Author's Note: Not in any particular order, have fun with navigation.

Just as I could find the scenes. If it seems familiar, it probably is. I ended up recycling a lot of stuff, but it's not exactly the same. This isn't everything, but the major things I could remember where I put. ;)

*NOTE: The word "ELEPHANT" in all caps is not referring to an actual elephant. I couldn't remember what word I wanted to use, but to not break the flow of the writing "mode", I just put down ELEPHANT with the intent to find it later. This is an un-edited idea mess, so have fun, my stars. ;)

Alternate Ending:

("Tell me who did this." Amma's voice is heavy. Angry. It's so different than the other tones of her soft whispers and gentle baritone. He clings to her skirts desperately, wanting to hide, but can't fight his desire to peak around the soft blue fabric to stare into the washroom.

Ela is sobbing, fists clenched around the sink. She looks bony, the pale skin not hidden beneath her white clothing wrapped tight around muscle. Ela spits blood into the sink.

"Why?" Ela's voice is thick. Wrong. "What will you do?"

"What I have to." Amma's says evenly. Ela lifts up a trembling hand, her left, and slowly lowers the sleeve to her elbow. The pale skin doesn't hide the deformity settled in her forearm. It's dark, ugly, and wrong.

Amma swears darkly, and he releases a slight noise of panic. He grips Amma's skirts tighter, like it will save him from having to look.

Ela breaks down again, crumbling. Screaming. She slams her fist down onto the sink and it shatters into a thousand, broken pieces. The porcelain has shattered into glass, gray and smoking. The charred pieces land at their feet and he looks down into one. His face looks back at him, but it's blurred with his tears.

"I can't feel it!" Ela shouts, slamming her fist against the wall. "I CAN'T FEEL IT! Why do I feel nothing!?"

"Hela," Amma's voice has gained the same coolness as before. She takes a step forward. "Hela, you need to calm down."

"Stop!" Ela shouts, backing up. "They didn't fix me yet. I'm still broken. I'm killing everything without meaning to. I have to go back. I have to…" she collapses to the floor, splayed out like a broken doll. He grabs at Amma tighter, frightened. A fresh wave of sobs washes through Ela.

Amma remains where she is, though he can tell it's with reluctance. "Daughter," her voice is steady, "I will handle them. You aren't going back. I swear on my life."

"Your word means nothing!" Ela grabs a chunk of the broken sink, seemingly oblivious to the fact that water is spurting out from the broken pipe around them. She hurls it towards them, and Amma sweeps him behind her easily, dodging the blast. The world goes dark as her skirts block his vision for a moment.

He trembles.

"You're a liar, just like he is! I hate you! I hate your lies, your stupid reassurances, your ugly child, how you stand by and let it happen, you-"

"I am doing everything I can to keep this family together." Amma interrupts, angry. "I'm trying, I promise."

Another piece of the sink barely misses Amma's head.

"Your love fixes nothing. It never has! Family is a weak corruption. A miserable tie of genetics that I'm stuck with!" Another piece scrapes against the ground as Ela grabs for it, and Amma doesn't dodge. He lets out a yell when it slams into her face and jumps out from behind her skirts in front of Amma.

Ela wouldn't hurt him.

Ela's entire body has frozen. Her face drained of remaining color. She looks from him to Amma several times before her expression darkens again. "You brought him here!?" Now she's screeching. "You idiotic woman!" Ela lurches up to her feet and Amma grabs at his shoulder. "Have you no sense? You know what they did to me!"

"Hela," Amma tries, but Ela isn't listening.

Ela curses violently. "I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill all of you!" Standing there, dressed in a blood-stained white with her hair missing chunks and cropped short next to her ears, she doesn't look like his sister. She looks deranged. He believes every word. He cries out, and Amma shoves him away from the exit as Ela crosses her hands over her chest forming an "x" and snaps two swords out.

"Thor, go find your Father." Amma says quickly, shoving him.

He remains put stubbornly. "Amma-" he whispers. He wants to tell her that he's frightened. That he doesn't understand why Ela is acting so funny. But the words get caught in his throat and won't come out.

"Go!" Amma demands, and draws a sword from her hip bringing it up to defend against Ela's weapons when they clash together. Amma shoves back against the swords, pushing Ela back into the washroom.

He remains where he is, frozen.

I am afraid. I am afraid of Ela.)

Fingers snap in front of his face and Thor jerks, slamming into the present with a jolt. He looks up suddenly, seeing Hela leaning forward, hand raised in front of his face. She's staring at him with one eyebrow raised in slight annoyance, the other carefully avoiding the game pieces.

It's a paper version of Checkers, a game that baffled him for days when Darcy tried to explain it to him. Once he grasped the concept, he was unbeatable to all but Clint, but that's because Clint cheats on every game he plays.

"It's your turn." Hela says flatly, still poised gracefully over the board. "Are you going to take it?"

"Um." Thor looks down at the ground, then up at her, then down at the ground again. He's sitting cross legged, the ground humming beneath him from the pod's rattling. There in the middle of a lapse between jump points, waiting for a little over a fourth of the suggested time before they continue the journey to Titan.

They only have one jump left.

To say that he's anxious would be an understatement.

"Hey," Hela's voice cuts through the fog again. "Are you with me?"

"Yes." The sound of his voice is strange. It's like he has his hands pinched over his ears. "I'm…" he starts to repeat, but his mind slips back somewhat and he hears the ghosting jerk of a blade being shoved through his mother's stomach.

("I love you my sons.")

His hand slams down on the papers, and then slides, sending most on his side of the board scattering. Hela makes an indignant noise, clearly frustrated. "Hey!"

Thor stumbles over himself, looking at the "board." He found some colored tape in the overhead storage and placed it on the floor when Hela finally agreed to play with him after half an hour of his prodding. He needed a distraction beyond the low humming of the engine. "Sorry." His voice still sounds funny. "Sorry. I wasn't looking."

What did she say? What did he say? What triggered the memory? Unless he's sleeping, they don't come in on their own. He tries to cast his mind back, but finds only a jumbled mess. This memory...this one is different than the others. Sharper. Harder. The others have been blurred, if somewhat distressing, but not enough to make him want to be sick. He hadn't remembered his mother in anything. He wasn't even sure if Frigga and Hela knew each other, but this is evidence enough.

Hela destroyed a bathroom without breaking a sweat. Her knuckle had only to rap against it and then it became little more than chunky dust. So it's not just life she can destroy without making contact.

Ela. Did he really used to call her that?

"I was winning," Hela says, clearly frustrated with his mistake and swipes all the pieces together in the middle of the board. He watches her as if on autopilot as she resets it. "Again. I go first this time."

He blinks, and stares at her. Ela. A forgotten name of a forgotten time.

Hela shoves a piece forward, focus completely centered on the game, oblivious to his thoughts. His memory. Thor moves methodically, pushing the piece of paper forward as a counter to her move.

Hela looks...content. Not happy, but not angry or broken. There's something soft about her features this way, but he knows it won't last. They'll enter the last jump for Titan, and then it will all be over. The small bit of okay will have reached its conclusion until they find Loki again.

And then it's to Midgard and their hopelessly complex politics. This, in all honesty, is probably the breath between storms.

Thor shakes off the memories, and the names, and the confusion wrapped in frustration.

He wants to focus on this game and winning. He wants to leave the weight of his thoughts behind for a few minutes where they won't haunt him. Wants to capture this small moment, because he's afraid that there won't be many more.

He pushes forward, into the game.

Move after move after move. Hela's fustration and bafflement grows as he wins her, again, and she throws up her hands proclaiming this a stupid game and why are the rules so stupid!? before standing up and proclaiming herself finished.

Thor waits patiently. She does it after every round, has for the last ten hours of their journey. Sure enough, his sister returns grumpily, and they play until the computer alerts them of the jump point's arrival. Thor's hands still over the gameboard, a tightness growing in his chest. Titan. Now. Here. It-

(Hela said "queen me", not "king me." It's why he slipped.)

000o000

Titan is...Thor doesn't know. Dirtier than he thought it would be? It's certainly not the spiraling towers of Asgard, or the breathtaking mountainsides of Alfheim. It's a shabby, small world, rundown and broken. There are corpses turned to bone and dust scattered across the fields, buildings in need of repair stretching through the abandoned cities.

The air holds a thick grayish tinge that blocks the viser, like the very earth itself has become a fine powder the most delicate of winds can kick up. Thankfully, it's not bad enough to be a hindrance to the landing.

Not really.

Thor uses the scanners to do a quick check of lifeforms-trying to determine where to land. They don't have time to search an entire planet-and is surprised to see there's a little more than twenty present. He really only expected one or two. Maybe the odd wildlife and Loki. Perhaps the planet is not as discrete as he was first thinking, or was told in his youth.

"There's smoke over there," Hela says before they land, her finger pointing to the arching, thick wisp of it. "Loki?"

"Maybe." Thor agrees, steering the pod in that direction. "It looks too big to be a fire."

"Maybe he crashed." Hela suggets flatly.

Given Loki's piloting skills, Thor wouldn't be surprised. Loki is a terrible pilot. He crashes anything he flies more often than not and can't seem to grasp the concept of how sensitive everything is. He's a scientist. Loki can fly something to save a life, everyone in the army can, but as far as performing aerial maneuvers as complicated as something in one of Midgard's movies? No.

"Maybe something did." Thor mutters. It could have been Thanos for all they know. Maybe he's a good torturer, but a worse pilot than their brother. They lapse into silence, the humming of the pod the only noise that accompanies them. Thor lands the pod about a mile from the smoke, turning down the engines and letting it shut down automatically. He lets his hands linger on the controls, breathing out stiffly.

Loki, they can only hope and pray, is here and alive.

But remaining here, hiding in the dark like a coward, will not help him answer any of his questions. Thor glances at his sister before getting up to his feet and slamming a hand down on the button to lower the ramp. Daylight splits across the back, and Thor moves towards it, hand on his sword hilt.

There's the distinct sound of Hela drawing a weapon, and his sister steps up into view beside him. "Thor," she calls. He stops, and looks back at her, somewhat surprised to see a double bladed axe in her hands. It's sleek and black, with a shine that suggests it hasn't been used before, but is well taken care of. The edge of the blade gleams in the poor lighting. She offers it out to him, hilt first. "It's not exactly Mjolnir, but it will serve you well."

Mjolnir. Thor's heart gives a funny lurch at the name. He reaches out and clasps the cold, smooth handle. He takes it from her and holds it for a moment, determining the weight. Perfectly balanced, but light enough to not lose power on the swing. He lifts his gaze to her and lifts an eyebrow slightly. "You should know that this doesn't make up for destroying my hammer. I'm still angry about that. Very angry."

He loved that hammer. Stupid sentiment attached to a stupid object, but it was the first thing that Odin ever gave him. There will always, Thor thinks, be that small part of him that can never shake the small glimpses of love that Odin would give him. That hammer...it was attached to many.

Hela's lip twitches up. "Good. I'd be disappointed if you weren't." He shoves her arm good naturedly in annoyance. Hela smiles faintly. It doesn't seem to be a conscious action, and Thor doubletakes because of the oddity of it. Hela doesn't smile-truly smile. He doesn't know if he's ever seen her...well, happy before.

000o000

It takes them well over twenty minutes to reach the source of the smoke. As Hela suggested, it is a ship, but not one of the Statesmen's pods. It's charred and broken, in multiple chunks. The debris is scattered, but the weird thing is that there are no skid marks. It looks like the ship landed calmly, managed to even set out the landing gear and contemplate whether or not self-destructing was a good idea before deciding it was and imploding.

Beyond that ship is another, fully intact. The engines are off, suggesting its been here for some time. A thin little spire of smoke suggests a fire, and he and Hela scour the area surrounding it for a vantage point. He can't see the escape pod anywhere, but he can sense, weirdly enough, that Loki is here.

The closer they draw the fire, the heavier the air seems to become. A compression settles on his chest, like he's been standing inside of the Treasury Room for too long and the powerful objects are weighing on him. He has to remind himself to breathe deeply several times, because his chest just wants to sit still and give up.

It's too hard, it seems to whine, I don't want to do this anymore.

Shut up.

Great. Now he's talking for his body parts. When was the last time he slept deeply? Is it the planet's natural oxygen supply, or is there something out there?

He and Hela manage to find an outcropping on top of an abandoned building someways back from the ship. They're close enough to pick up bits of conversation and see the people, but not enough to be seen.

It's a group of four. One is a large purple-red figure that would easily dwarf Thor by a good two feet if he was standing. He's seated beside a large, double-bladed sword that Thor can easily see was a mistake of a weapon choice. The handle in the middle will off-set both blades, and it wouldn't move easily, dragging at almost every possible second with the hoods on the end. There's a reason that staffs and spears are thin and pointed at the ends.

But that's an advantage for them. Purple's weapon will make him a slow fighter. He uses power over speed.

Another is a large man with a face that reminds Thor vaguely of one of Earth's starfish. Erik had a collection of them at one point, Thor was both fascinated and disgusted all at once. His weapon is something like a club. The other is a woman with long blue hair. A spear is beside her, but it's forked at the edges.

Lastly, seated in between the woman and the starfish man is "Loki," Thor breathes, his stomach twisting is both relief and dread. One of those creatures has to be Thanos. If he had to guess, he'd say the purple one. The others just don't...look like a Thanos, stupid as that is.

Thor drinks in the sight of his brother as best he can. From what he can tell, Loki is still in his Jotun form, a little bloody, and barefoot. He's missing the outer layers of his armor, leaving him in only a simple shirt and trousers. He doesn't appear to be bond in any way, but he isn't moving.

He starts to get up, grabbing his axe, but Hela catches his shoulder and yanks him back down. "No." She whispers harshly.

"It's just three of them." Thor argues just as quiet, frustrated. "We can take them. You took out the Kings Legion, surely you're not afraid of three creatures."

Hela sends him a nasty look that could and would have withered a living plant. He snaps his jaw shut beneath the stare. "Look," she jerks her head pointedly in Probably-Thanos's direction. Thor's gaze flicks up with irritation, but he nonetheless settles back down and stares at the Titan again. He's not wearing armor, the weapon still annoys him, but-

A glint of metal catches his attention, and Thor feels color drain from his face. Thanos is wearing a gauntlet on his left hand, created in gleaming gold. The tint of it reminds him of Gungnir, and the craftsmanship of the Dwarfs of Nidavellir. The two are unrelated, but it still makes his heart twist and long for simpler times.

But it's not the glove that unsettles him. Seated within small ridges along the knuckles is glowing orbs. Thor has only seen a handful of the Infinity Stones in person, most are over text and the illusions his mother would cast, but he knows them well enough. The battered sunlight catches the edge of at least four.

Red, yellow, purple, and something else he can't see.

Thor curses under his breath heavily, his fist curling in frustration. Four? How are they supposed to fight four Stones? Thor doesn't even know if he could beat one successfully. Thanos seems to have suffered no ill-effects from carrying them on his person, even though the very power running through his blood should have torn his body and mind apart.

Only beings of incredible strength can hold them. Fewer wield them.

And Thanos has four.

Curse it!

"We don't know what he can do with them," Hela whispers. She reminds him of Loki suddenly, the need to watch first, assess, and then attack. "We should watch for a little. We have our brother in our sights, there's nothing they can do here that we couldn't stop if the need arrives."

Thor doesn't want to wait.

Waiting always gets those he loves killed.

(Every. Freaking. Time.)

He hesitates, but submits after a moment, seeing her logic. He may be stupid, and impulsive, but he's not enough of that to mess around with Infinty Stones. "Alright," he complies. He looks back at the group, brow furrowing. "Why are they waiting?"

"That's what I'm wondering," Hela sighs, "I've led armies before." So has he. He knows what this looks like, and it doesn't feel him with reassurance.

"Scout." Thor mutters.

"Or someone else is a little late." Hela whispers pointedly. Thor's stomach sinks. They quiet. Watching. Waiting.

Thor's fingers go numb from laying in the same position for so long and his shoulder blades grow oddly stiff. He wonders with sudden fury how Clint can remain in the same position for so long. Or Loki. He was always their long distance sniper when Thor was with the Warriors and Sif.

All things considered, the group doesn't really...do much. Thor was expecting a little more activity, more talking, but they seem content to sit and brood into the purple flames of their camp fire. Loki doesn't shift even once, and it worries him. Maybe he does and Thor can't see it from this distance, but the woman and the starfish-man get up to walk around the camp separately at least three times.

Their impatience is obvious.

Thor picks up bits of conversation regarding someone "taking so long. How hard is it to find him!?" and the woman impatiently snapping, "I should have gone myself, at least he'd be here by now."

Thanos placates them with words Thor doesn't pick up, and Loki still does nothing.

Time wanes on.

Thor's entire body begins to ache from doing nothing, and he wishes that Thanos would use the stupid Stones so they could stop sitting here, being useless. In reality, it's probably only been a little over an hour and a half, but every moment that Loki is kept within their captivity makes his skin crawl. They aren't doing anything to him, but that almost makes it worse.

The sun begins to set, casting long shadows over Titan. The light glints off of the buildings and leaves everything with a dim red-amber glow.

At last, Thor sees two silhouettes appear in the distance and he and Hela watch two people stride into camp. A tall man with a flat nose looking worse for wear, and a tall, bulky one. He reminds Thor of Korg.

"Do you think that's them?" Thor whispers. The sound of his voice is like a weapon being discharged after so long and Hela visibly winces, glancing towards him. Her lips press together, but she says nothing.

Flat-nose takes a deep bow before Thanos, and the bulky Not-Korg follows suit. They appear to exchange words before Thanos sweeps an arm towards Loki, and Thor sees a flare of the red Stone-reality, his mind supplies. Loki crumples into the dirt a moment later, and Thor feels himself getting up, grabbing for the axe. Hela follows, eyes narrowed.

It wasn't physical chains, then, that held their brother, but an Infinity Stone.

Thanos has used the Stones. They may not know the full extent like they hoped by doing recon, but it doesn't matter. If Thanos thinks that he or one of his goons can lay a finger on their brother, he's sorely mistaken. Hela, for once, appears to be thinking the same as him.

Flat-nose approaches Loki steadily as the woman comes closer. The darkness makes it hard to see exactly what she does, but he's guessing she's pinning their brother into place for Flat-nose to...do whatever it is Thanos wants him, too.

Thor turns to her. "On three," he mouths, gripping his axe in both hands. She nods, flicking her wrist to summon a long sword. She takes it into both hands, eyes thinned and narrowed. "One," he whispers, "two...thr-" he stops, confused and his hand falters. Footsteps. Behind them.

A weapon powers up, familiar. It throws him, because he doesn't know any of these people beyond his brother, so why would he-

A hand wraps around his mouth and yanks him back. Thor makes a muffled noise of surprise, tumbling into the chest of his captor without meaning to. He scarce has time to attempt to reach for his weapon before Hela whirls, blade grasped in both hands and swipes it towards his captor.

He's jerked back a step, and stumbles over his feet.

Hela tries again, but doesn't aim for his captor, suggesting more than one person is there. Her weapon slams against something, and amber-ish sparks go flying through the air. Hela skitters back a few steps, slicing through a white fluid aimed for her face. It sticks to the sides of her blade like a stain.

Hela's eyes are rapidly flitting back and forth as she assesses this.

Thor manages to find his footing and yanks the hand off of his mouth, twisting around to stand beside his sister, lifting his axe as he lets the core of electricity within him burn. His vision heights, senses going onto overdrive as he prepares to utilize the power and-

Thor stops.

His axe falters as the others' weapons-save his sister-do the same. Because isn't just one man. It's three. Two older adults, and a youth. Thor recognizes the adults instantly, his brain halting for a brief moment as if so confused it can't comprehend this and gave up. Thor feels his jaw fall open. What are the odds…?

They stare at each other in flabbergasted silence for a long few seconds before "Thor?" Tony croaks quietly. In the dark, Thor makes out the features of his teammate as best he can. He has a cut down the side of his face that's bleeding sluggishly, blood leaking to his chin and staining his nose. His brown hair is tousled and his facial hair unkempt. There are dark rings beneath his eyes as if he hasn't slept in a few days and his face holds a waxy, hungry air. He looks awful, but the familiarity makes Thor's throat go hot.

"Stark." Thor says, breathlessly.

What are the odds?

"You're missing an eye." Tony pulls his hands back, the repulsors-and their light-powering down. The familiar noise makes him stare long and hard for a second, because that is what distracted him. The repulsors, a noise he hasn't heard in well over a year. The Wizard's-Strange or something, wasn't it?-shields drop and he releases an audible breath of relief. The other figure, a pale young man with brown hair and dressed in red armor, looks only confused, but nonetheless relaxes when Tony does.

The Wizard is sporting more than a dozen puncture marks, blood staining his blue robes. The youth looks a little worse for wear, one hand on his abdomen. He's shaky and sweaty, like he's running a high-grade fever. Thor doesn't know who he is, but there's a spider plastered on the front of the suit; It reminds him of Natasha.

Something deep within his core aches suddenly and deeply for his team.

There are so many things he wants to say, but he doesn't even know what to begin with. How did they get here? What are they doing here? Why did they leave Earth? Are they aware that they are days from Earth now? Thor's gaze flicks to the Wizard. Why would they bring the Time Stone to a planet with Thanos?

Thor may not have the sensitivity to magical arts that Loki does, but it doesn't take much to sense Infinity Stones. The very presence of it is oily and thick, like some sort of tar he has to shove his way through. He's known that the Wizard had the Stone since before Surtur. He felt its power when he stepped inside the Wizard's home. He hadn't commented on it because it wasn't relevant, but he knew it was there. There are-were, Asgard's gone, by the Allfathers he will never get used to referring to it in the past tense=-stories of Bor giving the Time Stone to Midgard for safekeeping.

He doesn't know how much truth there is to them.

An Infinity Stone.

Like the Tesseract. looks between them, his gut clenching. He wants to keep talking, but they don't have time. Flat-nose is going to do something to their brother.

"I don't mean to interrupt this happy reunion," Hela's voice is a harsh whisper, but catches his attention easily enough. Her weapon is still raised, and Thor lifts out a hand to touch the tip of it to push it down. She doesn't even look at him. "But who are all of you supposed to be?"

Tony glances at Thor for a brief moment and then to Hela, shifting somewhat in front of the youth. The action is subtle enough that if Thor wasn't drinking in every familiar movement like a drowning man, he wouldn't have noticed it. "Yeah, I was wondering the same thing about you, Bellatrix."

Hela glances at Thor for help, obviously confused.

Thor bites harder on his inner cheek. It feels raw and mangled now. He shakes his head, deciding that explaining the concept of Harry Potter to her isn't worth the time or effort it would take right now. They need to get to Loki and then hack off Thanos's arm to take the Gauntlet.

The tension is thick, but awkward for a moment until Thor elbows Hela in the side pointedly. She startles, glaring at him darkly for a moment, but surprisingly makes no retaliation. "I'm Hela, the goddess of death."

"Oh. Okay. Asgardian." Tony doesn't sound comforted by this. "I'm Tony Stark. This is Dr. Strange," he gestures to the Wizard and then the youth, "and Spider-Man."

Spider-Man? Really?

"Hello." Spider-Man mutters, face contorting. His hand presses against his stomach harder. Is he injured? What happened? How long have they been here? How did they get involved with the Stones?

"It's 'Hela'." Hela sneers.

"Nevermind that," Tony shakes his head, taking a step forward, "Thor," Tony's voice is heavy. "Thor, there's something out there. A threat that we can't fight. We weren't ready. He's coming. He-"

"Thanos." Thor blurts before he can stop himself. Tony stops, surprised.

The Wizard's stance grows wary. "How do you know that name?"

Thor feels himself stiffen. "He…" how can he begin to explain what Thanos has done? He sent Loki, he is the reason that Loki left. The reason for so much slaughter and pain. Thanos...

Hela, thankfully, points out the obvious, jerking her hand behind them. "He's right there. What do you think we're here for? An afternoon stroll? This is a little ways from Asgard. Thor." She looks at him pointedly. He knows, he knows. They don't have time for this. But he can't..

Asgard. Asgard is no longer there. None of the Avengers but Bruce know that. Tony doesn't even know that Bruce is alive.

Dr. Strange's jaw tightens. "We need to compare notes." Tony says at long last, looking at him. He knew the question was coming, but that doesn't make him any more willing to talk about it. "What do you know about Thanos? You go and then I'll explain what's going on on our end."

"No. We don't have time." Thor shakes his head. "We need to kill Thanos before it's too late." Thor mutters. Before the damage that the Titan has inflicted is permanent. Before Loki is... "We...probably don't know much more than you do anyway. The only person I know who had one-on-one experience is…"

"Is...?" Tony prompts, looking hopeful. Thor hates to dash it, but he doesn't really have a choice.

"With Thanos." He has to force the words from his throat. They make his mouth hot. You don't have time for this, a voice calls in a sing-song inside his head, Loki doesn't have time for this.

Dr. Strange swears under his breath.

"My sentiments exactly." Hela's voice is flat. "I was actually starting to like the little fífl. Thor."

"His name is Loki. You know that now." She makes a face at him, but Thor refuses to rise to the bait.

The realization seems to strike Tony at last because he does something close to a full body twitch, "Loki is alive? Since when?"

"Birth." Hela answers, fidgeting on her feet.

"You know what, Hades-" Tony snaps, turning to face her angrily, but Spider-Man grabs his arm and the anger seems to drain from Tony in one gust of air.

"Mr. Stark?" Spider-Man's voice is a little higher than Thor thought it would be. He's young. Probably not even eighteen Midgardian standard years. "This can wait. We need to deal with Thanos first, right? Then we can beat each other up."

Tony hestisitates, but blows out a heavy breath and nods. "The kid's right. We can catch up later. Okay, run down. Big bad is down there," he gestures beyond their vantage point, "we're up here. He has Stones, plural, we have Stone. He has at least Mind and the purple one."

"Power?" Dr. Strange supplies dryly.

Thor frowns, his stomach clenching. "He took the Mind Stone from Vision?"

Tony closes his eyes briefly and gives a jerky nod. "Yeah. Cap called it in. They found Vision and Maximoff's bodies a few days ago. We don't know how long they've been missing officially. At most is a couple of weeks."

Thor blows out a breath between his teeth. This is bad. "I think he was missing only two Stones." He admits. "Probably Time and Soul, but I didn't get a good look."

Because nobody knows where Soul is, and Dr. Strange is wearing Time.

"Great." Spider-Man mutters, hand fisted close to his stomach. The sarcasm in his voice pretty much summarizes the entire situation better than any words Thor could have spoken would have. "So what's the plan?"

They look between each other. The silence stretches for a long minute before Hela blows out a long sigh. "You aren't going to like it, but I think I might have something." She curls her fingers, pointing towards the Time Stone with her sword. "It involves that."

"No." Dr. Strange says flatly. "It is my duty to guard the Time Stone. I will not put it in harm's way. Not if it can be avoided. Thanos doesn't need any more advantage that he already has. If he only needs two Stones, then-"

"Did I say that we were going to give it to him?" Hela interrupts. Dr. Strange stops, looking at her. She tips her head slightly, glances at Thor, and then turns back to Dr. Strange. "Like I said, it isn't going to be pretty, but no one but Thanos should end up dead by the end of it."

Tony releases a long, weighted breath. "I can live with that. Explain."

And she would have, but then the screaming starts. And it's not just some random fellow meeting their unfortunate end. Thor knows that voice like he knows his own name.

Loki.

You waited to long, that same voice sneers, congratulations. You get to bury your brother for the third time.

Hela grabs his arm as Thor moves for the edge of the building, pulling him to a stop. "Wait. These are the Stones, not some random thing we can kill."

"Loki-"

"I know!" she exclaims harshly. "Listen to me."

000o000

Thor lets out a roar and dives forward, axe flying towards the Titan's front. If he'd been thinking clearly, Thor might have done something different, but rage is blinding. More so than any loss of his eyes had been. This is pure, energetic hate.

