A/N: Hello! I'm a terrible person and I'm SO SO SO SO SORRY!

Thank you all for not letting this story die.

I don't think anything could make up for that wait, but here's what I've got!

Enjoy.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

In the glorious days, till we lost our ways,
Hey, do you recall when the war was just a game?
Now the wind ventures to other plains,
Hey, when will I see you again if I go?

This train whistles and blows all sounds away,
Hey, how could we be close again?

- "Stabat Mater," Woodkid

That night, alone in their bed, she cried; deep, wracking sobs that hurt.

"Please," she whispered, over and over, "please, please, please…" but she barely knew what she was pleading for.

Her chest still ached with the memory of what Heimdall had done, and she had been so angry… but now she only felt exhaustion running through her veins.

And more than exhaustion – she was frightened. And she remembered the way that he had kissed her, the night before, desperately and urgently, because he knew that he would be leaving without her…

She cried herself to sleep, curled up in a ball, alone, in the center of their bed.

Loki sat in his tent, gazing at a battle map, but his thoughts were far away, and he rubbed his hand absentmindedly until it was raw and red.

Deep down inside of him a small voice was repeating Thor's arguments, over and over, and despite his efforts to quell it the voice continued.

He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. What was done was done. She is safe, he told himself over and over again.

She is not safe on Asgard… the voice replied. She is alone.

"Your Majesty?" a voice asked, startling him out of his contemplation. "New maps from the vanguard."

He inclined his head, taking it. "Thank you."

The Einherjar bowed and left; Loki placed the newest map in front of him and sighed deeply – he would get little sleep that night, he knew…

His heart ached at the thought of her, alone in the dark, in their bed – when he returned to her would she weep? Would she scream at him in anger? Or would she tremble and turn away from him, silent as the grave? It was the last that he feared the most – he could handle her tears, her rage, for he knew he deserved them, but the thought of her silence sent shivers down his spine.

She is safe, he reassured himself. She is safe and that is all that matters.

Are either of you ever safe? the little voice responded. And is she really safer far, far away from you?

She awoke before dawn, and simply lay still, curled between the sheets, the charms of her necklace tight in her fist, pressed to her lips.

There had to be something she could do, some way to get to Alfheim, some way to slip past Heimdall and – her chest ached again – his power.

She shifted slightly, rubbing the charms between her fingers.

And that made her remember Kvasir, and with a sigh she sat up.

He had given her so much, helped her grow in so many ways – and yet now she was helpless, foiled, all because there was only one damn way to get off of Asgard –

Her mouth opened slightly – how could she have been so foolish? Hadn't Loki himself taken them to Vanaheim, to Kvasir, by another route?

But how to find the paths? They were concealed, she knew – and she had no desire to throw herself off every cliff in Asgard to find them.

She paced across the floor of the chamber, thinking.

There was no one who knew the paths, save for Loki – and Kvasir, who had taught him. And she had no doubt that she could find their locations in Loki's mind, even without him knowing – but he was so far away, and she didn't think she was strong enough to reach across the realms and still conceal her presence from him.

She pulled a robe from a hook by the bed and pulled it on, and wandered – around the palace, dimly lit and silent as a grave.

There were still soldiers guarding the corridors, but they were sparser than she had ever seen, and she passed by them like a ghost, barely noticing the flares of attention, of confusion and worry, that erupted in their minds as she drew near.

She wound her way up a spiral staircase, higher, higher, until she emerged on a balcony near the very top of the palace.

From this height, everything looked so small – houses, darkened as their inhabitants slept, street lights mere specks of yellow. Even the Bifrost seemed tiny, only a thin strip of rainbow leading out to a small golden dome in the middle of the sea.

She climbed up onto the railing of the balcony, holding onto a pillar for support.

With so much emptiness stretching out below her, she felt far, far away from everything, from everyone – the silence was complete but her heart was not peaceful in the slightest.

He had left her here. Alone.

And who knew what was happening to him now? Had the battle begun? Was he safe? Had he fallen?

She gazed towards Heimdall's post as if a beam of light would suddenly emerge and bring them back.

Nothing happened, and the city stayed dark and quiet.

There had to be an opening around here, somewhere, somewhere –

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, and stretched out her hand.

There was a feeling to Asgard that she had noticed long ago – a sort of difference to the air, the way it touched her skin – barely perceptible, but as she closed her eyes she reached for that difference, and grasped it.

