Rated T

(Yeah, I don't actually own Loki or anything Marvel. Ask Disney)

~I~N~~T~H~E~~E~N~D~G~A~M~E~~N~O~W~

Chapter 2…

Loki awoke early, as his body had been trained to, and he blearily sat up, untangling himself from his blanket. There were horses to tend to, stalls to muck, and stuffy elf-lords to appease if he ever wanted to make it home … Loki blinked stupidly at his surroundings, taking a few minutes to adjust. This wasn't an Alfheim stable. This was Thor's house.

So … last night had not been a dream after all. A bit of sunlight shone through the dingy curtained window, seeming even brighter as it reflected off the coating of ice the world had received last night. Loki stretched and sank back in relief, almost falling on Thor, who still snored gently in his seated position, where he had been serving as Loki's pillow. In the light of day, it was horribly embarrassing. But it had been surprisingly comfortable.

Carefully, Loki extricated himself from the blanket and dropped it back over Thor, and stretched properly. He felt deliciously free, without any chores to take care of or masters to please. Why, he could go take a leisurely bath if he wanted! How long had it been since he had been able to use hot water to wash himself? Too long.

Loki put his slippers on, not forgetting the danger of glass on the rugs and wood floor, and stole through the silent house. He found the bathroom easily enough, and locked himself in. It was a pathetically small room, with only a shower. There was no tub. Oh well, Loki sighed. At least he would get hot water. Sponge baths could only go so far. He checked his dimensional pocket, glad that he had soap, a hairbrush, and two more changes of clothes. There was shampoo in the shower, and plenty of large towels. He found himself a clean one in the cabinet, not trusting the hanging ones, and turned on the hot-water faucet.

~I~N~~T~H~E~~E~N~D~G~A~M~E~~N~O~W~

Thor awoke with a pounding hangover and a mouth stuffed full of cotton. He groaned at the light stabbing his eyes, and heard the sound that had woken him. The shower was running, water gurgling in the pipes, and Korg was up, stomping around in the kitchen. Wait. What?

Thor sat up, rubbing his eyes, and squinted over at the kitchen. The huge rock beast was puttering around, making coffee and eggs as best he could. If he was in there, then who was in the shower? His skull gave another vicious throb, and Thor groaned again, rubbing his head in pain. He hated hangovers. Staggering to his feet, he supposed that he would find out who was in the shower, because he really needed the facilities. How much had he drunk last night? It was all a fuzzy, hazy memory, but he'd had a good dream at some point. It was a weird dream, whatever it was.

"Oh, Thor!" Korg's voice suddenly intruded on his musing, causing his head to feel like Stormbreaker had been taken to it recently. "I thought you were in the shower," Korg grinned apologetically. "Want your eggs now?"

Thor squinted at the rock-alien and miserably shook his head. He winced at the movement and cradled his head, stumbling forward a few steps. He almost tripped over several bottles on the floor, and was grateful that Korg was kind enough to jump forward and catch him.

"Watch it there, lord of thunder," the ex-gladiator said cheerfully. "Just how much did you drink last night?"

"Too much," Thor mumbled, swaying and grateful for Korg's solid strength. "Thank you, my friend. Oh … who's in the shower?"

"Beats me," Korg shrugged. "Miek's still snoring."

Thor blinked and slowly shook his head. He couldn't think of who in the world would be so bold as to waltz into their house and take over the shower without asking. "Val?" he guessed.

"Could be," Korg shrugged again, his boulder parts grinding against each other. "She didn't knock, if she did for some reason decide our shower's better. But if it's her, I'd leave her alone 'til she's finished."

"I agree," Thor sighed. "I'll go out back."

The back of their humble house faced the sea, though it was a long way off, and there were no other houses on this side of the village, so it was private. It was crisp and cold outside, and his bare feet protested the ice on the ground. He finished his business in record time and stumbled back inside, shivering and grumbling against the usurper of their bathroom. The shower had stopped in the thirty seconds he was outside, and Korg was humming as he stirred eggs in the frying pan.

Slumping at the kitchen table, Thor mumbled his thanks for the large mug of coffee and plate of steaming eggs and toast that Korg slid over to him. He inhaled his food, gratefully accepted the large store-bought muffins that Korg had toasted over the flames of the gas stove, and finished his breakfast. He didn't normally eat much when he was hung-over, but this morning, he was in a strangely cheerful mood. He felt much more alive than he had in days. Weeks, if he was honest.

"I had a good dream last night," Thor announced as he picked at a third muffin.

"Hmm?" Korg hummed. "So did I. Wanna hear it?"

"Of course," Thor smiled easily, and Korg then launched into a strange narrative that featured him falling apart and getting his pieces picked up by a couple of boys who then proceeded to throw them at the Hulk, and the Hulk became angry and started chasing the boys around in circles. It was truly a stupid dream, but Thor laughed, and Korg grinned and shrugged.