Thanos saw it coming. He turns just in time-as if the fates warned him themselves-and lifts up the Infinity Gauntlet the real one, not the one Father professed to have and the blade of the axe merely scratches the metal, landing at the Titan's well-worn boots.

Thor hadn't been prepared for that. He'd expected to impale the Asgardian in the chest, dig his blade into the creature had suffered for everything he'd done to Loki. To all others. Until-until-

Those plans no longer matter.

He lands on his feet in front of the Titan, still buzzing with electricity. His hand reaches for the weapon; but he recalculates. He can still create enough force to impale the Titan, even without the added assistance of throwing it. His fingers brushes the tip of the handle before Thanos's large hand wraps around it and tears it from the earth. The weapon isn't Mjolnir. There is no spell to bind it to the worthy, there is only the craft that Hela poured into it. And it isn't enough.

"Asgardian." Thanos's deep voice rumbles. "King, if my sources are true."

Thor hears the sound of Tony's repulsors firing in the background as a distraction for the goons, as planned, and Spider-Man assisting in that endeavor. Hela was supposed to retrieve Loki as Thor killed Thanos. A simple plan, really, but everything becomes more complex when Infinity Stones get involved.

King?

The only way Thanos would know that is if Loki talked. And Loki wouldn't just talk about that. Thor's incense grows. Lightning dances along the tips of his hands. His blood is burning, and Thor needs to release before he charrs his insides. Loki, his mind pleads, think of Loki. Don't be rash. You need him safe.

He needs Thanos's head on a pike.

Keep his attention on you, not the others.

"You'll die for what you did!" Thor exclaims, his voice like a sharp crackle of lightning.

"I've done nothing but prepare for the task ahead of me," Thanos says simply. "Do you know where we are, King?"

Thor scoffs, "The ruins of your race?"

"The first in a great line of sacrifices," Thanos corrects, almost gently. It makes him sick. Please be moving quickly, Thor begs of his sister. He can't look back without drawing more attention to her. "After they banished me, I returned with an army," Thanos explains, "and I sacrificed them. They were, I think, happy, in the end. To know that I saved them."

"With genoicide?"

"Salvation." Thanos has the temerity to smile, and Thor's to-thin patience snaps. Withers. Dies. He tears lightning down from the heavens and Thanos has only time to raise the Gauntlet before it blasts into him at full force. Thor slams his fist as hard as he can into Thanos's gut and grabs for the axe when the Titan stumbles back. He raises the weapon, prepares for a near-kill shot and-

Stops.

His limbs have frozen, still and unmoving. Paralysis, surrounded by a blue-ish light. Panic creeps into his stomach, threatening to eat him through and through. Thor is reminded of when he was younger and Loki was still manifesting. How even barely able to walk, Loki's power was great. They would play, as best they were able. Once Loki touched him mindlessly, and Thor had been frozen for nearly ten minutes as Loki weeped for their mother and nursemaid.

They had been able to do nothing.

As Thor is now unable.

It is the work of the Tesseract. Thanos reaches forward and grabs him by the throat, lifting him up. Thor feels almost plucked, like one would do to a flower in the middle of a field. His touch reignites Thor's limbs and he struggles, grabbing at the Titan's forearm in a desperate attempt to ease the pressure on his neck. The electricity on his limbs seems to be nothing more than a vague annoyance to the Titan.

His chest is compressing.

Thanos throws him to the rocky floor. Thor lands with a thud and Thanos's boot smashes against his chest. It's heavy. Thor's flailing arms lift to raise it, but it keeps getting heavier. He's being crushed.

Weapon.

Weapon, he needs-

(He was supposed to get the Stones. One man verses four Stones? This was the stupidest plan ever. Thanks for that contribution, Tony.)

His ribcage snaps, and Thor screams. He hears several people call his name and feels as his insides are pierced by bone, and sees-once his vision has stopped going white-as Thanos gives a slight smile. He makes a gasping noise, glawing at the dirt desperately.

Weapon, weapon, weapon-

Thanos grabs him up by the throat again, and sighs softly, before walking forward a few steps. Thor sways in the grip, despite his best efforts to hold still to prevent any rubbing. It doesn't work, his insides smearing together.

"Thor!" Tony calls, panicked. Thor's too exhausted to look up, he can't breathe. His lungs aren't working. He's going to die starving for air. "Hang on a sec and then-shoot. Parker!"

"On it, Mr. Stark!"

Thor sees Hela, holding Loki upright with one of his arms swung around her shoulders, standing still. She's still gripping her sword and looking to him with something wide-eyed, but angry. Leave me. This is for Loki.

He tastes blood and acid.

Acid blood?

"Oh, darling," Hela's voice is silk, "you're just a mess of poor decisions."

"Am I?" Thanos is steady taking another step. Thor scrambles to grip harder, a noise escaping the back of his throat as his ribs chaff. He's always had a rather high tolerance for pain, but this is exceeding even the worst injuries he can remember. Even laying in the desert sand with the Destroyer's wounds dug deep into his chest.

Hela's head tips, and there's something predatory in her stance. "Every broken bone on him is a severed body part on you. Remember that."

"Your threats mean nothing to me. I don't even know who you are." Thanos admits. He sounds unconcerned, and for some reason this irritates Thor. He shouldn't even have time to feel irritated amid everything else.

"His sister." Hela's voice is dangerous.

"I see," Thanos takes another step, and Thor releases a small noise. "Then I'll make you a deal, Asgardian. If you want you and your lying snake of a sibling to survive this, kill your king."

Loki's face goes white.

"What?" Hela sounds uncertain. "You're mad. I'm not going to kill my brother-"

"Of course you are." Thanos corrects, "Because Loki has told me about you, and I know that you're a selfish creature. You get to choose. Your life, and your brother's for the price of his. It's not that hard to factor in."

Thor can see Hela thinking. Weighing the odds. He squeezes his eye shut, submitting himself to this. Norns, I hope you were right. Strange better know what he's doing.

"'Ela," Loki's voice is a rasp. "Don't-"

"My child," Thanos sighs, "there is no point in trying to save those who do not deserve it. You are a killer. We all are. I understand loss. Let me help you. I can help. I want to help. Your brother is dead."

"Fine."

"'Ela-"

Thanos doesn't deter. Thor's thrown and rolls several times before coming to a stop. He skids to a stop and lays there, gasping for breath that isn't coming. Thor is gasping, fingers clawing into the dirt.

He doesn't feel right.

His lungs are…

He doesn't feel right.

His lungs scream and Thor feels something collapse inside, a sort of wetness spilling out, but it's not anything exterior.

A shadow falls over him and Thor jerks his head, seeing Hela above him. A panicked noise slips from his throat and he grabs at sedir desperately, feeling the familiar hum of lightning, but shoves it back when it doesn't do anything but make him ache.

Loki. Where is Loki? Where is their brother?

Hela squats down next to him, weapon in hand. One of Loki's daggers, though Thor doesn't know where she got it. Her eyes are strangely red and her breath hard and fast. She lifts the dagger and he gives a crooked grin he's sure is full of blood.

"Do you trust me?" she questions quietly. Thor reaches up and grasps her forearm, tipping his head down. It's the best nod he can give. Loki is speaking behind them, some sort of pleading that Thor can't pick much out of, but it won't matter anyway.

Blood gurgles in his throat, and Thor's hands tremble. Something is broken inside of him. Something that can't be fixed. It's too late for him. Thanos did more damage than he first thought. Thor thinks if he tries to get up he'll break something else.

"Hela, please-" Loki is sobbing, but his voice sounds wrong. Croaking and dry. "Please don't-"

Thor exhales.

He nods again and closes his eye, letting himself breathe out one last time. Hela's fingers press against his temples, and he feels the strange lurch as his body spasms beneath her touch. (I am afraid of Ela.) She doesn't need to stab him to kill him, she can merely touch and it will-

Thor doesn't finish the thought.

He doesn't inhale. The last thing he hears is Loki's crying pleads, but in the end...it didn't save anyone.

Chapter Eleven:

("Hela...this is your new brother, Loki."

"You weren't expecting."

Frigga's smile is sad, "He's not mine, daughter." She murmurs softly. She doesn't doubt that. She just saw her stepmother not three months past when Father returned her to Asgard. Frigga wasn't bulky enough for a pregnancy that far along. But a spur of the moment adoption doesn't seem very like her, either.

Or Father.

"Whose is he?" she questions with trepidation. Frigga's smile grows tighter.

"I'll tell you later." She shifts, leaning out her arms for her to take the babe, but she doesn't know if she wants to. If she can. What will happen if she touches this innocent life? Green eyes stare up at her, big and tired. She sighs with resentment and lifts the babe from her stepmother into her arms.

The weight is small, but the babe leans towards her, tired. Trusting.

"Do you like brother!?" Thor hops up to her, grabbing at her leg. She flinches, her entire body seizing, but the physical touch does not make her cower back the way it would have before Laufey. "He's so small and breakable." Thor says this cheerfully, but he's biting on his lower lip in discomfort at the thought.

She adjusts her grip on the little one and glances down at the blond, muttering an annoyed curse under her breath. Frigga shoots her a pointed look, but she doesn't care. It's not like she's going to be a good influence on these two anyway. She's not exactly booming with traits they'd want to grow up with.

"He's...something." She says at last.

Thor grips her leg tighter. "Don't let him go. Amma said if I let 'im go he won't come back. Are you going to let me go?"

Yes. She can't stand another minute under this household.

"No." She says, re-adjusting her grip again. She's not a big sister type. She's not even good at being a sister. Or a daughter. "I'll shove you instead. How about that?"

Thor thinks about it, even though Frigga looks mildly horrified at the suggestion. "I guess that would be okay." Thor agrees, "So long as you'll be there to catch us both.")

000o000

Thor falls limp beneath Hela's touch, and Loki...snaps.

There's a dark, coiled part inside of him that can resist no more and, with a feral cry, he dives forward, ignoring his broken forearm, his battered body and bruised magic. He ignores the practical part of him that suggests this isn't the wisest idea, the part that wants to sit in shock or grieve.

Vengeance is all he can focus on.

Loki tackles her into the ground beside their brother's body and wrestles his dagger from her grip. "How could you?!" his voice is raw from screaming. The words hurt as they come up. Good. Hela fights him, but not enough that Loki takes her seriously. It angers him further.

She kills their brother without even resisting and can't have the courage to face him?

Coward!

"He was your brother-" my brother "-he gave everything so you would be alive, you monster!"

He wants to scream. Wants to cry. To fall apart and not have to pick himself back up again. Hela shoves him off her, but Loki gets up quickly, undeterred. She's breathing heavy, but glances up for the briefest moment. First to Thanos, and then beyond him. "I did what I had to." She says smoothly. Calmly, like the blood that taints her hands doesn't include family. Her eyes lock with his. "You'd never have believed this if I didn't."

"Believed-I KNOW THIS IS REAILTLY! YOU JUST KILLED MY BROTHER!"

Monster. Demon. Why did he ever think to save her!? Why did he think that would be okay? That she could ever change? That she would spare them? That-

He dives for her again, and they wrestle briefly, but he gains the upper hand quickly, burning the flesh of her neck with his skin before he spins the knife and plunges it into her chest. Her heart. He yanks it out and then stabs again and again and again-

Hela jerks, making a slight noise, but tears the weapon out when he finally leaves it, breathing hard, and feels at the blood for a moment. She sighs, like this is only an annoyance and wipes the blood on her face, above her lips, before looking up at him. She, he remembers suddenly, can't feel pain. She doesn't know…

Good, a part of him sneers.

She killed Thor.

He wants to scream.

He didn't stab her enough.

She reaches forward and rests a hand on his cheek, blood smearing down his blue skin. "A kill shot." She smiles faintly, "At long last. I knew...knew you wouldn't let me down." She tumbles back to the earth, tainted, bloody, and exhales once as if in relief.

She's dead. He stabbed her fifteen times. There's blood all over his dagger and his hands.

He breathes out long and hard, looking to Thor's corpse and then his sister's back and forth until he glances to his hands and feels horror wash through him. Oh Norns. He just killed his sister. He just…

(Thor is dead.)

He just killed his sister.

(Thor is not coming back.)

He just-

(Thor. Thor. Thor.)

"I told you that if you failed, you would suffer." Thanos says softly to his left, but Loki is too numb with tears and pain to care. "You have nothing to lose anymore. Give me the Tesseract."

He just-he'd assumed that the Other meant more torture. He wouldn't go back, not...but this...he does long for the pain. He longs for it more than anything else in this life or the next because (his brother is dead. He murdered his sister. His family is gone. Loki is alone. He-) this is so much worse than anything he could have imagined. Anything his nightmares conjured or-

What the-!?

The world lurches around him. Loki's breath escapes him sharply as his vision spins and blurs the faintest moan escaping the earth as his hands move without his consent, and he hears Thanos murmur something behind him. Hela lurches up, face white and eyes red with regret and pain. Her hand lifts to his face, slides off of it.

His dagger plunges into her fifteen more times, but every time it exits the skin and armor are repaired.

He can't move by his own restraint. He doesn't understand-

The dagger returns to Hela's grasp. He tumbles backwards towards his position where she left him when Thanos dropped Thor. Hela's fingers once again touch their brother, and Thor breathes. Thanos takes him. Drags him backwards. Hela returns to him, supporting him. The entire world is spinning, whirring, wrong and he can't-

What is happening!?

He can't breathe.

Time isn't meant to move like this.

It's like it's…

It's going…

Backwards.

It's the last coherent thought he has before the world stops moving all together.

000o000

Loki bites on his tongue to stop his screaming, but blood only pools in his mouth. Midnight yanks on the broken limb again, twisting his wrist up to his shoulder blades. Something dangerously close to a whimper sounds in his throat, and his face heats with humiliation.

"Try to run again and I'll take your entire hand. Thanos doesn't need you whole." She hisses.

He flinches at how close she is, but the movement only jars his limb and elects another moan from him.

"Child of Asgard," Ebony's voice is soft, moving towards him. Loki releases a shallow breath, his heart hammering against his ribcage in panic. For freedom. Midnight's fingers wrap tighter around his skin, keeping him pinned into place.

His arm is burning.

"My father tells me that we have need"-Ebony's long fingers touch his forehead, running down his bloody hair-"to merge our minds again. I really thought you would have known better than to withhold things from him now."

As if it was by choice.

Loki narrows his eyes, sorely tempted to spit in his face. But he'd rather keep his tongue. Thanos wields the Reality Stone. Loki's not desperate enough to go against that again. Ebony hums softly, pressing his fingers against Loki's forehead. "Give it willingly, or I'll take it from your corpse."

Loki closes his eyes, releasing a breath of defeat.

"Fine." Ebony pushes and Loki feels his shields crumple faster than they ever have in the past. There is a brief moment where he frantically tries to rearrange the placing of his mind, pushing thoughts to the back, yanking sensations forward. He keeps memories in the middle, a shield between his thoughts, but grabs at context and tears what he can backwards.

Ebony pushes through all of this, focused only on one prize: his cache. If he can reach that, he might be able to yank the Tesseract from him entirely. Might. Loki doesn't think it will work. He knows too much about sedir to have a different opinion. They'll have to kill him first, and Ebony will draw the same conclusion Loki refused to tell Thanos.

Thanos, who waited for his loyal dog to appear after his attempts to pull the Stone failed.

Thanos who-

The pain is getting harder to think through. He feels exposed. Raw. Ebony keeps pushing and pushing, shifting through the sensations and memories, looking. He must be an idiot to think he'll get anything this way. Thanos has already been with the Mind Stone. There's nothing here for Ebony to parse that the Master has not already.

Ebony is getting frustrated. It's radiating across the telepathic link easily.

Loki feels savagely pleased by this.

His sedir cries out in pain suddenly as Ebony snatches the frays of it, and Loki's conciseness blinks in and out as the agony makes him falter. He's...cold. He doesn't...this isn't...stop it, stop it, stop it, STOP-

Please-

He can't-

(Help me, help me, help-!)

Why won't-it burns-it stop? Why won't-he can't-there is no air...he's going-drowning. Stopping. Help, help-his mind is...his body is broken. He is not-he is not-not, not…please. He needs-HELP ME!-relief. Needs-

Ebony is yanked out suddenly, and Loki's mind reels as it snaps back into proper order. His thoughts come jumping forward, the memories slipping into their whole state. The meager, charred defenses shoot back up as protection.

Loki's consciousness snaps back into his body properly, and he tumbles forward into awaiting arms. The hands pull him forward. His throat feels raw. He was screaming. He looks up, coughing and trying to gain his footing, but his feet feel funny. His entire body does.

Hela keeps pulling him. His stomach lurches in relief and horror. (You killed my brother!) What is she doing here? How did she get here? Why is she here?

"Sis…" He tries, but voice breaks.

"Spare me your sentiment," Hela demands, ducking as a stray blast shoots over her head. That looked like-Loki twists, glancing up and sees Stark hovering in the air. The exhausted part of his mind just nods and accepts this too tired to complain, but the rest is incredulous. When did Thor have time to collect a Midgadian?

No-there's another one.

Two Midgardians, then.

"Can you walk?" Hela asks. He shakes his head, not sure if he can trust his voice. He hears the clap of thunder and sees a lightning bolt being called down from the heavens. Thor. This...is a rescue.

They...came...for him.

They actually…they came for him. Thanos is going to kill them. (You killed my brother!)

Hela pulls him up, swinging his arm around her shoulders. He leans heavily into her, the world swaying. He thinks he's going to be sick. His head aches with a fiery passion he hasn't felt in an age. A blade feels like it's being driven up through the base of his skull until it pierces through his brain and explodes out the top.

"Listen carefully," Hela pulls him forward. "We need to get up there. We're using a-"

Thor lets out a scream of agony and both of them whirl, twisting around to look back as Thanos grabs their brother up by the throat and hauls him into the air. Loki feels his face drain of color, but Hela only tightens beside him. She twists the sword she's holding, her body bracing for a fight.

"Thor!" Stark calls, panicked. "Hang on a sec and then-shoot. Parker!"

"On it, Mr. Stark!"

Thanos is smirking, eyeing Loki with a smugness that seems all to fitting of him. Thor is squirming in the grip, hands clawing against the arm to no avail. Thor looks...helpless, and Loki hates it. Thor is never helpless. For all Loki mocks his brute strength and lack of thinking, there have been few enemies that Thor hasn't been able to defeat with it.

Thanos is going to kill his brother. (You killed my brother!)

"Oh, darling," Hela's voice is silk, "you're just a mess of poor decisions."

"Am I?" Thanos takes another step. Thor's face goes white, his fingers digging into Thanos's skin for support, but it doesn't seem to be helping. Do something, Loki commands of himself, but he's frozen in place. The only thing keeping him upright is Hela.

"Every broken bone in him is a severed body part on you. Remember that."

"Your threats mean nothing to me. I don't even know who you are." Thanos says, flippant.

"His sister." Hela says through teeth. Your murderer goes unsaid, but is implied all the same. Loki squeezes his eyes shut, trying to breathe in. If they fight, he honestly doesn't know how this will play out. Thanos has four Stones, but Hela is...Hela.

"I see," Thanos's voice is steady, as if he's delivering awful news to a crowd he has to keep calm. "Then I'll make you a deal, Asgardian. If you want you and your lying snake of a sibling to survive this, kill your king."

His eyes pop back open, face going white.

No. No-he can't do this. He can't-No, no, no-(You killed my brother!)

"What? You're mad. I'm not going to kill my brother-" Hela starts, hand flexing around the blade.

"Of course you are." Thanos corrects, "Because Loki has told me all about you-" Loki thinks he might be sick at the memory "-and I know that you're a selfish creature. You get to choose. Your life, and your brother's for the price of his. It's not that hard to factor."

Loki can see Hela thinking, her breath coming out faster. Harder. Thor slumps in Thanos's grip as if accepting the inevitable. She's actually...she's actually considering killing their brother for his sake. She'll kill Thor so he'll survive, but Thanos doesn't keep his word. He lies, and lies and lies.

"'Ela," Loki's voice is a rasp. "Don't-"

"My child," Thanos interrupts, and Hela's gaze lifts up, "there is no point in trying to save those who do not deserve it. You are a killer. We all are. I understand loss. Let me help you. I can help. I want to help. Your brother is as good dead."

"Fine."

"'Ela-"

Thanos throws Thor unceremoniously in front of them. Loki panics as Hela drops him and he crumples to the ground. He can't get up. Hela moves towards Thor as if in a trace. She squats down next to him, murmuring something too quiet for him to hear. He's speaking, trying to plead with her, beg her, but his tongue isn't working.

Thanos doesn't mean it, can't she see that!? Is she so thick that she'll ignore the signs!?

Thor slumps beneath her touch. He doesn't breathe in.

Loki's world, spinning, dizzy, broken, stops.

Hela just...she...it…Hela just killed his brother. Hela...just killed his brother.

He snaps. (You killed my brother!)

He stabs her fifteen times. She slumps, dead, and her blood taints his face where she smears it. He pants, panicking; Thanos speaks words he doesn't hear. He tries not to cry and fails, his throat hot and burning when the world lurches beneath his feet again, stumbling backwards. Hela's hand touches his face, her words spoken backwards, pointlessly.

Loki's brow furrows with confusion. How...how-this is familiar. This...he's done this before. He's lived this before. He's...he's dragged backwards. Hela lurches up, alive, and he hands the dagger back to her. He's shoved backwards. Thor breathes. Thanos picks Thor up again, walking backwards.

Backwards.

Time-

000o000

Loki bites on his tongue to stop himself from screaming. Midnight yanks up on his arm again for good measure and hot tears of pain burn his eyes. He breathes out heavily, confused. He's lived this. Twice already. He's been here. He's...why is he here again? Midnight leans down and whispers the threat to him, Ebony is approaching, but Loki looks away from him, scanning the ridges of broken debris for his rescue party.

He sees the glint of what he thinks is Hela's hair, but nothing else before Ebony shoves into his mind.

He comes staggering out crying into Hela's arms.

She drags him forward until he can stand. They turn when Thanos breaks Thor's ribcage. Thanos drags him forward.

He's done this.

He's…

Thanos throws Thor forward. Hela kills him. Painlessly. She could have slit Thor's throat or carved his heart out. Instead, in some sort of insane mercy, she takes the life from him without breaking skin.

Loki staggers upright.

They're in a circle.

Time only works like this for one thing.

He stumbles to Hela, grabbing her shoulder. She twists around, wary of him, but Loki has no anger for her. Has no need for it. Thor will be fine. He'll be fine for as long as they remain like this. He grabs her shoulders tightly, trying to keep himself upright.

"You have the Time Stone." Relief washes over the grief clouding her features. She nods, twisting his dagger in her grip and offering it towards him. He doesn't take it. "We're in a Time Loop."

Another nod.

That's as far as they get. The Gauntlet smashes into his head and Loki is thrown to the ground. He gasps, trying to breathe, but his head is spinning. His vision fills with purple, and he knows no more.

000o000

Loki bites down on his tongue to stop himself from screaming.

Midnight is gripping his arm again. Her fingers are clawing into his skin, upsetting the deformed bone. Ebony is moving for him, but stops, his expression confused. He looks as disortined as Loki feels. Midnight releases him suddenly. Loki catches himself on his good hand, but hears her mutter "wait," under her breath.

"Sire?" Ebony turns to Thanos. "Sire, I do not-"

"Quiet!" Thanos's expression is furrowed. He's gotten to his feet, hand gripping his double-bladed sword. Loki coughs, spitting out blood.

"What are you doing?" Thanos turns to him, expression twisted with fury. "Stop it. Stop it, now."

Loki shakes his head, resisting the urge to laugh. He sees a glint of metal from the corner of his eye. Stark. "I'm doing nothing, my lord." He whispers. "You appear to be distressed. Is something amiss?"

Thanos's blade touches the tip of the back of his neck. Loki swallows thickly, but refuses to show how much this unsettles him. "I thought," Thanos says slowly, carefully, "you had learned better than to lie to me."

Loki's back burns beneath the reminder, the ghost of pain rippling through the scars. "I have," he promises. "I told you already, I have no more magic than you do. How could I be doing this?"

Ebony hisses. "Snake! You have found some means!"

"Stop this!" Midnight growls, stepping up beside her father. The rest of the Black Order is moving towards them, but it doesn't matter. They don't get it. To slow. To thick. To arrogant.

He shakes his head, laughing sullenly. "No." His arm trembles. "You're just far less observant than I."

Thanos swings his blade down on Loki's neck.

000o000

Loki bites on his tongue to silence his screaming. Midnight releases his arm immediately, releasing a scream of frustration. He tumbles forward, barely managing to catch himself from landing face-first on the rocks. Ebony stops in his tracks.

Thanos gets to his feet. "Don't just stand there!" he hisses, "Find them!"

The Black Order scrambles, looking for his siblings and the Midgardians. Loki shakes his head slightly, and Thanos's fingers grab at his hair, yanking his face upright. "Is something humorous, little king?"

Loki untangles his tongue from the roof of his mouth. "Do you understand yet?"

"Understand what?"

"No then." Loki's lips press together, but their quivering up. A Time Loop. It's a remarkably simple plan, honestly. But unless the Black Order or Thanos finds the wielder, they have an infinite amount of tries to get this right. To get the Stones from him.

Loki dives for them.

He's dead before his siblings and the Midgardians enter the scene.

000o000

Loki bites on his tongue to silence himself. Midnight shoves him, smashing her staff against his spine in her anger. Loki feels something snap and claws desperately at the earth, but a short sound of pain slips from his lips. Midnight's boot digs into his back, directly on top of the pulsing area.

"Call them off." She demands, frantic, angry and half-mad. "Call them off!"

Loki laughs, spitting out blood. "I can't." He rasps, "I don't know where they are."

"LIAR!"

"Always." He smiles.

He doesn't make it to the end of this one, either.

000o000

Attempt seven is much the same. And eight, but Ebony-at last-recognizes the work of the Time Stone, and roars for the "wizard!" Attempt nine ends with the Wizard being flushed from his hiding spot, but the loops starts again, and recenters all of them.

They fail attempt ten, and eleven. Thirteen. Fifteen.

Maybe this will be permanent, a despaired part of him whispers, you will never be free.

It can't end like this. It can't-

He's only survived three, and seen Hela and Thor kill each other every time. He doesn't make it to the end of this one, either.

000o000

Loki bites on his tongue to keep himself from screaming. His throat is burning, and he's rarely wanted water so much in his life. The familiar, aching pain of Midnight's staff dislocating his spine washes through him before he can get a coherent thought in. He crumples, curling into the rock and waits for someone to end him.

They usually kill him right off or cripple him and then kill him. It appears to be the latter this time. There's noise, something like twihp and the shadows surrounding him are yanked backwards by thin white ropes. Loki's in too much pain to follow their track. Breath is too much work.

The pain doesn't dull, despite how many times he's grown familiar with it. His body doesn't know this is not the first time it's happened, even if his mind does. He waits, listening to the sounds of brief, but sharp battle and the pulsing power of the Stones going off.

It's...weird.

Normally he's dead by this point. Normally it's over.

He waits in stillness, keeping still. Perhaps they think they've already killed him. If he could just...

"I have the Wizard!" Ebony screeches, and Midnight releases a delighted wave of laughter. Loki feels his stomach sink, his breath escaping with defeat. Curses. A Midgardian screams and Loki feels the subtle power of the Time Stone slide away from his body like oil being washed off in a stream of water.

They've broken the loop.

Everything that happens is permanent. This is permanent. No, no, no-

(Something is wrong.)

"Loki!" Thor's hands grab his shoulders, rolling him to his back. He would have jerked if he could have with surprise. He wasn't aware Thor was even close by. Loki's body slumps weightlessly, and Thor stares at him in horror. His fingers lift to Loki's neck, checking for a pulse. His fingers are gruff and bloodstained, but he doesn't yank them back in pain. Funny. Loki's skin has burned everything else without trying. Thor's expression clears with relief as he apparently feels the heartbeat.

