently none too gentle in spite of the ample padding his heel encounters.

Thor jumps to his feet with a roar, and oh, there's the brother Loki remembers, all bluster and fury and righteous indignation.

"You're ALIVE?" Thor's bellow sounds like an accusation, and to his own surprise, Loki finds himself yelling back.

"You idiots meddled with time?"

Thor's look of speechless astonishment is nothing compared to Loki's own. He can only stare at his brother, his mind reeling from another assault of familiar-unfamiliar images –

Thor's tearstained face fading before his eyes as he lay bleeding on Svartalfheim's black soil... His brother before Hliðskjálf, refusing the throne to the face of the man he believed to be the Allfather... Thor sneering down at him while he kept Loki writhing on the floor with the Grandmaster's little torture device –

Another disorienting flash of double vision pulls Loki out of the maddening kaleidoscope in his head. He recognizes that last image, even if it takes him a moment to recall where he has seen it before – in the most disturbing among all those visions of his brother that have been haunting him since his first day on Asgard's throne.

Is that what he became aware of a mere hour ago, back on the Rainbow Bridge? A thing that doesn't belong and yet does, that has been a part of him for a long time and yet isn't, twisted and wrong as if the Norns had allowed his thread to become so tangled that a filament has come loose and is now coiling itself around his life like a vine around a branch, breaking away and then arching back to take hold in the places it can reach...

Was he closer to the truth than he knew when he woke from a nightmare about being stabbed through the chest and thought that it seemed strange for his mind to bother with imaginary terrors when there was such an overabundance of terrifying memories for it to choose from?

What in the name of Ymir's bones have those madmen done?

Thor, his face ashen, slowly reaches towards Loki as if he meant to clasp the back of his neck like he used to when they were both younger –

Thanos' fist closing around his neck, his throat constricting under the merciless grip can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe –

Loki flinches back without meaning to, and Thor freezes with his arm half outstretched, his expression hovering somewhere between puzzlement and hurt. "Loki?"

"You'll have to forgive me," Loki manages to grind out through clenched teeth while he tries to keep the shreds of his self-control together, "but that evokes memories I could do without."

Thor's face loses the last bit of color. "You remember that?"

Loki's temper flares. "Of course I remember, I was there! Having your throat crushed and your neck snapped is rather hard to forget!"

"But..." Thor is visibly struggling for words now. "I thought – I watched you die, Loki, and I knew you had fooled me before, but I was sure that this time..."

This time? It takes Loki a moment to place the unexpected sting of bitterness, but the mass of new-old memories shifts as if settling more firmly in his mind, and after a few seconds of blindly groping for what he's searching, he finds that he knows what Thor is talking about. "Ah yes, you're convinced that I make a habit of faking my death for the sole purpose of inconveniencing you."

Thor opens his mouth for what is shaping to be a heated reply, but then appears to think better of it; his entire posture slumps, and there it is again, that air of dejection and defeat that clings to him like the stench of a week-old battlefield.

"You're him, aren't you? On Midgard – they explained to me that you had created a new timeline when you escaped with the Tesseract..."

Once again, Loki finds himself at a loss for words. A new timeline? When he escaped with the Tesseract –

The sensation of the world tilting sharply sideways like the deck of a ship hit by a strong gust of wind, making his stomach lurch and his vision grey out...

Was that the moment this whole madness started? Did he spit in the Norns' faces without even realizing it when managed to evade both Thanos' and Asgard's clutches? The Tesseract's gentle song remains a comforting presence on the fringe of Loki's consciousness, but it doesn't provide an answer to either question.

"I tried to be glad, after everything was over." There's a slight tremor in Thor's voice; he sounds like it costs him some effort to speak. "I wanted to believe that another version of you might still be alive somewhere even if he wouldn't be the Loki I knew any more. But if you are him, then... how can you remember your death? It happened here, in this timeline, not in yours!"

Loki pinches the bridge of his nose in an effort to get his racing thoughts under control. He should probably be disturbed by the fact that he's apparently dead in this place, but it seems like a rather insignificant detail considering that he's still here to ponder the issue. The steady pulse of the Reality Stone in his dimensional pocket feels both reassuring and ever so slightly mocking, as if the Aether were amused by his futile attempts to make sense of the situation.