"So, what'd you dream about?" the rock-creature asked once they had finished laughing.

"I dreamt about Loki," Thor said quietly. His eye shimmered with tears. "He came to the front door, caught Stormbreaker when I called it, and walked right in. He told me I lived in a dreadful place, though not in so many words of course, and then stayed when I begged him not to go. I dreamt he slept with me right on that couch. It was a very good dream, Korg."

"And to happen on the anniversary," Korg added, sounding genuinely happy for his friend. "D'you think maybe he was reachin' out from beyond? Telling you it was okay?"

Thor nodded and wiped his face. "I think so," he said softly. "It made me think … I've been squandering the gift he gave me. He sacrificed his life for me … and look at what I've been doing with it? Eating, drinking, weeping … I am no Asgardian, Korg. I'm a coward. The Norns sent me a vision of my brother to wake me up, I believe. And I will not fail Loki. Not again."

"Well, that's nice to hear," a familiar drawl reached their ears. "But if neither of you can get me a cup of tea this morning, you've already failed."

Thor fell off his chair in shock, staring in slack-jawed disbelief at the tall, dark-haired young man in the hall leading to the bathroom. He was toweling his hair right now, and looked both annoyed and amused at Thor's reaction. His clothing was odd, and made him look dreadfully skinny, but his cheeks were pink and his blue eyes burned with life. He was no ghost.

"Get out of here, ghost!" Korg complained. "Shoo! Stop haunting us!" The rock-alien grabbed a muffin and threw it at the Loki-like vision, and Thor had a disturbing image of his own hand flinging a bottle at his dream last night.

A slim hand shot up and caught the muffin, and then Loki eyed it dubiously. After examining it, he took a bite. He shrugged, as if the taste were acceptable, and disappeared back into the bathroom. Trembling and unsteady, Thor got to his feet and exchanged a bewildered look with Korg.

"What was in those muffins?" the Kronan gladiator muttered, rubbing his stone head.

Thor shook his head, feeling more bewildered by the second. "You saw him too … right?"

"Saw something that looks like him," Korg replied dubiously. "Thought you said the Titan crushed his neck?"

Thor blinked hard against the tears. "He did," he whispered, bewildered. "I know he did."

"So why isn't he dead?"

Thor shook his head again, feeling helpless and lightheaded.

Korg sighed. "Well, I guess he'll tell us whatever he wants when he's finished. Hey, does your brother like eggs?"

"Yes," Thor answered automatically, blinking in surprise as that bit of information came easily. "But fried, not scrambled, and he hates it if you burst the yolk."

"Got it."

~I~N~~T~H~E~~E~N~D~G~A~M~E~~N~O~W~

Loki finished the Midgardian breakfast pastry, (a passable attempt at baking) brushed his hair, and with a twist of his hand, sent the hairbrush back to his dimensional pocket, along with the clothes he'd worn last night. They smelled a little like Thor's sweat from sleeping on him. He smoothed the glossy Alfar tunic he wore, missing his Asgardian leathers all the more. But they had been pawned off for supplies or other necessities long since. All he had was whatever the mage-monks of Alfheim had deigned to give him, and one last set of Asgardian clothing that he would not wear or sell unless he had no choice. They were the last garments that his mother had sent him while he was in prison, almost eight years ago.

Loki's sharp ears caught the anxious mutters and whispers of Thor and his boulder friend in the next room, and he scowled at himself in the mirror. They truly thought him a ghost, did they? This would get old very quickly. But he had promised Thor answers last night, and if he wanted any sort of peace, he would have to give those answers. To be honest, if he wanted answers about what had been happening in the last five years, he would have to be civil enough to have a coherent conversation.

"Don't let your temper get the better of you," Loki muttered at his reflection. He shook his head, wondering when his own temper had gotten so short. Usually Thor had been the one with the short fuse, while Loki was the model of patience and decorum. In the last fourteen years, though …

Loki sighed and mentally scolded himself away from such thoughts. Think positive, don't comment on Thor's new figure or choice of lifestyle, and maybe they would get somewhere. Satisfied with his neat, but casual appearance, Loki stepped out of the bathroom to complete silence. Thor was gripping the table so hard the wood was cracking, and Korg was cooking fried eggs on the gas-burning stove. Loki did not see any tea, but there was something black in a glass pitcher. He apprehensively poured himself a mug-full and sat down before he took a careful sip.

Loki promptly coughed and made a face. It smelled better than it tasted, that was certain. "What is this?" Loki demanded in disgust, eying the black liquid with suspicion.

"C-coffee," Thor stuttered. "It … Midgardians are fond of it."

