Part 3

Over the days and weeks they know each other, Hela's coming to pick up on a number of her brother's absurd habits. He will spend forever in the bathroom. Hela blames Frigga for his hair obsession. She rarely brushes her own.

He has a horse. He... is really close with his horse. He and Hela go out for a ride across Asgard, just to see their kingdom, as she and Odin once did. It feels like things are coming full circle now, changing somehow – she took Odin's son as her own, and she'll use that to tear him apart.

Loki hates feasts as much as she does.

He loves plays. He is obsessed with them. Hela is not appreciative of his writing skills.

And Loki hates space. He said something about the void when she asked, blurting an incoherent series of mumbles when Hela tried asking what upset him about the night sky. He fell into space is the only thing she gauges, and that it has something to do with Thor, which clearly does wonders to increase her opinion of her other brother.

He talks about Thor sometimes. He loves him, and Hela cannot fathom that.

Also, some of Loki's suggestions for recoloring are completely insane. She will not paint the ceiling of the throne room green and yellow, or stripe the pillars rainbow colored. They're pillars, not a bridge. He still hasn't let that one go.

Definitely the God of Mischief.

He continues having nightmares about Thanos, and Hela constantly has nightmares where she awakes back on Helheim and Loki is a dream. It's his absence that she fears more than anything, she is begrudgingly beginning to realize. Almost more than his betrayal.

He's scared of fire. Flinches at the sight of torches sometimes. Hela tried confronting him about that. He mumbled something incoherent about space and fled. Which she's adding to the list of reasons to murder the Titan for, naturally. Or should it be methods this time? Hm.

Fenris and Loki... like each other. Or at least, they have a truce. Fenris came over to him slowly when they came down to the stables, cautiously sniffing him out. Loki petted his nose, and ever since, they've slowly crept over to each other when no one watches. It's unnerving. Fenris hasn't licked him yet, though, or Hela would have to reconsider who his rider is.

Heimdall continues to be quiet, opening the bifrost to dispatch them to places once in a while when they ask. Loki has some sort of history with the Dwarves. They aren't happy to see him, nor he, them.

Sif and the Warrior's Three make themselves scarce. Hugan – the fourth of the bunch – has returned from wherever he was, and Hela could care less, but Loki tells her in worried, fleeting passing that their silence worries him.

Loki, also, does not mind paperwork. Or any of the stupid meetings which being queen allegedly means she has to attend. Hela decides she doesn't like any of Odin's council members. She's tempted to stab every single one. Her brother tells her with a smirk that he feels the same.

Also, she realizes, the reason her idiot brother was limping was not because he was still injured by the Dark Elves, Odin, or her. It was because he stabbed his foot open on glass, didn't bother getting it out, and though he could whine about it when his body healed them inside. Idiot – Hela has had that happen to her, too. She healed with a full dagger in her gut once, and Odin had to take her to the healers to pry it out.

They tried to keep her under with seidr. It didn't really work. That was... extremely unpleasant. Thankfully, Loki manages to get it out without too much complaint, just a lot of grumbles and winces.

Jotunheim and Midgard are the only two realms they have yet to visit. Loki tells her there's not much to see on Jotunheim, and Asgardian presence would likely result in the massacre of the remaining few people there. He has history there. Hela doesn't want to drag him back, either. Whether he was left to die there or not, it bears... heavy history for him.

Midgard is... the greatest concern. Hela has no desire to slaughter half of the mortals in Thanos's stead as she knows she would if they were to go there. The larger problem, Loki explains, is the Avengers. And Thor. Thor is on Midgard at present – Loki sent him off at some point when she was still cooped in their room. He had to get him out.

Conquering Midgard will lead to bloodshed, unlike their agreements with Vanaheim, Alfheim, and Nidavellir. They were... uncertain about Hela's rule, but none objected.

Hela's still uncertain what to do on Midgard. The mortals pose no threat. They're... mortals. Loki has past experience there, which works to her benefit, but she remains undecided.

And, of course, right before she has a chance to go there, the problem blows up right in her face.

**w**

Some days are passably good.

Some are neutral, some are plain bad, and some are something from beyond a nightmare of things that could have ever happened, like the day she held her mother's body and begged her to wake up but her eyes stayed dead and closed forever.

The Goddess of Death was born right there.

Hela's still mid-dressing and trying to brush her hair (Loki insisted. Her hair does not look like a messy horse tail, and she is going to prove him wrong forever) when one of the servants comes to the door, breathlessly telling her that they're under attack.