It was not like touching a person's mind, for there was no mind to touch – but all the same she could feel it: the air currents, blowing hot and cold, swirling up into the sky; the gentle touch of the waves upon the grains of the sand on the shore; the mountains, growing every so slowly; the earth, pressed down and free, shifting and moving as particles swirled through the air –

And in the mountains she felt something – a change in the air, a smell of sulfur – and she brushed it, probing through.

It was a portal to another world – her mind slipped through the crack in space and she tasted ash, and felt her skin prickle as the clouds rumbled with thunder.

Nothing lived here, nothing green or growing – this was not Alfheim, but some twisted world of death and destruction.

She began to pull away when she stopped.

There was a memory here – ruined though it was, the earth remembered, and the air did too.

"Show me," she whispered, and the earth swirled under her command and took shape – a ship, tall and dark and looming, and three figures on a hill, and many more waiting below.

One of the figures on the hill extended his hands to the other, who seemed to release chains from his wrists – but then the first figure stabbed the other in the gut, and kicked him off the hill.

Her heart clenched as he strode down, for she knew the way he walked, even made of earth with faceless form, she knew him.

And Thor – for it was Thor, reached for Mjolnir in agony, and with one sharp motion from Loki his hand disappeared.

She saw Loki seize the other figure – was that Jane? – and present her to the men.

And then Jane was lifted into the air, a dark substance pulled from her and Loki gestured and suddenly Thor was fighting again, and then an explosion – the ship pulled away and the earth was shifting quickly now, and Thor and Loki were fighting, and Thor was losing, beaten by a hulking creature – until a blade protruded from his chest and Loki was there, the monster pulling him to his chest in a twisted embrace – she inhaled sharply, hand flinging out towards him as he was impaled, fell to the ground, the monster sucked into nothingness – and Thor cradled him in his arms and Loki grew still.

She knew that Loki was alive, that Thor had been fooled by his illusions – but to see him cease to move, to breathe, was horror, pure adrenaline in her veins, and she shrank back, her mind flying away from that dark world, from the ash, from the pain of seeing Loki lying dead on a battlefield, far, far away from her.

She snapped back into her body with a gasp, trembling, and she stepped off the guardrail and sank to the floor, hugging her knees against her chest.

She had to get to Alfheim.

A hand touched his shoulder in the middle of the night – he rolled over, towards Alana, and asked blearily, "What's wrong?"

"Your Majesty," the deep voice replied, "the battle has begun."

His eyes snapped open to find a bearded Einherjar standing over him; he scrambled to sit up, shaking away the fitful dreams he had had of laying next to her – "Take me there," he said, and in a flash of green light his armor appeared, and helmed and plated he strode from his tent to his horse.

The air became thick with smoke as they rode towards the front lines of the battle, and the noise increased until the air was wrought with screams and battle cries and the sounds of horses dying.

A mighty surge of lightning rushed down to the ground nearby – Thor, as ready to fight as ever, taking down swathes of Thanos's soldiers – N'itouri, Chitauri, and so many more – and Loki drew his sword and Gungnir, and charged.

The field was slick with blood and mud and bodies, and Gungnir sang as it was meant to, powerful blasts turning his enemies to ash as his sword flashed in his other hand, cutting down soldiers from atop his horse.

"Nice of you to finally show up," Thor yelled, throwing Mjolnir away into the crowd, where it whirled and spun through bodies before returning to his hand.

"You certainly needed the help," Loki retorted and blasted six Chitauri into nothingness.

Thor scoffed and swung Mjolnir, hurtling off into the sky, and leaving Loki with his Einherjar, his soldiers.

"TO ME, EINHERJAR!" he roared and with a mighty shout they charged with him, helmets flashing and swords alight.

They were a crashing wave of destruction as they thundered over the plains, N'itouri and Chitauri falling before them.

Gungnir flashed in his hand – gods, he had missed this bloodlust in his veins, this raw ferocity – and with every incinerated foe that fell he knew that he had made the right choice.

War would ruin Alana.

Alana stretched herself to her limits, every day, trying to find a passageway to Alfheim.

She had thought that the Apple was done with its work, but she was sorely mistaken – the harder she pushed herself the more her body resisted, leaving her with fevers that felt like she had been dipped in liquid flame.