"And so are you, I warrant?" Loki muttered. He held up his mug and glared at it. "Is it supposed to taste like this?"

"I think so," Thor said uncomfortably. "But it isn't as good as the first coffee I tried …" he trailed off, lost in memory. But Loki's scheme had succeeded, because Thor was no longer warping the table with his tense hands. He hid his smirk behind the rim of the mug. Norns, this 'coffee' was horrible.

Korg timidly put a plate of fried eggs and toast in front of him, and Loki looked up, surprised that the food was for him. The rock creature then poked him in the shoulder almost hard enough to knock him over. Loki batted the stone hand away and glared.

"Do you mind?" he demanded. But he turned to his breakfast and added a belated, "Thank you. For the food."

"Yeah, no problem," Korg replied easily.

Hiding his embarrassed flush under a trickle of cloaking seidr, Loki picked up the fork and ate, polishing off the three eggs and four pieces of toast in record time. Korg thoughtfully set out some milk, and Loki was grateful for the drink, fearing that coffee or beer would be the only choices of beverage around here. On a whim, he poured some of the milk, (which was thin and flavourless compared to the milk he was used to) into his coffee, and found the drink's bitterness to be much more palatable. While he finished, Thor and Korg watched him with strange expressions.

Loki forgave them their idiocy for today only. He supposed that if he'd believed Thor dead for five years, he would have been a little stunned if Thor had simply shown up one night without explanation. Now that he was rested and fed, he was feeling indulgent.

Pouring himself another cup of coffee and adding milk, the younger Prince leaned back in his chair and fixed his eyes on Thor, who was still standing. "Alright," Loki said. "You may talk now. You wish to know if I am real? The answer is yes. You wish to know if I am Loki of Asgard? Again, the answer is yes. You obviously wish to know how I'm back from the dead? Short answer: I didn't really die. Think Svartalfheim, but more damage."

He raised his mug in mock salute to Thor, who looked dazed, and quaffed half of his steaming drink in one go. He pursed his lips and wrinkled his nose, thinking that some honey would improve the taste still more, if there was any around here.

"Do you have honey, Korg?"

~I~N~~T~H~E~~E~N~D~G~A~M~E~~N~O~W~

Thor regained his senses as Korg disappeared into the storage room, hunting for honey. Loki watched him with amusement, annoyance, and long-suffering weariness as Thor edged around the table and hesitantly reached out, his forefinger extended. Loki huffed and put his mug down before he simply slapped Thor's hand away.

"No more poking," he snapped, his temper already fraying. "Did that feel real enough to you?"

Thor rubbed his hand. It was protected by woolen gloves, and Loki hadn't even hit him that hard. "Tell me … tell me something only you and I know," Thor whispered. "I … want to believe. But … I am afraid."

Loki sighed and propped his chin in his hand, lifting an eyebrow at him that clearly said, 'Alright, I'll play along' in the most condescending way possible. He said nothing. Instead, he shifted his appearance to his Jotun form. It was easy enough now, with the Casket of Ancient Winters safely held in his dimensional pocket. Thor blinked in surprise, but he didn't move otherwise.

"I found this out fourteen years ago," Loki rasped, his voice deeper and hoarser when he was in his Frost-Giant form. He shifted back to Aesir and smiled sardonically. "Good enough for you? Or shall I go on? There was the time you and I snuck off to Alfheim for a day and made it back without anyone the wiser. You were forty-something and I was ten years younger. There was the time I stabbed you after changing into a snake when we were in our eighties. Ah, and I'm sure you recall what I gave you for your hundredth birthday. I knew you would adore those little carved figurines better than any other gift I could have gotten you. You didn't believe me when I said I'd carved them myself."

"Did you?" Thor asked, feeling curious. He remembered the figurines, but his hundredth birthday was so long ago, he wasn't sure he could remember anything accurately.

"No," Loki smirked. "I improved them a bit, but I bought them at market as they were, fixed a few things here and there, gave them some colour, and passed them off as my own."

Thor chuckled despite himself. But this whole scene was simply surreal. He couldn't convince himself that he wasn't dreaming. Slowly, he dropped into the chair near Loki and reached out, hesitantly placing his hand on top of his brother's; the one he'd left sitting on the table while his other hand supported his head. Loki didn't pull away, but he eyed Thor's hand warily.

"What are you doing?" his little brother demanded suspiciously.

"I missed you," Thor whispered, losing the battle with his tears. "I missed you so much."

Loki hesitated, his eyes flicking from Thor's face to his hand. Finally, Loki put his other hand down on top of his brother's and gave it an awkward pat.

"I suppose occasionally over the last five years, I missed you too," Loki conceded reluctantly. His eyes flashed suddenly as he glared murderously at the god of thunder. "But what have you been doing with your life in the last years? How in the world did you end up like … that?"