"It's Prince Thor," the maid says breathlessly, "He's in the throne room."

"And he got through all the Einherjar without being stopped?" Hela rolls her eyes, throwing her mostly combed hair out behind her and shouldering her cape. "Never mind. I will deal with him myself."

The maid looks scared as Hela passes, but she doesn't care.

Loki will be there. Loki said he was going there to wait for her arrival, after he finally finished getting ready following a long, fitful, nightmare-filled rest. If it can be called 'rest'.

Loki will be there, and Loki will be hurt if she doesn't hurry.

Hela skids into the throne room, taking several fancy shortcuts. This would be a good time to have Mjolnir. She doesn't have to shove the doors to the throne room open, because they've already been smashed fully through by some imbecile who thought it was to his comfort.

" – that all I am to you?" a deep voice is yelling.

Thor. Hela saw him in the paintings, and she recognizes her younger brother's long blond hair, horrendous gray armor, and even more appalling blood-red cape. Well, the color's good – at least it wouldn't stain from blood. He just makes it look ridiculous.

Hela would appreciate it more, if not for how he has Mjolnir in his hand and Loki's throat in his other, their brother's back pressed against the wall as Loki tries to pry the hand off. "Let go, Thor, let –" Her brother's voice is strangled, choked. And – he's crying.

Again.

She doesn't know what happened while she was gone. She also doesn't care. A wave of raw wild fury alights in her veins, and Hela doesn't call a warning. She hurls a spear at Thor. It caches him in the shoulder, flinging him to the ground, and Loki crashes to his knees, gasping, hands going to his throat. Their brother hit the floor somewhere in the middle of the room, and Hela ignores him altogether, running to Loki's side.

It's a strange, foreign feeling. To go to someone to check over, to have someone at her side that she needs to check over, to have someone whom she cares for enough to.

Loki collapses into her when she's close enough, in reaching distance, face buried on her chest, body shaking. Trembling.

(She thinks of Fenris, whining as he escaped Odin's chains, curling in her arms as though she were enough to protect him. As though she could protect anyone.)

"Are you hurt?" she asks. Is this what she's supposed to say? Hela hasn't clung to anyone in such a manner in so long she can hardly remember what it would be like. But the one thing she does know, doubtlessly, is that he's terrified of Thor. Why, she can't imagine, when he looks like so little a threat to her, but Hela isn't the one who loves him.

She would be happy if he died.

She wants to kill him herself, if only for what he did to Loki.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay."

Liar. He's still shaking and clinging to her cape like the fabric alone might save him.

A shuffling behind her has Hela straightening, arm wrapping around Loki and pressing him into her side, spinning and yanking a spear into her hand. Thor is standing, glowering, Mjolnir clutched in his hand, even if there's a blood spot on his armor form where she stabbed him a second ago.

"So, you're Thor?" Hela asks, cocking her head.

"Another trick of yours, brother?" Thor asks. He's allegedly the God of Thunder, and hearing one sentence from him, she sees why. He sounds like thunder. He carries it well. Or, it carries him.

Loki doesn't speak. He's still gripping a handhold of her cape, breathing hitching and unsteady. He shifts a little, making a move to stand, but he doesn't carry through.

"Who are you?" Thor demands, when their brother remains silent.

"I'm surprised it so far into the palace without one of your friends telling you of me," Hela snarks bitingly.

"If you were real, why did I never hear of you? And where is Odin? Did you kill him?" He's glowering, as though that may be something she could consider a challenge.

She laughs, incredulous. "You concern yourself with him over Loki? What brother are you?"

Thor's face darkens, eyes darting between them.

Loki is shifting behind her, slowly standing. He's still half behind Hela, and she's more than willing to keep him there. She wants to keep her idiot little brother behind her to keep any weapon points away from him. If she has to lug him back into their bedroom as he bleeds to death again, she will go insane.

"Well, truthfully, killing Odin would have been my pleasure, but Loki beat me to it. He will live out the rest of his days in a place where he no longer holds ties with any of us. Where we can finally be free of him forever."

Thor flings Mjolnir at her. Hela raises her hand, catching the hammer, digging her nails into it and wrapping her magic around it, crushing.

"That's – not – possible," Thor says, panicked, trying to pull the hammer away.

Hela's hand tightens with a burst of seidr, exploding the weapon into a thousand pieces of rock. It hits the floor, crackling with lightning. "Darling," Hela purrs, "You have no idea what's possible."