But she couldn't give up, she wouldn't – Loki was fighting for his life right now, how could she not fight to stand by his side?

Not for the first time, she bitterly thought of the promise that Loki had made… I swear to cast aside all selfish ambition and pledge myself to the good of the realm – could he not even keep his oath? She had no doubt that they needed her – it had been weeks, after all, and there was no sign of them returning.

Lost in thought, she pored through stacks of ancient books, hoping against hope to find something – anything – that could help her.

They had taken over a major city that week and the soldiers were giddy with excitement. Though many Einherjar had fallen, they had taken down nearly as many of their enemies with them, and he knew – he knew – that they could win Alfheim back.

There was a lull in the fighting now that they had a stronghold, now that they could repel their attackers from afar.

He was full of a desperate hope that this fight would be over soon, that he could go back to Asgard, that he could see her again soon.

The Einherjar had been writing letters to their friends and families still back home, desperate to console and reassure. He wished that he could write to her, but what could he say?

I swear to you that I will return soon -

I miss you, I love you -

I can't imagine how you must hate me, but know that I did it for you -

They all fell flat. And what words would she have for him in return?

He could not say.

There was a knock on her door.

"Come in," she said, with no emotion in her voice, and a messenger entered and bowed.

"Your Majesty, word from the war," he said smartly, handed her a letter, bowed once more, and left.

She was incensed. How dare he write her a letter like nothing was wrong, like she was some maiden hanging out the window awaiting his return?

She flipped the envelope over and paused – this was not Loki's slender handwriting, but Thor's bold script, reading Sigyn.

She opened the envelope and pulled out the letter.

Sigyn, Thor wrote, I am so sorry for what has happened. I have tried to change his mind on many occasions, but he is stubborn… The war goes on, but we have made headway and are closer than we have been to regaining Alfheim.

I desperately wish that I could find a way to bring you here, but since Bifrost has been shut, I can think of no other way.

Know that Loki, misguided as he is, believes in his heart that he is protecting you, and that he is desperate to see you again soon.

Your brother,

Thor

There were furious tears welling in her eyes by the time that she had finished reading his letter. Loki was desperate to see her? He, who had left her here, alone, while he put himself in danger every day, thought that he was protecting her?

She threw the letter onto her desk and wiped at her eyes angrily.

She twisted her gauntlets and her armor flowed around her.

If she didn't punch something and soon, she was going to explode.

His nightmares were back in full force.

The terrors of war did not escape him while he slept – he saw his men fall, screaming in pain, he felt himself wounded again and again – but he also dreamed of Thor broken and bloody, and – worst of all, of Alana being taken in the night.

And he awoke alone, each morning, shaking and sweating, reaching desperately to hold her close to him – but she was not there.

He stared at himself in the mirror and noticed how he had changed in the past month. He was pushing himself harder than ever, and not solely in his magic. Weeks of brutal combat had stripped his lean muscle and replaced it with those of a hardened warrior, with new scars and bruises marked across him.

He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair – he could almost feel Alana's tender hands pressed against that damn wound on his ribs that was stubbornly refusing to heal, weaving him back together – gods, he missed her so much it was like a hundred N'itouri blades in his heart –

Almost before he knew it his fingers had twisted and in a flash of green light she appeared before him.

She raised her eyes to meet his and said softly, "Hello, Loki."

There was an involuntary sort of gasp torn from his chest as she spoke to him – gods, what he would give to hear her say that again –

She smiled at him and drew near, saying those words that he longed most to hear. "I forgive you," she whispered to him, stepping nearer, her face inches from his, and his eyes drank in her form, the way her hair fell across her shoulders, the way her eyes were softly reassuring.

He made to touch her cheek, to hold her - but the illusion disappeared the moment his fingers grazed it, her form dissipating into the air, and the ache in his heart was worse than ever.

She is safer on Asgard, he told himself, but his resolve was weaker than it had ever been.

He was not content to remain in her dreams now.

No, he was creeping into her waking hours, his form leaning up against the wall in her chambers, or perched on her desk flipping through a book.

"You're not real," she told him firmly. "He's gone."

He merely nodded. "Of course, love, why would he stay?"

"He left me," she bit out, "and now I'm hallucinating him because I can't – I can't – "

"Oh, darling, of course you can cope, you've done it for far worse. It's only the stress, and the Apple," he said, shaking his head.