Thor winced and looked down at his hand, now covered with Loki's right hand. "I know I've squandered the gift you gave me," he whispered shamefully.

"Oh, that's one way to put it," Loki snorted.

"I know it was ungrateful of me …"

"It was ungrateful of you to call me the 'worst brother' when all I was trying to do was save your miserable life. I almost wish I hadn't bothered.

Tears welled up in Thor's eye and he looked away for shame. "You have no idea how I have grieved those final, foolish words of mine. I am so sorry, Brother."

"Oh stop it," Loki growled, yanking his hands away from Thor and hiding them in his lap. "You thought an Infinity Stone was worth losing your life over, but I knew it was pointless. You would have died for nothing. Thanos would have gotten it regardless."

"Actually, we don't say that name here!" Korg piped up as he came lumbering into the kitchen. "Hey, I found honey!" he added triumphantly.

Loki took the bottle of honey from the rock-creature without looking, as his eyes were fixed on Thor, who was too filled with self-loathing and shame to reply. Thor watched dully as Loki stirred honey into his coffee and continued to gaze at him searchingly.

"You don't say that name here?" Loki suddenly repeated, almost mockingly. "It's simply a name, and a stupid one at that. Why do you fear it?"

"He … he killed you," Thor whispered, his breath hitching as he lost the battle with his tears.

"So what?" Loki huffed. "You didn't seem to care much about the words Dark Elf, or Kursed, after I was stabbed on Svartalfheim. So why this one?"

"Does it matter?" Thor mumbled, poking at the wood grain of the table. "I will not say his name again. I will not. And … I don't want anyone saying it again, either."

"Thanos," Loki announced with a sneer. "It is amazing that a six-letter word would have such power over the King of Asgard. What was that you asked me before? 'Who controls the future king?"

"You have no idea!" Thor choked, pressing his fists to his forehead as he struggled against the horrible memories of the purple titan, not the least of which was watching his little brother struggle in vain as he was slowly strangled to death in front of him. "You have no idea what it was like," Thor whispered. "We fought. We fought and we battled and in the end it still wasn't enough. I failed. Please don't make me speak about it, Loki. I cannot."

Loki slapped him.

Thor jerked in shock and gaped at his little brother, who was glaring at him with seething rage. Loki raised his hand as if for another smack, but instead, he clenched it into a fist and pointed one long forefinger in his face.

"Thanos, Thanos, Thanos!" Loki chanted in a shout. "I have more reason to hate that name than you, yet I say it without fear! What does that make you, Thor? Is Thor Odinson, King of Asgard, so afraid?"

"You would know if you had been forced to see what I –"

Loki's eyes flashed with even more rage and he cut Thor off mid-speech. "I was tortured for a year by that monster! And you don't see me cowering in a corner with a bottle of alcohol, do you? You didn't see me cowering when he came and threatened to kill you!"

"Stop it!" Thor shouted, his grief warring with anger as he slammed his hands on the table so violently that Loki's coffee fell over and spilled all over the place. Loki ignored it, focusing all of his attention on Thor.

"My death turned you into a hero the first time," Loki hissed. "Why did it turn you into a coward the second time?"

"I am a coward!" Thor shouted, his voice breaking. Loki looked stunned by the admission, maybe even horrified. Thor couldn't bear it. He buried his face in his hands to hide from his brother's gaze and tried in vain to stifle his sob. "I am a coward, and I know it," he repeated. "But not because of you, Loki. This is my fault, not yours. I failed you. I have always failed you."

"And you shall go on failing me with a cowardly attitude like that," Loki snarled. His hand lashed out and he hauled Thor to his feet by the back of his collar and a good chunk of his hair, no easy feat. Thor was forced to stare into the snapping blue fire of his little brother's eyes, and for the first time, he was afraid of Loki.

"Look at me like a man, not a pathetic excuse for a King!" Loki hissed. "You are no peasant that you should look at me with fear in your eyes! You are Thor, son of Odin and King of Asgard. Are you not?"

"I am a failure," Thor whispered brokenly. "I do not deserve the kingship. I am not worthy of it. Just look at me!"

"Was Odin worthy? Was I worthy?" Loki demanded, a mocking tone underlying his words. "You'll certainly never be worthy if you decide to mope like a wretched coward. All you can ever do is your best, but what I see, Thor, is your worst."

"I have nothing left."

"You truly hate your people, my memory, the memory of your father, your mother, Asgard? You truly hate them all so much that this is what you would give them? A broken drunk almost unworthy of the title drunkard? This is Asgard's King?"

"Asgard?" Thor scoffed, blinking at the tears. He gestured a bit wildly at the grimy kitchen window. "Just ask them what sort of King I've been. They were gods! Now they're just fisher-people. The ones that are left, anyway. And it is all my fault. You know it is, Loki. I wasn't strong enough."

