Grace was aware of something happening. Someone touching her. Gentle hands on her face. Warmth. And then pain. Throbbing, pulsing. She tried to moan and nothing happened. She tried to turn her head and open her eyes, but again, she was unsuccessful. She knew somewhat well what had happened, at least up to where the knife had pierced her side and her brain had started screaming. From there everything was blurry until she fell blank, a sweet relief. She wondered just what was happening to her, especially since she did not believe in an afterlife.

She tried to ask. This time she was able to groan. She turned her head a little and tried to push herself up. The hands firmly pushed her back down, a voice telling her to rest. She knew the voice, but could not place who it belonged to. Memories were blurry and nothing made sense. She felt dizzy. She tried to speak again, and brought a hand to her side. Someone caught her. She tried to open her eyes, but the light was too bright. She rested. The pain seemed to grow stronger with every breath. She cried out. Something in her knew that pain and being dead did not seem lilke the right combination. But she could let go. She let herself start to fade away from pain and into that same sweet relief she had felt after being stabbed.

"No, no, no, no...come back...please, come back." Hands vigorously rubbed her arms and legs. She ignored the sensation, embracing the idea of feeling nothing. The hands moved more frantically, and whomever owned them sent something clattering to the floor, other objects following. The room smelled of iron. Hands pressed a poultice to her side and she felt fire shoot along the blade's path. She screamed, her back arching, struggling against a body holding her down. She screamed again, twisting away from the fire. After a few moments, the burning sensation was replaced by something cool and soothing. She sighed and dropped back onto the bed.

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice weak.

"Oh thank god it worked." She finally recognised his voice and pried her eyes open. Loki sat beside her on the bed, his face streaked with tears, a small table pulled beside him, most of its containers tipped over or on the floor. He leaned over her and held her gently, "It worked...how in the nine realms did it actually work?"

"I'm not dead."

"No, not at all. A miracle, truly."

"But you stabbed me. And holy fucking shit did it hurt. You weren't kidding."

"I found a spell yesterday to restore the body and recall the soul in the case of accidental stabbing with an ice dagger. It was, apparently, a common problem in Jotunheim."

"Jotun magic once again wins."

"Yes, yes it does. Oh god, Gracie...it worked..."

She smiled as he kissed her, stroking her cheek, "This magic is strong in your blood, a part of who you are."

"And for once I am truly grateful for that."

He helped her sit up, "What do we do now? He'll just have you kill me again."

"Then I suppose I must go to war."

"But he'll kill you... I wish we could just disappear."

"It is either he or I who will die in this. While he lives, you cannot show your face. I will not allow that. I must destroy him. For Asgard, yes, but mostly for you, Alice, and Izzy."

"And because you want to kick the shit out of him for those ten years."

"Indeed. That as well." He looked down at his clothing, "While I do believe there would be something poetic to wearing a shirt soaked in your blood to avenge you, I think I would rather have a dry layer under my armor."

"Well, I guess then there's only one thing we can do about that."

"Oh?"

"Let me undress you. And redress you, too."

He brought his garments and armor to the bed, "Do not over exert yourself. You are at a rather perilous point, having been just brought back."

There were many duties a wife was supposed to accept in Asgard, and the only one Grace had ever really taken to was caring for her prince's accoutrements of war and helping to dress him in them for battle or ceremony. Polishing metalwork, oiling leather- these would help him to come home to her. Securing the plates, making sure each piece layed right on his body, and tightening laces and straps, all these were little ways to ensure the possibility of victory. She had taken on this task even before they had married, treating each part of the process as an intimate moment that only she could share with him. As she repeated this ritual from her spot on the bed, she thought back to the other moments, realising that no matter how many times she had done this same thing, it had never become simply meaningless rote action. It still, after all these years, was an act of love.

Once dressed, he sat beside her and took both her hands, "My dearest Miss Grace...I cannot promise you I will return, but I will do everything in my powers to rest beside you tonight. While I am gone, please sleep. Your strength will continue to grow throughout the day. But you must rest. Pushing yourself too far could lead to your death."