"It's different this time!" she shouted. "He left me here and he might get himself killed because of it!"

"He can look after himself," the not-Loki said casually. "Trust me, I know – he doesn't need you."

"Yes, you do!" she screamed, furious. "How far will your healing magic go if you have a sword put through your back?"

"Oh, darling, I thought you knew I wasn't real," not-Loki said with a glimmer in his eyes. "You clearly want to take it out on him, which is why I'm here, obviously."

He shrugged slightly and smirked. "I'm a coping mechanism."

"You're a really terrible one," she muttered.

He laughed. "Probably. Now, darling…"

"Don't," she whispered, "not tonight, don't – "

But he approached her anyway, as he did every night, and pressed his lips to her forehead – she punched him in the stomach but, of course, there was nothing there – "Go to sleep, love, get some rest."

"I'm not tired," she bit out.

"I feel like you're doing that just to spite me," he said – and he was gone.

She couldn't help the tears from streaming down her cheeks.

Thor strode down the hallway of the stronghold, a murderous look on his face and two letters clenched tightly in his fist.

Einherjar scrambled out of his way as he passed, but he barely noticed them.

He was going to murder Loki.

He pounded on the door to his chambers, once, twice.

A voice said, "Come in," and he entered and slammed the door shut so hard it rattled on his hinges.

Loki looked up at him serenely from the maps and notes littered over his desk. "Careful, brother, we're only loaning the place."

"Word from Asgard," he said bluntly, and took a small pleasure in watching Loki stand abruptly, his face pale.

"Has something happened?" he asked urgently. "Is Alana – "

"I wouldn't say she's fine," Thor said, "seeing as how she's been barely eating or sleeping for weeks."

Loki sat back down heavily and sighed. "As long as she's safe, Thor – "

"You'll do what, let her completely fade away? She goes to try and bargain with Heimdall practically every day, the few healers left on Asgard are worried sick about her – for gods' sakes, Loki, say something!" he burst out. "She's your wife and you've abandoned her to die – "

Loki looked up at him with fury in his eyes. "I did not abandon her, Thor, and she will not die."

"You lied to her and left her on Asgard with no way to reach you, brother, and she is suffering because of it!"

"But she is STILL ALIVE!" Loki roared. "She might have been killed ten times over if she had been here!"

"And she might have lived!" Thor shouted back. "She might have lived and helped others to live too - "

"Thor, I've told you, I'm not changing my mind – "

"Then read these," he said roughly and slammed the letters on his desk. "See what you've done."

He crossed his arms as Loki picked up the first one.

"From Freyr," he said softly as he read.

Thor nodded. "I believe the words he used were "a shadow of her former self"."

Loki sighed and passed a hand over his eyes. "It won't be for much longer, Thor – we've almost won – "

"You keep making up excuses, brother, excuses and lies for yourself. Read the next."

Loki picked up the second and his eyebrows furrowed. "From her maid? I'm surprised it got to you – "

"It's a good thing that it did, too. And it's not addressed to me – it's for you."

There was a pause, and he said, "Read it, Loki."

The contents did not mince words.

Your Majesty, I know that it is not my place to write to you, but I thought you must know of Queen Sigyn's condition…

She will barely eat or sleep, and alternates between rage and tears and worst of all, the hopelessness.

She is terrified beyond belief that you will be killed and that she could not be there to save you.

She talks to the air, sometimes… I think she sees you, Your Majesty.

Loki's jaw clenched as he read further, and he whispered softly, " 'The Apple still pains her, but you pain her more…' This is no letter, this is an indictment…" He closed his eyes and shook his head.

Thor said, "But it is true nonetheless. What would you do if it were anyone else causing her this amount of pain?"

Loki sighed deeply and opened his eyes. "You know, why bother to ask, brother?"

"Because you must see reason, Loki."

"Thor, we're so close to winning – a week more, maybe – and when we go back I swear I will make this right – "

Thor chuckled grimly. "You will have a long way to go to make it right."

There was a knock at the door, Loki said impatiently, "Come in," and an Einherjar entered.

"Your Majesty," he said, bowing, "there are reports from the gates… er, it seems that – well, that the Queen has arrived."

Thor turned in shock, and Loki shot out of his seat. "What? Are you sure?"

The Einherjar nodded. "She's demanding to be taken to you now, but we weren't sure if it was perhaps a N'itouri in disguise – "

"Let her in at once," he said. "If it is a N'itouri I will handle it."