"You think that matters to me? Do you think your worth lies in your strength? Hmm, now that I think about it, of course you would think that. Otherwise, you would not have scorned and insulted me so much over the last thousand years."

"Loki ..." Thor said pleadingly. "You are stronger than I. You have always been. You were always far cleverer, smarter, braver ... I was a fool. And I still am. A failure."

Loki's eyes burned, not with hatred or blame, but with righteous anger and a deep-seated weariness that Thor had never seen in his brother's eyes. How had the last five years changed him so? "Do you think I only ever valued you for your muscles?" he demanded softly, his eyes flashing. "For your invincibility? You think yourself worthless because you finally lost a battle? What of me, then? I who have lost more battles than I have won in my long life? I who have relied on trickery and lies to come out alive, more often than not?"

"Loki, please stop," Thor whispered, looking away and fighting the tears that burned his eye. "I can't ... You don't ... I ..."

"I am finished with this," Loki interrupted disgustedly, his words no less painful for being quiet. Thor flinched and lowered his head in shame, tears spilling from his good eye. Loki finally released him and stepped back. "I am ashamed of you," Loki added quietly, sounding exhausted. "Disgusted, more like. I can't believe you would give up like this ... treat me this way. After all I sacrificed ... all I endured. You still don't understand, do you? You still think so little of me ... except now you also think very little of yourself. Why did I even come back to you? I should have stayed on Vanaheim."

Loki's quiet footsteps left the kitchen, and the back door banged open before it clicked shut. Thor let out a shuddering breath and pressed his hands to his face. He stumbled out of the kitchen, blinded by tears, his heart pounding in his chest, and his muscles weak. He found the sitting room and fell onto the sofa, shuddering with sobs he tried to keep locked inside. But he found Loki's blanket; the unfamiliar one his brother had shared with him last night. He brought it to his face, but it didn't exactly smell like the Loki he remembered, leather and cornflowers and mint … This smelled like a stable; like clean straw and horse sweat and grains. It smelled like dust and hay. The faintest bit of the elusive cornflower scent reached his nose finally, and Thor broke into wails of grief.

He had long suspected that he was being a coward by choice, it was true. It had been so much easier to convince himself that he had been simply a coward by nature than that he had actually been throwing away the gift his brother had freely given to him. Somehow, he still didn't quite believe that Loki was somehow alive and here on Midgard just to slap him upside the head for being an ungrateful fool … he must still be dreaming, or delirious. Because he saw Loki die. He saw the crushed neck and the blood in his eyes and mouth. He heard the vertebrae snap and crumple in the Titan's fist. There was no way Loki could have survived.

Think of Svartalfheim, Loki had flippantly advised him. Had not Thor seen the stab wound that time and concluded that it also was fatal? Typically, if a heart stopped beating, it meant that the owner of the heart was dead. How could Loki have truly survived, except through trickery?

He was so confused, and his head ached still. Korg was quietly cleaning the kitchen, and more guilt crashed onto Thor's head. He had been moping for five years. Korg, in all that time, had never once complained. He had continued to help Thor, distract him, feed him, comfort him, steady him … Korg had kept him alive, if not sane also. But Loki came back and shattered Thor's semi-comfortable world in a way only Loki the god of chaos could.

"Tell me I'm not dreaming, Korg, my friend," Thor moaned, lifting his head from the blanket, blinking desperately at the Kronan through his tears. "Tell me this is happening and my brother truly is alive."

"Far as I know, you're awake," Korg shrugged, his boulder-like body rumbling and clicking as he moved. "I can come slug you a good one to be sure though, if you like."

"Thank you … that won't be necessary," Thor answered faintly. He sat for several long minutes, trying to figure out how to wrap his brain around this simple, but impossible, truth.

Loki was alive.

Whether through trickery or miracle, magic or chance, Loki of Asgard had survived. The thought alone should have made Thor want to cry and dance for joy, but he was too confused and grieved to do either. What had brought Loki here? Why would he seek Thor out after five years only to mock and belittle him for wasting the gift of his life?

He stumbled to his feet, still clutching the blanket. He had to do something about it before he lost his little brother again for good. Thor had a feeling that this time, it had been him doing the betraying, not Loki, albeit inadvertently. He couldn't let Loki slip away again. He had to make this right. Thor staggered into the bedroom to get some shoes on, dropping the blanket on the bed as he went. He hardly used his bed anymore, but the sheets were rumpled and the blankets and pillows scattered every which way. Thor carefully folded his brother's blanket, noting absently that the design was Elvish. Loki's clothing too, looked Alfar. Was that where his brother's path had led? Alfheim?