"Loki...I'll do my best. But you know me- if my instincts say to move, I'm moving."

He kissed her forehead, "I know. I would have it no other way."

"I love you."

"And I, you. And because of such, I must go." He retrieved his knives and the sceptre, then left. Grace slowly got out of bed and changed from her bloodstained gown into her AC/DC t-shirt, black wide-legged drawstring trousers, and Tony's old sweater. Comfortable, she tossed the bloody comforter and blanket onto the floor and curled up under a clean blanket on the bed, dozing off to sleep with the little stuffed penguin tucked under her chin.

Loki strode to the throne room, resolute. Only death would stop him. He initially planned to just kill anyone in his way, but he remembered, as he had after Hogun's death, that these creatures were all someone's father, brother, son. Then he remembered something else- none of Thanos' soldiers likely had any family left, as he had a habit of killing everyone and then press-ganging people into his service right after they had watched their family die in horrible ways, so it was actually unlikely they were someone's son, father, or brother anymore. He recalled Thanos had done so the the girl, Gammora. Loki had only briefly known her, but she had been kind to him shortly after Thanos had found him. He had tried to threaten his family, but when he had said he would kill Odin if Loki did not comply, his response had been "Fine" and Thanos had sent him to Gammora for torment. He had told her to do her worst, but as soon as he was out of earshot, Loki had deflated, telling her that he likely deserved it anyway, so whatever punishment she had to mete out, he would take. She had approached cautiously, not trusting his sadness, but instead of torturing him, had sat beside him and talked to him, explaining how Thanos worked, what he was, and why he should just do what he could to get out alive. When he had expressed no need for such a thing, she had convinced him that life was worth living, even if living it a slave. As he walked to the throne room, he wondered if she had ever escaped and where she was. He hoped that if she had not escaped, Thanos' death would free her.

He felt the anger growing as he took each step, his blood boiling a he thought about how many people Thanos had likely put through the same ordeal he had just endured. His fingers twitched towards the knife handles at his belt. He heard a line from one of Grace's movies in his head, "But beware of the dark side. Anger, fear, aggression; the dark side of the Force are they. Easily they flow, quick to join you in a fight. If once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny, consume you it will..." It was good advice, actually, and he had noted that when he had first heard it. Calm, thoughtfulness, the things he had prized as a much younger man, and things he had mocked Thor for lacking, these were what won fights. Not impulse and hot-tempered actions. He stopped for a moment and took a few deep breaths. He would not be rash. This was a war he had to win, not one he could chance losing because he forgot to think. He had let anger lead him when he had avenged his mother and it had led him to death. This time, he would do better.

As he approached the throne room, he saw the fight had spilled out into the hall. He selected his knives and picked one to join.

When Loki entered the throne room, Fandral noticed. He had been waiting. There was good reason for this, of course- he had thought, perhaps, that there was some miracle to be had and that he would be able to tell by the way Loki entered. He normally would not be quite so concerned- while it was his job to oversee the security of the royal family, he and Grace had never really been friends, and there had been many times when he and Loki had been anything but. Grace had written him a letter, though- a letter he had opened before her death, contrary to her instructions. She had asked him a few very blunt questions and supposed at their answers, which had been entirely correct. She had guessed a secret that Fandral had told no one. And not only had she guessed it, but she had said she had no problem with it and suddenly Fandral wanted to thank her, and possibly to talk through things with her that he had kept close to his heart for far too long. He had hoped that there was something he had not known about that could save her so he could just tell her.

Loki's cold, methodical entrance to the battle did not reassure him. He felled his enemy and sighed- if Grace was dead, he knew exactly how Loki felt. Fear crept along the edges of his heart- if that was how he felt, what would he do next? He watched as Loki plunged a blade into the back of a large shaggy green creature, dropping it to the ground, the soldier on the other side completely surprised. He did not even hesitate, but continued on to the next fight, working his way toward Thanos. Fandral knew that Loki would want to engage on his own, but that it was not a fight he was likely to win alone. He readied his weapon and decided to join him.