"At long last," Thor mutters, shifting. Loki feels confusion wash through him before realizing that they haven't stopped the loops because of him. They needed one where he would survive before they made anything permanent. They don't exactly get a choice anymore. The Wizard's loop is broken. This is it.

Loki can't say anything, or move, but Thor gathers his boneless body into his arms. "Sister-" Thor shouts over his shoulder "-Do it now!"

"Stark!" Hela yells, "Get Strange!"

"We don't have the Time Stone!" Stark returns, a blast of his fire shooting over Thor's head. Midnight lets out a roar of pain. "The Loop broke! You want me to do that now?"

"Get Strange!" Thor shouts, pulling Loki closer as he runs for cover. "We're close, brother. I promise." His voice is heavy, "Thank the Norns for Spider-Man's webs. He's the only reason your still alive now."

...Spider-Man.

The hero's name is Spider-Man?

There's an explosion of purple light behind them and Thor winces, ducking over Loki's frame until the debris has settled. Loki doesn't know what he's running for, but he obviously appears to have a destination in mind. When Thor comes to a stop, breathing heavy, he twists around, slowly lowering Loki against the broken building. They're about thirty feet away from the open battlefield, and Loki can see most of it, if at an odd angle.

The Spider is keeping the Black Order contained as Stark fights Midnight for the Wizard's freedom. The Time Stone is gleaming within the Gauntlet. That...doesn't add up. When did Thanos have the time to add it? He must have lost time. He's prone to that when he can focus on little else but pain. It's both a blessing and a burden. (How many minutes was it this time?)

Stark manages to grab hold of the Wizard and shoots into the air, high above Midnight's grab range, yanking the man away from the scene. He shouts something at the Spider, who quickly jumps up and away from the scene on a white, thin rope shot from his wrist.

Thor's buzzing with anxiety, hands flexing in and out again and again. "Please work, please work, please work," he whispers under his breath, and Loki will admit that it doesn't fill him with bounteous amounts of confidence regarding their plan.

Hela, previously keeping Thanos engaged, falls back to the middle of the circle. She gathers some sort of black energy that pulls enough to make his heart palpitate before she slams her palm into the ground. There is no wave of light or a pattern to follow, it's completely invisible. Thanos and his children drop immediately anyway, the Gauntlet bursting apart into thousands of scattered bits of rock. Any remaining verdure within a ten foot radius withers into nothing but crumpled bits of dead leafs.

The Gauntlet throws him. In order for it to do that, it would have to be made of Dwarven metal. Dwarven metal doesn't age like normal iron or copper, it was made in a star. As it ages, it changes to rock. Hela sped up the life process on Mjolnir. It's how she destroyed it into a pile of smoking rocks, rather than thousands of metallic scraps. The Gauntlet...was made by Nidavellir's dwarfs?

Thanos, nor his children, get up. They're dead. Hela killed them all without laying a single finger on them.

Breathing heavily, Hela kicks Thanos's leg and sneers, "It's such a shame." Hela's teeth, when she smiles, are stained red. "I really thought you'd be more of a challenge. To be honest, I'm disappointed. I hope that you suffer in purgatory."

Thanos is...gone.

Loki is safe. They're all safe. He can breathe. They...won. (At what cost? There is always a cost.)

Time goes fuzzy again, leaping from this moment to another. When he manages to re-focus again, the Wizard is standing in front of him. Thor and Hela are beyond him, looking worse for wear. Hela's leaking blood from her nose and sporting a few cuts that must have been deep to remain this long. Thor's bruised, his hair tousled and sporting a few cuts, but they're both alive. Stark and the Spider are beyond them.

The deep hum of the Time Stone at work fuels through him, and Loki feels something re-align in his spine as the injury is reversed. He falls forward with a gasp, his limbs aching and prickly. His hands dig into the rock and he breathes. His blood feels like it's on fire, but it's nothing new. His body is trembling and he feels cold. He wants to laugh at the irony of that. How can he, a Jotun, be cold?

Hands touch his shoulders and he flinches back by habit. Hela's hands clutch at him, drawing him close into an embrace as she releases a shuddering breath. Thor joins her a moment later, squishing him beneath their combined embrace. He lets himself fall against them, inhaling shakily. Lets them hold him steady, because he can't keep himself together anymore. His heart patters inside his chest uncomfortably.

They don't say anything, broken and quiet together. I'm alive, Loki realizes, wide-eyed and shuddering. We all are.

"I hate you." Hela says softly, but doesn't let him go."You idiot. How did you think that running off would be the best plan of action? Tell me."

"I couldn't let you die," he murmurs. I never can.

"I'm going to cut off all your fingers, beginning with your thumb." She promises. "You are such a pain in the-"

"Start with my left hand?" Loki interrupts cheekily. His voice is hoarse and sounds half-dead.

"You don't get to choose." Thor snaps darkly.

"They're my hands!" But even through his indignation, he can feel how they tremble. How his own voice cracks and the way his fingers tighten against them like they'll vanish if they let go. But they don't.

Eventually, because it is a necessity, not a want, Hela pulls away and helps Thor to his feet before offering a hand out to him. Loki stares at it for a long moment, the caked blood and slight disfiguring of her thumb. They're all a mess now, Loki realizes. They always have been. Loki looks up at his sister for a moment before reaching his hand out and clasping Hela's. He doesn't burn the skin.

Hela pulls him up, out of the past with all it's pain and heartache, to the future. Their future, because this, Loki realizes, is his family and he's stuck with them. Not by blood, but by bond. Thor rests a hand on his shoulder, and Loki lets himself breathe in deeply.

"Alright?" Thor asks quietly.

Loki nods, "Of course...I will be."

Alternate Arrival of the Avengers:

Hela slams her fist against the wall. The sound vibrates around them, and the force of her brutality leaves an indent against the metal as it splits the skin of her knuckles. She doesn't care, instead choosing to swear savagely as she lets her fist linger in the wall for a moment. She hits it again, and blood begins to smear down her hand.

Again.

Again.

More and more and more until her fist is a bloody pulp, and looks as raw as she feels. It looks broken. Blood is smearing it red, leaving a disgusting stain on the wall. The sight of blood does not faze her, it hasn't since she was young. She's seen too much of it now. The bones are broken; she can feel how strangely disconnected they are. Flexing her fingers meets resistance, but not pain.

Never pain.

She coils her muscles, preparing for another assault, but is only met with resistance when Thor's deft fingers catch her bicep. His other hand gently encases her forearm, preventing her hand from getting any further on its destructive warpath.

"Hela." Thor's voice is quiet. "Stop."

"I'm going to kill him." She seethes. She shakes her head, jaw tight. "I'm going to kriffing kill him!"

She doesn't look at her brother, but feels as his expression darkens behind her. "Not if I beat you to it." His tone is barely above a mutter, but it doesn't need to be any louder to make his point. Thor slowly loosens the pressure, and when she proves herself capable of holding still, steps up next to her. He's still gripping her forearm, and comes around to inspect the damage. Part of her wants him to leave it. Maybe if she lets it fester long enough, it will hurt and serve as the much needed distraction.

"Kill him together," General Brunnhilde suggests dryly behind them. Hela can almost see the way that her lips quiver up, that furrowing her eyebrows do when she's angry, "It would probably be more painful that way, anyway. Might as well make him suffer for his stupidity, right?"

"I'm a skilled torturer." Hela snaps, "I know how to cause pain without assistance."

"Because that's always something to be proud of, isn't it, Commander?" Brunnhilde's voice is soft behind them, and Hela rips her right hand from her brother and spins, weapon drawn with her left. She has it leveled at the Valkyrie's face before anyone can as much as exhale.

Hela quells her temper, forcing herself to breathe despite how wound up she feels. Damage to the general would not be welcomed by anyone, and the last thing that Hela wants to do is deal with more stupid problems caused by her family. Instead, she squeezes out a breath. "Now? We're going to do this now?" Hela questions, voice taut. "After everything, you want to stomp around on this now?"

General Brunnhilde's unconcerned eyes look up at her. "No time like the present, isn't there?"

Norns, she wishes she could split her throat. The gush of blood that would spill onto her hands would not be a disgust, but rather a relief. To finally be rid of this woman after so many years of her taunting and Odin's favoritism.

"Enough." Thor sighs. He sounds as tired as she feels; a weary ache that settles deep into bone and no amount of sleep in the galaxy can fix it. "Don't do this now. Please."

That's what she was trying to say!

"You-" Hela starts to argue, but Thor gives her a dirty expression and she snaps her jaw shut. He lifts his hand expectantly, and Hela slaps the blade down into his awaiting palm with annoyance. Brunnhilde looks smug, and Hela is tempted to punch her again.

"Thank you." Thor murmurs, slipping the weapon inside his boot. It's cute how he thinks that will stop her.

Hela grits her teeth and forces herself to exhale sharply before she turns back to the healing room and the gathered group stuffed inside. Eir and another girl are working on trying to help the two aides get back up, eyeing their exchange with obvious discomfort. Hela bites on her inner cheek, but refuses to feel guilt for actions.

She is reacting. How did they expect her to take this? A bat of her eyelashes and a murmured "oh"? Thor went still. She's never been quiet. A bit of a warning would have been nice before they got here, but no. That would be too convenient, wouldn't it? They were only told by Eir to come to the healing wing at once because Heimdall said there had been an emergency, and no one had explained what happened until one of the aide's burst into frantic, helpless sobs and explained the whole story to them.

Even now the bright-lipped girl still weeps, her only comfort being Eir's steady hand on her back.

Savagely, Hela wants her to keep crying. To feel guilt. It's her fault that her youngest sibling is gone, scattered off into the cosmos like paper to the wind. If the aide and others had been able to keep Loki pinned into place, then they wouldn't be here, trying to process what happened and decide what to do next.

She knows she is deflecting. It has barely been fifteen minutes since she left, and if she had stayed here like she'd planned to, then Loki's sorry butt would still be planted on that ugly cot and he'd be perfectly safe and alive. They would know where he is. How he is.

The spur of emotion rouses through her, and Hela's jaw is beginning to hurt from how hard she's clenching her teeth together. She won't hit the wall again. Thor won't let her even if she tries. But Loki-

How could he have been so stupid!?

Why did he think that this would help? How did he think that this would help? It won't. He's being both naive and stupid. She's seen her fair share of asinine, dead heroes. Their story never ends well. She doesn't want her brother to join them, ranking among the sufferers and mutilated.

Eir sighs. Thor's heavy gaze lifts to her, and the healer shifts beneath it, uncomfortable. Finally, she says at length, "Loki has never been this impulsive. This must be something that he was thinking on for some time."

"He was awake for three hours before I ran into him." Thor counters. "If he'd had a plan before then, he would have left before we found him. He wasn't thinking, he just acted."

"Did he have to bash my head in for that?" Banner grumbles, wincing when he dabs at the open wound with a rag again. Thor was helping him, but her brother must have gotten up when Hela wouldn't stop hitting things.

The wound is bloody, but doesn't look like anything time won't heal. It's a split gash up the side of his forehead, leaving the skin stained and ugly. Banner's beast did not come out to play, leaving him injured and vulnerable. Hela saw Loki's work. She's standing in it. It's that of a half-drunk madman striking out at anything that moved. He was obviously disoriented. He seemed to have gotten lucky that the aide's stray spell hit Banner before Hulk could make a looming appearance.

If the beast had come out...would they be standing here, in the dead battlezone the sorcerer left in his wake, cursing his stupidity? Loki wasn't in a state to fight when they found him. He kept listing from side to side, pale and sickly. He looked a heartbeat away from collapsing entirely or vomiting a lung.

Eir has admitted she doesn't know how Loki was walking.

Hela doesn't either, and she doesn't know if she wants to know.

"I…" Eir runs a hand through her graying hair. Hela can see her agitation as clear as she can a wall. It's potent. "I didn't expect him to do something like this. I thought he would be in a bit of a titz, but not attack anyone."

"Well he did. And now he's gone." Thor's patience has drained. "We were as stupid as we were arrogant. We knew what he was talking about, but he didn't…"

She flexes her bloody fist.

"How could you have known what would happen, Thor?" Banner's voice is quiet. "Be reasonable. None of us saw this coming. We expected him to be in a comatose for a couple more weeks, not leap up like a corpse rising from the dead and run off."

It stings a little to realize that Loki doesn't think that she-that they could protect him if the need arose, but there's not much she can do about it now. He's gone. Any attempts to trace his ship prove unsuccessful, which means he must have turned off the tracker. He's gone, and he didn't even bother to say goodbye before popping out in a frantic, violent way. Heimdall doesn't know what direction to look in to see him. This is space. Space is not little.

Thor's shoulders slump in defeat. "But still, I-"

The door bursts open and Hela whirls, hand snapping out with a weapon as she slides into place in front of the group without thinking. She was standing behind Thor, but has to skirt to the left to take the head. They have no enemies on this ship, she has known that for a long time, but instinct is hard to kill. She has nearly met her end by inattentiveness far to many times in her youth.

The curia regis strides in, looking worn and haggard. A part of her snears at the sight of them, knowing full well what time of the morning this is and not caring. She can't say that she has grown any more fond of them over the last few weeks than she has the slow tear of padding inside her boot. Both are annoying, but nothing she can do anything about.

Thor takes a step up beside her, gently pushing down her arm. "My lords, ladies." Thor dips his head.

Hela refuses to show them such respect. She will bow to no one. Not anymore.

Lord Arkenson comes to a stop in front of them, resting his hands on his hips. Behind them trails Eir's main assistant, lips pinched together with annoyance. Eir sent her to gather the council and explain the situation as she herself went to collect Hela and Thor.

"What is this I hear about the Prince running of?" Lord Arkenson demands, never one to beat around the bush. Hela flinches, her jaw going tight again. He didn't run off. That makes it seem like he deserted them, and he didn't. He was being stupid.

Hela opens her mouth to respond, likely with something belittling, but Thor beats her. "Loki believed we were in danger," Thor says carefully, "he left to protect us before we could stop him. He was trying to save Asgard."

And how certain are they that the phantom who walks Loki's mind is active once more? The man who sliced open his back and gave him those wounds. She knows pain. Torture. They were creative in how they went about it, but she can't say she's impressed. What stood out to her the most was the hissing, ugly thing down the middle of his spine.

She knows what that was.

It wasn't the ugly stab, off to the left; pierced through enough organs to cause a quick, but painful end. It wasn't the traces from whipping, or the burned flesh that didn't heal right. Not the brand. Or the stitches scars.

It was a blood eagle. And because of their biology, he wouldn't have been killed by it, just suffered in a limbo between life and death. It's the punishment, legally, that Asgard gave to fratricide when she was still among the government. Things may have changed now, she doesn't know, didn't have time to care, but she has only seen Odin ever condemn four Asgardian's to the fate. She performed three of them by his command, and hated every second of it.

She didn't hold the title of executioner because it made her seem intimidating. She sailed a boat of her desire to please Odin on an ocean of blood, and when she got to shore he rejected her. Caged her. Treated her like an animal, when she'd have ripped out her own beating heart at the beginning of her youth if it meant she would please him.

And someone did that to Loki. It's not a fate she thinks she could condemn anyone to. Death is meant to be swift and painless. Not…

Not that.

Lord Arkenson scoffs. "As if he would care one iota about what happened to us."

Hela's eyes narrow. "He could have left you behind on Asgard. I would have had no qualms about running a weapon through your chest. In fact," she bares her teeth, "I would have enjoyed it. I still would."

Sir Borison swallows, looking visibly uncomfortable. A part of her is vindictively pleased by this. She's tired of dealing with these old men and women with their rigid, confined thinking. All they want to do is point the blame and bask in their own innocence. It's a wonder that Asgard didn't topple inwards long before she ever showed up to explode it.

Then again, the curia regis is missing a center figure head: the queen. Frigga is likely the only reason that Asgard survived as long as it did.

"And what was the threat that the Prince deemed big enough to desert?" Lord Arkenson demands sharply. Hela hears Thor make a slight noise in his throat, but he doesn't protest.

She blows out through her nose, remembering Loki's scrambled, half explanation. Thanos, he called him. A genocidal psychopath. Wipe out half the universe with the Infinity Stones. If someone had suggested that to her a few centuries ago she would have laughed in their face. No one can wield all six Infinity Stones at once. Not like that. The effort would kill them.

Odin was collecting them. His conquest on the Nine wasn't just because he loved blood. He was looking for the Stones, and found a handful. Asgard commissioned the creation of the Tesseract. Hela has held the Space Stone before.

Seeing Loki's open panic and desperation has forced her to re-evaluate her beliefs on those facts. Thanos is coming.

"It wasn't deserting." General Brunnhilde snaps. "He was trying to play hero. Stupid hero, but hero."

Lord Arkenson's eyebrow goes higher.

Hela bites on her inner lip before forcing the words out. "He's called Thanos."

She, with Thor, explains what they know, and watches as the council grows more and more distressed. It doesn't please her, for once. Their panic is a reflection of her own, and she'd really rather that someone was confident in her brother's survival.

She isn't herself.

She wipes the blood off of her fist, but the pain never registers. The distraction never comes. Loki is still out there. And he's still going to die without them being able to lift a finger in protest.

Thor's expression grows more distant, and a panicked pressure begins to fester in her stomach as she realizes what he's thinking.

000o000

A hand wraps around his forearm, and Thor does a full body flinch as a strangled wheeze escapes his lips. He stops reaching for the power, instead keeping still. He turns sharply towards the source and sees faintly glowing green in the dark. His heart sinks as he recognizes it on the spot.

"Brother…" Hela sighs, "I really did think that you'd know better."

Thor's teeth grit.

What would she have him do? Sit around until a solution presents itself? No. Thor isn't someone who waits. Espeically not now.

With the weight of Hela's presence here, the escape pod suddenly feels small and confined.

It has been four hours since Loki left. He didn't think anyone would think to look for him now. Then he could leave and drag Loki's sorry butt back here. Or, in the very least, keep him alive.

"Let me go." His voice is toneless.

"Not until you explain what you're doing here." Hela says softly, and tightens her grip the slightest bit. It hurts, but only faintly. Tight pressure, more than active hurt. "Thor," she sighs. She sounds suddenly old and weary. His stomach twists with guilt.

Thor twists his arm from her grip and backs up, slumping into the pilot's seat, heavily. Why didn't he turn on the lights? Maybe he could have avoided this whole thing. His hands twitch, as if preparing to start the sequence, but Hela slides to her feet smoothly and steps in front of him. Her arms are crossed. The only light is provided from the hallway beyond them, so he can't see her face, but it's not too hard guess what her expression is.

Thor slumps.

"You're being stupid." Hela says at length. "What exactly do you hope to accomplish by running off? You're their king. Asgard needs you. You're the only thing holding them together now. Are you really going to take that away from them?"

The guilt threatens to eat his throat inside out. It's settling in his stomach like a physical, heavy weight. He had assumed that Heimdall would step up. Or Brunnhilde. Maybe even Hela. He just…

He can't lose Loki again. Not when he is right here and capable of doing something about stopping the whole mess. How could he just stand idly by while knowing that his sibling was running off to his death? Even if they may not understand the full damage that has been done. He can't...

Thor snaps up, leaning forward on the seat. "And what about our brother? Am I supposed to just stand by and let him get himself killed?"

Isn't his duty to his family?

He can almost see the flash of irritation in Hela's eyes. "Did I say that?"

Thor doesn't answer, choosing instead to look at his feet. "And what would you propose that we do? You're…" Thor stops, a thought occuring to him for the first time. He breathes out in a sharp gust and looks up. "What are you doing here? Were...were you going to leave?"

Hela twitches. "No. I was waiting for you. I knew that you'd abandon us for him."

Thor's teeth set harder. His ears are beginning to hurt from the pressure. "I'm not abandoning-"

"You are Asgard's king. You don't get the option of-"

Thor snaps up to his feet. He doesn't remember thinking that he should stand, he's just suddenly up. "I never wanted the throne! Of course I don't want to leave them, but there are others who can do this much better than I can! I was never meant to be a king! Why does everyone keep trying to drown me in the position? I just want to keep my family together, but the fates won't let me do that, either! I just-"

"What do you think I am trying to do!?" Hela's voice is sharp. "You are the only thing I have left; If you leave, I have nothing!"

Thor stops.

His breath stutters in his chest and he exhales slowly. Hela...Hela has not been concerned about the throne. She has never been concerned about the throne. This has always been a matter of family. She has…

"Hela…" Thor whispers.

Hela turns away from him.

"Hela." Thor manages to get his voice a little louder. He reaches out and touches her arm, but she jerks away from him, slapping his forearm. Her entire body seems to seize.

"Stop it! If you're going to go, just go!" She shoves him, hard.

Thor's teeth slam together as he grabs at the chair frantically to keep himself upright. He balances himself and sees her eyes flash in the dark. He opens his mouth, not certain what he's going to say, but planning to say something and-

"You two." Brunnhilde. Both of them flinch, turning back to the exit. The woman is filling up the doorway, her frame silhouetted in the lighting. "Get your heads together. Now. We got trouble."

Thor doesn't look back at his sister. "What kind of trouble?"

"The kind of trouble that means we're all going to die kind of trouble! Is there any other!?" Brunnhilde shouts, drawing her weapon and leaving the doorway, running down the hall and shouting, "Come on!"

Thor grabs his sword and hobbles out of the escape pod, and hears Hela move to follow.

Niether of them say a word.

000o000

It's a ship.

It doesn't exactly scream doomsday, but it's not an idle threat either. Thor comes to a halt in the some-what throne room, stopping to gawk out the window. It's no where near as big as the Statesmen, but it's moving quickly in a straight course. Andit's coming right for them. They have two minutes, maybe three before they collide.

Norns curse it!

"Why aren't we turning!?" Thor demands, his voice raising a pitch despite his best efforts to keep it level.

"We can't. The Statesmen is too big." Heimdall explains quickly. "We're going to collide. There is no other alternative."

Thor swears under his breath, his mind frantically whirring. He runs through dozens of ideas, discarding just as many. They need a way to intercept the course, but how? The ship is circular in shape, with a giant hole in the middle. He can fly. If he could just get outside, then…maybe he could catch it?

That's stupid.

Maybe he could push the Statesmen out of the way.

Wait-he's a living lightning bolt. He can shoot the ship...And risk killing anyone inside, or making debris that will strike the Statesmen and make the whole problem worse. He grits his teeth, releasing an agitated noise.

"Turn up the shields." Thor demands of Heimdall. "Full power to the southside, use the engines to brace for impact." He turns to his sister. "Come with me."

She eyes him, "Where are we going?"

"The roof." Thor answers shortly, turning on his heel and sprinting from the room. Hela matches his pace easily, her silence is enough of a question. Thor sighs heavily. "We're of the nobility. We don't need to breathe. We might be able to stop the ship from hitting us dead on."

There isn't enough time to reach the hatch. They're going to have to make their own exit. Thor stops in the hall, looking up and flexes his fingers, building up the power. It fizzles in his core before making his blood hot.

Hela snorts. "What do you want us to do? Throw things at it? Because that will be incredibly effective."

"I don't know! But we have to do something!" Thor snaps, lifting his hands up and shooting the power from his fingers. It snaps and crackles from his skin, bursting against the metal. It takes a moment before the metal begins to bend and burn beneath the electricity. He hears the snap as the vacuum of space slips into the space between them.

Thor exhales, emptying his lungs completely and takes a moment to let himself adjust as the pressure snaps his lungs closed. His heart rate slows to a stiff beat every few minutes, blood pooling in his limbs. He'll be swollen and stiff later, but the cost is hardly important right now. He sees Hela blow out her last breath before Thor looks up and jumps, shoving. He pushes the remaining metal off and lands on the top of the Statesmen in a stumble.

The air roaring around him leaves him momentarily deaf. He'd forgotten how loud space is. Not in the traditional sense, like people screaming or white noise, but the air gushing back and forth. Hela lands beside him, and Thor forces himself to focus as the Statesmen's auto detectors close the hole behind them to prevent the ship from being ripped apart.

Ship.

Approaching in the distance.

Thor takes a few steps forward, shifting his weight to his feet heavily to stop himself from being flung off of the boat completely. The circular ship is still coming towards them. If the Statesmen was only a few dozen feet lower, they could narrowly avoid each other.

If...if they could somehow catch it.

What are they supposed to do? Thor was sort of hoping that by coming up here, he'd be struck by an idea on how to save everyone, but he's just as clueless as he was in the throne room. Trouble indeed.

Thor turns to his sister, but she's already watching him expectantly.

She's dry, too.

Great.

"We need to try and catch it." Thor shouts, trying to be heard over the solar winds.

Hela's expression flickers with obvious disbelief. She gestures towards the approaching ship with frantic hands. "Are you mad?"

Thor gives a mirthless smile. "Possibly. I'll go high, you take low."

"Thor, I swear, if this kills me-" Hela starts, but Thor has already shoved off of the Statesmen's roof and is heading for the ship. He clings onto the weightlessness he found leaping off of palace's balcony so many months ago, trying to remember the trust he'd had in Mjolnir. He's not going to fall unless he chooses to.

He has to believe that.

He keeps moving for the ship.

Thor braces his muscles, squeezes his eyes shut, and lifts his hands up. He's still not ready for when the weight of the ship slams into him. Thor's been hit by a lot more than he cares to admit in his lifetime, but this feels like he's just had an entire building topple onto him. Or been struck face-first by a moon.

A loud yell of agony and surprise slips through his lips. Thor grabs at anything and everything, and pushes back.

This really doesn't seem to be working.

Brilliant.

The ship lurches suddenly, almost enough to cause him to lose his grip, but he tightens anyway. That must be Hela. Thor tightens his handhold and shoves and shoves and shoves until he feels the speed begin to slow. There's no sound in space. Not really. But Thor imagines that if they could have had access to it, it would have been close to deafening.

The ship slows until it finally stops, slamming on top of the Statesmen heavily with a cloud of dust.

The weight makes their vessel drop enough that it's noticeable. Thor's arms are burning and his throat hurts. He feels the insane desire to laugh bubble in his throat.

It worked. It actually worked. The Statesmen is in one piece and no one died.

The circle begins to topple to the side and Thor forces himself to release, backing up. His gaze zeros in on his sister before he pushes himself forward and grabs her in a tackle hold, wrapping his arms around her bony frame tightly. They both topple, but Hela is squished beneath his protective embrace before the ship could crus her.

Dust sweeps over them, any broken bits of metal that snapped off of the other ship popping out and away from them.

When everything has settled, Thor releases his protective embrace and sits back, blinking and coughing. Hela shoves up onto her elbows, tipping her head back. There's blood on her clothing, and it takes him an alarmingly long amount of time to realize that it's his, not hers. Looking down at his palms reveals how utterly shredded the skin is. Muscle is sticking out in some places, but he really can't…

He can't feel much of anything but an overwhelming sense of relief.

Hela sits up fully, shaking dark hair from her face. She's eying the ship with distrust. Thor follows her thought process, lips thinning.

They need to see if there are any survivors, or at least determine who almost hit them. He swallows, squeezing his eye shut for a moment before shoving up to his feet. He offers his hand out to her, and pulls her up when she takes it.

He notes, distantly, that her hands are in a state like his own.

His shoulders are burning. He thinks he dislocated one; something popped or pulled back there. That's a concern for later, though.

Hela draws a sword, taking it into both hands. Her eyes narrow before, with a few familiar military gestures, they split up. She goes right and he takes left. He grabs the hilt of his sword as he walks and quickly snaps it away when the pain registers sharply. Ow. Okay, yeah, that's not going to work right now.