For a moment, they stand frozen, then both her brothers dive for Gugnir.

Loki reaches the throne first, spinning the weapon and aiming the end at Thor, even if his face is paler than it ought to be and his hands are shaky. "Don't," he orders, "I don't want to fight you, brother."

Thor pulls back, chest heaving, eyes wild with rage. "You would betray me again?"

Loki's hands waver. His green eyes are wet, though he doesn't tear his eyes from his brother. "No."

Thor stalks a step forwards, though Loki doesn't fire. "The last time you held that weapon, you let go even though I begged you not to. You tore our family apart. And now, you make me think you died, again, all because you wanted the throne?"

"This isn't about the throne!" Loki yells back furiously. His face is wet. Is he still crying? He's good at acting as though he isn't. It's unnerving.

"And here all you would say was it was your birthright," Hela interjects with a light laugh.

He looks towards her and shakes his head slightly. "Thor," he implores, "Don't. Hela is the rightful heir to the throne. She's the only one able."

"I've had enough of your tricks, Loki. Put it down, and I'll let you live."

Hela doesn't know if he's bluffing, or if this is reality but no one will ever threaten Loki again. She stalks forwards towards Thor, lifting him by his neck. He struggles against her, trying to pry her hand off, but his grip is wrong, and he clearly knows nothing about how to break chokeholds. Hela slams him into the wall, feeling a smug satisfaction when something cracks. She's not sure if that was him, or the drywall. "And I have had my fill of your chatter." She rips another spear, making to stab him, when a hand grabs her wrist.

She didn't see Loki move, and didn't expect it to see his still-pale face when she turned her head, but there he is, Gugnir still in his other hand.

He's stopping her.

He swore himself to her, too, and Hela's been given enough orders on who and who not to kill. From him, from Odin, from everyone. She's been waiting for this. Fearing this. Counting for it. "Is this you betraying me?" Hela asks. Inside, she's just cold.

"Please, let him go." Loki asks softly. He looks raw. Gutted.

Hela has had many people plead with her to spare someone's life. Back when she was Odin's weapon. She's never hesitated. It feels different, with Loki. To be looking at him. She never wanted him to look at her like this again. "You already swore your allegiance, brother."

"My oath was dependent on your refraining from slaughtering all of Asgard."

Hela jerks back, throwing Thor to the ground. She swings around, spear gripped tightly in her hand.

Loki exhales shakily, readjusting his grip on Gugnir. Is he truly planning to fight her? He looks as pale as a ghost and like he'd fall if she pushed him. Hela honestly doesn't know if she should be amused or just impressed. "I don't want to fight you. But I can't let you do this."

"Choose your next move carefully," Hela warns, slowly stalking around him in a circle. She doesn't want to fight him/ She couldn't kill him before, and she knows she would never be able to bring herself to do it now. There is a part of her, for however traitorous or childishly sentimental it is, that will never be able to let him go.

He's her brother.

He's also more than that.

He could have been – is, a little bit – her child, too.

Except that she never got to raise him.

(She should have.)

Loki slowly circles so he's in front of Thor, no matter how her brothers were trying to slaughter each other minutes ago. It's a stand-off, and Hela hates stand-offs. They're too slow. She can't handle slow. Never got to have that as Odin's executioner.

Hela moves first, swinging her spear at him. It clangs against Gugnir, and he swings it back. She ducks, spinning around and summoning another spear. The force of it sends him stumbling, and she reaches up with her other hand to rip the weapon away. It clatters across the floor, clanging. He ducks into a roll, mid-rising as her blade levels at his neck.

Loki freezes, hands raised, unmoving. "Fine," he says flippantly, "Kill us both." In that moment, with how tired and drained he looks, Hela doesn't even think he would fight.

Hela has never in her life stayed her hand at killing anyone. Because she couldn't hold back. She was Odin's weapon. But Odin is gone and Hela's finally free. She gets to make her own choices. She's not his any longer.

She can choose her own path.

And if she doesn't want to kill Loki, she doesn't have to.

Loki had the throne. He could have done the same. He could have outed her, turned her people on her, called Thor – even if she'd have killed them both – but he still chose to turn the throne over and grant her queenship when... he could have had the chance to be free for the first time in his own life, too. He was going to be, until Hela ruined that for him, the same way Odin once did her.

The same way he caged her like an animal for wanting freedom. For being the very thing he made her to be.

