"Any idea when your friends will be arriving?" Loki asked Thor as he paced in front of the fireplace. He had been reading a book when he had suddenly been struck by the thought of Sif and the Warriors Three appearing on his doorstep.

"No, and they're your friends too-"

"Oh, of course. It's not like they threatened to kill me the last time we met, is it?"

"Well, you didn't exactly help matters, did you?"

"Right, just blame me for everything!"

"Why not? Is there something you need to tell me about Midgard? Perhaps the invasion wasn't entirely your fault?"

"Nice try. It's quite pathetic listening to your attempts to get me to talk-"

"I can't hear you denying it."

(Damn.) "And you can't hear me confirming it, either."

Thor sighed. "Ambiguous as ever, Loki."

"Ooh, finally got into the habit of using big words, have you? I take it you've expanded your vocabulary from 'smash', 'hammer' and wordless screams?"

"You're in a bad mood today. Are you pregnant again?"

Loki glared so venomously at Thor that, if looks could kill, the Thunder God would be a bloody smear on the floor by now.

Thor simply grinned at him.

Rolling his eyes, Loki resumed pacing. "You're not going to tell them where I am, are you?"

"Maybe."

"Let me rephrase that: you are not going to tell them where I am."

"That tone may scare Fandral and Volstagg, but I'm afraid it doesn't work on me, brother."

Loki stiffened at the title, but didn't rebuke it as he would have done weeks ago. He had yet to return it, however he found that it was getting easier to let it slide. He felt as though one of many weights had been lifted from his chest.

"Pity. I quite fondly remember those two paling rather comically when I turned on them."

"You never were the approachable sort."

Loki scoffed. "And you were much to nice to everyone. Unless they refused to stroke your ego."

Thor grimaced. "I wasn't that bad."

(Know your place, brother!)

Loki forced himself to laugh. "Of course not."

"Alright, maybe I was- but that's beside the point! Fandral and Sif want to give you a chance; I told them of what you did in Svartalfheim, and they truly think you deserve a chance."

"And how long did it take you to guilt them into giving me that chance?"

"What are you talking about?"

Loki raised an eyebrow at him.

Thor shrunk under the intense stare. "Two and a half months..."

Loki snorted. "If I'm perfectly honest, I'm surprised they caved that easily. Especially Sif. Does she still feel bad about the hair incident?"

He remembered how Sif had apologised again and again and again for accusing him of cutting off her hair, but, once again, forgiveness was not in Loki's nature.

"You know she does."

"Hmm, it must have slipped her mind when she was threatening to kill me."

"Loki," Thor sighed exasperatedly.

"Thor," Loki mimicked.

"You are making this unnecessarily difficult."

"No, you refuse to acknowledge the fact that I do not wish to speak to your friends."

"No matter how much you try to deny it, I know you miss them."

"By the Norns, Thor, will you stop trying to make up and second-guess my emotions just to make yourself feel better about the fact that I am not the good person you seem to think I am."

"Only when you decide to tell me the truth about Midgard will I make a final decision about you, brother."

Loki sighed and sat on the windowsill, peering out into the meadow. He hated how damn stubborn his broth- Thor was. (He was not ready to call Thor his brother. Not yet. Not even to himself.)

"There is nothing to tell," Loki insisted.

"Liar," Thor continued, a smug smile that really did not suit him plastered on his face.

"I'm seriously considering kicking you out of my house, you know."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh? And why not?"

"Because I'll just go straight to Odin and tell him where you are."

Loki scowled at Thor, wanting nothing more than to punch the smirk off his face. However, that was a battle he would undoubtedly lose. "You would not."

"Care to risk it?"

Loki smirked. "You wouldn't risk losing your brother again. Not when you're oh, so convinced you've got him back."

It was a low blow, and Loki knew it. But he could not risk having Thor tell Odin where he was. That was another thing; Thor, who seemed to be making a genuine effort to patch things up between them, had resorted to calling the King by his name around Loki, rather than 'Father'. It was either 'Odin' or 'Allfather'. He would never admit it, but he appreciated it, no matter how small the gesture may have seemed to anyone else.