Thor pinches his lips together, keeping his eye rapidly moving back and forth across the ship, looking for any signs of life. Nothing pops out. He keeps walking. And walking. It takes the better part of five minutes before he reaches what he assumes is the frontal part of the ship. A large window reveals the bridge. Thor moves towards it carefully, standing a good distance away from the cracked glass and tenses when he sees movement inside.

That's a person. No-two. Three?

His body immediately stiffens, llightning pulsing in responce to his unease.

He can't use his sword. His palms aren't in the condition for that. Instead, he'll have to use something else.

Thor flexes his fingers, trying to calm nerves. He moves forward and feels lightning snap across his palms to prepare for the threat. The light draws the attention of the figures inside and Thor curses himself for losing the element of surprise before a whir of orange sparks appears in front of him suddenly and Thor topples inside with a yell, falls, and-

-slams into hard metal. A grunt of pain slips through his lips in surprise, but he manages to flex his neck to stop his head from slapping against the metal. Weapons whir and bright light appears over his face, but Thor stops because he knows the sound of that weapon.

He jerks, his eye frantically moving as he rolls towards his back. The weapon follows him and Thor sees three figures standing over him. Thor feels his jaw fall open. What are the odds…?

Thet stare at each other in flabbergasted silence for a long few seconds

"Thor?" Tony croaks. He has a cut down the side of his face, bleeding sluggishly. He looks awful, but the familiarity makes Thor want to weep.

"Stark." Thor says flatly.

What are the odds?

"You're missing an eye." Tony pulls his hands back, the repulsors powering down. The Wizard's-Strange or something, wasn't it?-shields drop and he releases an audible breath of relief. The other figure, a pale young man with brown hair and dressed in red armor, looks only confused, but nonetheless relaxes when Tony does.

Thor props himself up on his elbows, simply gawking for a moment. He can't believe this. After a year without contact and it isn't Thor landing on Earth that re-units them. Tony nearly crashed his ship into the Statesmen and killed all of them.

"Is that blood?" the Wizard asks.

"What are you doing here?" Thor counters. He looks towards the Wizard. "How did you get this ship? This isn't Midgard's technology. It's too advanced."

It's better tech than the Statesmen.

"I'm going to pretend that I'm not offended by that." Tony says sharply, and Thor thinks that he might cry. The banter. The voice. He hadn't realized how close he'd gotten with the Avengers until he didn't have any access to them at all.

They all look tired. A deep exhaustion that speaks of long hours of battle with no sleep.

Thor awkwardly makes his way up to his feet. There are so many things he wants to say, but he doesn't even know what to begin with. He looks towards the young man.

"Who are you?"

"Um." The adolescent glances at Tony for help before lifting out a hand. "I'm Peter. Peter Parker. Or Spider-Man."

Thor doesn't clasp his hand, all to aware that he's bleeding. Peter's expression furrows and Tony gives him a look before explaining tiredly, "Yeah, bud, they don't do that here."

Peter lowers his hand.

"Man of spiders?" Thor repeats, fumbling around the last word. Asgard didn't have creatures like spiders, and the Allspeak offers no translation into something more familar to him. He remembers that his first encounter with the creatures involved Darcy screeching at the top of her lungs that they were all going to die and him arriving in the room with Mjonlir only to see her on top of the counter and pointing helplessly while squeaking.

He didn't understand they're mostly harmless at the time.

Jane killed it.

He shakes off the memory, discarding it as unimportant as quickly as he can.

"Just Peter." Peter says, rubbing at the back of his neck is discomfort. One hand is on his abdomen. He looks shaky and sweat, like he's running a high-grade fever.

"Thor," Tony's voice is heavy. "Thor, there's something out there. A threat that we can't fight. We weren't ready. He's coming. He-"

"Thanos." Thor blurts before he can stop himself.

The Wizard's stance grows wary. "How do you know that name?"

Thor feels himself stiffen. He looks between the three and then lowers his gaze to the Wizard's chest. The Time Stone. He'd felt its power when he stepped inside the Sanctum. He hadn't commented on it because it wasn't relevant, but he knew it was there. There are-were, Asgard's gone, by the Allfathers he will never get used to referring to it in the past tense-stories of Bor giving the Time Stone to Midgard for safekeeping.

He doesn't know how much truth there is to them.

An Infinity Stone.

Like the Tesseract. Loki.

Thor looks between them, his gut clenching.

"Do you know him, Thor?" the Wizard questions.

"Of him." Thor corrects, biting on his inner cheek. "He…" how can he begin to explain what Thanos has done? He sent Loki, he is the reason that Loki left. The reason for so much slaughter and pain.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter questions, had on his abdomen.

"We need to talk about the Infinty Stones." Tony says, reaching out a hand to grip his shoulders. "I know that you know more than all of us. And Asgard had Space."

Thor bites on his lower lip. "I can take you inside. We...have a lot to catch up on."

They don't even know Asgard is gone.

"Mr. Stark...?"

"Like your eye?" Tony questions pointedly. Thor's hand raises to the patch, almost automatically, and he nods wordlessly. His hands burn beneath the pressure.

"Let me go get my sister, then we can go." Thor says. "We...there's a lot you need to know."

The Wizard and Tony falter. "Your what? How long have you had a sister?" Tony demands, eyes blown wide. Thor shakes his head, opening his mouth to say some version of it doesn't matter, but Peter grabs Tony's shoulder and finally gets his attention.

"Mr. Stark," the young man whispers, and all their eyes turn towards him. "Mr. Stark, I don't…" he whispers, blanches, and then questions, "do you guys smell hydrogen peroxide?", and before any of them can answer, topples forward to his knees and throws up.

000o000

"Really, Mr. Stark, I swear I'm okay."

"You threw up."

"Yeah, but. I mean, so?"

"You better hope that you have a better defense than that, because what you have isn't going to cut it, Pete." Tony says sharply, shoving the youngest down again when he attempts to get up. An annoyed expression washes over his expression at the action, but, unlike before, he settles onto his back and lets Tony feel his forehead for the umpteenth time. It's a pointless action. Eir already checked him, and found nothing serious to be wrong.

Vertigo. Low blood sugar. Decompression issues. Shock.

Thor clenches his hands, forcing out a heavy breath. It's sharp and aches, as it always is for the following few hours after space. Often, he has to remind himself to breathe in that period of time, too, because his body has adjusted to living without oxygen and doesn't quite see the point of taking it in again.

He always performs better when he breathes.

Bruce rests a hand on Peter's forehead, his lips downturned, but Peter has obviously not caught any sort of deadly illness just yet.

Tony watches the doctor like he's a ghost, and Thor remembers feeling much the same way when he saw him on Sakaar. They'd assumed Bruce was in hiding or dead, and to see him unharmed and breathing...it had been hard. He couldn't stop touching Bruce, afraid that when he broke contact, Bruce would slip through his fingers like running water.

Hela fidgets beside him, obviously uncomfortable. Dr. Strange, as he introduced himself to the Asgardians, had teleported them inside the Statesmen and Thor had left to retrieve his sister and explain what he knew about the situation. At least he can say with a surety that the ship was carrying friendlies.

Thor glances at her, attempting to catch her eyes, but failing. He nudges her with his elbow. "What?"

Hela glances at him, and shakes her head.

Not now, then.

Tony releases an agitated breath, slumping down next to Peter. Dr. Strange is seated beside them, cross legged. It looks like a meditative pose, but he hasn't seen the doctor make any effort to slip into that mindset.

"We need to compare notes." Tony says at long last, looking at him. He knew the question was coming, but that doesn't make him any more willing to talk about it. "What do you know about Thanos? You go and then I'll explain what's going on on our end."

Thor sours. He doesn't want to talk about this. He doesn't want to discuss what Loki did, but there's no avoiding it. Not anymore. Loki has been gone for hours. He could be dead by now. He probably is dead. The thought isn't a cheerful one.

"We need to find and kill Thanos before it's too late." Thor mutters. Before the damage that the Titan has inflicted is permanent. "We...probably don't know much more than you do. The only person I know who had one-on-one experience is…"

He looks away towards the rest of the group. It's just him, his sister, the Avengers, Heimdall, Brunnhilde and a few medical aides beyond Air herself. Not as big of a crowd as it was this morning.

"Is?" Tony prompts, looking hopeful. Thor hates to dash it, but he doesn't really have a choice.

"On a suicide mission."

Dr. Strange's face falls openly. "What? Why? When?"

"A few hours ago." Thor sighs, rubbing at his forehead. "We need to find him, but I don't..."

"Yeah." Hela's voice is flat. "I was actually starting to like the little fífl."

"His name is Loki. You know that now." She makes a face at him, but Thor refuses to rise to the bait.

The realization seems to strike Tony at last because he does something close to a full body twitch and twists around, "Loki is alive? Since when?"

"Birth." Hela answers flatly.

Thor whacks her arm. "Not the time." He hisses. Her eyes narrow, but she snaps her teeth together and looks away from them all pointedly. Peter makes a slight noise in the back of his throat, something between a laugh and a panicked moan. Tony and Bruce turn to him immediately, but Peter just props himself up on one elbow.

"Did Thanos attack Asgard? Is that why you're all here?"

Thor and Hela share an uncomfortable look. He hears Eir snort loudly and sees Bruce shift, uncomfortable. Thor swallows and says at length, "...No. It was something else. We haven't met Thanos. Not yet."

"So how do you know who he is?" Dr. Strange questions.

Thor worries his lip between his teeth. He doesn't know how much he can say without invading Loki's privacy, but on the same hand, he really isn't sure if it matters at this point. The fate of the universe hangs in the balance. He...really can't place his brother's feelings above that. He doesn't know if he ever has.

"Loki…" Thor starts. Stops.

He can't keep going.

Hela takes a step forward. "Thanos nearly destroyed him. Is still tormenting him. Loki left to take the Tesseract to the Titan-" Tony and Dr. Strange make indignant noises "-to bargain for our lives. He somehow believes that it's going to solve all our problems. It won't. But you try and explain that to the self destructing idiot."

"Loki knew him? Personally?" Tony clarifies.

Brunnhilde snorts, pulling herself away from the wall she's leaning against. "How well can you know your torturers? Loki and Thanos weren't friends. He was little more than a glorified slave listening to the spouted information his master gave him."

Tony flinches.

Dr. Strange eyes him before asking softly, "And did Loki say what Thanos's endgame was. Why he was collecting the Stones? That's still what's unclear to me."

Thor feels sick. He closes his eye. "He...said that Thanos was going to wipe out half of all life. His endgame is mass slaughter, and beyond us, there is nothing in his way."

000o000

They compare notes.

Dr. Strange was nearly assassinated in the middle of the night by some of Thanos's lackeys, but escaped with the assistance of a man called Wong. The fight caught the attention of Peter, who was on a "patrol" as Spider-Man at the time, who then called Tony which resulted in all of them eventually being dragged up to space together. They managed to over power their captor and were attempting to figure out a way home when Thor and Hela stopped their ships from colliding.

Previously, the three of them had been stuck on the boat for a little over twelve hours.

Now they're here.

And they have no plan for the future.

What are they supposed to do? How do they stop someone like Thanos? They don't even know how many Stones-if any-that the Titan has. What if he has all others and the only one in the way is Time? Or Space? Loki didn't physically have the Stone on him. That means it must have been in his cache, but in order to take that, Thanos would have to kill Loki first.

If...when they run into Thanos, Thor guesses that will be an indicator of his little brother's wellbeing. If the Titan has Space then Thor will have to assume the worst.

Tony voices the obvious question. "What do we do now?"

Thor sighs. No one speaks up immediantly.

Knowing does not instantly make a solution.

"We know where Mind is." Heimdall says at length, and Thor looks up at him. There's something grim in the gatekeeper's expression. "We know the location of Time. The best thing we can do is keep the two of them safe. Out here, you are unguarded. Loki, for all his misplaced wisdom, was right to take the Tesseract somewhere that wouldn't end in mass slaughter. You need to return to Earth. At least there, the ground is solid."

Tony scoffs. "On what? The seat of our pants? In case it escaped your notice, amber-eyes, we're not exactly dealing with a surplus of spaceships here."

"The ship you arrived in." Heimdall says. "It's in working condition, and, more importantly, it can use jump points."

Thor perks. "It can? That would save considerable time. We could be on Midgard in less than six hours...Maybe even less if we didn't take an adjustment period."

"Because that always ends well." Eir snaps, drawing out of her frowned statue-like state in the corner. "The long standing effects of that are disastrous. It's not worth the cost." Her gaze shifts pointedly towards the group of Midgardians, "Especially for them."

"Jump points?" Bruce looks confused.

Thor sighs and rubs at his forehead. "I didn't explain much about space travel, did I?"

"Yeah, no. You don't talk too much about it, Point Break. I thought that the Bifrost was the only way to get from point to point quickly." Tony sighs heavily, his expression growing flustered. "I'm guessing that there's something else."

Hela rolls her eye, glancing at him. "They really are like children, aren't they?"

"Hey." Tony jerks up. "For the record, Hades, not all of us have been raised on magic-land of all-knowing-magic. As far as we were concerned a decade ago, none of you guys were even real. So this is really your fault, not mine. You vikings are terrible at dropping information, or even sharing it. So if you want to blame someone for stupidity, looking at the mirror and guess who's there." Tony waves mockingly, "It's you. Hello."

"Mr. Stark, maybe-" Peter starts, trying to placate.

Hela smiles with teeth. "It's 'Hela'."

Thor gives her an exasperated look. Heimdall takes a step forward, drawing the attention again. "The Midgardians speak truth; they won't know how to activate or use the jump points. One of us has to go with them...and perhaps that is for the best. We can help in this fight."

Thor worries his lip between his teeth, looking around the room. No one leaps forward and waves their hand frantically shouting "me, me, me!" at the top of their lungs. But that doesn't mean that Thor doesn't want to. Getting to Earth is one step closer to Thanos, and, more importantly, Loki. Thanos is the only person who knows where Loki is right now. If he goes, and manages to talk to Thanos, then maybe…

Thor blows out a heavy breath. "I can go."

"No." Hela shoots down quickly.

Thor turns to her, frustrated. "Stop."

"Brother-"

"Let me make my own decisions! I'm going. I know the Avengers, and I know Earth. Anyone else will be confused, but I've been there the most recently. And they trust me. I'm the only one that makes sense."

"No."

"Hela-" Thor starts, his voice losing it's patience.

"Both of you come with us." Bruce interrupts before the argument can really pick up speed, and Thor feels his expression drop as he looks away from Hela's angry face to stare at the doctor. He feels his jaw working, trying to say something. Bruce releases a soft sigh, "Listen, neither one of you is going to go without the other, that much is obvious, but Thor is right. We don't need anyone to be a liability and Thor already knows what's going on and he's trusted by Earth. They'll listen. Hela can come as backup. We need as many fighters as we can get."

"We?" Tony asks, tone slightly softer.

Bruce nods, looking away. "I'm coming back with you. Earth is my home. I want the chance to protect it."

Peter perks visibly.

Thor's heart sinks. If he doesn't go with, he loses someone else today.

Thor looks towards Heimdall, uncertain. The gatekeeper releases a heavy breath. It sounds like he's accepting someone's inevitable death, and it doesn't exactly bode well with his confidence.

"We don't have many choices. Go. We'll still be here when you return." Heimdall says firmly. Brunnhilde nods, squeezing his shoulder with reassurance. Oddly enough, it's her touch that settles him. Heimdall's words register and Thor sincerely hopes that they'll come to pass.

But something dark and coiled inside of him doesn't tell him to believe that.

He looks to his sister. "Your call."

Hela rubs a tired hand through her ratty hair. "I think we both know the answer already."

000o000

Why don't you let me take over, I'm clearly the better pilot.

Thor's hands still on the controls as the memory comes to mind. Loki's jabs, if half hearted, as Jane lay dying at their feet. He remembers snorting and saying something along the lines of well who can actually fly? and that was pretty much that. Thor didn't say the obvious, even though he could have. He's pretty sure Loki would have strangled him outright if he's just flat out said it, though. Loki is a terrible pilot. He crashes anything he flies more often than not and can't seem to grasp the concept of how sensitive everything is.

He's a scientist. Loki can fly something to save a life, everyone in the army can, but as far as performing aerial maneuvers as complicated as something in one of Midgard's movies? Yeah. No.

He bites on his inner cheek, feeling suddenly sick.

"Hey," Tony's voice snaps him back and Thor jerks, looking towards the man. "You okay?"

Thor hastily washes any discomfort off his features and moves through the flight sequences, trying to figure out where the nearest point is. It looks like they have a few minutes before he can enact the engines to pull them through the rosien-bridge.

"I'm fine." Thor promises, drawing up a tight smile. "I promise."

Tony raises an eyebrow, leaning on the equipment where it won't impede any of Thor's progress. "Forgive me for being doubtful. But. Thor, really, are you sure that you're up for this? You kind of look like death warmed over."

"I haven't slept in three days." Thor explains stiffly. "And far less in the previous two weeks. I'm just...we don't exactly have another option anyway. Asgard can take care of herself, and you need this. You look worse than I do."

Tony's lip twitches. He rubs a hand over his face, "Yeah. Right."

Thor flips a switch, pushing on something. "Dr. Strange is still on the bridge with the others, right?"

Tony nods absently. "Forgive me for not seeing the point of putting this separated. Who puts the main controls in an entirely different room than steering?"

"It's supposed to go together," Thor explains, squinting at the label on something. It's in a dialect he's not exactly familiar with, but he's seen enough ships to have a basic understanding of how it will work. "But we damaged something when we caught the ship. We'll have to do it manually."

"That's going to work?" the man questions skeptically.

Thor shrugs.

"That instills me with confidence."

Silence laps between them. Thor pulls down on a lever and the ship jerks sharply. He presses his lips together. That was probably not the cooling agent, then. He doesn't even know what that would do. How is rocking the ship even remotely useful?

Tony looks up as if expecting the ceiling to come tumbling down on top of them. Thor bites on his cheek, but feels his face heat anyway.

"So Hades?" Tony questions after a long few minutes. "How long has that been a thing?"

Thor blows out a breath. "I've only known about her for less than half a year. My father told me in his dying words and she showed up not two minutes later and tried to kill me."

Tony is quiet for a long few seconds, processing, before saying blankly: "...I don't mean to be rude, but yeah. That sounds like your family."

Thor's teeth snap together. He looks up. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I just…" Tony lifts up his hands. "You guys...have issues to work out. Your brother attempted to conquer a planet just to spite you, remember? And your dad is kind of…" he waves his hands, at a loss for words.

Thor has no shortage of them.

"A psychopath? Sadist? Megalomaniac? Blood thirsty? Pick and choose at your leisure." Thor snaps darkly. The multi-billionaire's eyebrows raise and Thor sighs heavily, sitting back on his heels. He runs a hand through his hair.

Tony squats down next to him after a few moments, hands clasped together. "No defenses?"

"What's the point? I'm not blind to the truth." Thor mutters, "I was a blind fool. Pretending that I didn't understand what my father was doing helped make it endurable. But I can't feign ignorance any longer."

Tony sighs softly. "I take it that something came up? Last couple months haven't just been space-travel funtimes?"

Thor squeezes his eye shut. "Not exactly."

"You're...you want to talk-?"

"No."

"Should you?" Tony pushes pointedly. Thor goes quiet, clenching his fists. He...doesn't even know what he'd say. This type of thing is something he'd discuss with Loki or his mother, not Tony. Thor has never been very good at sharing personal information, despite how he wears his heart on his sleeve. The only people who were ever very good at yanking it out of him were his mother or brother.

And neither of them are here to do that.

How ca he explain that his father nearlt destroyed his brother and sister...and him with his parenting? It would take longer than he cares for. And doesn't seem like the type of thing Tony wants to talk about either.

"I don't…" Thor trails. He shakes his head, clearing his throat. "We should go meet them upstairs, we're nearing the jump point and I don't trust Hela with technology that's had a milliena to advance beyond her."

"Thor," Tony grabs his shoulder when he gets up. "Wait. Just...don't try and shoulder through this alone like you do everything else. I want to help."

But that means nothing.

(It means everything.)

Thor nods wordlessly, and he and Tony make their way back upstairs. Peter, Bruce and Hela are in the middle of a conversation that he barely processes words for, and Dr. Strange is...floating. He's in a meditative position, but his face is blurring back and forth as if his soul is being struck by realities.

Thor's expression twists. He looks at Tony. "What is he doing?"

"You honestly think I know more about magic-crap than you do?" Tony counters dryly.

Thor tilts his head, seeing sense in the point, even if it doesn't help the situation. "That's-"

Hela turns to him sharply, smacking on his arm to garner his attention. He grunts and rubs at the area on instinct before turning to face her. "Toenail boat," she says flatly, "explain that."

Thor immediately groans and then shakes his head. "No. That's Loki's story to tell, not mine."

His stomach twists at the reminder of the youngest. Loki is not dead, he reminds himself sharply. Loki will be fine. He's not dead.

"So it was Loki?" Peter clarifies, but still looks hopelessly confused.

What are they talking about? Thor opens his mouth to ask that very question, but Tony touches Dr. Strange's knee and the wizard comes tumbling out of his meditative stance with a cry. All of them turn towards the doctor, and Thor takes a step forward to help steady him when Tony pulls him up.

The man's frantic eyes search rapidly between them all, a panicked sort of hiss escaping him.

"Hey, you're back. You're good. Take some deep breaths." Tony instructs, gripping the man's forearm to try and ground him.

"What was that?" Bruce questions breathlessly, coming to a stop behind Tony. Hela steps up next to him, looking down at the man with a furrowed expression.

Dr. Strange swallows, looking between them all again. His gaze lingers on Hela. "I went into the future to view alternative realities to see all the different outcomes of our path." He explains, voice clipped.

"How-how many did you see?" Peter asks.

"Fourteen million four hundred and five." Dr. Strange says softly. His gaze has shifted into something despairing, and settles on Tony's face as if trying to seek answers there.

The man shifts, expression earnest. He rests a hand on Dr. Strange's arm. "How many did we win?"

Dr. Strange's gaze lifts from the Midgardian to his sister, his eyes softening. If he wasn't mistaken,Thor would say that his gaze is filled with sympathy. The implications of that make Thor's entire spine stiffen. It looks like it takes the doctor considerable effort to speak, but when he does, his voice is barely above a whisper.

"None."

Alternate Ending:

Thor lets out a roar and dives forward, axe flying towards the Titan's front. If he'd been thinking clearly, Thor might have done something different, but rage is blinding. More so than any loss of his eyes had been. This is pure, energetic hate.

Thanos saw it coming. He turns just in time-as if the fates warned him themselves-and lifts up the Infinity Gauntlet the real one, not the one Father professed to have. The blade of the axe merely scratches the metal, landing at the Titan's well-worn boots.

Thor hadn't been prepared for that. He'd expected to impale the Asgardian in the chest, dig his blade into the creature until he told him what had become of Loki. Until he'd suffered for everything that he'd done. Until-until-

Those plans no longer matter.

He lands on his feet in front of the Titan, still buzzing with electricity. His hand reaches for the weapon; he recalculates. He can still create enough force to impale the Titan, even without the added assistance of throwing it. His fingers brushes the tip of the handle before Thanos's large hand wraps around it and tears it from the earth. The weapon isn't Mjolnir. There is no spell to bind it to the worthy, there is only the craft that Hela poured into it. And it isn't enough.

"Asgardian." Thanos's deep voice rumbles. "King, if my sources are true."

Thor's incense grows. Lightning dances along the tips of his hands. His blood is burning, and Thor needs to release before he charrs his insides. Loki, his mind pleads, think of Loki. Don't be rash. You need answers.

He needs Thanos's head on a pike.

"Where is Loki?" Thor demands, his voice like a sharp crackle of lightning. "Where is my brother?"

Thanos has the temerity to smile, and Thor's to-thin patience snaps. Withers. Dies. He tears lightning down from the heavens and Thanos has only time to raise the Gauntlet before it blasts into him at full force. Thor slams his fist as hard as he can into Thanos's gut and grabs for the axe when the Titan stumbles back. He raises the weapon, prepares for a near-kill shot and-

Stops.

His limbs have frozen, still and unmoving. Paralysis, he can't move. Panic creeps into his stomach, threatening to eat him through and through. Thor is reminded of when he was younger and Loki was still manifesting. How even barely able to walk, Loki's power was great. They would play, as best they were able. Once Loki touched him mindlessly, and Thor had been frozen for nearly ten minutes as Loki weeped for their mother and nursemaid.

They had been able to do nothing.

As Thor is now unable.

It is the work of the Tesseract. Thanos reaches forward and grabs him by the throat, lifting him up. Thor feels almost plucked, like one would do to a flower in the middle of a field. His touch reignites Thor's limbs and he struggles, grabbing at the Titan's forearm in a desperate attempt to ease the pressure on his neck. The electricity on his limbs seems to be nothing more than a vague annoyance to the Titan.

"You'll…" Thor barely manages to make the word out. His chest is compressing. "Die...for…"

Thanos throws him to the forest floor. Thor lands with a thud and Thanos's boot smashes against his chest. It's heavy. Thor's flailing arms lift to raise it, but it keeps getting heavier. He's being crushed. He's not going to make it. He'll be laying here, dead, among the rest of the Avengers. Save Maximoff, who Thor can see weeping to the side.

Steve is on the forest floor and he isn't getting up. Everyone is breathless. Dead.

He's going to join them.

Norns, I'm sorry Loki. Mother. Hela. I'd meant to-

After his ribcage has snapped from top to bottom and a hollow scream has been torn from him, a sword slips into Thanos's chest. The edge is slick with his blood and Thanos makes a gasping noise before the weapon withdraws. The foot releases so he can stagger off of Thor to face his opponent. Thor's too exhausted to look up, he can't breathe. His lungs aren't working. He's going to die starving for air.

There's a distinct shing sound, one that's almost impossible to mistake. He hates how his hope rises, but it does all the same. A foot steps over him, a shadow falling onto his face. The figure is in front of him now, with the intent to guard, protect-avenge, Thor doesn't know.

Hela's cape is torn at the edge and wet with the Outriders blood, but he recognizes it almost instantly. Her helmet is dull and faded, but Thor thinks he might weep at the familiar sight. A sword is in either hand.

Thor is gasping, fingers clawing into the dirt.

"Oh, darling," Hela's voice is silk, "you're just a mess of poor decisions."

"Am I?" Thanos is steady. The Time Stone is gleaming over the wound, repairing what damage has been done. The only trace it existed is the blood on one of Hela's weapons. His stomach sinks. Hela may be powerful, but she is nothing against six Infinity Stones. Thanos could not be stopped by any of them.

Hela's head tips, and there's something predatory in her stance. "Every broken bone on him is a severed body part on you. Remember that."

"Your threats mean nothing to me. I don't even know who you are."

"Where is my brother?" Hela demands sharply, words dark and hate-filled. She doesn't seem to care any longer about trading threats back and forth.

Thanos laughs, like causing pain is something funny. "I've met a great deal of people, my child; you must understand that I don't remember every face."

"Loki." Hela's voice holds no humor. "I'll give you one chance to answer. Where is my brother?"

Thanos's expression twitches. "Odd. I don't remember him mentioning a sister when he wept for someone to save him."

Undeterred, Hela presses forward, weapons spinning once, "Where. Is. He?"

"My child," Thanos sighs, "there is no point in trying to bury the dead who do not deserve it. Let him go, all you will find is pain there. I understand loss. Let me help you. I can help. I want to help. Your brother is dead."

Thor's stomach clenches, a horror setting into the small space between his heart and his lungs. Loki. Loki. Loki can't be dead. Thanos didn't kill him. He can't-he can't-

Thanos has the Tesseract.

They are just fooling themselves in thinking anything else happened.

Hela releases a roar. All calm exterior falls away and she leaps at Thanos. She slams her feet into his chest and plunges her blades deep into his chest. Thanos makes a noise that somewhere between a pained squish and an agonized wail.