She is not Loki's mother, but she sure can be a better sister than Odin was dad.

"Of all my years as executioner," Hela offers amiably, "I have never met anyone who so blatantly flirted death."

"It was my birthright."

"Did Odin tell you that?" Hela can't hide her incredulity. She knows he treated Loki badly, but this tops the list.

"Among others."

Add it to the list of people she will bring her wrath on. Hela looks down, flicking the spear out of existence.

Loki exhales, almost relieved, but his tension still hasn't drained. Does he trust her that little? Still? Although, she will begrudgingly admit, Hela has not done much to earn his trust.

She looks at Loki, and then all three of them dive for Gugnir at once. Thor reaches it first, and Loki is a second after. He tackles Thor like the idiot he is, trying to wrestle the weapon away. Thor rolls over, kneeling him in the gut and Loki falls sideways with a grunt.

Hela tackles him after, because at this point, why not? Both of her brothers are idiots. Thor flips her over, sprawling across her to grab the weapon. Hela grunts, shoving at him. At this angle, she could swear he's way heavier than he ought to be. She can't move. "Get off my leg!" she yells.

Thor grunts when she punches him in the side, grabbing the weapon and trying to roll away. Hela grabs a handful of his hair and yanks. From the volume of his shriek, she would have thought he was being murdered.

Loki's snort is cut off by a wheeze – she's pretty sure Thor ended up mostly on top of him. Oops.

Thor's fist slams into her gut hard enough to knock her breath out.

Loki scrambles over her, diving for Thor again before he can try to blast Hela through the floor with the spear. "Is it too much to ask," he grunts, knee slamming ungracefully into Thor's chest. "That the already shattered remnants of my family stop trying to kill each other? My mother is dead. How much more would insist on taking from me?"

Thor's eyes are riveted on his brother's face, hands on Loki's arms. She's a little unclear if they're still fighting, or if this is meant as some kind of ridiculous truce.

Hela wriggles away from them both to peel herself off the floor.

"What did you do to Father?" Thor demands.

"Hand me Gugnir," Loki requests.

"Tell me what you did to him!" Thor yells, jerking upright. Loki nearly topples from where he had himself ridiculously balanced half atop his brother.

"Slaughtered him and threw his body into space," Hela snips, which is precisely what she wishes. "You missed the funeral. Pretending he even had one." She brushes her hair back with a touch of seidr, black crown rising, voice sharp and curt. "I offer you an ultimatum. Return to Midgard and never return, or die. Unless you would prefer to swear yourself to me."

"Brother," Loki tries softly, shifting back and crouching on the floor in front of him. "Odin lives, but you must think your next move carefully. I don't want to fight you. Either of you."

Thor shakes his head, shoving their brother off-balance and standing again.

Hela throws another spear at him, lodging into Thor's shoulder, though he twists away and rips the blade out. He rolls to his feet again, batting aside the spear she hurls his direction.

A blast of green magic hurls Hela into the wall, and Thor hits the one opposite her. "Stop!" Loki yells loudly enough that she grudgingly thinks for the first time, she actually listened. He slowly lowers his hands, panting and glaring. "Enough. Thor, for once in your life, think with something other than your fists. I know you grieve Mother, and I know I made you believe Father was dead. I'm sorry. I thought you were on Midgard and would hear nothing until... we could make Asgard into a better world."

Gugnir lies innocently in the center of the room. Good placement.

"No. This, this was about you." Thor steps forwards from the wall. "You made me believe you were dead. Again. And then I returned to Asgard to find Hela on the throne."

"Would you like the long story, filled with gory details? Or the short one?" Loki asks.

"Short," Thor orders, "How could you do this to me again?"

Hela's brows rise. Since when was any of this about Thor? "Loki disposed of Odin. Quite impressive, I might add. Must've grown weak in his old age." She shrugs. "Might as well. Asgard will be reborn in my image. As for Odin, if he will live the rest of his days without posing a threat to my kingdom, I will let him in peace. Which, I must add, is better than he did for either Loki or I. But he gave me my best weapon. My sorcerer. My brother."

Loki's emerald eyes jump to hers, and a series of fluxing emotions flicker in them.

"Is that what he is to you?" Thor asks, rounding on her. "A weapon?"

Hela laughs. She honestly doesn't know if she's more amused or angry on Loki's behalf. "When has he been more to you?"

Thor takes a few angry steps forward. "Loki is my brother."