"Thor," he finally begins in that tone of extremely strained patience that never failed to drive his brother up the wall in the past, "I have no idea what kind of reckless scheme you harebrained imbeciles concocted, and from what I've heard so far it's nothing short of miraculous that you didn't manage to rip the fabric of reality itself apart, but I'm here now, am I not? This... reality, this timeline, whatever it is – it contains my memories, so of course I would remember them now that I'm in it! They are my memories, what else did you expect?"

"But you're not you! I mean – him! I mean..." Thor flounders, but then presses on. "You're the one who –"

"I know who I am!"

If Thor seems taken aback by Loki's outburst, his astonishment is nothing compared to Loki's own – because he realizes only now that what he said is completely, unequivocally true. There is no uncertainty, no lingering doubt left in his mind – he does know who he is, and no matter what the Norns will throw at him next, no matter how much turmoil this bizarre situation will cause, that is not going to change.

He has felt the foundation of his existence crumbling underneath him once, and he won't allow it to happen a second time.

When he continues, his tone is almost gentle. "I'm not going to waste my time on explaining a dozen different multiverse theories to you since you wouldn't understand a single one of them, but I can tell you with absolute certainty that there's only one me."

"But..." Thor's voice is barely above a whisper. "He said... Thanos said there would be no more resurrections."

The statement doesn't sound familiar, but Loki has no desire to keep prodding at the memory of those moments, so he forces his mouth into a wry smile and deflects. "One of the first rules of combat Mother taught me was that you should sidestep an attack you can't parry."

Thor recoils as if Loki had spat in his face. "Are you saying you meant for things to happen that way? How could you do this to me again, Loki? I had to watch you die!"

Loki can't help it that his own hackles rise at the indignant tone. "Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? I had to officiate your funeral!"

Thor's jaw drops, and Loki could kick himself. There's no way to predict what kind of impact it might have on an already fragmented state of reality if he allows Thor to learn anything about the timeline (or whatever it really is) he comes from, but now his purely visceral reaction has made the decision for him. Then again, his own presence in Thor's reality hasn't caused the universe to implode yet, so there's hope that the damage was already done before he even came here and can't be made worse now, no matter what he does or says.

"Oh." Thor sounds more surprised than shocked by the news of his own death, and Loki isn't sure what to make of it. "So he killed me instead of you?"

The Tesseract, or your brother's head. Loki pushes past the icy threads of terror that try to coil themselves around him as the scene Thor must be referring to grows clearer and clearer in his memory; better to focus on what Thor just implied with his question.

"Are you asking me whether I sold you out to save my own life?"

Thor's guilty expression is answer enough, and Loki gives in to the hot surge of anger and throws caution to the wind. "Sorry to disappoint you, but it was your own stupidity that got you killed when you single-handedly tried to keep the Dark Elves from invading Asgard."

"Huh – that soon." Thor's continued non-reaction is beginning to really bother Loki. "And you officiated the funeral?"

"I had to." Loki keeps his tone carefully even. "The Allfather was on that barge with you."

That seems to have an impact at last. Thor falls silent for a moment, and then twists his hands together as if bracing himself for his next question. "And… Mother?"

Loki hesitates, the memory of a palace guard standing outside his prison cell suddenly in sharp relief in his mind. He can still feel the deadly numbness that settled over him when he heard those few impassive words – I have been ordered to inform you that the queen is dead – and has to ask himself whether it would be kinder to keep the truth from Thor or to tell him. Would he have considered it a consolation to know that Frigga was still alive in a place he could never reach, or would it have made him feel her loss even more keenly?

His brother apparently misinterprets the brief pause, because he looks away. "I see."

He sounds so despondent that Loki is about to set the misunderstanding straight when Thor continues, "So you know what it's like."

Loki frowns. "What do you mean?"

Thor makes a sweeping gesture as if he wanted to encompass not just the small room they're standing in, but the whole world. "Losing everything." When Loki, uncertain how to react, doesn't reply at once, Thor barks a short laugh that sounds so unlike the brother Loki knew that it sends a chill down his spine.