Thor doesn't see exactly what happens next, but he sees as Hela is thrown back, landing on her back in a skid. It barely stops her, she leaps upright and draws another sword, diving back towards Thanos. She's pushing him back, further out of view and he can only hear half the battle. He can't see it, both from the angle and his blurring vision.

He doesn't feel right.

His lungs are…

He doesn't feel right.

Hela crashes into a tree a few dozen feet away as Thor tries to prop himself onto his elbow, getting up. His lungs scream and Thor feels something collapse inside, a sort of wetness spilling out, but it's not anything exterior.

A shadow falls over him and Thor jerks his head, seeing Thanos above him. A panicked noise slips from his throat and he grabs at sedir desperately, feeling the familiar hum of lightning through his bloodstream and blindly smacks the ground to feel for Thanos's boot.

He misses.

Thanos lifts up his hand. He grins, bloody and crooked. He looks at Thor first as if sharing some sort of secret before turning his gaze towards where Thor knows Hela must be. The Titan's fingers lift, thumb and third finger pressing together. They begin to slide, slowly, ever so slowly-because time has lost meaning and Thor can't breathe-down.

How many do we win?

None.

They never make it any further. Hela's bony fingers wrap around the Gauntlet, halting the descent.

Her nose is gushing blood and there's an awful wound on the side of her face where bruising has already begun to blossom. It looks like someone punched her. Her hands tremble at the force to keep him from moving, but she holds steady. Thor's vision is blurring, but it's enough to see this.

"You only wane the inevitable." Thanos draws, eyes narrowed as he fights against her. "Don't fight this."

Hela's expression shifts, something almost mirthful dancing up the edges of her face. Her lips remain pressed together, but he can see the creases ease. The Infinity Gauntlet begins to crack, going gray. It's dwarven metal, Thor realizes. It doesn't age like others. It's not like Earth's iron that will rust. As dwarven metal ages, it becomes rock.

It's how Hela destroyed Mjolnir. She aged it until it became a pile of stones at their feet.

She's doing the same thing to the Gauntlet. Her arms tremble beneath the force, but he can see how her nails are digging in, and how a misty gray is spreading over the metal. Thanos's eyes are widening with surprise.

"It's such a shame." Hela's teeth, when she smiles, are stained red. "I really thought you'd be more of a challenge. To be honest, I'm disappointed. I hope that you suffer in damnation."

Thanos smirks. Hela looks confused for a breathtaking moment before Thanos twists, yanking Hela sharply to the side to force an opening and Thor sees as a sword is plunged through her heart. It's one of her swords that she stabbed into his chest. Thor sees blood beginning to pool down the Titans front.

Thanos has two hands, not just one.

Thanos just stabbed his sister.

Through the heart.

"No!" The word tears from his lips despite everything, and his hand reaches for the Titan weakly. He still can't breathe. His bones are digging into where they should not. It hurts, Norns, it hurts. Hela. Hela, Hela-

Hela makes a weak noise before Thanos drops her, and she crumples immediately.

None.

He can't see her. Thanos's voice is sorrowful, but smug, "You should have gone for the head."

He snaps.

The entire world seems to jerk, the very fabric of the universe bending beneath the weight of Thanos's demand.

Thanos has won.

None.

Thor tries to get up, but collapses. He's panting, harsh, sharp breaths as he looks up at the Titan. "What did you do!?" he demands. His voice is a gurgling mess and he feels blood spill down his lips. Thanos looks at him, smiling, and lifts his hand. The Gauntlet, what was the Gauntlet, crumples to ash and bits of broken rock and his feet.

The universe shudders again.

Thanos's expression flickers with surprise, but he catches at least Space before it can crumple to the earth.

Thor's hand buzzes and he lifts it to see the glowing embers of electricity pulsing there. Thanos. He has to get the Stones. Has to...to undo whatever Thanos did. Has to...has to-A whisp of black and blue smoke wraps around the Titan and he vanishes. The Space Stone. Thanos doesn't have a Gauntlet, but he has the Space Stone.

How many do we win?

"Where'd he go?" Steve. "Thor. Thor!" He hears the captain moving frantically, and the familiar steps of Natasha behind him.

Blood gurgles in his throat, and Thor's hands tremble. Something is broken inside of him. Something that can't be fixed. It's too late for him. Thanos did more damage than he first thought. Thor thinks if he tries to get up he'll break something else.

Hela.

He has to get…

Steve's hand touches his shoulder, but Thor is already shoving up. He crumples, but pushes, crawling towards her side. His hand touches her shoulder and he rolls her to her back, grabbing at the hilt of the weapon and yanking it from her chest. Blood pools, and Thor's heart patters.

Ka-thump, thump, pah-thump.

"Hela," Thor whispers, his limbs are shaking. He wants to crumple. Blood spits from his mouth and he wipes at it with the back of his hand. "Hela, please."

She gasps sharply, red-tinted eyes snapping towards him. Something like a choked sob escapes her as she shoves up and wraps her arms around him sharply. "Thor," her voice is a strangled gasp. "Brother."

It's the first time that Thor can ever remember her initiating a hug. Even in his scattered memories. He holds her tightly, burying his head against her neck and allowing himself to crumple. His entire body is failing. He's going to be sick and all he's going to throw up is blood and maybe half an organ.

"Steve?" Barnes. Something clatters behind them, and he feels Hela stiffen, her sobs cutting short. Her arms tighten around him further.

Thor doesn't feel right.

He doesn't-

Hela shifts as if to move away and anxiety whirls in his stomach. He doesn't want to die alone. Norns. He can't...he can't do that. He's not brave enough. His hand shoots up, though he can't remember ever telling it to, and grabs at his sister. He connects with her arm.

"'ela." His voice is slurring. He can taste blood. Far too much.

Hela turns to look at him, and slides her arm down until their hands are clasped. He can feel how clammy her hand is. She's just as anxious as he is, perhaps even more. "Thor. Look at me, brother. You'll be fine. Keep breathing. It's alright. I'll fix this. I promise. You're going-"

His arm is…it…

Thor lifts his arm up and sees it beginning to crumple. It's like it's fine pottery being squished between a large hand. The sickness spreads up his body and Thor's eye shoots up to Hela, a shuddering breath of panic escaping him.

Thanos snapped.

He wiped out half the universe. Thor is not among the survivors.

"Thor!" Hela's voice is frantic. She grabs at him, her solid fingers feeling strange. His other hand is dusting, too; he's losing solidity. He doesn't...oh Norns, he's not ready to die. Wait! Wait-! "Brother, please-"

"'ela, I-"

Thor doesn't finish the sentence.

000o000

There was a time, once-long, long ago-that Hela was a dreamer. She'd sat at her father's feet and whispered her hopes and ambitions for the world. Drew up pictures of wild fantasies that never would have come to pass, but she'd been a child, and she hadn't understood. She'd been innocent. Untainted.

Ignorance is no longer a blessing she's gifted with. She hasn't had since her mother fell dead. Since her father transformed her. Made her.

She is not a dreamer anymore, but dropping to her knees beside her younger brother as the world fell apart around her, she'd hoped-pled-that he'd be spared. She knows very little of mercy, and shouldn't have expected anything more from the universe.

His ashes make her feel dirty. They're clinging to her hands and clothing, a rementant of her failure. He was bleeding. He was dying. And now he's gone, and she can do nothing to stop it. She is his sister. His elder, and it is her job to protect him and she failed. (Just like Loki, her brother, lost to the stars.)

This was her family.

And Thanos. Took. Everything.

The shock is wearing away, leaving only hate in its wake. It burns in her soul, churning inside her like a waging storm. Blood is dripping down the side of her head, spilling into her ear and down her neck, but she doesn't care. She stares down at the brown, tattered remains of her sibling and clenches her fists tightly, feeling the awful energy pounding at her ribcage.

She was so close.

So Norns curse it close.

Thanos is going to pay. There is no question of this. Hela is going to tear his spine from his body and use it to strangle him. Maybe something worse if she can conjure it in time. Thor. Thor. Thor. Thor.

There is no point in trying to bury the dead who do not deserve it. Let the Jotun go.

Loki.

It takes her a moment to realize she's weeping, and another that she's screaming. A hoarse sound is being torn from her throat, raw and broken. Like her. Her fists clench around Thor's ashes before she slams her palms against the dirt, tipping forward and lets the scream break off into a strangled howl. She hears the rush of energy surge from her, rippling out. The earth moans around her, the death claiming anything within a fifteen foot radius.

Two trees topple from the force, shattering as brittle remains of wood and charred leaves smash into the ground.

Hela smashes her fist into the earth again, wishing that it would hurt. Pain would give her something else to focus on, but all she has is this empty ache of failure burned into her mind like a brand. This is her fault. If she'd been faster. Stronger. She could have saved both of them. Loki wouldn't be mutilated who-knows-where, and Thor a pile of ashes at her knees.

Her voice breaks and Hela grabs at her hair and yanks. The dirty ashes smear into the strands. She flinches back from it, suddenly desperate to remove the withered ashes of her brother. She rubs, brushes, and scratches, but it doesn't make it any better. She thinks she might be sick.

"Hela."

She stills, teeth snapping together and looks slowly back at the Captain. The Widow is just behind him, green eyes wide and blonde hair sticking to the sides of her face. Their shock is obvious, lips parted and tongues unable to form anything beyond basic syllables.

"What happened?" the Capian demands, moving towards her wearily. The Widow keeps a wary eye on the destroyed verdure, but Hela doesn't care. Let it rot. At least that way something will be as dead as she is.

Hela's muscles feel stiff, but she forces herself upright. She looks the Captain in the eye and sees his eyes widen just the slightest amount as he sees the damage done to her skull. If she focuses on anything but the searing heat in her stomach, she can feel the agonizing pain of the headache splitting the bone. It isn't important. Pain is no distraction to her anymore.

The Widow leans forward, lips parting as if to say something.

"He did it." Hela grits out before she can. Her voice is hoarse. She shakes herself of the ghost of Thor's hands reaching for her desperately and tightens her stance. "He snapped. You're a witness to the decimation because the Stones did not choose you. Congratulations."

The Captain's eyes widen slightly. "But-"

Hela shoves forward, nearly slamming face-first into the dirt at how much the world wobbles. "I don't have any more answers for you than what I've already given."

"Where's Thor?" the Widow demands. "Where is...oh," she stops, looking Hela up and down, her expression slipping into something open with despair. "He's gone, isn't he?"

Shame. I would have liked to see that.

Hela flinches. Resists the urge to reach forward and strangle the assassin. It isn't her fault. Her words make Thor's death make no less true. It only makes the contrast of her failure severe. "Yes." Hela hisses out.

The Captain exhales something heaving and painful. "No. That can't-"

"Denial makes the truth harder to swallow," Hela snaps, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and hauling him forward. "I failed. Happy? My one job in this asinine battle was to keep him from death so we could find our brother and now he and Loki are dead. The universe has lost half of its life. There is nothing to be done. They're all dead!"

She throws him back and he only catches his balance when the Widow grabs at his arm and keeps him that way. Hela releases a seething breath, trying to gain control of her temper before she accidently mutilates them. You should have gone for-

Silence envelopes them for a long moment before the Captain manages to gather his bearings and, in a soft tone, asks, "What do we do?"

Hela's jaw sets, she moves back and grabs Stormbreaker. She rips it from the earth and heaves it over her shoulder. It's slick with Thanos's blood and this is all too satisfying. "Isn't it obvious?" she asks, moving forward. "We're going to hunt him down and kill him. Tear the Stones from his rotting corpse and use his flesh to make a foot rug."

She tears forward and the two Avengers share a wide-eyed look before hobbling after her.

"H-how-? Where did he go?" the Captain questions. "You didn't see him...he's gone and we're...do you know where he is?"

"Haven't the foggiest." Hela snaps, not wanting to engage in small talk, but knowing that the mortals won't shut up unless she does. "But he best pray for his soul in his little time. His hours are numbered now."

000o000

Later:

Hela's vision blurs. She releases a gasping wet noise, moving her arms as if in a trance to slowly gather Loki's body into her arms. His limbs offer no resistance. His head falls against her shoulder, hair tickling her chin. Hela rests her head on top of his, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to understand the pain that's making her entire chest ache. She keeps him there for several long minutes before she begins to speak. "Loki," she struggles to form the word, "Loki."

He doesn't react.

He won't.

"Th-thank you. For what you did on the Bifrost...I-I was dying, brother, and no one could see that but you. You saved not just my life that day. For that you will always have my gratitude." She presses a kiss into his dark hair and sighs heavily.

The room seems unbearably thick and dark. She is alone here, but she needs to leave soon. Take his body and give him a proper funeral. Hela begins to shift, stretching out her legs and getting a better grip on the younger so she can pull him up when two hands come up to press against her back and she feels breath tickle her hair.

She stills, hardly daring to breathe. She waits in agony for several long seconds before a voice whispers into her ear, "Such kind words. Would you repeat them at my funeral?"

Hela jerks back, holding him at arm's length and sees Loki's blinking back at her. His face is relaxed, as though he hadn't been dead just moments before. Her jaw slackens, and she's not certain whether or not to hit him or scream. Instead, she does neither. Tears fall down her face, and she only stares, feeling like a helpless child.

Loki shakes and then tilts his head, some sort of popping noise grinding out from his neck, and then the familiar pale Aesir skin washes over his features. His dark green eyes meet hers, and Hela snaps her mouth shut. Sedir. He just used sedir and he's not supposed to.

"H-how?" Is all she can strangle out.

Loki reaches for her hands, squeezing them tightly. "I masked my life signature. Sometimes...sometimes they would pretend to be who I knew, and I figured if I was dead then they...I didn't know how to do it until a few weeks ago. I had to be sure that you…"

Were real.

Reality seems to weigh on her shoulders and Hela's jaw tightens. She remembers his words and releases and enraged growl, shoving him. Loki staggers somewhat, mouth opening to protest, but Hela wraps her arms around his thin frame and squeezes him.

"I hate you." She promises.

Loki laughs, but rests his head on her shoulder, holding her just as close. "I know." He assures. She can feel his heartbeat, the expansion of his chest. How very real and alive he is.

"I'm going to cut off all your fingers." She threatens. "You are such a pain in the-"

"Start with my left hand?" Loki questions cheekily.

"You don't get to choose."

"They're my hands!" But even through his indignation, she can feel how he trembles. How his voice cracks and the way his fingers tighten on her spine like he's afraid she'll vanish into thin air.

She doesn't let him go.

"Loki," Hela whispers, moving towards his prone form, weapon at the ready. She looks behind her once to confirm that the hall is still empty. "Brother, get up," she urges, taking a few more steps into the room. Loki doesn't move, laying on the floor with his head turned away from her.

"Come on you idiot," she chides, "we have to get out of here. Thanos has all the Stones, he's going to be here any second. He's snapped and-I...I don't know what to do." She admits softer, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thor is dead."

This doesn't get a rouse out of him either.

He must be unconscious.

He's laying in a pool of his own blood.

The scent hits her then, as if having waited for her agitation to calm somewhat before introducing itself. Blood. A lot of it. Dread seeps into her stomach tight enough to make her grimace faintly and she drops her position of defense to move towards him rapidly.

A soft swear escapes her and she retracts the weapon into her skin, hating the slight tingle of her skin gives as it's forced to move to adjust for the metal. She moves towards her brother and collapses by his side, frantically trying to find the source of the wound that's making him bleed out.

No.

Not now.

She can fix this. She can...she'll fix this. She will. She's no healer, but she's dressed enough wounds to have a basic understanding. She won't let him die. Not after Thor. She won't lose the rest of her family to the Titan. Not like this. They were supposed to go to Midgard together. They were…

Stop acting like he's dead!

She rolls him onto his back and exhales sharply with horror. Loki's limbs are stiff as if he's resisting her, but she knows that he isn't. Red eyes stare forward listlessly, one hand draped over his chest. There's old blood dried in a path from his nose, mouth, and ears leading to his crooked neck. He looks like he was weeping it.

"No," Hela whispers.

Let this be a jest. Oh, Allfathers, let this...

The blood is from a gash across his stomach, the wound having long-since dried. Loki's blue skin is pale, his entire body drained of all life. The stiffening, the dried blood...this was hours-Stop!

"No, no, no," she breathes. This can't be happening. This isn't happening. She's dreaming. She'll wake up and they'll all be on the Statesmen before any of this went wrong. Loki will be pacing, Thor will be irritating her. They'll both be alive.

Loki can't be dead.

Hela lifts a hand over his mouth, trying to feel for breath that isn't coming. His lips remain split, but nothing passes through them. Her vision blurs and she shakes her head sharply. She's just panicked, is all. She can't feel the breath because of that. She leans down and rests her head down on his thin chest, praying for a heartbeat. For breath. For anything to show her that she's wrong, and Loki wasn't killed so Thanos could have the Space Stone. That she wasn't late by hours and that her siblings aren't dead.

That she didn't fail-

That she's not alone-

She presses harder. Loki's skin is cold. She can feel it through his shirt. Her throat feels hot and she feels something wet slip down her face. Tears. She's crying. He's not dead! He can't be dead! She didn't-

No!

She pulls back from his chest and touches his frigid cheek. "Loki," her voice strangles around the word and she hates herself for it. "Loki, look at me. Brother, please, don't-" she breaks off. "Don't do this. Stop it. Wake up!" She slaps him, but it does nothing. Breath doesn't spontaneously begin to move inside his chest and his heart doesn't magically start beating again.

She can't see anything. The world is wet.

"Loki!" her voice is raised a pitch. "Stop it! Don't do this-Breathe!"

It does nothing. She could scream and scream and scream, but it won't change anything.

She gathers him into her arms, his dead weight almost nothing. His head lolls. She chokes and hates how tight her chest feels. She can't breathe. She shakes her head again, dark hair falling in front of her face for a moment.

He's so cold.

He shouldn't be this cold. She can remember his fingers, warm, as they touched her knee in the midst of her panic attack so many months ago. His voice, calm but gentle as he spoke to her.

He'd been warm.

He'd been breathing.

He'd been here.

Thor was there. Thor was alive. She could touch him. He'd been touching her. It was the first time she can remember being looked after by anyone but Laufey.

He's not moving anymore.

Like her Amma.

Like her soldiers, dead beneath the palace.

Fenris, burned alive.

He's dead weight against her and it's wrong. Loki shouldn't be like this. He should have movement. He should breathe. He should wake up and talk to her. He has to come back. He has to come back with Thor because they were supposed to wait-

"Come back," she sobs into the dark, but there's no one to hear her.

Cold.

Blood.

Alone.

Ash.

Wet.

Howling.

Nothing. Nothing at all but the sound of her ragged breathing and the creak of the ship around her. Her family is dead. They left her alone. Is her title death because she brings it or because she can never escape it?

What does she do…?

Where does she…?

(Loki is cold.)

She tries to steady her ragged breathing and lifts a hand to run through Loki's long dark hair. It's laced with blood and ice. "Please breathe, brother," she whispers. "You're safe now. I've got you. Please breathe. Please…"

This is happening.

She's lost everything.

Loki is dead. And has been for hours. She was too late to save him. Too late for Thor. Too late for everything-

A sob bubbles from her throat and she cradles her sibling, pulling him into an embrace that he can no longer feel and rocking back and forth. "Come back," she whispers quietly, though she knows there's no point. She can't seem to stop. "Please come back. I can't…I-I can't do this without…" she squeezes her eyes and pinches her lips together.

Loki's body offers no warmth.

No comfort.

She is holding her baby brother's corpse. Thor withered to dust in her arms. She is alone.

She doesn't know how long she sits there, holding Loki's corpse like if she does it long enough it will breathe life into him, but when she finally settles him back onto the floor and closes his eyes with her left hand as gently as she can, there's someone in the doorway. She stiffens as she sees the massive shadow behind her, but she's not entirely sure if she cares if they kill her.

Let them get on with it. There is nothing in life for her anymore. Everything she loves has stepped through death's door and slammed it in her face. It is so much easier to be the one killed than the one left to suffer the losses.

She lifts a hand to her mouth to cover a fresh wave of tears and hates herself. She never cries. She didn't cry when Odin banished her, she didn't cry when her mother was murdered in front of her, she didn't cry when she discovered Odin never loved her. When everyone she knew had forgotten her. When her siblings tried to kill her.

And now she will not stop weeping.

"This day has taken many tolls." Thanos says behind her. Quietly. Mournfully. She feels her spine stiffen. "You must look toward the future now, my child. Your gratitude will provide the healing you so desire."

Gratitude-

Hela stops. Rage she hasn't felt since she first landed in Helheim, broken and alone, consumes her. Her entire body feels alight with a burning fire. She feels sick with it.

"Gratitude?" she repeats. Her voice is low.

He killed her entire family. She's supposed to be grateful about that!?

"Of course." Thanos says, "The strongest sacrifices need the greatest wills. I have done this universe a service. I know that. It's only a matter of time before you know that, too."

Hela's teeth set. Slowly, carefully, she lowers her brother's corpse and rises up to her feet. Bloody hair falls in front of her face and her tattered clothing digs into her injuries. Her head cocks slightly as she stares at the shadow of the Titan. She glances once at Loki's corpse again.

"You misunderstand me then," Hela states flatly, "if you ever think I would be grateful for what you did."

Thanos sighs behind her, as if resigned. She hears the Infinity Gauntlet begin to power and Hela spins her wrists, summoning a blade into each hand as she flexes her wrist. If it hurts, she doesn't know. She tosses hair from her face and narrows her eyes.

She turns to face the Titan and sees him reading his weapon. Loki's blood stains her fingers. Thor's ash lingers in her hair.

Hela adjusts her grip on her swords. "You took everything from me."

"You must have had very little then." Thanos murmurs.

She built it all from nothing. What does he expect? Hela's lips split into a dangerous laugh. "I will be very grateful when you lay dead at my feet." She twirls her left blade, tensing her exhausted body for another fight.

Thanos holds six Infinity Stones.

But she has nothing to lose anymore.

Hela releases a cry of rage, anger, pain-everything and dives at him, blades twirling. Thanos braces himself and she collides.

#

There was a time once-long, long ago-that Hela was a dreamer. She'd sat at her father's feet and whispered her hopes and ambitions for the world. Drew up pictures of wild fantasies that never would have come to pass, but she'd been a child, and she hadn't understood. She'd been innocent. Untainted.

Ignorance is no longer a blessing she's gifted with. She hasn't had since her mother fell dead. Since her father transformed her. Made her.

She is not a dreamer anymore, but dropping to her knees beside her younger brother as the world fell apart around her, she'd hoped-pled-that he'd be spared. She knows very little of mercy, and shouldn't have expected anything more from the universe.

His ashes make her feel dirty. They're clinging to her hands and clothing, a rementant of her failure. He was bleeding. He was dying. And now he's gone, and she can do nothing to stop it. She is his sister. His elder, and it is her job to protect him and she failed. (Just like Loki, his corpse still unattended in that room.)

This was her family.

And Thanos. Took. Everything.

The shock is wearing away, leaving only hate in its wake. It burns in her soul, churning inside her like a waging storm. Blood is dripping down the side of her head, spilling into her ear and down her neck, but she doesn't care. She stares down at the brown, tattered remains of her sibling and clenches her fists tightly, feeling the awful energy pounding at her ribcage.

She was so close.

So Norns curse it close.

Thanos is going to pay. There is no question of this. Hela is going to tear his spine from his body and use it to strangle him. Maybe something worse if she can conjure it in time. Thor. Thor. Thor.

Your gratitude will provide the healing you so desire.

Loki.

It takes her a moment to realize she's weeping, and another that she's screaming. A hoarse sound is being torn from her throat, raw and broken. Like her. Her fists clench around Thor's ashes before she slams her palms against the ship, tipping forward and lets the scream break off into a strangled howl. She hears the rush of energy surge from her, rippling out. The metal moans around her, creaking and cracking, as if rusting. As if it's dying.

Hela smashes her fist into the earth again, wishing that it would hurt. Pain would give her something else to focus on, but all she has is this empty ache of failure burned into her mind like a brand. This is her fault. If she'd been faster. Stronger. She could have saved both of them. Loki wouldn't be mutilated and Thor a pile of ashes at her knees.

Her voice breaks and Hela grabs at her hair and yanks. The dirty ashes smear into the strands. She flinches back from it, suddenly desperate to remove the withered ashes of her brother. She rubs, brushes, and scratches, but it doesn't make it any better. She thinks she might be sick.

The humming of the Reality Stone hums in her presence and Hela releases several gasping breaths, turning to look back at it. She can't remember the last time that the Stone was solid instead of dust. She didn't even know that was possible.

Hela scrambles for it, grasping the Stone tightly in one hand and cracking the outer shell between her desperate grip. The Stone splits through the glass like fine sand and Hela holds it in her fingers, clenching it desperately.

The power surges up her hand, through her skin and makes her heart twist in her stomach. The rush makes her sick, but she manages to hold herself together. The pain is intense, but the surge of it is strange and a welcome relief from her thoughts.

Anything but this. Anything but this. Anything-

She tumbles.

Falling fast and hard, scattering and reforming, screaming only to silence. She collapses and reforms, her body shaking with the power, but relishing it all the same.

Hela-

She-

It…

Hela smashes into the earth. Her back hits something solid, something cold, and she gasps sharply as the frigid air hits her. Her breath escapes in a puff of steam. Hela stares up at the cloud covered sky, the snow gently falling down towards her face in gentle waves.

Hela releases a harsh noise, fingers clawing into the earth. The snow.

Jotunheim. This is Jotunheim. How did she-?

A soft laugh catches her attention, and a face appears over her. Blue. Lines drawn around the face, red eyes staring down towards her. Hela's stomach clenches. Faburti. How...she's dead. She's been dead for hundreds of years. She's…

"Perhaps we ought to start spiking your shoes. Maybe it would help you keep your balance." Faburti laughs again, her voice high and musical. Hela stares at her, uncomprehending. Her veins are burning, but she can't...how is she here again? How...how…?

Faburti's head tilts, black hair falling over her shoulders. "Hela?"

"I…" Hela blinks, shoving up onto one elbow. The familiar landscape of the Jontar land meets her gaze readily. She inhales sharply, something longing clawing at her chest for a similar time. When she lived here, she didn't care for Thor, or for Loki...she didn't know that it would end this way.

Faburti squats down beside her, face concerned. "You don't seem well."

"You're dead." Hela counters sharply, hair falling over her shoulders.

"No...did you hit your head when you fell. Here, let me see-" Faburti's fingers reach for Hela's head, but when they brush against her, Hela screams. Pain intense enough to make her heave screeches through her and she panics because Faburti has never burned her before. Jotun can control their burn. Loki didn't know how, but Faburti has never hurt her and-

What is going-?

Her thoughts grow hazy and Hela vomits, spitting up the meager rations that Thor forced upon her earlier. (Was that really today?) When she manages to lift her head, she isn't on Jotunheim anymore.

Sedir wielders are leaning over her. Her wrists and ankles are restrained to the bed with shackles.

No.

No-

She struggles, but it's as futile as it has been for years. "Don't-" her voice is a rasp. Their masked faces reveal nothing. One leans over her face.

"She wasn't meant to be awake now." She whispers softly. "Who broke the spell?"

No one answers and Hela's chest heaves with panic. The sorceress leans over her, fingers reaching for her face. "Stop!" she shouts, but the fingers make contact and Hela tumbles again, falling through the table and slamming back-first against the ground.

She...the Stone. Hela has the Stone and it…

Fur brushes against her face and Hela stiffens before opening her eyes and sees Fenris leaning over her. The wolf growls in question, attempting to nudge her up, but the scene breaks.

She falls again.

Hela lands in the middle of a battlefield. The taste of ash is thick on her tongue and blood is covering her hands. She looks up at sees Odin standing in front of her. He's scowling at something beyond her,

#

"Loki," Hela breathes, moving her hand to touch his face. Her fingers ghost through him, and she feels an awful sensation of wrong settle inside her stomach. She stares at him. Her fingers slide through the other side of his face and Loki gives her a sad smile.