"Oh, is he? When have you treated him as such? When you let Odin lock him away in the dungeons? It may have been every day while you visited him. Perhaps when you strangled him two minutes ago?"

"It was Loki's own actions that lead to his imprisonment," Thor scowls.

"My actions?" Loki laughs. He's bitter. Furious. A familiar level of furiousness, too, because Hela harbors same every time she thinks of Odin. "Yes. Certainly. Quite clearly, it was purely my actions." He's shaking. Hela doesn't think that has anything to do with Thor.

"You came to Midgard with an army, threating war and tried to claim the world by force. And would have handed the Tesseract off to the Chitauri, knowing they could have taken it anywhere to cause even more damage. You know that is what those creatures do."

The Tesseract. It was for Thanos.

Thanos tortured him. He forced Loki to work for him. And Odin imprisoned him for this? Even the word, the names are enough to set him off. Hela has dodged the topic of Thanos mostly because she knows her brother is far from ready to see him. He panics every time it comes up. Hela has seen that, the fear, the shaking, the paleness and how he flinches away every time he sees the night sky, how his breathing spikes whenever a door locks, how jittery he is in dark rooms.

Their own is different, probably solely because of its familiarity.

And then Odin had thrown him into the dungeons. Because just like her, Loki's ambitions outgrew the All-Father's. He and his cursed need to help.

"Loki," Hela asks, irked, "May I stab him? I tire of his chatter."

"I think you should get something bigger than a sword."

"Killing me will not change what you did to Midgard."

Loki's fingers twitch. His lips part, jaw working like he's trying to find words, but they evade him. "It wasn't me!" he yells finally, whipping out a dagger and flinging it at the wall not so far from his brother's head. It lodges hilt deep, and Loki wheels around. He does well at making it look like a storm-out. He's fleeing.

Running. From whatever memories are tearing him apart. From Thor. Who let Odin imprison his brother for crimes that weren't his own, as though Odin in his younger years had not done incomparably worse than Loki ever has or could, even if it were of his own freewill.

Hela loathes how much concern she feels for him. It's overwhelming, smothering until she can hardly think of anything else. She needs to follow him, to see if he's alright, but Thor is still here, too, and a lingering threat until he has been neutralized through one means or another.

"All this time," Hela says, evenly, voice low, "Did you never ask, or do you merely not care?"

"Ask him what?"

He is an idiot. "Your fortunate my alliance with Loki hinges on your survival." Hela breezes past him in search of Loki, though he's in the darkened shadows of the far end of the room, sinking onto the floor, exhaling heavily. "You were right about one thing," she tells her little brother sweetly, kneeling in front of him, "You saved all the Nine Realms by preventing our brother's kingship."

"Oh," he huffs. "I know." Loki's hands raise, trembling, gripping his hair. He's shaking.

And Hela has no idea what to do.

She could use Fenris. He was always the one who she went to when she needed comfort, or who came to her when either of them needed it. he could often sense that somehow. He would always know where to find her, where she was and when she needed him, even if it meant sneaking through places he shouldn't have.

Fenris would know what to do.

Hela's not a wolf. She's not going to jump and lick and snuggle until her mistress feels better.

And Loki is her little brother.

What does she do when someone is panicking? Short of stabbing them, for that is her usual response. "Hold together," she asks, begs, actually, because for the first time in forever, Hela is terrified.

"I tried to stop it." Loki's voice is a hoarse, barely whisper. "I tried. As hard as I could. I just... couldn't." He lowers his forehead to her shoulder.

Norns, what now? Hela hasn't been held in a long time. Fenris would snuggle with her, prowl and lick her, curl around her. Odin has carried her on a few occasions when she was badly injured, but those were rare and merely from necessity. (There were times, rare and few between where he would embrace her, and tell her she did well, and Hela loathes how badly she wants to hear that again. She hates him. She wants to gut him slowly and painfully until he's felt some shred of the pain that he's put her and Loki through.)

Loki's breathing is still all wrong. Hela... understands this, a little bit, because she has dreams of Helheim which she wakes in constant, perpetual terror from until she remembers she's in her room with Loki. It's only thanks to each other that they don't bring half the palace down on instinct.

"Breathe," Hela orders him flatly. "You will suffocate. I don't know what you're doing with your lungs, but you are going to die if you stop breathing."

He groans. It sounds like a whimper. "I know. I know." Loki's hands lift, arms wrapping around her back. He's hugging her.

