An intense pain cut through his body as he fell to the ground, jagged rocks cut through his back and warm blood trickled out through many wounds. He could feel the cold creeping in. He was freezing and burning at the same time as he stared up into the blue sky as it slowly faded to black.
"Your work is not done yet," he heard his mother's voice in his mind.
"Yep," this time it was Bella, "Thor isn't wetting the bed yet."
He tried to move, but could not. The burning was too much. The cold was too much. He could see his own hands and arms turning grey and blue, his Aesir form fading away with the last vestiges of consciousness.
"Mother-."
"There!" he heard Odin yell then blackness.
He shot awake in a cold sweat, and after a moment, he realized that it was a dream, and different to the ones he had most of the time. And then he only realized why he had woken. He was in the most intense pain he had ever been in his life, and he had obviously taken a very big step backwards as he could not move at all.
"How are you, Brother?" Thor asked with genuine curiosity.
Loki gave him a glare of ice, "I dare you to dive a thousand feet into a block of cement and then ask me the same question."
"There is no need to act that way," Thor crossed his arms.
"You should have been the one to tell me," Loki said bitterly, "or did you simply order your minions to do it to avoid direct confrontation?"
"Tell you what?" he asked dumbly. Loki's bitter glare cut through him. "Oh," he said, realising what Loki had meant, "I am sorry."
"It is not wise to be in my company right now," he hissed through his teeth.
Thor sighed and fell silent, his face expressionless for a long time, "who said I was wise?"
"Didn't we have this conversation before, only you said what I was saying and I am said what you are saying?"
Thor smiled humorlessly, "I believe so," he said, "I believe we have gone full circle, as the humans would say," Loki sighed, "do you want me to leave, Loki?"
"I know where to find you," Loki told him flatly.
"I know I have not always been there for you in the past, but I swear to you Brother, I will always be there for you."
"Thor, do not pledge to that which you cannot keep," he turned away from Thor, burying his head in his pillow. He felt the crisp sheets gently pulled up his arm, and he felt like a little child again as his brother tucked him in, "goodbye."
"Hiya, Beautiful," his mind must have begun to unscramble itself because he recognised the voice immediately. She was a dark Elf, but from a different sect to Maleketh's flunkies. Before the last great war between Asgard and the Dark Elves, a small group led by Maleketh's youngest son Ragnar. This sect became known as the Nomads. They stole ships and lived on the very frontiers of space itself. She was Ragnar's granddaughter, and she had the almost scarily pale complexion that was common in her species, and the bright, bright blue eyes. She didn't braid her hair back; however, she had it cut short so that it wouldn't get in her way or waste time. Apate was the picture of Elvin beauty. She didn't act like it. She was one of Loki's best friends, and had been for a long time.
"Good afternoon," he muttered as he woke up.
"It's seven in the evening," Apate arched an eyebrow, "I thought a familiar face would cheer you up."
"You mean floating over my bed saying my name over and over again in a creepy voice?"
Apate laughed, and within a moment, so did he. That laugh degenerated into a wet, hacking cough, and she placed a hand on his back, helping him to lean forward and rubbed his back. She had traveled the universe with her family for a long time, and she had picked up a few healing techniques from everywhere.
"It is nice to see that you are well."
"Relative to what?" Loki snapped, "Apate, how long would it take your ship to reach Midgard from here?"
Apate sat down and thought, "Keeping the hyperspace engines within parameters and giving them breaks to cool off, I would say, twenty years."
"And pushing the engines?"
"Loki, I know you miss them, but you have to remember that half of our technology is stolen and the other half traded in junk, all of it obsolete," she sighed, "if you do that, then the engines will burn themselves out and you'd be stuck there while I'd be stuck here."
"What about Muspelheim?"
"That should be easy," Apate said, but then she narrowed her eyes and almost growled at him, "stopping Wildfire from murdering your stupid ass is another thing."
"I need to talk to him."
"That ain't gonna be easy," Apate said to him, "After . . . you know."
"Could you talk to him for me then?"
She sighed, "Okay, if you promise me that you will stop your big bro and his buddies from murdering me when I get back. Damn Maleketh."