A/N: PLEASE READ! Okay, so now to explain what's going on with timelines and everything:

Loki's 'past life' is the one we are familiar with in the MCU, however a more traditional Ragnarok occurred. Something went wrong with the cycle, and so Loki remembers the events of his past. No one else remembers. This is technically a time-travel AU, kind of. I'll pop these at the beginning or end of chapters where I feel more explanation is required.

I'm trying to go for a healthy balance between angst and humour, because while Loki surely is an angsty kind of bloke, I also don't want to diminish the fact that he is and always will be the God of Mischief.

Cheers lads.

It is frustrating, he finds, being completely incapable of taking care of himself. Loki has long prided himself on his independence, on his ability to survive on his own no matter what; learning to fend for himself is something he learnt long ago. This? This is demeaning, this is embarrassing, this is just plain awkward.

Odin changes his nappy.

Loki finds he rather preferred the feel of Heimdall's sword slicing through him, and then he remembers that he doesn't especially want to think too heavily on the Very Wrong Thing that just happened to him, so he instead shoves his chubby foot in Odin's remaining eye.

The All-Father jerks back and blinks rapidly at the intrusion, bringing a hand to gently hold Loki's small feet down as he secures the cloth around him. Hmph. Loki would've thought that with another son already, Odin might be more well-practiced at this but then he remembers Frigga (with an awful stab of regret, he thinks of his mother's golden hair and soft smile, and he thinks that the Norns are either crueller than demons or just complete blithering idiots for doing this to him) and decides that obviously Odin would have as little to do with the messy side of child-rearing as possible.

Loki grins, hoping for something obnoxious and sharklike. When Odin's face crinkles with a small smile, he realises that perhaps it's less unsettling and more adorable.

"You will be a handful, I see."

I will be several handfuls, Loki vows, and as his stomach cramps with hunger he finds himself crying once more.

The light of the Bifrost is resplendent, as always. Despite being cradled so close to Odin's chest, rainbow fractals still dance before his eyes, flash behind his eyelids. The journey from Jotunheim is not a long one; they are soon within the golden observatory.

Loki recalls Surtur crushing it with one great stomp that sent a wave through the city, a wave that flooded the streets up to the palace and allowed the Great Serpent access to Asgard.

"The war is over. Jotunheim has surrendered, and King Laufey has recalled his troops from Midgard. Send word throughout the realms that we will finally have peace," says Odin, and Loki hears the clanking of armour as whatever foot soldier it was goes to run to the city.

"Heimdall, how fares Midgard?"

Loki can't help the restless shifting of his tiny form as he catches a brief glimpse of golden armour when Odin adjusts his hold on his tiny body.

"As you say, my King, the Jotnar retreat from the realm even now. Midgard will once more be home to none but the mortals on the morrow."

It sends a thrill of helpless fear through him, the sound of the Gatekeeper's voice. Loki lets out a rather pathetic sounding whimper. Odin smoothes a thumb over his head; he wishes it wasn't as relaxing as it was.

They leave the observatory, the hooves of Odin's horse rhythmically clopping against the Rainbow Bridge. Despite how jarring the motion is, the steady hold around him and the sound of the sea below lulls Loki to sleep.

Being an infant again really is quite inconvenient.

When he wakes, it is to a golden ceiling and warm light, to the scent of a wood fire and floral perfume. He sees Frigga, and he is so overcome for a moment that he lets out a high wail and then bursts into bubbling giggles.

The All-Mother looks delighted beyond words as she leans over his crib to coo at him, to tuck his blanket tighter around himself, to pick him up in gentle arms and hold him close. Loki wants to weep, and yet in this embrace he thinks that perhaps he will never find the need to weep ever again.

"Mother, what is that?"

Loki squirms in Frigga's arms, twisting just enough to see blonde hair and the face of a cherub. Thor is not much older than he — barely out of toddlerhood himself — but he eyes Loki with confusion and a surprising amount of suspicion.

"Thor, come closer and meet your brother. His name is Loki," says Frigga, voice quiet and gentle as she holds Loki on her lap with one arm, and beckons Thor over with the other.

"A brother?" comes the response, and the small clumsy patter of feet. Thor climbs into the armchair, wedged between the arm and Frigga, and leans over to stare at Loki. "He's so very ugly, mother."

Well then. Rude.

"But also very…soft looking. He's cute too, I think. And he's my brother? My own brother?" Thor asks, turning to stare at Frigga.

She smiles, smoothes a hand over Loki's head, runs fingers through Thor's hair. "Yes. He is your brother, should you choose to accept the most noble task of being his guide and protector, my prince."

Thor makes an attempt to straighten himself, but it clearly isn't easy when one is fitted precariously between a cushioned arm and his mother's lap. With all the solemn gravitas of a four year old, he declares, "I will protect him, my queen."

Frigga laughs softly. "Well then, Prince Thor, may your fates be ever entwined. Our little Prince Loki here is most fortunate indeed to have such a noble brother watching over him." And she ruffles his hair, making Thor giggle and duck his head to lean on her shoulder.

Two blue eyes turn to watch Loki, and Loki finds himself stunned utterly silent in the face of such love, such utter devotion.

Briefly he finds himself wondering what he could possibly have been thinking when he turned his back on this.