He is but a shade.

He is not here.

Loki is still dead. His corpse rotting on Thanos's ship.

"I didn't make it in time." She whispers, she looks away from him, unable to bear the weight of his stare.

Loki is quiet for a moment before he says, softer, "Hela."

"I tried." Hela grits her teeth and digs her hands into her hair. "I tried and I tried, but it meant nothing. You're still dead. Thor is dead. Half of everyone is dead. Why couldn't the Stone have taken me!? I have served no purpose here but to bring hate and suffering. I want to die! I failed you! I should have saved you. Why aren't you angry!? All I've done is arrived too late and yet you're-"

"Hela."

She swears and throws her sword to the ground. She thinks she might cry again and bites back her tears. She has spent far too much time weeping now.

"Sister, look at me."

She raises her head slowly. Loki reaches for her, but stops before his form slips through her. "None of this was your fault," Loki says softly.

Hela snorts. "All of this is my fault."

Loki shakes his head and says solemnly, "My birthright was to die, sister. There is nothing that you could have done to stop it. If it was not by Thanos's hand, it would have been by my sedir's. I knew what my fate would be when I left. It's okay."

"No, it's not! Because you're still dead, and Thor's still dead, and half of Asgard is still dead, and everyone is still dead and I'm alone, again-"

"You're not alone. I'm right here." Loki interrupts.

She swings his fist through his face to make her point. He startles back, but no harm comes to him. "No, you're not." Hela seethes. "You're a figment of my wild mind. You can't be here. It's not possible."

"I'm dead." Loki chokes. "I would rather like to think the mortal weight of my bones no longer obey the laws of the living."

"Then fix this!" Hela tries to keep her temper in check, but fails. She whirls on him, rage seething through her body and out through her toes. The foliage withers and grays, blackening with rot. With death.

Loki eyes it, but it's not with a warniess of fear. Only resignation.

"You will never understand what it feels like to lose everything! I grew up with nothing. The one thing I had was you and Thor and now that's gone, too! Everything I try to keep slips through my fingers. I...I'm a plague. A death."

She staggers back.

Her legs don't feel capable of bearing her weight any longer.

She tumbles to her knees and doesn't get up. Loki waits. He slowly kneels down next to her and tilts his head slightly to the left. The action is so familiar it makes a part of her gut twist with longing. Loki's head tilts subconsciously, as if he's not aware he's performing the action until he realizes his vision isn't quite right.

"No." Loki says softly and looks up towards her. His eyes are burning with a fierce passion. "You are my sister. You are a pain in the butt. And I do not believe that something as fickly as a few Infinity Stones is going to stand in the way of you finishing this."

"And what if I don't? I am the Reality Stone. I could create a new reality. One where we never had to deal with Odin. Where Thanos never caught you. Where he's not even real. I could create a paradise."

Loki's expression is impossibly sad. He sighs softly, "And it would never be what is. We would not be what we are. There is always a cost."

She blinks. "But if I don't do this, I can't save you."

Loki smiles softly and reaches out for her hand. His wisy fingers touch her lightly. "Let me go. It will be okay."

Deleted Scene I never Found A Place For:

Thor wakens to water.

It's poured over his head in a bounteous amount, leaving him gasping and inhaling more than he means to. Coughing, he jerks up onto his hands and knees, attempting to breathe. His throat burns from the salt and his lips taste funny. Swallowing anyway, he blinks several times and realizes that his surroundings are almost blinding. They're so bright and white, it reminds him of Asgard's prisons. But Asgard had always been tinted with yellow.

This is just white.

What…?

What is going on?

Why can't he remember how he got here? He...no there's nothing. He swears he was with Loki and then...and then he doesn't know. Loki. Where is his brother? Where is here? Why is he here? How did he get here? Why isn't he on the Statesmen? Where is Hela?

What happened?

"Awake at last?" a silky, but oh so familiar voice questions. Thor jerks, scrambling back onto his knees and looks up at the source of the noise. There is no shadows for them to hide behind, with how bright the room is, it's impossible to cast shadows. Thor winces at the strain his eyes immediately take on from trying to process this.

There are no windows. No doors. Nothing but a set of four blank white walls with those blasted lights at the edges.

"You really love your beauty sleep, don't you little brother?" Thor lifts his eyes from the growing puddle of water to his sister. Hela's face is tilted as she stares at him. She's squatting, hand lazily resting on one knee. In her other hand is a canteen, which is where he suspects the water came from. Hela hums, looking him up and down. "Then again, given...this," she gestures towards him, "I can understand why."

Thor's brows furrow. He ignores the jibe. It doesn't seem important. "Hela...Hela what is going on? Where are we?"

His sister's lip twitches with a smile. Something is off about her hands. He lifts his gaze towards her face, and realizes that the same offsettidness taints her eyes. He doesn't know what it is that's bothering him, only that something is.

"Are you thirsty?" Hela questions, lifting up the canteen.

Thor eyes it warily. He is. His throat is burning and he thinks that his stomach is trying to wrap knots around his intestines. Something inside him quietly insists that he should wait, despite his first instinct which is to reach forward and take the canteen from her. It would be simple. She's given him water plenty of times before.

Why is he hesitating?

Hela's smile grows wider, which only makes it look more strained. "You must be thirsty. You've been asleep for a long time, brother."

"How long?" Thor presses.

Hela's smile falls the slightest bit, something angry slipping onto her face instead. "Fifteen, sixteen hours. I can't remember. It's been a while." She waves a careless hand-Norns what is wrong with it?-and adjusts her posture slightly.

"Where are we?" Thor asks, sitting up a little straighter and trying to find cracks in the room. They couldn't have built this entire wall up around them. Whoever "they" is. This isn't the Statesmen, that much he's certian of. He doesn't know what they were doing before they got here. Thor rubs his temples and tries to calm his racing nerves.

Calm down. Stop and think.

He's with his sister. They're locked in a room together. She has a canteen of water and access to innumerable amount of weapons. He's a living lightning rod. A quick patting down of his armor and clothing reveals that all his hidden weapons have been snitched from him. Not that there was many to begin with, but there was some.

"The room." Hela says.

Thor stops. "'The room'?"

"Yes." Hela insists, voice dropping an octave, "The room."

Thor squints and suddenly wonders if she's drunk. Or drugged. It could explain why something just seems to be off about her. He doesn't understand what he's doing here. Norns, he doesn't know how he even got here.

"Are you…" Thor trails, trying to decide how best to ask this. "Are you okay?"

Hela smiles, but it's sharp. "Of course." She lifts out the canteen again. "Drink."

The inner voice screams don't! again, but Thor shoves it down. This is his sister. She has done more than enough to earn his trust. He can...he can drink the water. Thor's fingers brush against hers for the briefest moment and feels his mouth turn down into a frown. Her skin feels off. It's...warm. She's never been as cold as Loki, but she's always felt...dead. Not warm. Never warm.

Thor holds the canteen, looking down at the sloshing liquid inside. It's clear and doesn't smell dangerous, but in the span of things, that doesn't really matter. A thought occurs to him, sluggishly slow. His entire brain feels like it's being dragged through thick tar. "Hela-Hela where is Loki? I don't remember what happened, but he was with me. Why are you here?"

How can he remember Loki, but not her? Were all of them together when this happened? Wouldn't he remember that?

Hela's watching him unblinkingly. Her fists are clenched. "Oh. Him. I don't know," Hela says flippantly, almost carelessly, "he wasn't here."

Something strikes him as odd about that.

What happened? By the Nine he feels like he's grasping at answers, but they keep slipping from his fingertips. He remembers talking with Loki. They were on the Statesmen, Hela's voice is a monotone in the background, she was sitting down, braiding her hair. He has no idea why he remembers that, only that he does. Loki was sharpening one of his daggers. They were…

What were they talking about?

Then he and Loki left...where to evades him. They discussed with someone...about something. It was in a large room with pillars. Royalty, maybe? The halls were white. Maybe he's still on the realm that the pillar room came from. But Hela wasn't there. So why is she with him now?

Hela nudges the canteen pointedly.

He is still thirsty.

Thor lifts the canteen to his lips and takes a sip. His body immediately rejects it and he sputters, coughing and hacking as he attempts to purge his throat and tongue from the dreadful substance. It burns. Like acid, or some sort of pain synthesizer. He knows of potions that Alfheim created that, once swallowed, turn on every pain receptor the liquid touches, and this reminds him bizzardinly of that.

It hurts.

Why did she give him something that-

A hand-still warm, still something wrong with her fingers-grabs at the back of his scalp and yanks down as a dagger is pinned against his throat. Thor coughs several more times, but his mouth is still on fire and his jaw won't stop twitching. Hela's eyes are hard as she pulls him down, causing pain to spread down his neck and through his scalp.

What is-

He didn't even see her move.

"Where is it?" she hisses. Thor stares at her, confused. Where-what? "Where is it!?" she demands harder, shaking him roughly. Skin on his neck breaks and he panics, trying to mumble something out. It doesn't work, his tongue is flopping around his mouth. He'll swallow it before he gets anything out.

"'Don…" he manages to say. "What're talkin'...?"

The water-a warning agent? Something to lower his gaurd?

Hela makes a noise of disgust and presses the dagger harder. (That's Loki's. Why does she have Loki's-?) She's going to kill him. Norns, she's-he breathes out sharply, clenching his fists and swallowing carefully. Why is she trying to kill him!? Thor thought that she'd stopped acting on her anosisity for him months ago. (Had honestly, privately thought that there was nothing there anymore. Or at least very little.)

"Do you think me a fool, darling? I know you've had it all these months." She says flatly. "Where is it?"

Thor strains; leaning back slightly, wishing his hair was shorter. "I don't…" he swallows, wincing, "I don' kn'w what y're talking abou'."

Hela rolls her eyes and drops him, letting him collapse against the floor, back first. His head hits with a ka-thumping noise and the world spins. He grimaces, hands going to his temples to try and ease the pressure only for a boot to slam against his chest. Hela looks down at him, sneering. "The Tesseract, you moron. I know that you have it. It's power has been wafting behind you since we met after Ragnarok."

Thor stares at her.

The…

What?

"I don't have the-" his voice breaks and he swallows, wishing for water. "The Tesseract was destroyed on Asgard."

What is wrong with her hands? Why can't he determine that? Why is this bothering him now? His sister has gone insane and he, as is normal, is worried about her hands. "Ragnarok. You nearly died." He reminds.

Hela makes a frustrated noise. "If the Tesseract was destroyed on Asgard, why do you and our brother reek of it?" she waves a hand as if sensing for something with magic, but that doesn't make sense because Hela doesn't have sedir.

"I don't know. We don'-" he coughs, grabbing at her foot and attempting to shift it. "We don't have it."

Loki didn't take it. Thor doesn't have it. It's an Infinity Stone, so he doubts that it was actually destroyed when Asgard supernova-ed, but it's among the rubble. It's been what? Eight, nine months now? It could be scattered halfway across space for all he knows. They didn't look back. It was too dangerous. It will be too dangerous to try and dig through Asgard's rubble for another few decades if they're lucky. Centuries, more likely.

"Mm. I think not. Cast your mind back a little harder." Hela demands, leaning down and hauling him up by the throat. "I want that cube. I need it. Think harder. Where is it?"

Thor grabs at her forearms, trying to ease the pressure. He releasing a panicking huff, his mind frantically running around and trying to remind him how much danger he's in. It won't stop casting itself backwards, reminding him of the first fight he and Hela went through. Her pinning him against the column, voice hard and eyes dangerous.

Here's the difference between you and me-

"Hela, please," Thor chokes, his vision blurring. "Sister…" Hela stares at him, her expression blank. When his vision is beginning to go dark, her grip loosens and he falls to his knees hacking. He drinks in air greedily, hand coming to rub against his throat. It's wet with blood from where the dagger pierced.

Hela squats down in front of him. "Brother. This is no time for games. Where is the Tesseract? Your survival rides on this."

Thor spits blood out. Betrayal stains his vision and makes his fingers itch. How could he have ever thought that she was an ally? That she was his sister? How could he have believed her changed? Capable of redemption?

Odin was right.

She is nothing but a power hungry-

"No answer." Hela clicks her tongue and lifts up a hand, smoothing it across his cheek. He flinches, trying to draw back from it. Her touch is still so wrong. The calluses don't feel like they're in the right spot. Her skin is warm. Alive. "Of course. Of course. I shouldn't have expected anything more. You and your brother as so helplessly stubborn when it comes to these answers."

Thor jerks his head up. His throat feels tight and words even more impossible. "L'ki. Where...where is...what'd'ou-"

Hela smiles with teeth. "Here's the deal, darling. You give me the Tesseract, which I know you have, and I'll let you and your brother go free. No pain, no games. That's it. Smooth transaction. If you don't tell me where it is, then you will suffer, but every answer you withhold will be a punishment your brother takes."

Your?

She's always referred to him as "our."

"L'ki-" Thor says, panicked. "Don't...leave...him...out of this."

Hela laughs, low and dark. "Oh, darling. You brought him into this when you let him handle the Tesseract." His sister leans in towards his face, lip curled. "You stopped me from getting Howf-the sword, and this is the next best thing. Did you really think that I would simply put away all my plans so quickly?"

Yes.

Thor doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn't say anything. Hela lifts up a hand, a lock of dark hair between two fingertips. Loki's. His hair has always been so dark it looks blue in the right lighting, and he knows it. It's slick with blood. "Just in case you're struggling with belief. I do have him."

Thor makes a weak grab for the hair, but Hela only laughs and snatches it away. "Now, now, brother. There's plenty of hair to pull out strand by strand. Don't worry your ugly head over it."

Thor stares at her. "You're insane."

She smiles, "Oh, undoubtedly so." Then she slams her fist into his face. His head smashes against the floor and the world spins. His nose is bleeding and he thinks he's making weird wheezing noises. Is that supposed to be breath? Hela steps over him and grabs a fistful of his hair and slams his head against the ground again.

And again.

And again.

Blood spills down his neck, and Thor's struggles go lax as his mind finally aborts consciousness.

000o000

Thor wakes.

His head is burning and attempting to open his eye only spurs

#

"Do you have the Tesseract?"

Thor refuses to look at her. He's sitting in the middle of the room, cross legged and refusing to stare at anything beyond the cold floor beneath his feet. He hasn't said a word since she entered and he's not about to break that trend.

"Come on," Hela pushes. She's standing, arms folded across her chest. "You're just being a fool now, you know that, don't you?"

#

"Dearheart." The voice is quiet and Thor stills. His breath seizes in his chest and he looks up. His eye strains at the light and he winces, squeezing it shut and covering it with his hand for good measure. "Dearheart, what are you doing here?"

It's her voice.

How is it her voice? She's been dead for four years.

A gentle hand rests on his shoulder and he flinches. The fingers are warm. They feel a little off, but still familiar enough. It's actually touching him.

"Mother," Thor croaks.

She gently secures the blindfold around his eye. "There," his mother says and smooths down the fabric against his skull. "Is that better?"

#

"You're not real."

None of this has been real.

#

Hela flips down the paper, letting it fall at his feet. "You don't sleep until you tell me where the cube is. Your brother isn't exactly in a talking state anymore." She grins self righteously, and it only makes Thor feel sick. He looks down at the note and sees that it's smeared in blood. He thinks it was supposed to be a handprint, but they failed when they applied too much blood.

Blood.

#

"You're not my sister." Thor croaks out. His voice feels dry and broken.

"Am I not?"

"No." Thor insists, shaking his head. "Hela's fingers are cold. You don't stand like her. And she isn't a sedir wielder. Who are you?"

"I ask the questions here."

"But you don't deny it?" Thor doesn't get a response. The sting of the sleeping powder hits his face and he's asleep before he can protest.

He wakes.

His throat burns and his eyes are stinging, but the panic at knowing he fell asleep is unlike any other. Loki. Oh, Norns, Loki. The damage that will have been done because he fell asleep, because he was so careless as to let his brother-

No, no, no.

How could he have done this!?

Thor jerks back, attempting to shove himself up to his feet by pure willpower alone, but his leg is burning and his eyes feel heavy with the blindfold, his back burns, his fingers are still twitching, he can't. He can't. He has to keep pushing, but he can't.

Up. Get up you lazy-

"Shh," the voice is soft, and Thor didn't realize he's crying until he hears it. His own sobs sound broken and pathetic. His pain is so little compared to what Loki must be feeling. How can he show such weakness when-

"Shh, shh, Thor," it's female. Why is it being nice to him? Where is the pain? The taunting? "Darling…"

He flinches.

Hela. (Shapeshifter.)

She's-This must be some new form of torture she has concocted. Something she's pulled together in an effort to drive him further mad. When her pain did not work, her kindness is meant to break him. (It will. By the Nine, they both know it will.)

"We don't have it." Thor gasps, "I swear we don't have it."

A hand softly touches at his face. The fingers are cold, thin, and bone-like. They feel dead. His chest compresses, and he hates how hope bubbles up in him. This isn't Hela. It's never Hela. "Thor..." His sister's voice is soft. With a guiding hand, she gently tips his face towards where he presumes her face must be. The blindfold covers everything, leaving him bathed in the all-too familiar Stygian.

"We don't...we don't have the Tesseract." Thor repeats. "It's gone. You're never going to get it."

"I don't want it." Hela murmurs. A hand touches the back of his head and he flinches, panic stirring in his stomach as it continues to slowly work with the knot keeping it in place. The light. She's going to expose him to the light and it hurts.

"Please…" Thor pleads. "Please don't."

The hands stop. "Nothing is going to happen, brother." Hela says firmly. "I'm here now."

"Loki is-" his voice breaks. He doesn't want to explain this to her when she already knows the rules.

"Fine." Hela inputs. "Alive, at least. We're looking after him. He's already out."

"This isn't real." Thor whispers.

"It is." Hela counters, her thumb gently strokes his cheekbone. It feels funny. Too narrow and thin. He recognizes this touch, when the other was wrong and imperfect. "It is very real. I'm here, brother. You're safe." How is she so calm? In the fantasies of his mind, when she would come for them (when he didn't doubt her), she as a raging hero of movement and anger. She wasn't...placid.

He shakes his head. "Loki's not. We don't-"

"-have the Tesseract, I know." Hela says quietly, thumb stroking his cheek again. "Just rest, brother. Let me take care of everything else."

Thor closes his eye. He tries to breathe and remain calm when arms slide beneath his knees and under his shoulder blades heaving up him upwards with an ease that doesn't seem practical. He feels heavy and disgusting. And so empty.

Thor lets himself succumb to the dream, even though he knows he's not meant to be sleeping.

000o000

Thor wakes.

He's laying on something soft. His leg has been bound and everywhere else that was aching. His hands are still twitching, but it no longer feels like he's dying.

Loki.

He jerks, attempting to sit up and free himself from the tangle of medical equipment and useless aids for his health. He needs to get to his brother. If he doesn't help Loki, then he will remain there and continue to be punished for Thor's lazing about. He shouldn't have been sleeping. If he'd just-

"Thor. Stop." The voice is firm. It doesn't sound backwards or as if its been grinding. It's cool, calm, and clear. Hands press against his chest and shove him back down. Thor panics and his eye opens to attempt to make out the blurry figures. The light burns and he winces, squeezing it closed again.

A mewling noise escapes him.

"Shh," Hela soothes softly, bony fingers wrapping around his left hand. "It's alright. You're safe. There is no one in this room but you and I. You're on the Statesmen. It's been over sixteen days since you left."

Thor struggles with that a moment. He hasn't known the day since before his capture, and he can't even recall details of how he got there in the first place, still. Sixteen days? That's...that's more than a fortnight. What happened? Where is he now?

He can't be dreaming, right? His dreams are rarely so specific. He would have guessed less than a week. Not half a month.

He doesn't brave the light just yet, instead letting the sensations of the room cloud his attention. He can hear the soft breaths of a few other people. The clicking of a pen against paper. The familiar hum of the Statesmen's engines. He can smell antiseptic, Hela's strangely coconut and old fabric scent, plastic. This isn't the room.

He's in the Statesmen.

He's actually in the Statesmen.

He swallows, and then asks as quietly as he's capable, "Sister?"

The scribbling stops and the cold fingers give a gentle squeeze of confirmation. Thor attempts to blink carefully, trying to test the light. It stings, but he hears someone shift to his right-he tenses, expecting a blow-and the power of the light lessons considerably.

Forcing himself to relax, Thor opens his eye and blinks up into the ceiling. It blurs at first, and then slowly comes into focus. It's gray and he can see the bolts from where it was welded together. Any remaining doubts are washed away as he sees anything beyond white. This isn't the room.

He allows his gaze to remain on the ceiling for a long few moments before slowly shifting it across the room. It's he and his siblings room in the Statesmen. A cot has been set up against one of the empty far walls, various medical equipment strewn about. A blanket is tucked up to his waist and he's in a loose gray shirt.

There's a deep gash on the wall beside the door he doesn't remember being there, but it matches his memory perfectly otherwise.

He can't see Eir or any of her aids and concludes that Hela must have spoken the truth when she said they were alone.

His stomach churns in anticipation, but he forces himself to tip his head towards his right where Hela is seated. Her dark eyes are already looking towards him. He tries to withhold his flinch, but he thinks he doesn't succeed as well as he was hoping. It isn't the same as the shapeshifter. Nothing looks wrong with her eyes, there is no constant companion of ELEPHANT with her.

If he didn't know better he'd say she even looks a little sick. Her cheekbones are sticking out and her lips washed out. Her dark hair is tucked up out of the way, but loose strands are still falling around her face. She's wearing a red shirt. The thought immediately strikes him as weird, but it's a relief. It doesn't match the image in his head.

A book is balanced on her lap. She's scribbling inside of it, on top of previous words. Beyond her Thor can see the pale skin of one of Loki's hands. Loki.

Alive.

Here.

Thor attempts to jerk up, force himself into a seated position so he can properly determine Loki's state. Any damage that was done is his fault. He hadn't meant to keep slipping up, but it was much harder than he cares to admit.

Hela jerks, grabbing his shoulders and shoving him back down before he can make much progress. "Don't."

His chest heaves with panic. He squirms from her grip, but he knows it's more because she let him go than any prowess on his part.

Hela's eyes close briefly for a moment, as if trying to gather herself, "Darling," she starts calmly, "the last thing you need to do is make things worse for yourself. You've tread a very thin line between this world and Valhalla the last few days."

Thor shoves back a little, propping himself up on his elbows. "But I-" his throat is dry. His voice cracks and dies before he can finish. Hela sighs before closing the book and setting it to the side. She helps him sit up, leaning against the wall behind him, before offering him a glass of water.

He freezes.

You must be thirsty. You've been asleep for a long time, brother.

He can't...he can't...his hands are trembling and he clenches them, biting down on his gums sharply. Hela picks up on his agitation almost immediately, something in her gaze flicking with anger. Maybe anger. He doesn't know. He's never been very good at reading people and she seems so...dead.

"Watch." Hela instructs flatly and lifts the glass to her lips and takes a sip of it. She doesn't spit it back up. Her body, always so carefully to keep anything dangerous from spilling down her throat, doesn't reject it.

It's clean.

But still.

He swallows, and his throat aches. He can't just pass it up. He needs it. Dehydration will be the death of him if he's not careful. Thor wars with himself for a long moment before asking, softly, "Can you..can you set it down?"

Hela's expression furrows before smoothing and she sets the glass down in front of him. When her fingers have released it completely, Thor takes the glass and drains it. He feels like a man wandering far too long amid Muspelheim without a drop of water. Having been in that particular stretch recently, experience speaks cleanly for him.

"Does anywhere hurt?" his sister asks. Thor does an internal search and when it comes back as no, concludes he must be heavily drugged. That would explain why he can't feel his toes and the strange giddy laughter that threatens to bubble out.

He shakes his head and sets the glass down. "What happened?" his voice is still croaky, but at least it doesn't crack.

Hela's lips thin. "You don't remember?" It doesn't really feel like a question, but he gives another shake of his head. Hela left hand rubs at her temples for a moment. "You and Loki went to conduct a trade with the leader of the Asatjains."

The white pillars.

"You didn't come back." Hela continues. "When we realized that, Brunnhilde conducted a search as I went to confront the king. He was...less than helpful. All he wanted to know was whether or not I was aware that an Infinity Stone was within my grasp."

Again with that stupid Stone? "But we don't have the Tesseract." Thor mumbles in annoyed protest. "We've never had the Tesseract."

Hela shakes her head a little. "I know. I told him as much. He said that you, Loki and himself had come to an agreement of assistance. He was going to let you look take a vessel if he could keep the Statesmen. This, we later discovered, was an attempt to throw us off your scent. You never left the palace. I suspect you were abducted there."

Abducted. It sounds...stupid. Not enough to encompass everything that happened.

"The king was a sedir wielder, but one really only capable of a few basic spells. When searching memories, he could only see interactions between yourself and others you spoke with. Only when you spoke to them. He was convinced that you and Loki had hidden the Tesseract without saying a word to each other because you'd been "touched by it"."

"He said as much." Thor admits.

"Despite his and a handful of others attempts to drop off the face of the realm, we found them. And you. And Loki." Hela stops, her voice clipped. There's plenty she's not saying, and Thor isn't sure whether or not to push. She didn't mention why Heimdall couldn't be of help, or how they found them. Or what her role was beyond talking with the king that first time.

"And the king? Where is he?" Thor questions.

Hela's expression goes hard. "Make a guess."

Dead. Mutliated. Buried alive.

Thor bites on his tongue, deciding that maybe he doesn't want to know.

Alternate Ending:

Panic.

She moves for him, but doesn't catch him before he crumples. She grasps him up, rolling him over. She doesn't think she's breathing. "Loki," she repeats, gathering him. He releases a sharp gasp, grabbing at her. He shudders, blood pooling from his lips.

"Loki!" She repeats. "No, no, no!"

"Hela," his voice is a gasp. He exhales sharply, his eyes wide. His hands are clasped over the wound, but it doesn't help. There's so much blood. She joins him in an useless effort to stop the blood from pooling out. "Please…I-"

"Shut up!" She shouts. She focuses on the blood. The wound. It's killing her brother.

Loki shudders again, his breath escaping sharply.

There's so much red. She's never been disgusted by the color before. She wants to scream at it.

Loki lurches up and wraps his arms around her shoulders. He gasps sharply and she catches him before he can fall. Her hands, covered with his blood, smear it down his back and neck. She tries to shove him back down. "Loki! Stop! Let me-"

"Don't," his voice is filled with pain. "Don't."

"Stop it!" She pulls on his shoulders, "I'm not going to let you die-!"

"Don't let me go." Loki gasps, biting back pained noise. "Please. I'm...I'm afraid. I'm afraid."

She stills. Her hands stop their frantic movements and she bites back a sudden burning in her eyes. Not Loki. Not after Thor. Not now. No, no, no-

Loki gasps and falls against her, unable to keep up the facade of strength any longer. She grips him, letting his head rest against her shoulder. He's gripping her tightly, as if afraid of her dropping him. A soft sob escapes his throat and Hela feels herself break.

She flinches back from the tears as they fall from her face. She's wept too much today.

"You aren't allowed to die." She whispers. "You can't leave me alone."

"I'm sorry." His voice is just as quiet. He curls in on himself, hissing. "I don't want to die...Not anymore. You and Thor...gave me something to live for. It hurts. I can't breathe."

She bites on her lip. If she speaks, she thinks she'll scream. Or sob.

How could I have lost everything?

"Sister?" Loki's voice is quieter. Hela forces her tongue to move.

"Yes?" The word sounds broken.

"I want you to know that I…" his voice goes soft. "That I…I..." His breath trails and then stops all together. He shudders against her once and then doesn't move. Hela panics, she drops him, cradling his head and touching at his face.