Thor shook himself and clomped out of the house in his boots, determined to track down Loki and apologize first. Questions could wait.

~I~N~~T~H~E~~E~N~D~G~A~M~E~~N~O~W~

Loki walked aimlessly, marching in a more or less straight line away from Thor's cabin as far as he could go. The frigid wind raised goosebumps on his exposed flesh, but he summoned a coat from his dimensional storage and pulled it on, mitigating the cold somewhat. The sun was bright and nearly everything was coated in ice after the storm last night, making his angry march a little treacherous. He slowed down after nearly slipping for the third time and found himself climbing a slight hill that looked out over the ocean. It was beautiful, and such a deep blue. The sun sparkled over the cresting waves and shone on the ice-covered land. Loki took several deep breaths of bracing sea air and felt his body calming.

He had lost his temper with Thor. He hadn't meant to, but he had all the same. Thor had looked up at him so brokenly, and then had lowered his head, hunching his shoulders like a whipped dog. Loki couldn't bear it. He simply had to get out. He had to leave. He couldn't stand to see Thor doing that, acting like that, being so … weak. He needed his strong brother. If Thor was too weak to stand on his own, who did Loki have left? Tears prickled his eyes and he didn't wipe them away. It was cold out here, and silent, save for the rush of the wind and the softer echo of the waves far below the cliff. He was alone.

The last time he had been on Midgard, it had been to watch Odin die and Hela appear. It had been to watch his brother bewildered and beaten and outmatched. It had been to make a foolish mistake that had led Odin's bloodthirsty daughter to Asgard. He was back, and it didn't feel like this visit was going any better than the first. But he had no way off the Realm now, and he couldn't leave without his goal realized. He needed to wake Thor up, get him angry … fight with him, perhaps. Knock some sense into his drunken mind. He needed Thor to help him kill the Mad Titan and his minions. The Black Order, his Children, needed to be slain or other worlds would continue to suffer. The Chitauri needed to be dealt with. They were parasites, barely sentient hive-dwelling insects bred for the express purpose of overrunning worlds, destroying things, sowing chaos, and slaughtering civilians. Against a soldier, even of Midgardian standards, Chitauri were easily killed. They were disposable, despicable, and incapable of rebelling. Their strength lay in numbers and their hive-mind, and that was all. It would not be difficult to put them all into an everlasting sleep.

But Loki needed Thor.

He sighed and turned to go, his feet crunching on the icy ground. He walked along the edge of the cliff as it sloped down, gradually leading to the edge of the village. In the sunlight, it looked very much like the Aesir settlements on Vanaheim or Alfheim. He wouldn't be surprised if the village was named New Gladsheim or New Asgard or something equally sentimental. On a whim, he altered his course and wandered toward the village, which was bustling already. Asgardians were usually early risers, if he remembered correctly.

He wondered how many had survived.

Loki kept his appearance the same, wondering how long it would take for someone to recognize him. True, he had rarely worn light colours, so his beige trousers and matching coat, not to mention his silky yellow shirt, would make it a little more difficult for people to recognize him, but his hair, though a bit longer and more messy, was roughly the same, and though he had lost some weight, his face was the same as ever. Squinting against the brilliant glare of the sun on the ice, Loki marched down to the village, only slowing his steps when he was close enough to hear voices. The buildings were mostly houses, though there was a shop or two, and he even spotted some Midgardian transports. One shop was for small repairs and looked like a junk shop, and another was a seamstress who had probably just opened, judging from the smell of the fresh paint. Midgardian stuff always smelled strongly of chemicals. Hopefully the Asgardians would be able to start adapting Aesir techniques to Midgardian materials, or they would all start having shorter life-spans like the mortals.

Nobody paid Loki any mind. One old woman he recognized waved feebly at him and he returned the wave, but she looked to be over five thousand and her vision was probably failing. He picked a spot on a fence that contained a large brown cow and her calf, and sat there, observing the village life. No one approached him or recognized him. No one else waved to him or called out to him. An hour or more passed and the ice was melting under the sun. Looking up at the sky, he guessed it was late winter in Midgard's northern hemisphere. It was probably spring soon. He looked back down, startled to see a young girl staring up at him with a seriously solemn look on her face. Loki smiled at her, but said nothing. She reached out, her small face still grave and serious, and Loki held his hand out to her. Her hand was warm to his cold one, and he only just realized how stiff and cold he was becoming on the fence. The girl held his hand for several more seconds, his green eyes calmly searching his face and her solemn expression never twitching. Loki was fairly certain she recognized him, and had only touched him to be sure he wasn't a ghost.

She suddenly pulled away and ran off, her boots splashing in the muddy puddles of the road. Loki watched her go, and then eased himself off the fence. The cow glanced at him, and Loki arched an eyebrow at it.