Grace was sleeping fitfully. She was dreaming battle. She stood in the throne room watching Loki as he twirled knives, blood slick and hot on the floor at his feet. His face was stony and unflinching. When he reached Thanos, he swung the sceptre, energy crackling around it, and flung something bright green from the tip, striking Thanos in the back. He turned. He grinned. He charged. She woke up in a sweat, knowing something horrible was about to happen. She slipped out of bed and nearly fell over, the pain in her side sharp, but bearable. She retrieved the walking staff that Odin had given her many hundreds of years earlier and stopped at the door, wondering just what the hell she was doing. She went to the desk and found her throwing knives. She tucked them in a pouch and slung it on her wrist before leaving the room. There were secret places in the palace- places from which she could see the battle without ever being seen herself. Some were in tucked high above the throne, some were hidden in columns or behind heavy curtains, while yet others were tucked in the dias itself. She tried to remember the dream and figured out which hiding place would work best- behind an elaborate mosaiced nook tucked off to the side of the room- almost a little chapel. Thor had once told her it was a place for the queen to retire during long audiences, but it was no longer used. It was separated from the room by a heavy mesh screen that allowed the person inside to look out, but no one to look in.

When she arrived, she watched. Loki was not far, battling Thanos alongside Fandral and Thor. Thanos swung something. Fandral dodged. Thor was not fast enough. He landed, stunned, on his back. Fandral threw something to Loki. A blast of ice. For a moment, Thanos was still. Then he roared and the ice shattered. Loki ran and opened the box again, his skin blue, the ice coating Thanos as he charged. Fandral attacked, but Thanos broke free of the ice and swung back at Fandral, catching him across the shoulder. Fandral slipped and slid, his head thudding against the floor. Loki was on his own. Thanos lunged knocking his weapon from his hands and throwing him onto the dias steps. Loki was breathing heavily, his skin fading from blue, as he approached. He flexed the gauntlet.

"So that must be the Cask..." Grace whispered to herself. Loki scrambled for a weapon, but his fingers fumbled, slick with ice. She palmed her own knife and slid the screen aside just enough to throw, "Dear sweet baby Jesus, let this work." She took careful aim and let her knife loose. It would not be large enough to do any real damage, that she knew, but it might distract him just long enough for Loki to have a chance. It hit Thanos' shoulder with a dull thud and he cried out in shock and anger, whirling in the direction it was thrown from. He could not see Grace, but he understood that since no one else was fighting in that area, someone was hiding behind the screen. He slammed his fist into the side of Loki's head, intending to incapacitate him long enough to keep him from leaving.

Loki was concious enough to look for the cause of Thanos' distraction. The black and silver hilt of the blade stuck in Thanos' back was far too familiar. He panicked and flung himself at the weapon abandoned closet to him, swinging it and letting it loose, praying it hit its intended mark before he lost his wife again.

From Grace's vantage point as she frantically tried to find the latch in the mosaic that would open the passage out, Thanos looked like a demon charging. She knew she would not find the latch in time. She huddled in the corner and pulled Tony's sweater over her head, peering out one of its many holes as he thundered closer.

Then his head exploded from behind. He dropped to the floor, very dead.

Grace crawled to the screen and stared.

Loki was shaking when Fandral stumbled over and dropped down beside him on the steps with the Cask.

Thor roared, "SURRENDER! Thanos is dead!" Weapons dropped, one by one. Only a few dragged the battle on.

Grace crept out of her hiding place and walked cautiously to the corpse, "What the actual fuck just happened?" When she saw what was embedded in his skull, she first looked for Thor, but he was nowhere near where it had been thrown from.

Loki met her eyes, then looked back at Thanos' shattered skull, then down at his hands, and back at the shattered skull.

Thor walked up to Thanos and retrieved Mjolner.

He took it to Loki, "Brother, do you realise what you did?"

"Only just. I lifted Mjolner."

"Threw, actually. It deemed you worthy of Asgard's throne."

Still stunned, Loki glanced from the blood-spattered hammer to his hands.

Fandral, meanwhile, had gone to retrieve the gauntlet. Grace was picking her way around the bodies, trying not to slip, having difficulty finding a good place to put her staff.