What does she do?

Hela tries to just grip his shoulder and pray that it actually works because she's probably as lost and terrified as he is. But Loki's hair is an absolute mess, and he's obsessed with keeping it perfectly straight, so would he appreciate her attempts at fixing it? Her mother used to stroke her hair when she was little. Or comb it. Hela hardly remembers, but she knows it felt nice, and when she does it, Loki melts into her hand.

That's actually what made it awkward, so, thank you, Loki.

Hela rolls her eyes, but she can't quell her own racing heart. This is ridiculous. Ever since she met Loki, she's been nothing but mush, and she used to be the coldest, unshakable person on Asgard.

"Thanos is nothing against the armies of Asgard," Hela promises firmly, "If he dares approach our home, he will die. Do not fear."

It's not just Thanos whom her brother fears. It's... everyone. He has endured a lot. Hela never feared Odin. Well, she did, but it was not like this. It was never a crippling, consuming fear through which she could neither think nor act. Not like it is with Loki. Except that it's Thor he fears just as much.

And his friends. Probably all of Asgard.

"You don't know him," Loki argues, shaking his head. "No one does. When I was there, in the Void, I tried to fight him. I wasn't strong enough, and he took... everything."

"You were alone then," Hela replies, "You won't be again." She means that, actually. Because she will never let him be alone again.

He said that... it wasn't his fault. He has said enough of Thanos, and Hela has seen enough to know what he means. Or at least she thinks she does.

"It won't matter if he gets another Infinity Stone."

"We have one of our own, do we not?" Hela asks.

"The one that I was to give to him in exchange for Thor's life."

What? Hela rocks backwards, staring at him, dumbstruck. "All of what you endured was to save that fool?"

"I suppose one could say that."

Never a clear answer. There is no clear answer, is there? Loki spent what was clearly months at the hands of the mad Titan, and his truth from reality has blurred enough that she doubts he remembers much of what occurred clearly anymore. Not as though Hela faults him for it – she cannot remember what transpired exactly that lead up to her attempt at overtaking the palace anymore, either.

She just knows that she had been angry, and Odin had announced his marriage to Frigga, and a new age of peace to the Nine.

And that she was so, so angry.

"I did whatever he asked of me to stay alive, and... I shouldn't have." Loki lowers his hands, sighing. He's still trembling.

Hela pulls back from him a little, looking up at a quiet shuffling behind them. Thor is standing there, hair flopped messily across most of his face, but he still looks... raw. Gutted. Apparently, no matter how much he and Loki fight, he still has enough common sense to care for his little brother, no matter how minorly that may have mattered as of late.

"Would you like to give your brother the graphic explanation of what happened?" Hela asks. "Or may I stab him and be done here?"

"No stabbing." Loki shifts, lowering his hands, knees drawn up to his chest. He's so good at being tiny. It's disturbing. What would it take to make someone try to pretend they don't exist? Hela has never been one to do that – she'd always rub her existence in the face of anyone who doesn't want to be reminded. "It – it doesn't matter anyway."

It matters to me, Hela wants to snap back, but she's not going to blur out her greatest vulnerabilities so someone can use them against her. She cares about Loki more than she cares about the throne. It's not something she likes – it's just becoming a fact of her existence, and one she has to learn to adapt to just as everything else.

Instead, she offers a thin smile and rises. "Thor," she replies, "I made my decision. Either remain with us, or return to Midgard. And if you speak a word of Odin's whereabouts, neither one will keep you safe. Loki does not want war with you. I trust you will for once consider your brother's wishes."

Thor's eyes lower to Loki again. His hands clench, and for a second, Hela is fully expecting him to try jumping her with nothing but his fists, but he does nothing. "There was a time I believed that we would fight side by side forever."

"I as well." Loki looks away. "But I guess things don't always play out the way we imagine."

"No," Thor says evenly, "They do not."

Loki climbs to his feet, finally daring to lift his head, and when he does, his eyes don't tear from his brother's face. "I know that it means nothing. But I want to say that I am sorry. For everything I did to you."

"You're right. It doesn't. You cannot say that when you stripped our Father of his powers and sent him to Midgard to die."

"He did the same to Hela and I. He did the same to you." He looks at Hela, like she may have something to add. Oh, she has plenty to add, but this is Loki's burden. "Perhaps he will learn the lesson he wished to teach you."

"That is not your decision to make!"