"Don't recognize me, do you?" he asked her playfully. The cow snorted and nuzzled her calf before going back to her cud-chewing.

"Hmm, and you don't care anyway," Loki mused. He stuffed his cold hands in his coat pockets and wandered off. He passed a boy with a wheelbarrow, struggling along in the mud, and Loki gave the barrow a pull from the front to get it out of a particularly squishy rut. The boy thanked him breathlessly, and then gave him a shocked double-take. Loki smirked and put a finger to his lips. He wondered when the first adult would recognize him. This was getting amusing.

After three more children recognized him, Loki was rewarded by a man on a crutch hobbling up to him, his blue eyes glowing with hope.

"Prince Loki?" he whispered, his wrinkled hand shaking as he reached out. "Is it truly you?"

Loki smiled, beamed really, and spread his hands out at his sides. "Your savior is here," he joked, recalling the last time he'd done so. Every refugee who had made it onto the Statesman had seen it, and the old man began to laugh and cry at the same time, even as he clapped a fist to his heart several times, almost beating his breast. Loki gently caught the old fellow's hand and pulled him into an embrace. It felt right, somehow.

"You've returned, Prince Loki, you've come back from the dead again," the old man whispered through his tears. "Norns bless you, my Prince. Norns bless you!"

"Hush now," Loki murmured, patting the old man on the back and stepping away. "Yes, I'm back. Perhaps later we can have a skald's-night, and I'll tell my tale. What is your name, my good man?"

"Skjalf Hodurson," the old man replied eagerly. "I was a jeweler before, and now I work a small farm with my sons, further inland."

"Skjalf?" Loki repeated incredulously, and then he smiled and thumped the man on the shoulder. "Your daughter-in-law on Vanaheim sends her love and greetings. She feared you had perished, but asked me to pass her words to Skjalf Hodurson if ever our paths crossed."

"Ilsa?" the old man whispered, more tears welling up and running down his face. "What of Kili? Is my son …?"

"I am sorry," Loki whispered. "He turned to dust."

The old man sniffed and passed his hand over his eyes. Loki looked away, uncomfortable with the man's grief. After a few seconds, Skjalf had composed himself.

"Thank you for the news, Prince Loki," he said quietly, reverently. "You have done my old heart more good today than I've had in five long years."

"Today is the best day I've had in five years too," Loki smiled back, the weight on his heart lessening a great deal.

"King Thor told us all you'd perished at the hands of the Titan," Skjalf said gravely. He smiled suddenly, a sly smirk that made him look like a rogue. "But we were told you perished on Svartalfheim too. I am happy to say I had my doubts, my Prince."

"Thank you for your faith in me, Skjalf," Loki chuckled, feeling strangely touched by the old man's words. "There were times I lost faith in myself, to be honest. I'm glad to be home."

The old man nodded solemnly. He pressed his fist to his heart and bowed before he hobbled off. When he turned to go in the opposite direction, Loki found himself almost surrounded by curious, or apprehensive, Asgardians. He did the same thing to them he'd done to the old man. Smiling, he held out his arms to them.

"Your savior is here!"

~I~N~~T~H~E~~E~N~D~G~A~M~E~~N~O~W~

Thor did not find his brother no matter how he looked. Loki's footprints in the icy ground, faint as they were, should have been easy to follow, but he lost the trail after less than five minutes, four minutes of which he used to catch his breath after running so fast. He really hadn't run that much in five years, as evidenced by his oversized gut. He wandered to the cliff, and wandered further up until the hill sloped down toward the sea and the rocky shore. But after around thirty or forty minutes of uselessly wandering around, calling Loki's name, Thor gave up and wandered back toward the house. He found Korg outside trying to chop wood. Thor usually just ripped the chunks of wood apart with his bare hands the way Steve Rogers had shown him years ago when they stayed with Agent Barton's family. When Korg tried that, he crushed the wood into splinters, so he used an axe instead … or tried to.

"Didn't find what you were looking for?" the rock-creature asked him sympathetically.

Thor silently shook his head and mopped the sweat from his brow. He tossed off his ratty sweater and half gloves, leaving him shirtless in the frigid air. Then he grabbed some wood and started splitting it with Korg. For a while, they worked in silence: Korg struggling to use the flimsy Midgardian axe in his huge, clumsy hands, and Thor easily tearing the chunks of wood in half like they were made of bread. Working in the sunshine, Thor's head was clearer than it had been in ages. He wasn't drunk, and strangely enough, had no compunction to drink either. He was confused and intrigued and almost dared to hope. But as an hour or more passed and Loki didn't return, Thor began to fear that he had hallucinated the whole thing last night and this morning.

Korg went back inside after some time, inviting him to come along and join him in some tournament in the online videogame they had been playing this month, but Thor refused.