Thor was silent, and there was a disappointed frown on his face. "Loki, please- just tell me what happened after your- your fall."

"If there was anything, I would-"

"You would keep it to yourself to protect me, even though you would tell yourself that it was for no one's benefit but your own."

Loki glowered at Thor, despite how his words hit far too close to home for his liking. If Thor had any idea about the Other, about Thanos, about Loki's time among the Chitauri... he would not bring it up so easily. It was hardly something Loki could tell anyone. The only reason Sigyn knew was because of a minor telepathic link that she and Loki had shared since they were married, one that had nor faded even over the years after their divorce, which made it exceedingly difficult to lie to her- not that it mattered. Loki was not the God of Lies for no reason.

Loki shook his head. Thor knew he was lying, but that didn't mean he was about to tell him any details. "I will not tell you anything of my time in the Void, other than that it was a time in which I endured more than in all my previous years of life. What happened, I will not say, but know this: I will keep the truth from you for as long as possible."

Thor looked at him, a strange, unnamable emotion in his eyes. "And I will continue to search for the truth until you decide to trust and confide in me."

"Then you will be waiting for a very long time."

Loki was thankful that Thor decided to drop the subject, but Thor's next topic reminded him of his current dilemma. "So, about the Warriors..."

"No. I will not let them within a mile of this house."

"Loki, they don't want to fight-"

"Really? They seemed rather fond of the idea when we were committing treason."

"They thought you would betray us."

"So did you..." he mumbled, scowling out of the window.

"And yet you seem to have found it in your heart to give me a chance."

Damn him. Why was Loki's silver tongue failing him so often nowadays? It concerned him greatly, how his mind was not as sharp as it used to be. (Torture will do that to a person, I suppose.)

Loki sighed resignedly, letting his exhaustion show. He had been doing that more often too- letting his guard down around Thor and Sigyn. His ex-wife could see past his glamour and tricks all the time, but even she was blind to his more carefully crafted lies. She knew the truth when Loki wanted her to, or when his magic was too little and failed him. (That had happened far to often in recent times for his liking.)

"Thor, I don't want them here."

Thor was silent for a while, before he said, "Then it can wait."

Loki looked back at Thor in surprise, not expecting him to have agreed. All he saw in those blue eyes was concern as they roamed over Loki, searching and examining any signs of weakness or ailment.

He smiled weakly, but didn't respond. He did not need to.

Loki was awake, as usual. Sigyn lay asleep in is bed and he could hear Thor's rumbling snores from down the hall. Once again, Loki could not sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he would see his mother and Thanos. Sometimes, his mother in the brutal, cruel hands of Thanos. Then there were the nights where he would see Frigga watching him as he himself was tortured by the Mad Titan, and all his mother would do is watch on apathetically and tell him how he deserved it, how it was his fault she was dead.

(Then am I not your mother?)

(You're not.)

Never had Loki regretted anything more in his life. Remorse was not a thing he often felt, but it weighed down upon him so heavily that he felt as though he was suffocating; drowning.

Every night that this happened, Loki could feel himself slipping further and further from himself; becoming lost within the dark recesses of his own mind; trapped forever in the labyrinth of thoughts and memories. And that was the worst form of torture. The kind that no one could see, and no one could stop.

So he sat on the rim of the bathtub in almost complete darkness- the only light that was provided was from a glowing ball of white magic that floated by the ceiling, and the soft glow of the lake that lit the meadow. He felt like his skin was crawling, so he scratched at the backs of his hands with his short, bitten down nails, and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

Exhaustion was plaguing him. He needed sleep. But he would not surrender himself to the darkness. Not when he knew what awaited him there.

So caught up as he was in his thoughts, he didn't notice the sudden silence in the house, or the person standing in the doorway.