Loki's hands drop. He looks frustrated, but he's holding himself together even while on the brink of sanity uncharacteristically well. "I had a chance to be free for the first time in my life. How could I not take it?"

"You were free."

"Free to be your shadow? To be mocked by all who willed it? Caged? No. I was never free, Thor. Neither was Hela. Your freedom is on Midgard. Hela and I have what we always wanted. We'll take care of the Nine while you're away."

"You think I would entrust you with it?"

"Thor, the throne is Hela's. Nothing will change that. You said yourself you don't want it. That you chose to go to Midgard."

Thor had been on Midgard the entire time. That's why Loki hesitated to advise her anything on the realm. He was scared of Thor. Or of what Hela would do to him. She actually isn't surprised about that. Everything her brother does is for a reason, reasons which he rarely explains.

"Earth is... different. The mortals don't live long enough for us to ever rule that world from here. But you wanted it. You can keep them at peace."

"When you have you ever cared for peace?"

"When have I ever wanted war? And don't say New York."

Thor sighs. He's still angry, but some of his expression softens. "I am glad you're alive," he says at last.

Loki's smile is more sad than sincere. "I'm flattered."

"If you truly need this, I will grant it," Thor says, as though he were capable of even being an excuse of a threat to Hela. "But tell me where you sent our father."

Loki deflates just a little. "Very well. I will show you, but first, we have an appointment on Jotunheim."

"Loki –"

"What we do with my kingdom is my choice," Hela interrupts, "Asgard has begun its rebirth. Nothing Odin does will change that."

"If you ever need us, we'll be there," Loki vows. "I'd ask you to invite me to your wedding, but I think Jane would just hit me again."

"I would hit you first," Thor tells him seriously, and their little brother laughs.

"Before you go, I – I want you to know. No matter what happens. I still love you. I always will."

**w**

Loki's hand curl around the edges of the Casket. He looks jittery, constantly shifting on his feet.

Hela side-eyes him, finally just giving in altogether. "Are you well?" she demands. They're about to go to Jotunheim, and now is not a good time to be getting tied up with his past, but she knows Loki's got a complicated history with it.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I'm fine."

Hela rolls her eyes. Liar. "Heimdall, when you're ready." She does not trust him in the slightest, and he is the one who brought Thor here, but with that out of the picture, there is one less reason to worry about Asgard's people turning on them. They follow Thor, and learning that he was not wholeheartedly against them was enough to quell any possible rebellion.

The Bifrost turns on, yanking them forwards. It's just the two of them, because anyone else would be seen more of a threat to the Jotuns than a peaceful agreement, which is what Hela intends.

She never knew that war.

She bears no hatred for the Frost Giants, unlike all of Asgard.

Jotunheim is cold. The air nips at her skin instantly, chilling her to the bone, but they'll only be here for a few minutes.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Loki queries softly.

"You wanted peace."

"Yeah. I do. I just don't know if negotiating with these monsters is a good idea."

"They're not all monsters, Loki." Hela brushes the snow aside, walking forwards towards where she sees the throne up ahead.

Dozens of Frost Giants surge forwards, weapons raising.

Hela raises her hands in a gesture of attempting to calm them. "I am Hela, queen of Asgard and of all the Nine," she introduces, "We have not come to you in war."

"Bold of you to set foot on Jotunheim after what you did," the king accuses, standing. It's too dark to see. Dark, like Helheim. Cold, like Helheim. She tries to banish those thoughts with the mere fact she's not alone, and Loki is at her side. But she can still see enough to know that the king is young. He must be one of Loki's brothers.

Does that make him her family, too?

"You're right," Loki answers shortly, "It is."

"My brother and I have begun a new age of Asgard," Hela answers, "As part of the Nine Realms, you are under our control, and our protection. So, for as long as you do not threaten us, any of the rest of the Nine, we're returning the Casket to you."

Loki magics the Casket back into his hands, setting it in the snow with a thump. "Rebuild your world," he says shortly, "We're giving you a second chance. I ask only that you take it."

"That's overwhelmingly generous of you," the sarcastic remark throws back – definitely Loki's little brother.

Hela looks over her shoulder, smirking. "Perhaps we merely need to clean some of this trash out of our vault," she tells him sweetly, and the bifrost carries them away.

**w**

She will never be ready to stand in front of Odin again, but here she is, in some backwater, unseen alley on Midgard, standing several meters from their father, Loki a silent shadow at her side.

"Why have you come here?" he demands, as though he has the right to ask anything of her.