"I just need some time; to think. Go ahead without me."

Korg shrugged and took him at his word. For a little while longer, Thor worked alone. He stacked the wood neatly in the lean-to next to the house, swept the porch clean of the melting ice, and picked up the axe. So long as he was gentle, he could chop wood without breaking the head off, as he had done to a few already. His fingers were sore from all the wood-splitting. Once he got a rhythm going, his thoughts returned to Loki. If his brother had survived, what did it mean? Loki was back in Midgard … what would the rest of his Avenger friends think? How would the rest of New Asgard react? Should he apologize first or …? No, he definitely should apologize the minute he saw Loki again. He was so lost in thought that he barely heard the rickety truck pull up at the bottom of the hill. The Valkyrie occasionally went for supplies in the next town, and she would take orders, so long as she got paid. Thor was startled out of his thoughts by the harsh blaring of the vehicle's horn. He dropped the axe, wiped sweat off his face, and lumbered down the muddy hill to the rusted red truck. The Valkyrie was opening the back end of the pickup, as Barton called these vehicles, and she eyed him with disgust.

"That might be the most frightening thing I've ever seen," she quipped, raising an eyebrow at his flabby, sweaty, shirtless torso. Thor glanced down at himself, feeling a trickle of shame. He brushed it away and gave her as real a smile as he could manage.

"It's nice to see you, Val," he said sincerely. He had tried calling her Brunnhilde once, but that hadn't gone over well. Apparently, the only one she allowed to use her true name had been Loki.

"Nah, you're just glad to see the booze," the Valkyrie snorted, hefting two large crates out of the truck and dumping them in Thor's arms. Bottles clanked against one another inside, and Thor felt vaguely ill as he looked down into the paper padding of the top box and caught a sight of whiskey bottles.

"Actually …" Thor cringed.

"Ah, don't tell me," Val huffed, leaning against the truck and giving him an exasperated look. "You were actually craving more of that swill they call beer, were you? Well, they were out. That's all I could get. And it's expired. So it came cheap. You're welcome."

"I don't want them," Thor said firmly. He turned and eased the crates back into the truck. He fixed her with as grim a look as he'd ever managed in nearly five years. "I'm done."

The Valkyrie's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You're just done?" she repeated incredulously. "After I've been at you four years and now you decide to listen to me?"

"I'm … wasting my life," Thor mumbled, running a hand through his matted, filthy hair. "Norns … I look awful, don't I?"

"Looked in a mirror lately?"

Thor winced. "Not while sober."

"That's pretty obvious."

"I am King of Asgard," Thor sighed. "This … this is not behavior fitting a King. I suppose I realized that."

Val smirked, and then punched him in the arm. "Welcome back," she said with a teasing twinkle in her eyes. "All-Father."

Thor laughed in surprise and almost hugged her, but suddenly realized that he was disgusting. He was filthy and sweaty and he stank of liquor. She shrank back with a look of loathing and a wrinkled nose. "My apologies," Thor grinned. "I'll thank you properly after I wash and change."

"Uh-huh, you do that," the Valkyrie snorted. "By the way, is there some sort of impromptu festival today or something?"

"Festival?" Thor repeated stupidly. "None … that I'm aware of. Why?"

"There was this big crowd down in the village square when I passed through," the Valkyrie said thoughtfully, turning to look over at the jumble of hills and huts that comprised New Asgard. "A lot of chatter and laughter. They sounded happy, at least."

Something cold and then hot settled in Thor's gut and he wondered if it was possible for Loki to be the cause of such a gathering. Perhaps, not having any luck with the pathetic King, the resurrected Prince had decided to try contacting the people themselves. Thor wasn't sure whether to be alarmed, overjoyed, amused, or bewildered. Of course, that was only if Loki was indeed the cause of such a thing.

"Well," the Valkyrie said sharply, slamming the back of the truck closed and sauntering back to the driver's seat. "I'll check it out. Maybe somebody's cat had kittens or something. You go clean up. You reek."

Thor nodded reluctantly. She was right, and if it was Loki, he was the last person his little brother probably wanted to see. "If it's something important, come let me know, alright?" Thor asked timidly.

Val merely waved in acknowledgement of the request and slammed the vehicle's door shut. The truck restarted with a loud growl, and she rattled off down the muddy road to the village square. Thor turned around and trudged up the hill to the house, feeling lighter than he had in ages. He threw back his head and laughed at the blue sky until tears ran down his cheeks. Somehow, he knew it was going to be alright.

~I~N~~T~H~E~~E~N~D~G~A~M~E~~N~O~W~

Thank you so much for your reviews and enthusiasm! I had to tweak the next few chapters a bit, so it took a little while. Thanks for being patient!