"Could you?" the Einherjar asked, a smirk on his face, and lunged at him.

He ducked instinctively, one hand throwing up a shield of green magic, the other conjuring his dagger as Thor roared and grappled with the N'itouri – which flipped him over its head and threw him across the room, through the wall.

It circled him, now in its full looming form, those yellow eyes flickering.

"This is where we are strong," it hissed. "You have become weak, hiding in your towers – and the Master thought you might benefit from a little change."

Loki lunged for the N'itouri and grazed it with his dagger, and they were hand-to-hand, now, the N'itouri raining down blows on his arms and torso – and suddenly Thor was there with Mjolnir and he swung his hammer through the creature's skull.

Loki coughed and wiped N'itouri brains off of his face. "He wasn't very smart, was he, taking on the both of us at once."

Thor's face was grim. "They've infiltrated the stronghold – we have to sound the alarm immediately, they're probably posing as Einherjar – "

"No," Loki said. "If we sound the alarm the N'itouri will know that we've found them out – they may strike at the Einherjar – "

"What else can we do? We can't let them roam around the palace – "

"You know who you can trust, Thor. Round up your vanguard, verify their identities, then go on the hunt. I'll join you later."

Thor furrowed his brow. "What will you do in the meantime?"

Loki's knives appeared in a flash of green. "Take care of them my way."

His way did not count for much when five out of every seven Einherjar he passed were in disguise.

The Einherjar were reluctant to slaughter those in the same uniform as them, but Loki led a little band through the halls anyway, and when he felt a brush of a N'itouri mind he led them towards it.

He was bleeding, now, from a shallow gash on his shoulder and one on his thigh, but the adrenaline rushing through his veins masked the pain… for now.

Thor and Loki stood together, outside the stronghold.

They had been overwhelmed. The N'itouri's infiltration had resulted in the deaths of hundreds of Einherjar, and they'd been forced to evacuate with their remaining troops.

Thankfully, those camped outside had suffered minimal losses, but nonetheless Loki ordered a retreat to a few miles away, to give the healers time to help the wounded, and time for them all to regroup.

"We can't win this, Loki," Thor said bluntly. "We lost too many men today, we're practically back to where we began, and Thanos has more forces than we do – we cannot continue to bear these kinds of losses."

Loki pushed his hand through his hair, sinking into his chair. "I know. But we cannot leave – we must win Alfheim back. It is the key to our strategy - "

"Brother," Thor cut in. "We need Alana."

Loki slumped, passing a hand over his eyes.

"You know we do, Loki, you can't keep her away any longer. If she had been here today we could have spotted the N'itouri that much quicker - we need her if we are to stand any chance of winning now – the healers are spread thin, the Einherjar losing morale, and – "

"I know," Loki said, softly. "I know, Thor."

He sighed. "I knew from the beginning that it was wrong, but I could not stand to – I was too afraid for her to think of what the consequences would be."

He lifted his eyes to Thor's. "But I am… afraid to face her, somehow. How can – how can I go to her and ask her to forgive me when – it's been months, Thor, she probably despises me – "

"Swallow your pride, brother," Thor said grimly. "Our men are dying."

Loki sighed. "I will bring her back, I swear it."

"Make haste, then," Thor said, stepping aside.

Loki turned in incredulity. "You would have me leave now? It's the middle of the night."

"Then you'd better be back by morning," Thor said, handing him his helm. "Both of you."

She dreamt of him in the night, of him taking her into his arms and kissing her fiercely, and she was sobbing – she couldn't remember why she was crying, why she was so relieved.

And he whispered to her as he pressed his lips against her body, and she curled her fingers into his hair with a sigh of relief –

He was hers, and nothing was wrong as they moved together.

"Alana…" he murmured in her ear, and she whispered his name.

Then again, "Alana," he said louder, and she opened her eyes and blood was spilling from his lips, his skin turning gray-blue –

She screamed as he collapsed next to her and pressed her fingers to his chest, but she couldn't heal him, she couldn't do anything –

"You didn't save me," he choked, his eyes full of betrayal, and disappeared into mist.

She shot awake, panting, and swiped angrily at her eyes.

She heard a small sigh from the corner of the room.

"Oh, darling," he whispered. "More bad dreams?"