"Bold of you to demand anything from me." Her heart flutters, throat tightening, an unwanted pressure of hurt and rage burning in her chest. Odin raised her, cared for her, trained her – and he chained her, caged her, held her back. She was his sword. She sees, now, that she was never anything more to him, even if he is so much more than that to her.

He always has been.

She wants to stab him. To rip him apart from every means of existence, to tear every shard of his existence from the memory of all who inhabit the universe, so no one will ever speak his name again.

But she will not, because she isn't Odin. She won't fall to his level of cruelty, if only just to spite him.

"Tell me," Hela asks, slowly walking forwards, "After all that I did in your name. Why did you cast me out?"

"Your way was cruel, and ruthless."

It's an honest answer, one that does no more to tamp her rage. He would dare say this to her, when he is the one who created the monster he now fears? He is the one who exploited her need for vengeance upon her mother's death. He is the one who created her into exactly what she is now. Hela had not craved for causing – witnessing – death when she was young. Odin made her this way. "Any more than yours?" she asks instead, feigning a sweet smile, even if it bears nothing but the cold brutality with which he raised her, with which he had always wanted her to be.

"I saved all the Nine from your ruthlessness –"

"No. You had your throne. You had your glorious little kingdom, so you threw away your sword, forgetting she was your own daughter. So ,I will do the same to you. Loki and I are finally free, and with our freedom, we will remake the Nine into something you will never have a part of. I grant you more than what you gave to all of us. A chance to live out your days here in peace, while you remain dead to the world. The one thing you gave me was Loki, and that alone is why you live."

It's fitting, she thinks, in a humorous, dark way – that Odin will spend his time on Midgard, the world he chose over his own son. Because Loki had not mattered to him, either. All that time Loki spent in the dungeons, he can have a taste of that now, here – though he has far more freedom than he ever gave any of them.

She wonders how long it will take for Thor to realize this, but their brother walks a different path, and he has made a different choice than herself and Loki. Where he goes, is up to him. (Even if there is a small part of her that's waiting, waiting for the day he finally comes home to stay.)

Odin looks from her to Loki, as though her brother would be any more receptive of his words than she. "Loki, you will side with this murderer?"

Hela wants to laugh in his face.

Loki's expression barely twitches, though she knows that he is struggling with facing Odin. That was why he did not wish to do so alone. "All I ever wanted was your love. You gave me Hela's instead. So. Thank you."

"I will remake Asgard into something so great that your name will be forgotten entirely. And I will do so with Loki by my side. As we always should have. Farewell, Father." She wheels around, boots scraping on concrete.

Hela walks away without looking back. The bitterness is not lost, and neither will it ever be, but she finally feels...

Free.

**w**

"How," Thanos rasps, blood pooling over his hand where it's pressed against his neck. "How could you..."

Loki doesn't feel anything, anything short of a bubbling relief so great he thinks he'll cry the instant he's out of eyeshot of Asgard's army. Thanos is dead. He's dead, and his army defeated. The remaining few will be taken to prison on Asgard, which feels oddly fitting, though it will be through far better treatment than he ever got from them.

And then, finally, the cosmos will know peace.

"You were right," Loki says, standing and magicking the blood off his hand and dagger. "I alone could never defeat you." He steps back from the body as the Titan's life fades away, returning to his sister's side in all her white glory. "But I'm not alone, and I never will be."

THE END =)

Well... I think I can safely say this is a good conclusion to Loki and Hela's arc. 3 If I ever do more in this universe (which would be amazing but I have like 100 other MCU ideas screaming for attention so I should probably just move on), it'll hafta be with the Avengers, bc there's really not more to say on Asgard. Though I keep envisioning this scene of the helicarrier fight in tWS where Fenris gets beamed in with glowy Hela and Loki, and HYDRA is smashed in 0.0000001 seconds. Oh, Loki has the reassembled Mjolnir. Because if anyone deserved to get a fancy new costume and a pieced together hammer it's Loki, not Jane, thank you, MCU. Except Loki obviously wouldn't look like a second Thor. He'd just be. Different. Probably the same but with lighter shades. I honestly can't quite picture him in black and dark green next to Light-Hela. xD

I. Should maybe put my drawing skills to work now... Might do some fanart for this yet. If anyone's interested, you may not want to unsubscribe yet. 💖💖

PS: NO SPAM ARTISTS THIS IS NOT A SHOUTOUT TO YOU

~ Rivana Rita

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