Ruling Asgard under the guise of Odin had been challenging. Not only did Loki have to keep up the physical illusion of the Allfather, but every decision he made had to reflect the old fool's character as well. More or less, of course. Toward the end of his "reign," the trickster god found himself dancing more along the lines of less.

All that said, Loki was no stranger to the crown. He was no stranger to ruling, to keeping order and promoting peace and prosperity for his people—more or less. And while posing as Odin had its many challenges, it seemed like a picnic in the park compared to this.

As Loki trudged up the front steps of his house, he could still hear them floating on the wind. Those first screams. The ear-piercing shrieks of lovers crying out for their lost ones. The mothers balling over the dusty ashes of their children.

As if the massacre on the Statesman had been bad enough.

One year. One year of soothing, of consoling, of trying to sort out which families had lost someone during the first Thanos attack and who had lost someone to the Snap. A husband here, a wife there. Two children reduced to a pile of dust. A father who met his end at the hands of a Child of Thanos. A mother who faded to ash, orphaning her six kids.

Who in the Nine has six kids?

No one, now, it would seem. Yes, wonderful little thought. Thank you for that.

One year… I can't believe it's been a whole year.

With a sigh, Loki gripped the doorknob, preparing himself for the chaos on the other side.

One year of struggling to rebuild; of struggling to feed, clothe, and house a little over a thousand refugees.

New Asgard. Loki scoffed, not bothering to glance back at the sorry excuse for a village behind him. What an incredible seismic joke.

A glittering kingdom boasting well over fifty thousand citizens, now no bigger than Tœnsberg's longest peninsula.

At least you're not cooped up on that stuffy ship anymore.

Right. How comforting.

Bracing himself, the young prince stepped into the front hall. The smallest part of the house, really, but it was one of Loki's favorites. It gave him time to breathe, time to prepare himself. Time to—

Pain shot through his toes and he bit back a curse. His brother's name burned the tip of his tongue, begging to be bellowed loud enough to shake the window panes.

Instead, Loki pursed his lips and counted to ten. Then, he waved the case of beer away with a flick of his fingers, locking it in the deepest cache he could conjure. I swear, I might just kill him before the bottle does.

Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, Loki hung his coat in the closet and ventured into the kitchen. Coffee. He needed coffee if he was going to get through this. Nevermind that it was going on seven o'clock in the evening. It's not as if you'll be sleeping much, anyway.

Right. There were always the nightmares…

Off the kitchen sat the living room. Loki could see the TV clearly as he prepared his drink. He could see his brother…

And if Thor would just turn his head ever-so-slightly to the right, he'd see Loki.

So, Loki waited. He clanked the cups around. Slammed the cupboard. Made more noise than the average coffee drinker should ever make.

And yet, nothing.

"Oh," he muttered under his breath as he tortured the spoon, stirring in his sugar with a vengeance, "hello, Loki. Good to see you. How are you? Oh, I'm just splendid, Thor. Truly splendid. Thanks for asking. Oh, good. How was your day? Oh, it was all right. Brunnhilde and I worked on tying up a few loose ends around town. Then, we dealt with a few complaints here and there. Oh, and there was this one older fellow who opened our eyes to an absolutely brilliant solution to our money issue. So, just the usual today. You know how it goes. Oh. Oh, wait… No, you don't know, do you?"

He bit out a hiss as hot coffee sloshed over the side and nipped at his fingers. "Well, maybe if you got out of the house once in a full moon and took a walk through the village, you'd see. You'd know. You could even just stand on the porch and look, that wouldn't be so bad, would it? And maybe—oh, just maybe—if you stood up every hour or so and did a few jumping jacks, you might even be able to walk the entire village from end to end without passing out! Wouldn't that be a sight to behold? So, yes! Yes, Thor, it was a truly marvelous day!"

And before he knew what he was doing, Loki flung the spoon with enough force to jam it in the wall above the television.

This caught the mighty thunder god's attention and Thor finally shifted in his chair.

"Loki! You're back! Good, you're just in time. Grab the other controller. Korg just left and I need backup."

You need backup?

"Actually," Loki began, using Banner's counting trick to calm himself once more, "I was hoping we could sit down and talk for a minute. There are a few things I want to discuss with you."

"Of course, of course!" Thor downed the rest of his beer and tossed one of those blasted little game controllers Loki's way. "We can talk and play, right? You always were a great multitasker."

"And you could barely talk with mother and tie your shoes at the same time."

"Don't be ridiculous," Thor said with a hollow laugh. "There aren't any laces on Asgardian boots. Now, come on!"

A small step to the side was all it took to dodge the flying piece of plastic. "Thor, I'm serious."

"I am too! We'll talk after this round. Come on, I need you!"

"And I need you! I need you to listen to me! For just one second, could you just listen to me?"

"I am listening to you!" And yet, his brother couldn't even pry his eyes away from his screen.

"No, you're not! You're—" Sucking in a sharp breath, Loki shook his head. "You know what? Nevermind. I just wanted to let you know that Brunnhilde and I might've found a solution to New Asgard's economic issues."

Thor merely furrowed his brows as his fingers flew across the controller. "Brunnhilde?"

"The Valkyrie, Thor! You know, if you even bothered to leave this room, let alone this couch, you'd have realized that she has a name."

"And quite a long one, at that," came Thor's distracted observation. "So, are you playing or not?"

Gritting his teeth so hard he was certain they would crack, Loki waved his fingers. Two seconds later, all the lights flickered out.

Along with the precious television.

"The power's out," Loki intoned. "Perhaps next time, brother."

"Loki!" He heard Thor call after him as he ducked into the hall. "Loki, get back here and fix this!"

"Call an electrician! Or, better yet, fix it yourself!"

"Loki! Come on, Loki, you can't do this to me—!"

The locked door of his room brought only temporary relief, but at least it was something.

Another flick of his fingers conjured up a few candles, which he lit using the same method and set about the room.

There.

Yes, electricity made things more convenient, but right now, Loki didn't need convenience—he needed results. And if this little "setback" got his brother off the blasted couch, then it would be worth not being able to charge his phone for a few hours.

Ten percent charge. Never had Loki found an inanimate object to be so relatable. Except, perhaps, for books. You could pick them up when you needed answers or a simple distraction, then discard them when your attention waned.

Or when you reached the end of the story. When the last page had been read.

There were so many times when Loki thought he'd reached his last page. Every paragraph, every word of his story had been a struggle, but at least Thor's story had been written alongside his own.

Now, his brother's book was turning into a waste of good leather, binding page after endless blank page in a sorry excuse for a life story.

That's his choice. With a sigh, Loki curled up on the window seat overlooking the fjord. There's only so much you can do. The rest is up to him.

But that was just the thing, wasn't it? If he left everything up to Thor, the town would be in ruins. If he left things up to Thor, their house would be in a never-ending state of upheaval.

If I left things up to Thor… Loki squeezed his eyes shut, remembering a time when he would've relished the thought of lording himself over his brother. Of making all the decisions; of ruling the kingdom of Asgard alone and unmatched. His so-called "glorious purpose."

Well, he was most definitely burdened, but it didn't feel very glorious anymore.

He supposed it never had in the first place, and at this rate, he supposed it never would.