"Wow, what is that?" Princess Shuri exclaimed. She was staring in fascination at the image of Loki's heart and lungs displayed above the medical table. The left lung, specifically, which appeared as a fine silver thing in the hologram, completely different from the surrounding tissues.

"A gift from our mother," Thor answered. "An artificial lung commissioned from the dwarves of Nidavellir, the greatest craftsmen in all the Realms."

"Awesome! That's really incredible! But what's it made of? And, like, how? I mean," she pressed a few buttons to magnify the image, showing delicate blood vessels seamlessly married into the artificial framework. "It's so perfectly made. But it's not vibranium. I didn't think any other material could do something like this...I wouldn't have thought vibranium could do this either, though."

"The alloy is a carefully guarded Nidavellan secret, as is the crafting process," Loki supplied faintly. "But it is a marvel, I grant you."

Shuri's enthusiastic smile faded as the display slowly shifted and she glimpsed some of the other damage he had endured, but she dutifully finished her basic internal scan before turning the device to Loki's hands. After a moment, she just looked down. Thor realized how young she was, watching her. She had not seen violence like this before.

"Anything salvageable?" Doctor Strange asked quietly. Shuri jumped and started babbling nervously about how to interpret the scan. Strange waited patiently, nodding along and studying the images himself. "So no," he concluded.

"No."

"By your science," Thor said. He looked down at Loki. "Can you do anything, Brother?"

"It's not worth it," Loki said.

"Yes it is," Thor insisted. "You will return to Asgard as whole as possible for your Triumph."

"It's his decision, Thor," Strange said gently.

"I'd stay out of it if I were you, Sorcerer," Loki said tiredly.

"He's already decided to kill himself," Thor grumbled. "The least I can do is make sure it's done right."

"What?" Shuri asked. "Really?" Loki nodded once. "Why?"

"Look at me, human!" he gasped. "Would you want to go on for a thousand years in this condition?"

"Look at yourself! Yes, you've been hurt, but you still do magic! You have that amazing lung, and I've seen your foot too. With tech like that, you'll function just as well as you ever did before!"

"You know next to nothing about me, human."

"Shuri."

"Mortal."

"Shuri!"

"Shuri, that's enough," came another voice from behind them. Prince T'Challa stepped out of the shadows. "Do not annoy our guests, sister. They are tired. Your inappropriate argument can wait."

"You weren't listening long enough then, big brother."

"But I was, and I say this should wait. Father wishes to meet with them, but after a rest. The battle was long and difficult for everyone, after all."

"Very well," Shuri grumbled, stalking back towards her main lab.

Prince T'Challa turned to Thor. "I would be pleased to escort both of you to more comfortable chambers, Princes of Asgard. And you, Sorcerer Supreme."

"Thank you, but we shall remain here for a time," Strange said before either Thor or Loki could answer. He was rummaging around in Shuri's supply cabinet for more basic medical supplies.

T'Challa shrugged. "Very well. I shall return for you in a few hours." He left.

Doctor Strange returned to the table with a collection of curettes and gauze plus a water basin and arranged his prizes near Loki's left hand. He drew a small, orange circle in the air and pulled a pair of glasses with extra magnifiers out of a desk on the other side, probably a few thousand miles away. He set the glasses on his nose then pulled on some rubber gloves and picked up Loki's hand, studying the burn intently. He looked up at his patient. "If you do something to heal yourself, what's the very most you can potentially reclaim?"

Loki cocked his head to one side, and his eyes narrowed. A thin green line slashed diagonally across the bottom of his wrist.

Strange's eyebrows shot up. "That much?" Lokik shrugged. Carefully, Dr. Strange dipped some gauze into the water and started to wash the burn. "Stop me if this hurts too much," he said.

Loki snorted. "I don't feel anything below the elbow."

"Hmm. Is it alright if Thor does the other side?" Loki nodded, though his eyebrows quirked at his brother. Strange grinned. "I'll be sure to keep him on track." Another snort.

Slowly, the loose char flaked off, leaving Loki's arms looking even worse than before, blackened bone exposed halfway up the forearm and weeping red muscle with tattered red skin up over the elbow. Loki was biting his lip to hold back his screams by the time they finished, but he was able to relax again as Dr. Strange wrapped both arms in wet gauze to the wrist. There was nothing to do about the hands, unfortunately, except chip off the cracked, dead bone to make a clean and firm surface to secure the ends of the bandages.

The three ate and drank a little and rested another hour afterwards, Thor and Strange commandeering a couple empty medical beds, before Prince T'Challa returned with the Black Panther himself.

Author's Note: Out of cheese error. Redo from Start.