"Loki?" she whispers. "Loki…please, look at me," her voice breaks and her vision blurs. She touches at his pale, bloody face again. "Can you hear me? Brother?"

He's dead.

She needs to stop pretending otherwise.

Hela slowly closes his eyes and cradles her broken brother.

When she had awoken on the Statesmen, the last thing she'd thought she'd be doing was holding hands. And yet, here she is. Gripping onto the young and old alike, feeling the bacteria flowing through their veins and stealing its life with her corrupted one. She is, in every sense of the word, death.

And no one is screaming at her to stop.

Yelling at how she's a monster.

Pleading for mercy.

It's...strange. Not unwelcomed, perhaps, but an oddity nonetheless. She doesn't believe she's been on this end of gratitude and weeping tears ever. No one has seen a point to offer thanks for what she's done, not that she can exactly blame them. She's a little too corrupted to warrant anything else but disgust and a fearful respect. It's all Odin had ever wanted from her. It's all she knows how to get.

Hela's slowly working the infected bacteria from a young man's bloodstream when the lights flicker before they die. The healing room isn't completely dark, despite the lack of power given to the lights. The healers, ever picky with the flickering bulbs, have long since set up floating witch lights. It offers enough to cast away the thickest shadows, but not much more.

(She hates the smell of this room.)

The noise the ship is making sounds like groaning. Creaking. Before she can manage to get up to her feet from where she was kneeling down next to a young man, the Statesmen rocks heavily. Hela grits her teeth together, thrusting her weight into her opposing leg to keep herself from toppling to the floor completely. She has to throw her arms out to keep her balance and sees several of the Aesir topple from where they'd been trying get up.

The rocking stops. Hela briefly entertains the idea that they've been hit by some sort of stray asteroid, but discards it just as quickly. It was more likely a ship docking.

POV Shift/Scene Change:

Loki can't breathe. He keeps strangling for air, hands lifting up to his throat and ghost-like fingers trail there, laughing at his confusion. There's nothing constricting his throat, nothing but his panic. Loki tries to quiet his frantic panting, pressing his left hand's fingers over his mouth and biting hard on his pointer to distract himself.

Breathe.

It feels impossible. He doesn't know how anyone does this with practiced ease. He doesn't know how anyone does it.

He inhales through the small space between his fingers before attempting to hold the thin breath and exhales. This is supposed to be easy. Loki muffles a panicked noise and shoves up into a seated position. The darkened world swirls, but focuses after a moment.

Out. In. Out.

He lowers his right hand and feels the familiar rough fabric of the Grandmaster's couch. The Statesmen. He's not...not there. There is nothing here but the ghosts in his head. Breath isn't getting any easier, he needs light.

Loki untangles himself from the thin blanket and nearly stumbles onto his hands and knees in his frantic need to get off the couch. His bare feet hit the cold floor, the ridges of the metal now long familiar to him. It isn't nearly as quiet as he was hoping for and he winces, glancing first towards Thor. His brother doesn't move. His breath rises and falls rhythmically from his position on his back, face relaxed and arm thrown over his stomach.

Beyond him is their sister, but Hela looks just as dead to the world. She's curled on her side, her back facing him. The darkness should be blinding without any windows, but Loki's eyes have adjusted. Because he's Jotun, and they need to see in the dark because their realm is bathed in so many shadows.

He squeezes his eyes shut and thanks the Norns that his stumbling went unnoticed.

Loki gets to his feet silently and staggers towards the washroom with as little sound as he can. He shuts the door behind him before flicking on the light and letting a slight wheeze of panic slip out. He's barely made a few steps into the room before he collapses to his knees in front of the toilet and vomits. It tastes acidic, and burns as it passes up his nasal cavity.

The noise is quiet, but it feels so loud compared to everything else.

The Statesmen is humming, but it's still so quiet.

His head is screaming. That might be why it feels so quiet. Loki exhales stiffly swallows down a few dry heaves, rising to his feet unsteadily and lifts his shaking hands to grip around the fosit. The metal feels warm beneath his skin.

Breathe.

It was a dream. It was nothing more than a dream and is not ever going to be anything beyond a dream again. He's not going back. He has the Tesseract. He finished his task. He can hand it over to the Titan and be done with this whole mess. Yes, he failed, yes he lost the Mind Stone, but in the long run of things, wasn't the Cube the whole point of that disaster?

His body twitches and a sound escapes between his lips. It's over. It's over. Stop going back.

Loki lifts his hands up to his temples and digs them into the edges of his hairline, trying to cover the ghost feeling of Ebony's long fingers with the sensation of his own. He's going mad. No, he is mad. He was doing better. The Odin facade had been good. He'd...he'd sometimes manage to go as far as six nights without this happening.

It used to be every time he closed his eyes.

At least he can blink without seeing the blood behind his eyelids.

It's something, but it feels like nothing.

Loki swears under his breath and grips the porcelain bowl's rim between his hands. Everything is fine. It's fine. He needs to stop running around in his head, he's spent far too much time there as of late.

It's fine, fine, fine.

It's not. It's not fine and it's getting worse. Loki blows out a deep breath and looks up at himself. His eyes are haunted, bloodshot, and grimy gray lines are beginning to form beneath the lids. His hair is mess and Loki subconsciously lifts a hand to swipe it away from his face. His skin is stretched. He looks as though he's been fighting a plague and is losing.

A phantom pain stings down his back between his shoulder blades and Loki jerks, heaving out a breath. "Stop it," he hisses, "stop it." Why doesn't his body seem to get that it's over? He hasn't stepped foot on Sanctuary for almost six years. There is nothing-

Loki slams a fist against the porcelain and hates that it's still shaking. His heart is pounding against his ribcage and he can't shake the Other's voice out of his head. He swears quietly again, and blows out a heavy breath. His sedir is burning at the tips of his fingers, causing an ache to wrap around his wrists.

He thinks he's going to be sick again.

Loki lifts up his hands and wiggles his fingers, trying to conjure something more complicated than the basic spells he's been working with for so many months. A phasing spell. Nothing nearly as difficult as what he used to be capable of, but…

Loki's fingers burn and his stomach churns as he tries to manipulate the matter around the tips of his left hand's fingers. His heart begins to beat faster and his head burns. The familiar clicking sensation isn't coming. He's smashing against the wall of the damage the Master did and he has no idea how to build it up again. He needs…

Loki's hand touches the glass. Nothing happens. His fingers don't slide through like intended. They touch the mirror and remain there. He exhales frustrated air through his nose sharply. This can't still be happening. Thor is beginning to notice. It's almost laughable. There was a time he would have begged for his brother to do something, but now he finds himself sick at the thought.

He's useless.

Without sedir and his mind so far afield he's...nothing.

Loki runs his fingers through his dark hair before hesitantly parting it on his left side to reveal the burn scar. The memory of the hard pressure of the Mind Stone against his head makes him bite at his tongue harder. That took everything. His sedir, his mind, his trust, his family. Everything.

The Master must have known that it would-

"That looks recent."

Loki jumps, dropping the hair and whirling to look towards the doorway as a half strangled expletive slips between his lips. Hela stands in the open doorway for a moment more, clearly warring with herself before she sighs and takes the needed steps into the room.

The door closes behind her automatically.

Irrational panic skitters across his skin. "What are you-" his words fail and he has to work to get something else out. "Is Thor-?"

"No." Hela interrupts before he can finish. "No, he's still asleep."

Loki exhales with relief and digs his fingers into his scalp, trying not to pull at his hair. It was a habit of his youth and his mother had hated it when he'd do so. She kept saying that he'd make himself bald by all the tugging he was doing.

He doesn't want to deal with his brother. Thor will blow things far out of proportion. Or start asking questions. Loki can't handle that conversation right now. Perhaps ever. It would be better to lay it to rest and not pick it up again.

Loki doesn't look at her, "Why are you in here?"

"I don't sleep heavily. I heard you get up. I didn't think much of it until the vomiting." His sister says flatly. With a tone almost imperceptibly softer, she asks, "Is another plague passing through you unfortunate lot?"

"No." Loki answers heatedly. He digs his teeth into the edge of his tongue and tastes blood. He grips at his scalp harder. The phantom fingers are everywhere now. He can feel the stinging blades of the Other's knife when he began to cut down Loki's spine and then-

No.

He's not going to think about that.

As if there's much of a choice.

Hela takes a step forward. She, like him, is barefoot and the sight suddenly strikes him as beyond strange. Her toenails are blackened and blood vessels seem to pop from under her skin. Loki tugs his gaze away and tries his best not to stiffen. He fails.

"What is going on, then?" Hela asks quietly. Loki realizes that she's been keeping her tone softer as to not alert their brother to their midnight escapade. "You're panicking."

"I am not." Loki shoots down quickly. "There's nothing wrong. Stop trying to stuff your nose where it isn't wanted. I'm fine."

He hears her lips part to make a retort, but whatever it is he doesn't know. He attempts to shove past her and exit the room, intending to find somewhere else to sulk and pretend he's not...whatever this is, but he barely makes it a step before his feet give out and he begins to crumple. The heighted exhaustion from his sedir maintaining everything must have reached its end when he attempted the mirror.

Marvelous.

Because the first thing he wanted to do was faint in front of Hela.

He braces himself to hit the floor, trying to get his hands to move out and catch him, but he doesn't need to. Hela's hands grab at his shoulders and a moment later she's lowering him to the ground. Loki's little wheezes are back, barely passing for much more than the sounds of a dying animal.

"Brother," Hela says.

"Stop touching me!" Loki shoves her hands away and scrambles back from her, air exploding from his lungs.

"Loki," Hela's voice is hard. "Loki, stop it."

He knows that he's not thinking clearly, but it doesn't help his mind focus any better. Her words feel muffled. He can't discern a meaning, the only thing he can focus on is the burning in his back. Is he going to die? He always feels like he's wandering with one foot in his grave the last couple of years.

He tugs at his hair harder, and a hand grips at his wrist.

He flinches, free arm going for a weapon, but this one is clamped down on by a hand as well. Something physically rattles him and his head thwaks against the wall a moment later. His vision fuzzes and bent up remains of his sedir surge through his veins fast enough that it aches. Something shatters and the hands release him.

Loki gasps, scrambling onto his hands and knees and barely registers the feeling of glass beneath his palms. Glass? Why is there glass? There isn't any glass in this room. He shakes the thoughts off and gives up on moving when his limbs won't take him anywhere. Loki instead watches as blood slowly pools down his fingers.

"What are you doing!?"

Loki jerks at the noise, turning his head towards the doorway and spots Thor moving into the room a moment later. The shatters bits of glass are everywhere and it takes him a moment to realize it was the mirror. Hela is several feet from him, covered in the glimmering glass. She's slowly shoving up from her elbows, but her discomfort is obvious.

Thor looks between the two of them, clearly attempting to figure out what happened. Loki can't get his words to work.

Hela breathes out quietly and manages to make it up a little further before she makes a soft noise of discomfort and nearly collapses back onto her elbows. Thor immediately moves to her side, grabbing her upper arm and helping her up.

The majority of the broken mirror appears to have struck her from behind.

Loki squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, exhaling softly. He'd wanted her to let him go, so his sedir had reacted. It had pulled the mirror down on her. This is getting out of hand. He hasn't had such accidental spelling since he was a child. How can it only be getting worse? He's been free for six years.

Loki wishes suddenly and desperately to be able to discuss this with Frigga. He surpassed her close to three and a half centuries ago, but the reason that nothing seems to be getting better is something she would know or be able to determine.

"Oh, Norns," Thor breathes quietly and Loki looks up again. Thor is looking at their sister's back and his eye is wide. Hela's expression is emotionless, but her gaze is lingering on him. "We…" Thor's words falter for a moment. "Here, sit," he says and almost drags her towards the edge of the tub. They pass him, but neither pay him mind.

Hela perches on the edge of the tub, her back facing them.

Loki grimaces. Large and small shards of the glass are sticking from her shirt, obviously digging through skin. It's made a mess of her hair and Loki can see blood beginning to stain the shirt. "I'm sorry," he chokes, finding his voice at last. "I hadn't...I'm sorry."

"Am I dead?" Hela asks. For all the pain she must be in, her voice is almost perfectly even.

The question throws him. "What?"

"No." She answers. "I'm to blame for this. I acted rashly. Don't…" she inhales and then finishes, "apologize."

"What happened?" Thor demands, moving towards the sink and tearing open one of the drawers. He ruffles through the various toiletries and a few random gadgets Loki doesn't know the purpose for. Thor pulls out a roll of gauze-when did someone move that in here?-and something that can pass for tweezers. "Please tell me this wasn't another murder attempt."

"No." Hela answers. "No. I was trying to help."

And Loki dropped a mirror on her.

He's such a nice person like that.

Thor, awkwardly balancing on his toes to avoid as much of the glass as possible, moves back to the tub. Loki still hasn't got off the floor. His hands are bleeding and they're stinging with pain, but in contrast to what Hela's back looks like, it's nothing.

"Help what?" Thor presses. "How did this even happen? You-"

"I panicked." Loki finally admits through gritted teeth. "I pulled the mirror down on her. It wasn't purposeful. Not really."

Thor looks at him, expression slightly puzzled. He opens his mouth to ask another question and then decides better of it. Scrambling to his shaky feet, Loki forces out a calming breath. He moves towards Thor's side to assess the damage he did.

The wounds look no better up close.

"We need to stanch the bleeding," Thor says and shoves the tweezers towards him. "Here. You start taking pieces out. I'll try and wash off what I can."

Loki rubs his palms against his pants to rid them of glass and then lifts a mercifully steady hand towards the patchwork of mirror. He's slowly pulling out the largest piece when Hela winces. He sees her fingers tighten around her knees as her posture, already impeccable, loses the remaining slouch.

"Sorry." Loki says again. Why couldn't he have controlled the outburst? How is it that he can't phase by choice, but instead used perfect telekinesis, which is more advanced on accident? If he had just…

Thor doesn't ask any more questions, oddly enough. He and his brother work side by side for close to ten minutes as Thor brushes off the mirror flecks and Loki pulls out the shards. Thor eventually rests a hand on Hela's shoulder and their sister tilts her head up in question.

Thor's face is slightly hot, and Loki looks up at him, puzzled.

"We...you…" he clears his throat. "We aren't going to get everything with your shirt in the way. I know you may not be comfortable with this, but-"

"It's stuck to my skin." Hela interrupts flatly. "You're going to have to cut it."

Loki bites on his inner cheek, blowing out a breath and reminds himself that this is their sister and patient. It's not as awkward as it could be. Loki pulls a dagger off of the upper layer of his forearm guard and, though Thor still looks hesitant, Loki begins to cut down the length of the black fabric. As her bare skin is revealed, the first thing Loki notices is how much it's drenched in blood.

There's considerably less glass than when they started, but Loki can still see glimmers of it against her chalk white skin. The edges of her ribs are showing, and if she were to lean forward a bit, Loki knows he would be able to count the vertebrae of her spine. It's sickening, and a part of him wants to whirl her around and demand the reason for her state, but he doesn't. He already knows.

Helheim is the land of the dead. It has been since Asgard began to play with the Bifrost and tested it on the barren world. There is scarcely anything living there. Aesir can survive centuries without food unless their blood is laced with sedir, but that doesn't mean they can't feel hunger. They are still alive. Hela was slowly starving to death. Judging by the state of this, her health has really only improved since she stepped aboard the Statesmen.

When food was readily available.

Their father really sentenced her to the slow and painful death of lacking resources?

Thor sucks in a sharp breath and swears under his breath. Hela tenses beneath the weight of their combined stares and judging by how clenched her muscles are, she's just as vastly uncomfortable with this as they are. The two of them share a look before they begin to work again. Thor asks, softly, if Loki can just remove the rest of the glass with his sedir so they can clean it faster.

Loki presses his lips together and says, "no."

He doesn't want to risk it. With how much he's been lacking control, he doesn't know if he'd accidentally tug out something vital as well. What if he grabs an organ and hauls it out through her back?

They work slowly. The time seems to drag backwards and Loki does his best to work patiently and painlessly, but the shards are beginning to blur in his vision, and he keeps jabbing at her back. Thor has to wait for Loki to clear an area before he takes a clean rag and wipes it down first with water and then antiseptic.

As Thor cleans off the skin, Loki becomes aware that Hela's back is covered with injection marks. Some of the cells around the area are a black-blue that he doubts are from bruising. Some of the wounds look so old they must be from when she was a child. The sight is puzzling. There's a few battle wounds, stabs mostly, and maybe a barbed arrow on her shoulder, but for her age and history she's remarkably untouched.

But the injections?

They can't have been self imposed. Most are in an area impossible to reach unless she could break an elbow at will.

Thor, at last, breaks the heavy silence. "Why do you have so many needle scars?"

Loki stills. He looks towards his brother and mentally slaps him over the head. That was subtle. Hela exhales sharply and Loki can see her muscles tense. The question appears to have slipped out, because Thor appends, "I'm sorry. That was out of line, I just...there's so many and that can't be normal."

"Darling, it's not." Hela's voice is hot. "Trust me, it's not."

"Then where…?"

Vague pieces seem to slip into place all at once and Loki's eyes widen. He nearly drops one of the final pieces of the mirror with surprise. He can barely keep his tone even, "You weren't born like this. Able to command death, summon weapons, nearly indestructible."

Flicking glass from her hair as if bored, when Loki knows she isn't, Hela gives a slow shake of her head. "No."

"So they…" Thor's mind is obviously whirring, "you were...modified? You chose this?"

"I did not-" Hela starts sharply, and then exhales raggedly. "I would never have chosen this." They say nothing. Loki doesn't even know where to begin with his questions. The needles. The metal in her arm...if she didn't choose this, than what did? At their silence, their sister releases a deep, heavy sigh.

"My mother was murdered in the streets when I was a child. It wasn't an assasination. It was a slaughter. I survived the encounter with our enemies by sheer chance alone. Fate, unfortunately, must have willed it so. Odin arrived days later," she releases a mirthless huff, shaking her head, "and was none too happy to find the massacre. He had already begun his conquest to unite the surrounding cosmos under a single empire, and his wife's death was the consequence of that."

Loki realizes, after a moment, that there is no record of Frigga being Odin's second wife. He had had no idea that he had been married to another woman, but it makes sense. Why would their mother have ever allowed Hela to be banished? She fought religiously against their father for Thor's, and his brother's was only three days.

Not centuries.

Beyond that, Hela looks nothing like Frigga. She and Thor share similar noses, but that's only because it's Odin's nose, not Frigga's.

"He must have realized, then, that his goal was going to fail ultimately unless he had advanced weaponry. Sedir was already being used in battle, but...it wasn't enough. Nothing was enough. Odin concluded that the reason I survived was because the Norns had gifted him with an opportunity to find the power source he desired. He turned me over to the PEOPLE and told them to make me. I was to be the living weapon of Asgard, no matter the cost. I was Asgard's guardian, protector, and Odin's right hand.

"So no, I didn't choose this. I didn't ask for it. I was pulled apart and stitched back together again and again until I could withstand their blows. Until when they slipped a knife between my ribs I was already nearly healed by the time they ripped it out. Until my senses for pain were almost destroyed and I could successfully create and fire weapons from my body. Until-" her voice breaks and she exhales sharply. "Until I became a monster. And then all dear old Dad had to do was just point me in the right direction and watch the rampage. That's what the scars are from. Curiosity quenched?"

Loki's breath feels constricted in his chest. He remembers sitting on Odin's right in Norway, watching his father's aged face calmly announce the existence of their sister. How he had seemed so certain of their destruction by her hand that he had crafted the end of their realm to kill her. But Hela has done scary little he saved her to warrant such precautions.

Her attempted murder on him was out of desperation. The court may insist that Odin had his reasons for leaving her to rot, but Loki doesn't...the only record they have of what happened is Brunnhilde, and she wasn't even the captial when Hela went on her murder spree through the palace. They know of her actions, not her psyche. They hardly know Hela, not the goddess of death, but Hela.

Odin hardly knew her because he raised a weapon, not a daughter.

Deleted Scene:

"-But she's a big friendly puppy. You have to let me at least touch her!" he begs desperately, scrambling up to his feet and grabbing at her leg to look up at her pleadingly. She sighs and looks down at him from half lidded, shaded eyes.

"She's a wild animal. Not a pet." She says flatly.

He makes a noise. "She's your friend."

She makes an irritated sound and flicks up the book, muttering a word that would make Amma clean her mouth out real good if she was present. "Do you want me to finish this Norns cursed thing?"

He smiles, nodding. "Please! I gotist...gotta...gots…um."

"Got?"

He nods. "Got un-focused. The big monster reminded me of Fenris." He scrambles up onto her lap and settles himself there, ignoring her obvious distaste and furious protests. He knows she's not really cross with him because the edge of her lip is quirking.

She sighs dramatically and adjusts her hold on their tiny sleeping brother, making sure he's not going to topple out of her arms before she begins the story again. She's only made it a scarce few sentences before the door is thrown open and Abee shoves his way into the space.

"Daughter!" he shouts.

She stiffens, hands tight around the storybook. He buries his head into her chest, trying to hide. Her arm suddenly comes to touch at his back-it feels funny, because she never touches him-and the book lowers.

"My king." She says stiffly. "Has Frigga not returned from Alfheim yet?"

"No." Abee snarls, storming up to them and pointing his staff out. He stifles a cry, burying himself deeper against her. She is safe. Her hand is digging into his back now. "You said you would not speak to the prisoners. You gave your word, and yet, I was told by the Einherjar that you've seen to them twice. We did not drag them back from Midgard so you would shower them in flowers."

"Flowers? Oh, my king, I don't think you-"

"Until Frigga returns, there will be no more communication. You have made enough messes as it is!" Abee says angrily.

She hisses through her teeth. "You-"

"What is this?" The book is torn from her hands abruptly and Abee looks it over with a critical eye. She makes a small noise, but doesn't grab for it with her arms occupied. Abee huffs, flipping it over to read the cover. "Don't you think he's a little old to be hearing such tales?"

"I don't." She replies smoothly.

"This is for children."

"He is a child."

"He will never be a proper warrior if you put these foolish stories in his head." Abee argues. She's on her feet suddenly, putting him on the ground with a gentleness that assures him he's not forgotten.

"A warrior? You swore Jotunhiem was the last one. With the kidnapping of the heir I'd assumed you'd have-" a gasp and then a strangled noise. He looks up, clutching her leg tighter, trying to hide.

Abee has her free hand's forearm clutched in a death grip, digging his hands into the ouches she's had ever since Abee took her away for a little while before the battle. The scars are bad. Abee said she got into a bit of a brawl. He doesn't want to know who she fought. She's indestructible.

"Silence! Don't forget who made you, monster." Abee snarls, twisting the grip. Her breath hitches as their brother droops slightly, as if she's going to drop him.

"You would be nothing if I hadn't done what had to be. We have no idea the threats of the future. He will be even stronger than I."

She smooths her expression. Hesitates and then, "Not much of an achievement, is it?"

Abee growls and he makes a squeak, rushing to clutch at his leg. "Abee, please don't be cross with her." He pleads. "No more of the hurts."

"Back away, this doesn't concern you, boy."

"Let my arm-"

Fingers snap infront of his face and Thor jerks, taking half a step back with surprise. His head feels fuzzy, thoughts distorted and unconnecting. He blinks several times, trying to ground himself from the memories. He hadn't even been thinking about them. They just slunk into his head at an inopportune moment and settled there, insisting they watch.

"Sir?" a thick accent asks.

Deleted Scene:

"How hard is it to pick fruit? You take it and leave. It's simple. Does he have to sit there and run his fingers over every ridge? What is he even looking for?" Hela's fustration is obvious and Loki casts a side-eyed glance towards her. The longer Thor has dallyed in the market the further her agitation has grown, but he knows it has very little to do with the fruit.

After centuries in Helheim, with no one to keep her company but herself, Hela's comfort in crowds has slipped. Part of him wonders if she, like him, has never felt at ease inside of them in the first place. His father had always been so insistent on making a public appearance when they were young, never mind how Loki's stomach would roll for hours afterwards as he tried not to panic.

Hela's posture is tight and defensive, eyes roving across the crowd as if she expects someone to draw their weapon and leap towards them with the intent to kill. Loki has seen a few people eye them, but not with the intent of murder.

"Is he dead?" Hela asks, looking over at him. "He must be dead."

Loki lifts his gaze towards where their brother is standing in front of a marketman, still holding the same fruit he's been thinking over for at least three minutes straight. He looks a little disoriented, but not dead. He toys with the idea that the plant may have some paralysis, but dismisses the idea just as quickly.

"No. He's just being stubborn." Loki assures.

"I'm going to walk over there and drag him back," Hela mutters.

"You'll only make him stay longer to spite you." He promises. Hela's face falls the slightest at that, but she doesn't argue. She's apparently picked up enough of Thor's character the last month they've been stuck together to see that in action. For all that Thor claims to have changed, Loki has his doubts that the stubbornness will ever change.

Hela sighs heavily, anxiously drumming her fingers. Loki sweeps his gaze across the market, looking for familiar faces and only finding a few before Hela perks, "He's coming back." She says loudly. "Norns, at long last."

Loki lifts his gaze towards the direction his brother was and sees him making his way towards them. Thor's walking with an almost dazed look about him, staggering and looking almost drunk. Loki's eyes narrow with suspicion the closer his brother draws, privately wondering if Thor would have had the audacity to intoxicate himself now.

When he's close enough, Hela takes a step forward. "Finally!" she calls, shifting her hands to her hips. "Do you intend to starve us all by spending a ludicrous amount of time looking over all the food?"

"I remember your voice." Thor states flatly, not even bothering to reply. The comment strikes Loki as odd almost immediately and he squints in confusion towards their brother. He doesn't smell. Not in the way alcohol would taint his breath and person, but all the same…

Hela's expression freezes slightly. "What? We've been stuck in the same stupid ship for nearly a month, I should hope that you-"

"Not from that." Thor argues, eyes locked on her. "Before. Before Ragnarok even happened. I remember you from when I was a child. You were reading to me, I-I don't know what it was about, but you…"

Hela blinks. For a moment he thinks she's going to confirm him, but she laughs. "Can you honestly see-reading to you? Am I that sentimental?"

"Well, no, but you-"

"He's drunk." Hela states flatly. "We leave him alone for two minutes and he goes and gets himself fired up. Wonderful."

"I'm not-!"

#

"Ah-sir?" the voice snaps Thor back into reality. He blinks, the world slipping into focus and looks down at his hand when he realizes he's holding something. The weight is not uncomfortable in his hand, but he wonders how long he's been standing here. One moment he had been ordering the food and the next his mind had slipped off.

It's been happening more often the last week.

He can't seem to stay within reality, instead tetering between memories that can't be his and normal. He doesn't know what's happening. It's like he can't remain here.

"Do you want to buy it or not?" the same voice asks, tone thick with annoyance. Thor looks down at the purple fruit and then up at the bearded man. Down again, up once more. He gives a slow nod, trying his best not to show how frazzled he feels.

"Yes. Sorry," he says, "I'll take as much as you can get me." He lifts up a heavy bag of coins for ELEPHANT and the man's eyes bulge slightly. As he begins to gather the requested items together, Thor sweeps his gaze across the market, hand resting on his sword. The bustling area is a backwater world, barely habitable by chance. It seems to make a majority of its income from trade, because the entire world seems to be burdened with buildings and shops.

They'd stopped here to gather more supplies, their storage from Fire Sweets beginning to run low. This time, Thor had put someone else in charge of the water. Brunnhilde is paranoid and brisk. She won't let anything but water into the Statesmen; she'll do better than he did in that aspect. At least, with her taking charge, he doesn't have to worry about poisoning everyone again.

The last thing they need is another plague to rage among them. The first one did enough damage as it is.