"We won, you know." It's only now that Loki notices a faint whiff of alcohol on Thor's breath and wonders just how drunk he must have been before he went to bed. "We did the impossible and defeated the Mad Titan, saved the world and brought back everyone who had turned to dust after the Snap… but the price we paid was too high."

Turned to dust? Loki's breath catches in his throat when it dawns on him what Thor means, that Thanos must have succeeded in his plan to collect all six Infinity Gems in order to bring his mission of destruction and annihilation to the entire cosmos. The realization should probably shake him to his core, but instead, it leaves him with a fiery rush of determination.

Not on my watch.

Thor, utterly caught up in his own tale, doesn't appear to notice. "Most of those who were left after Asgard's fall…" – Loki inhales sharply when the image of Asgard's golden spires shrouded in black smoke surfaces in his memory, so vivid that he can almost feel the heat of Surtur's deadly flames on his skin – "…we lost to Thanos' attack, but Valkyrie managed to escape with a small group of our people. She took them to Midgard, and the humans allowed them to settle there. I was supposed to lead them as their king, to help them keep a shred of Asgard alive, but… I couldn't."

A defensive note slips into his tone as if he were taking Loki's baffled silence as reproof. "Valkyrie is a far better leader than I will ever be, and I… I couldn't stay and face the weight of the past every day. I thought it would be easier to start over, to go with my new shield-brothers and fight by their side, and they are a most worthy band of warriors, but… it didn't change the fact that there's nothing left for me in this world."

He pauses and gives Loki a look that is filled with sudden, hesitant hope. "Or – there was, until now."

Loki feels his insides turn to ice. He needs to say something, needs to nip whatever Thor is assuming in the bud before it can take root, but for once his fabled silver tongue deserts him utterly.

In the end, though, he doesn't have to speak because his continued silence is answer enough. Ever so slowly, the hopeful light in Thor's eyes dims to a glimmer and then fades entirely.

"You're not going to stay, are you?" He doesn't even sound disappointed, merely resigned, and Loki hates it. Thor is supposed to bounce back roaring defiance from every blow fate deals him, not to meekly accept defeat and retreat to a dark corner to lick his wounds like a dog that has taken a beating.

Still, nothing will change the fact that there's only one answer Loki is able to give him. "I can't." He tries to sound kind, but he doubts kindness will manage to soften the impact of his words. "I'm needed back home."

Home. When was the last time he called Asgard that and meant it? At which point did the place where he hasn't truly belonged since he left his childhood behind become 'home' again?

Thor's thoughts must echo his own, because his brother seems downright cautious when he asks, "You mean… Asgard?"

At Loki's terse nod, Thor's face softens. "Your Asgard still exists?"

Loki figures there's really no point in holding back any more; he has already said far too much to leave Thor's future life unaffected, so he might just as well give him the whole truth. "Yes, but so does the Titan; I'm in the process of forging an alliance between all Nine Realms in order to give us a fighting chance against him."

Under different circumstances, the way Thor's eyes widen could be considered comical. "You are forging an alliance? But – how…"

For once, Loki doesn't begrudge Thor his astonishment, but he is getting tired of explaining himself. Before he can think better of it, he reaches into his pocket dimension and pulls out the one object that will both render further explanations unnecessary and leave no room for doubts about the truth of his claim.

Thor stumbles back when the golden spear materializes in Loki's hand. "You – you are king? After everything…"

Loki's eyes narrow, and Thor wisely falls silent instead of finishing whatever he was about to say.

"I have been ruling Asgard since the day Odin was slain – not by choice, but because Gungnir came to me the moment the Allfather died." Loki's steely tone dares his brother to question or challenge his statement; when Thor does neither, he adds a little less harshly, "Mother is alive and well, although she still mourns her husband and her son."

Thor hunches his shoulders and presses his fists against his brows. For a second, Loki worries that his brother might be about to burst into tears, but Thor's eyes are still dry when he finally lowers his hands and raises his head again. Instead of tears, those mismatched eyes are shining with an almost childlike expression of – wistfulness? Longing?

Loki is still trying to make sense of the strange look when Thor asks, in a voice so filled with desperate yearning that it is painful to hear, "Then… can I come home?"