"Grace! How...how is this possible?"

"Magic of Jotunheim, baby! I had no idea he could do this. I was, apparently, dead. Now I'm not. I'm ZombieGrace!" She laughed. Fandral hugged her, smiling. She was surprised, but hugged him back, "Whoa, what's this for?"

"I will tell you as soon as I get this gauntlet to safety."

"Good idea. That's something we don't need disappearing again."

He tugged it free and returned to her, "Ah, this ought to be somewhere no one can find it."

"So who is going to get it there?"

"Sif. She will take her secrets to the grave."

"Yeah, well thank god none of us had to do that today."

Fandral paused, "I...I read your letter."

"Awww, you cheated!"

"Yes. And you're right. He was. And for a few moments today, I could honestly say I know the kind of loss your husband felt. There will never be another Hogun in my life."

She reached for his hand, "I'm so sorry. And I hope you'll come talk to me when you need to. I know it's not the same, but I lost the woman who was my first boyfriend and my first girlfriend. When we broke up, we were still best friends, right up until some fucker beat her to death with a pipe. It still hurts."

"When you first offered to be a refuge, I assumed it was because you thought I felt for Hogun as you did your brother."

"I had my suspicions, but honey, nobody tries as hard as you did with the ladies as someone hiding deep in the closet. Why haven't you been more open? It's not taboo here."

"No, but there are some of the men who...well, they would think less of me for it. And did not your brother have quite a few women?"

"Tony never really had to try... But anyway babe, those men aren't worth the shit on your boots. Tell them to fuck off. And if they give you any crap, tell me and I'll take them down. But live so you love yourself. No more hiding."

"Thank you. But we ought to reunite you with your husband. It seems he has done something remarkable."

"Did I just really see what I think I saw?"

"Mjolner sitting squarely where Thanos' brain ought to be."

"Yeah. And Thor didn't throw it."

"Correct."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I have no idea."

They walked over to where Thor was sitting beside Loki on the steps, "Would you like to try to lift it again?"

Loki shook his head, "No. For one moment, it deemed me worthy. I do not need to know if I am no longer."

Grace dropped down beside him and kissed him, "Always worthy in my book, darlin'."

"Mjolner knew your heart, Loki. You sought to wield it to save others, with no regard for yourself. You sought to use it to save this realm and all others, not for your own gain. Brother, you are worthy of this throne. It is why you stand beside me, not behind me, when we hold court." Thor hooked the hammer to his belt and went to oversee surrender and the prisoners being transferred to the dungeon, some of whom were thanking their captors for freeing them from Thanos.

Fandral showed Loki the gauntlet, "Do you wish to see it? It is a remarkable piece of craftsmanship. And perhaps something you ought to study?"

His fingers brushed the gold, but pushed it back into Fandral's hands, "No. It calls far too strongly. Take it apart and hide the pieces where I will not find them."

"Sif will know what to do." Fandral took the gauntlet to Sif, who immediately strode from the room to secure it.

Grace nuzzled Loki's cheek and then wriggled her way under his arm, "It's over, right?"

"Yes. Yes, my love, it is over." He was quiet. "How is it over? It has been so many years..."

"It's over because you totally exploded his head with a hammer. You should have seen it from my angle. Soooo gross. But still, you fucking destroyed Thanos. That is super fucking badass."

"Is it?" he asked as if he did not entirely believe what she was saying.

"Yeah. Every girl in the realm is going to want to have your babies, it's that badass. He had the gauntlet. He was this train, barelling down on me, and you went and nailed him. Stop. HAMMER TIME. And it's over. You saved the universe. Alice is going to be so proud of her dad."

He smiled, "My dearest Miss Grace-"

"DAD! You were amazing!" Alice, with Izzy on her back, lept nimbly through the corpses and blood, tossing herself in for a hug.

"You were watching?"

"Yes. I saw everything. You are a hero."

"No, I am just Loki. That Mjolner allowed me one throw does not make me a hero."

Alice shrugged and sat beside him, "It does to me."

Grace took his hand, "You're free."