#"I remember your voice." Thor's voice is strangely toneless as he says the words, as if careless when Loki knows it's anything but. His face is pinched in such a way that whatever is on his mind must be bothering him, even if the phrasing is strange.

Loki stops from where he was helping sort through the supplies they bought, trying to organize it more to look back at his sibling. Hela, beside him, but ever unhelpful, looks up from where she's sitting against a crate. She's been in the position for the better part of ten minutes now, leaving Loki to his work and only offering a snappy comment every now and then.

She's been on edge ever since they stepped foot on the world for supplies, and he doesn't know if he can blame her. Helheim, he suspects, was not bursting with intelligent life she could practice her social skills with. Not that she has any.

The bustling area is a backwater world, barely habitable by chance. It seems to make a majority of its income from trade, because the entire world seems to be burdened with buildings and shops.

They'd stopped here to gather more supplies, their storage from Fire Sweets beginning to run low. This time Thor had put someone else in charge of the water, and he was to look for food with Heimdall. Brunnhilde is paranoid and brisk. She won't let anything but water into the Statesmen. Loki was left with the task of babysitting.

Hela glances towards him as if waiting for a response, but Loki is clueless as to what to say to Thor's comment. After a moment, their sister sighs heavily, "I should hope so. We've been stuck in this dingy ship together for more than a month now."

Thor shakes his head, stiff and uncomfortable. He's seemed a little dazed the last week, but only occasionally. Like he kept slipping into his head and struggled to crawl his way out. Loki can sympathize with that.

"No. Not...not from recently. Before Ragnarok. I remember you." Thor says, turning to Hela. Loki squints, trying to determine where this is coming from. Thor slept last night, if fretfully. He's not drunk, and Loki doesn't think anyone would be foolish enough to dry and drug him.

Hela's jaw tightens. "You're drunk." She states flatly. "How could you remember me? I'd have to share those memories, too, wouldn't I?"

"No." Thor sounds insistent. "You were there. When I was a child. You read to me. I don't know what it was...but you...and then Father came in and said that what you were reading was for children, and I'd never be a proper warrior if you softened me. I can't remember anything distinct, but-"

"Thor?" Loki questions, off-put. He sets the fruit he's holding down into the crate and turns to give his brother his full attention. "Thor are you alright?"

Thor doesn't look at him. "I'm serious."

Hela sighs, shoving up to her full height. "Norns, we leave you alone for two minutes and you go and get yourself intoxicated. Wonderful."

"I am not drunk!"

Hela rolls her eyes. "Hallucinating, then? Darling, can you honestly see me being so sentimental? I've wanted you dead the moment you were conceived as a thought in your parents heads."

Deleted Scene:

Banner comes to a stop in front of her, eyes narrowed and expression thin. He's attempting to be intimidating, but it's clear he has no idea what to do with his hands because he keeps fidgeting with the ends of his sleeve. Fold up over the fingers, release. Fold up over the fingers, release. On and on he goes.

Hela looks up from the ration she's been picking through to him, doing her best to keep her irritation off her face. Realizing she doesn't need to, she glowers anyway. Banner looks marginally less confident than he did a second ago, and the observation amuses her.

"What?"

She's climbed up into one of the small window seals in the communal room, squishing herself up against the glass, but balancing without a problem. She's always found comfort in heights, stupid as it is. Balancing on said heights, no matter how small the ledge or angle, has been a skill she's never needed to work at. It has always just been.

Banner clears his throat, folding his arms across his chest. "Where are Thor and Loki?"

She picks open the wrapper of the ration, looking down to the dried fruit. "Mm. Don't know. Dead, I hope." The words fall off her tongue before she can really think on them, but she doesn't attempt to append further or correct herself. She imagines they're still in the room, but she doesn't know for certain. They're not here, and she doesn't know where else they would be.

It is an oddity that Thor hasn't made an appearance yet. After tracking their habits for fifteen weeks, she's grown accustomed to the fact that the only thing that will keep Thor from attempting to perform his duty is a literal deathbed. Loki will fluctuate, sometimes spending as many as three days avoiding the general populous before returning to help Eir or Thor.

Banner's eyes narrow further. Rather than accuse her of murdering them like she half expects, when his lips part the only thing that comes out is, "Are they okay? Did something happen?"

Hela's fingers clench around the small, silver package. Delving out what happened in the washroom is something she doesn't want to share with anyone, let alone Banner. The man can barely keep eye-contact with her, let alone hold a conversation. Besides that, she doesn't even know where to start, and it seems oddly...invasive, to explain without Loki's explicit permission.

She tilts forward, propping her head on her hand. "And if it did, what would you do?"

Banner's fingers are digging into the cloth of his shirt now. His discomfort is obvious. "Are they hurt?" His tone, remarkably, is steady. "I'm a doctor; I can help. If...if it's something medical. Or we can ask Eir. The day is nearly over and they still haven't-"

"You have been keeping secrets from us." The harsh, grating voice snaps over Banner's and Hela flicks her gaze up to the ceiling in annoyance as she recognizes it. She'd come here to hide, not have everyone flock to her.

Lord Vili, one of the only members on the council beyond Heimdall that she recognizes, is followed by the rest of the curia regis, Brunnhilde inside. The Valkyrie's expression is smug. Banner looks startled at their sudden appearance, nearly leaping a foot away from them as his eyes widen.

Hela pulls her feet off the wall, shifting so she's sitting up properly. Lord Vili's expression is nothing short of open fury.

Hela sighs and leans forward, clasping her hands together. "And what, pray tell, is it?"

"I remember you." Vili's expression is almost wistful, but the way he speaks suggests he should have spat the words at her feet.

Hela's insides go cold.

Her hissed words to Skurge, does no one remember me?, suddenly seem far less terrible than they were. A certain type of shield, for people to only know of her sins, not have any data they can offer as written proof.

She tries to steady herself, but her world feels like it's tipped and the contents are being rattled up and down until everything is in chaos. She clenches her fists around the rim of the window and stares the man down. Her memories of him have never been fond. He's always been professional, keeping a wide space between the two of them. This man was always first and foremost a member of Odin's council.

Not her uncle.

"Oh?" Her voice feels weak. It's not as confident as she was hoping for. She wants it to be hard and bite, but it sounds lost.

"Everyone is beginning to remember you." Vili says without prompting, shoulders drawing up in a tight line. They're creeping up towards his shoulders which makes him bigger. "What on the nine did you do to us?"

Hela blinks. Her mouth opens, but she doesn't speak. She didn't do anything. She has no idea what Odin did to wipe her from Asgard's memory (it must have gone beyond that. Alfheim. Vanaheim. Everywhere, but she doesn't want to think about that), but it must have been sedir. A lot of sedir. Getting her into Helheim must have drained him. She didn't go willingly.

What did he do to sustain the spells? Tie it to his lifeline?

But that would have been stupid. He could have died anywhere. A battlefield. Out for a stroll. Assassination. The list is endless and to not come up with a more permanent solution would...but Ragnarok was the permanent solution, wasn't it? Odin's plan for keeping her out of his hair wasn't simply to lock her up and throw away the key. He'd fed entire realms lies of Ragnarok. He'd fed everyone that.

Preparing them to kill her.

Elaborate.

(Did he really hate her that much? Where did she go wrong?)

Banner moves, and it catches her attention. His hand catches the forearm of Brunnhilde; whose shoved her way to the front and is lifting her hand, likely for a blow. Hela bites sharply on her inner cheek, embarrassed.

Her reflexes are supposed to be better than this. She can't get lost in her head. Not now.

"Whoa. Wait." Banner says. "How is this-!?"

"I propose we do a search. An actual search." Lady Pettidottir says, looking at the gathered group, and then the council. "We can no longer let these things hide in the dark. We must know the events that occured to make our beloved late king outcast her. I refuse to let this hang for any longer!"

Asgardians give a rousing shout.

Hela feels her stomach twist. She's not going to talk about this. She'd sooner cut out her own tongue. This isn't their story to know. It's hers and hers alone. They can't know about her mother, the rooms, Jotunheim, and Laufey-

No.

"Someone find Eir!" Lord Arkenson demands. "Tell her to bring her aids. Hela has been charged with criminal presses, and we must gain the truth from her one way or another."

Banner makes something close to a squeaking noise. "What-what are you talking about? Are you going to compel her or something? This is illegal. Please tell me this is illegal." He runs a hand through his hair, fingers ghosting over his nose as if he was going to push something up. "Do you have truth serum or something? How does this even work?"

"Spells can be cast." Lord Arkenson says flippantly. "And if not that, we will search her memories. I have had enough of this smoke and mirrors."

"You can't just-!"

She sees Eir in the distance, being tugged along by several Asgardians and she reacts. She lashes out, grabbing Lord Arkenson by the arm and throwing him into the crowd. He takes down several people, and dozens more Aesir leap back with surprise at her sudden movement.

A noise escapes her, a desperate shrieking sound, and she draws a dagger, opens her mouth and grapples for her tongue. She won't say a word of this. If they intend to compel her to talk, they're going to have a hard time of it.

Yanking, she twists her wrist to get the angle right and prepares to saw at the muscle until it's broken from her throat.

Brunnhilde's hands grab at her forearms, stopping the desperate act from being completed. Hela's limbs feel off balance, but she fights, struggling to get the Valkyrie to release her. Just when she's about to swing her leg up and smash it into the older woman's stomach, Brunnhilde squeezes her right forearm.

The pain receptors alight and a broken, voiceless scream tears it's way from her throat. They damaged them when they inserted the metal. It was a mercy. Without them, she's never felt the weapons sliding in and out of her wrists. Now she feels muscle attempting to coil around dwarven metal looped between her bones.

Her vision goes white around the edges and she pants, inhaling as deeply as she dares. Brunnhilde eases up on the pressure as if surprised, and a quick glance towards her face shows that she is as much. Still, she leans forward and with a voice less smug than Hela was expecting, Brunnhilde whispers, "Where are the princes who have spent so much time rescuing the damsel?"

Hela twists her left hand out of Brunnhilde's grip; with all the strength she can muster, she punches Brunnhilde in the face and is satisfied when she feels bone snap.

Alternate Scene:

Hela gives a slight shake of her head, looking away from him. She tips her head back and sighs heavily. "Laufey…" she doesn't say anything else for several long moments.

"Laufey…" Thor prompts.

Hela worries her lip between her teeth for a moment. "How much do you know about why the Jotnar went to Midgard?"

Thor pauses. The question seems almost careful, and Thor fears that if he answers wrong she'll clamp up and refuse to discuss anything with him. Slowly, he begins, "Jotunheim was no longer able to support the population...so Laufey attacked Midgard without thinking over the population? He slaughtered thousands before Asgard stepped in. Asgard chased Laufey off of Midgard. Our father pushed them back into Jotunheim and took the Casket."

And their brother, but Thor doesn't add that. It suddenly feels far too raw to swallow.

"I don't know. Our tutors told the tale far differently than our father ever did." Thor admits, wringing his hands. He's watching Hela's face carefully, but it doesn't so much as flicker.

Hela makes a humming noise. "They weren't far from the truth. You didn't mention that there was an anomaly that opened a rift between the worlds that the Jotnar slipped through. The Jotnar-"

"Jotuns." Thor says suddenly. Hela looks at him, eyebrows raised in confusion. "It's Jotuns. Why do you keep saying Jotnar?"

Hela blinks. "It's the proper term. On Jotunheim. It was on Asgard when I was young, too."

"Oh." Thor rubs at the back of his neck. Thus far, despite the rift between the banishment and now, language hasn't been too rocky of a process. He knows that Midgard's evolves faster than they reproduce and it must be a nightmare to keep track of it all. The common tongue on Asgard is much slower. This is just a blimp among it, along with a few other incidents details are fuzzy on now.

Hela clears her throat somewhat and continues, "The Jotnar saw it as a sign from their gods that it was time to move beyond their home world. So they tried. And failed. Those who died didn't matter because they thought the slaughter had to come before they were gifted."

Thor's brow furrows. "But I've never even heard of that-"

"I know because Laufey told me." Hela interrupts. Thor stops, drawing aback slightly. Simple association with the Jotun king makes his stomach roll and he hates himself for it. Hela sighs and rubs at her forehead. "The war lasted for over six years. Only the last few weeks were spent on Jotunheim. Asgard didn't drive the Jotnar off of Midgard until the very end." Hela releases a heavy breath. "And I spent most of the years as a war captive."

Thor's jaw drops. "You what-?"

She pulls her gaze away from him. "Odin was losing the war. I had already refused to participate, and drew my soldiers out. He...was less than pleased. Midgard is the center of the Nine-"

"He who controls it controls a majority of the power of Yggistridal and the easy trade routes." Thor recites, remembering something that his tutor once said. Midgard had always just been Asgard's, Thor had never thought twice about what would happen if they lost it.

Hela nods. "If Asgard was to survive after the war, we needed Midgard. Odin surmised that if he pulled a weapon together he could simply chase the Jotnar off of Midgard. That was me." She bares her teeth in what's probably supposed to be a bitter smile but comes across better as a grimace. "But Odin's enhancements didn't go the way he wanted. It had unwanted side effects, like my new and uncontrollable ability to suck life from anything around me. Including myself. Odin sent me to deal with a small group of the Jotnar. I didn't make it back, awake one moment, nothing the next. Laufey found me. He and his wife nursed me back to health for the better part of six months. I was unresponsive during all of that."

Thor gawks. "For half a year?"

"It's called a coma now, I think." Hela smiles thinly. "Laufey could have left me to die out there. Odin's troops wouldn't have found me in time. He could have killed me in the following four years he held me as a war prisoner. He didn't. Instead he…" she looks away.

Thor swallows, unable to wrap his head around any of this.

It doesn't seem...it doesn't seem possible. Yes, his interactions with Laufey were limited, but he'd heard stories of the king's brutally for as long as he can remember. The Jotun left Loki to die. How could he ever have had the mercy to save his sister?

Hela looks at him. "You're very close with Heimdall."

Thor startles at the sudden change of subject and pauses, his hand stilling in Loki's hair. He swallows and has to process the question a couple of times. "I-um. Yes. He mentored me and Loki when we were younger. Pulled us out of a few scrapes. He was-is-a constant whenever I needed him to be."

"He was everything Odin was not."

Thor winces, looking away from her. The confession feels sinful as it slides off his tongue quietly, "Yes." Odin was the Allfather. He was supposed to be the peak of parenting. The ultimate father. He...wasn't. Thor hated the time constraints Odin slapped onto his life. Thor's life felt like a list of places he needed to be until he reaches his adulthood and had some semblance of freedom. His youth was not nearly as carefree as he likes to pretend it was.

Preparing to be king of a country takes time. Becoming an realm-ruler took far longer. And Asgard plays regency over nine. His entrance into adulthood was spent learning how to breathe and it often meant doing stupid, impuslive things Loki hated.

Odin was never there when Thor needed him to be. Always so expectant. Thor felt like he was drowning in the spotlight, and has wondered furiously since Loki fell how it must have felt to be starving for any light at all. To have never gained Odin's attention unless it was bad attention because Loki could not get Odin's eye to swivel towards him otherwise.

And Heimdall...hadn't. He'd never had Odin's restraints. Odin's carelessness. Odin's...Odin.

Hela leans back again, lifting her hands behind her head. "Laufey became that to me. He saw my enhancements. What Odin had taken to create them. He was disgusted. It...was the first time I realized that it wasn't normal. He promised that if the Jotnar won the war, he would fight for my freedom. I don't think I ever left because of that."

She could have, Thor realizes. He's seen her in action. Saw the slaughtered remains of the fleet of Einherjar.

She didn't leave on purpose. Because Laufey…

Become what Odin wasn't.

A father.

The word doesn't sound right, even in his head. He thinks of Loki's despair over learning his parentage, thinks of his own disgust at learning of Loki's adoption. Thinks of his nursemaids telling stories of the Frost Giants coming to eat them in the night before they slept. Of everything Asgard told him of Frost Giants and he can't...he doesn't understand.

Alternate Scene: (Warning for implied/referenced self harm)

MONSTER-MONSTER-MONSTER-

He tears until he bleeds.

He hits until he bruises.

Monster. Monster. Monster.

And then he does it over again. Until he's too exhausted to stand and aches to much to move. Screaming is an impossibility from the start, but he's certain that he'd have howled until his voice broke if he could.

He is-He is a-MONSTER-He is a monster. And he is ashamed.

So he breaks. He bruises. He bleeds. He cracks at first, and then bursts. Shatters like glass in the wind and pretends that he didn't fall apart.

"I'm pretty sure that Hela and Thor are going to kill you. If Eir doesn't beat them to it."

Loki startles at the voice, sluggishly turning in Banner's direction. The Midgardian lingers in the doorway of the storage room that Loki's been stuffed inside for the better part of a few hours. His limbs feel like he's trying to swim through tar. He's exhausted. His body quickly slumps back against the crate and Loki wraps the blanket he stole from the room his shoulders tighter, coughing.

"Or Heimdall. Brunnhilde looked pretty ready to give you a smack-down too. You know that you've been missing for over six hours, right?" Banner continues, taking a step forward. Loki doesn't fight him, doing nothing but watch as the man draws closer. Bruce squats down in front of him, head tipped. His eyes aren't narrowed, but they are pinched at the edges with stress.

Six hours?

Loki hadn't realized it had been so long. He's amazed he lasted this long without anyone finding him. Without his sedir, there is no sure way to guarantee that he'd remain hidden.

Banner sighs. "Can you talk?"

Loki's lips part, but attempting to draw up his voice doesn't work. A hollow croak is all that escapes. After a moment, he shakes his head, face hot. Banner looks down at Loki's arms and makes a slight noise in the back of his throat.

Loki squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn't want to hear Banner exclaim. For him to do anything because the Midgardian will only think him insane. As if he isn't. He likes to pretend that he clung to semblance of sanity over the last few years, but he's been mad for a lot longer than since Thor's coronation.

"Loki." Bruce's voice is even. "Loki, what did you do?"

Loki doesn't open his eyes. He slumps against the crate and clenches himself together more. He wishes there was less light. At least this way, Banner is not forced to see that his eyes glow in the dark. That red pulse-the hideous red hue-is hidden beneath his disgusting eyelids.

He is Jotun.

He is a monster.

He feels when Bruce's fingers attempt to touch at the edge of his bleeding arm and Loki snatches his limb away in a panic. What is he doing!? Banner is weak. He's mortal. Loki will burn him. He's likely already burned everyone else that's tried to help him. It's a miracle that he's survived to this point. (However he's been asleep. Judging from how weak his muscles feel, it's been a long time.)

"Loki." Banner's voice is sharp. How did he find Loki first? "Loki, let me look at it." It's not a request, but Loki still shakes his head like it is one. He doesn't open his eyes. He's terrified of what the Migardian's reaction to his eyes would be. "You're bleeding...you're bleeding everywhere. What the heck happened? Were you attacked?"

Loki shakes his head.

Banner is quiet for a long time. "Did you do this yourself?"

He flinches, but does not confirm or deny that.

Banner sighs. Loki can almost see him gripping the bridge of his nose. "Look," his voice is somehow softer. "I may not be a native Asgardian, but I've picked up enough from the last few weeks to know that you guys aren't exactly fond of the Jotuns. That's what you are, isn't it?"

How upset would Thor be if Loki strangled this man?

Is it worth the cost?

"I didn't think that you would ever...but I can't let you do this again. We need to get to Eir. She's not going to be happy."

No. No, Loki imagines she won't be. But he can't move. He thinks if he tries, he'll either collapse or vomit. A mixture of the two if his body is feeling particularly vengeful. He thinks it is. He shakes his head, trying to convey this to Banner, but without his words, there isn't a way to.

Banner can't touch him. He can't help him. (Appropriate. The hero should not help the villain.)

Either the Midgardian has mind reading abilities Loki wasn't aware of, or he comes to the same conclusion that Loki does because he sighs heavily. "Hang on a sec. I'm going to go get Heimdall's attention. Don't move. I'm serious. Hulk smashing will look like a cuddle if you move."

Because his entire ribcage snapping was warming.

He bites back a moan and buries his head into his hands. He doesn't want to face anyone. He can't stand the thought of being seen. He is disgusting. Filthy. Bloody. Broken. Insane. He tore his own skin open. He isn't even sorry about it. It helped. It cleared his mind, if for a little bit. Now is the frazzled mess again.

He wishes that Banner had never found him. That no one found him. That he could have withered away behind this crate as the wretched animal he is. That he would have-

"Alright." Banner interrupts his darkening thoughts. "I think we're good. If you're lucky, Eir will find you first."

That's lucky?

He hears Banner take a seat across from him. Loki would find it amusing if he didn't feel so terrible. Banner does not trust him alone. Not that Loki can exactly blame him, but still. Everyone likes to pretend that the sanity he facaded with was permanent. The madness was always dwelling beneath the surface. Leaving scars just as much as Thanos had.

"Hey." Fingers snap near his face. Loki twitches. "You still with me?"

Unfortunately.

"Do you feel sick? Just shake or nod your head." Banner instructs. Loki's shoulders slump with annoyance. He doesn't want to answer an interrogation. He doesn't want to do anything. He wants to lay down and collapse.

Loki shakes his head.

"Are you being honest?"

Another shake.

Banner sighs, muttering something that sounds close to "well at least he's admitting to it," under his breath before asking in a patient tone: "Do you think you have a fever?"

A shake.

"Did you throw up?"

A nod.

"More than once?"

Loki nods again. He can feel Banner's soft disapproval and resists the urge to throw himself forward and start screaming. He can't actually do that, and, in the long run, it will serve no greater purpose than to widen the rift between him and Thor. The Midgardian has to be protected. Thor is so fond of his Avengers.

Deleted Scene:

Hela jerks to her feet, swearing under her breath before flicking her wrist-a thin dagger appearing-and flings it with perfect aim. A noise escapes Thor as the dagger lands inside of Loki's sternum. Or what would have been if Loki had been here. The illusion shimmers in the light and Loki gives a sad sort of smile.

He's not here.

"No." Thor breathes and jerks up to his feet. "Loki-don't do this. Don't-"

"I'm sorry," Loki says softly, letting his gaze linger on them. Hela releases another curse as the table breaks into outraged chaos, many of the members leaping to their feet and pointing accusing fingers towards him. Loki keeps their gaze.

"Loki-" Thor tries again, leaping to his feet. Panic is beginning to play with his insides, making everything tight and compressed. His lungs don't feel capable of taking any air in, let alone a full breath.

"Brother-" Hela starts furiously. Her tone is dripping with the venom. She cuts herself off, spinning around on her heal and obviously intending to track their brother down and drag him back into the room. Thor twists, beginning to follow.

"Wait," Loki's projection re-forms in front of them and Thor stops, tipping onto his toes to keep himself from walking through it. Loki's hands are lifted, he's looking between the two of them as if trying to memorize every fine detail of their faces. "I'm sorry." Loki repeats.

"Tell it to my face." Hela seethes, "When I can actually punch yours in. Don't be stupid. There isn't a point to-"

"You don't know him like I do." Loki says hopelessly, desperately. "I have to. There's no other option. Let me do this. It's okay…it will be okay." Loki inhales steadily, quieter, he pleads, "Let me go."

"You are not leaving!" Thor rages. "As your king, I forbid you from leaving this ship!"

Lord Arkenson is spitting out an impressive array of profanities and Bruce is trying to ask him something, but Thor isn't paying attention.

Loki smiles weakly. "I suppose we'll have to add another mark to my treason tally, then."

"Loki!"

"I assure you both that the sun will shine on us again." Loki promises, face dropping. He closes his eyes and breathes out slowly before mouthing something Thor thinks is "I love you" and the illusion washes out as Hela reaches for it. Thor feels his stomach drop to his knees as horror washes through him. The Tesseract, sitting on the table, vanishes just as quickly.

Loki took it.

Loki knows that's a one-way trip.

"Oh, Norns," Thor breathes, attempting to breathe. He can't. The compression is too much. Loki turned himself in.

Alternate Ending:

I know this isn't much.

I'd meant to offer more, but I...suppose I never really thought this would happen. I've managed to evade this for so long that death doesn't feel quite real to me. The concept of it happening to me. I know death a little too well now.

It's a bit of strange magic that conjures after death, but I suppose I've always been a bit strange in that way.

A long time ago, I would have believed that no one would read this. I didn't think that anyone would care. Even Mother. I'm still not sure that I trust that it will be looked after. I know that I've done awful things. That I've never been exactly what you needed me to be and I'm sorry. I wanted to be more. To be better. But I also fell a long time ago, and I don't know if I ever quite stopped.

I've disclosed information about a threat approaching on the horizon if you don't already know about him. His name is Thanos. There's other papers in here to explain what I couldn't say. I think that a childish part of me believed that if I could somehow manage to forget then...maybe he would too. But I still need you to know. Asgard is gone, but I've prepared them in every way I can. The Reality Stone is on Knowhere, Time and Mind on Earth. I've heard that Xandar is storing Power, and Space was with me. You need to reach the Stones before he does.

Please. This one thing for me. Do not let him collect the Stones. Stop him when I couldn't.

I want you to know that I...I'm sorry. About what happened. Whatever it was that finally finished me off. I imagine that it was rather anti-climatic. I seem to have a talent for that.

Thor-I am proud to call you my king. You were a better man than I. You always will be. You are also the most aggravating prat I have ever known in my life. And your helmet was and always will be feathers.

Hela-You frustrate me. Incredibly. But I couldn't have asked for a better sister. If there is one thing I am proud of, it is that I did not leave you for Surtur.

Take care of each other. And Asgard. Tell Heimdall that I'm sorry about trying to kill him, but in fairness he did try to take off my head. And explain to Brunnhilde that I robbed her, will you? She never did figure that out.

This isn't a permanent goodbye. It's just a momentary parting.

Thank you for everything.

Until Helheim-because none of us are going to Valhalla,

-Loki.

000o000

"How long have they been there?" Peter questions, tipping his head up towards Tony as he stares towards the two figures standing side by side on the beach. Tony releases a long breath, glancing at the teen once before shrugging.

"A while."

"Have they spoken at all?" Peter's brow is furrowed with concern.

"I've only been here a few minutes, kid," Tony interjects. He was supposed to be discussing the funding with the King, but he didn't want to interrupt what was obviously a private moment. A little softer, he adds, "I think it's probably best to give them some space right now. After everything with New Asgard and building up a settlement...it's been a busy few weeks."

Peter nods, face solemn. "I know," he says quietly. The two of them stare at the gravestone for a moment, where the two siblings are standing side by side. Hela has her hand loosely around Thor and is leaning her head on his shoulder. They've left flowers, and some sort of food offering.

"I kind of wish I'd met him." Peter admits after a moment. Tony gives him an incredulous look and Peter lifts up his hands. "Just…I don't know. Thor speaks fondly of him. So. Yeah."

Tony shakes his head. "You're crazy."

"You're rude."

"Fair enough." Tony shoves the kid and Peter laughs lightly. The two of them watch in silence as Hela and Thor finally pull away from the gravestone and begin to work their way down the hill, but not towards them. Either they didn't see or they're attempting to ignore, both of which Tony understands. He sighs, tilting his head as he figures out a path of interception.

"C'mon kid, let's go talk with his royal pain in the butt and sister savage." Tony pulls Peter forward lightly, and the two of them begin to walk forward.

Tony thinks he sees a glimmer of green light from the corner of his eye and stops, but when he looks back, there's nothing. Just the faint smell of cinnamon. He realizes with some surprise that the gravestone is empty.

Tony's lip quirks up slightly and he gives a light shake of his head. Psychopath's still alive then. Good. Tony doesn't see Thor or Hela surviving for much longer without him. They're porcelain, the lot of them. Far more fragile than they look on first appearance, but the strongest people Tony knows.

Tony glances up when he hears shouting and laughter, then more yelling. The sun casts a long shadow, preventing him from seeing any faces, but when he looks, he sees not two silhouettes on the hill, but three.