"Will you shut up and leave?" she bit out. "I can't – not now – "

He sat on the side of her bed – she refused to meet his eyes.

"He's not coming back, love. It's just you and me."

"He is going to come back," she said fervently. "And when he does I'm gonna – "

"What?" said Hallucination-Loki with a smirk. "Kiss him? Hold him in the night?"

She blushed angrily. "Of course not – "

"I'm you, you know, I know what you dream about."

She buried her head in her hands. "Please just go away," she whispered, her voice small.

Not-Loki smiled and kissed her on the forehead – she flinched away from nothingness – and vanished in a flash of green.

She was so exhausted, but she didn't want to sleep…

She lay down anyway, and folded her hands together like she did in bed as a child…

Please, please, please, if anyone's listening, just let me sleep…

The Bifrost took him and whirled him away, back to Asgard, back to Heimdall, who inclined his head to him.

"So you have returned for her after all."

He nodded, for what else was there to say?

Heimdall said, "The day you left she came here in a fury, and… she almost overpowered me. Had it not been for the Stone," he said, tapping his chest once, "she would have."

"And how has she been… since then?" he asked, almost afraid of what the answer might be.

"She has not taken it well," Heimdall answered, his eyes soft. "For weeks she tried to find another passage to Alfheim, but the strain of finding her way between planets has left her weary, and she has all but given up."

Loki sighed. "I only wanted her to be safe," he said, softly. "I never meant – "

"To hurt her," Heimdall finished. "But you have."

There was a silence, and Loki bowed his head. "Where can I find her?"

"She sleeps," Heimdall replied. "For now."

His heart heavy, he rode his horse down the rainbow bridge, towards the palace, gleaming faintly in the starlight.

His steps were light as he climbed the stairs, and he pushed open the door to their chambers silently, and stepped inside.

It was dark but for the moonlight cutting across the room, onto their bed, and his heart ached as he saw her for the first time in months.

She was asleep, curled in on herself, her skin pale against the dark sheets, and he stood still, for a moment, watching her breathe.

He touched her shoulder, gently.

"Alana," he whispered. "Wake up, love."

Her eyes fluttered open, fixing on his, and then closed again.

She rolled over, her back to him. "Go away," she whispered, "you're not real."

He sat down on the bed beside her, his hand on her shoulder. "It's me, love, truly. I'm here."

She curled in on herself even tighter. "Stop it," she whispered, "just leave me alone…"

"Alana," he said, a vice clamped around his heart, "I'm here. I'm real." He pressed his lips to her shoulder. "I'm here," he whispered again. "I'm sorry."

She inhaled shakily, and sat up, slowly, and turned to him, tear tracks streaking down her cheeks.

"It's really you," she whispered, her eyes wide with shock.

"Oh, darling," he whispered and cupped her face in his hands, stroking away the tears. "I'm so, so sorry, I was foolish and blind, and – I was scared, Alana, I was so frightened that I would lose you that I abandoned you alone – and – " He bowed his head. "Please, please forgive me, darling, I'm – I'm so sorry."

She pulled away from him, slightly. "Why are you here?" she said, her voice trembling.

"Because I was a fool, Alana, I was so wrong, and… my soldiers have paid the price."

She said nothing, but her eyes were fixed on his, and her face had turned to a mask.

"They need you," he said. "I need you, I needed you from the very first day on Alfheim, but I was too stubborn to admit that I was wrong, that – " he inhaled, "that it was wrong of me to leave you behind, to try to protect you, to selfishly think of myself when – when there were others who needed you more."

There was a silence, and then she spoke, and her voice was flat. "And if I do not come?"

He sighed. "Then… we are doomed."

"Then I will come," she said, quietly. "Not for you. For them."

She slipped out from under the sheets and walked away from him, dressing in her armor, pulling daggers to secure at her hips.

He stood and watched her, sadness in his veins, and remembered what Thor had said to him that first night on Alfheim. "You will regret this, Loki, whether during the battle or after – and the later you go back for her the worse it will become."

You were right, brother, he thought. In trying to save her I have lost her all the more.

Alana strode past him, her eyes fixed in front of her. "Let's go," she said.

With a heavy heart he rode next to her down the rainbow bridge, to Heimdall, to Alfheim – and she would not speak to him, only gaze straight ahead.

"Loki," he heard Thor's voice whisper from the past, "you are losing her…"