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It is at the fall of Asgard and the witnessing of his people dying, that Loki’s last threads of sanity break.

Instead of taking it out on others, he tries himself for a change, in honor of Thor, and his belief that he wants to be better, if he had the chance.

Loki feels drained, exhausted and unable to do anything about it. His seidr is low and if he were feeling better he’d do something about it.

As it is, he reaches for another bottle of the Grandmaster’s alcohol, blinking back rough memories of his time on Sakaar.

There is a bruise on his hip, either from when Thor threw him or where one of his daggers kept digging into his flesh. Normally he’d heal it, but he feels particularly mean to himself at the moment.

And any use of magic just depletes his low supply, and he’s terrified of an attack, of something awful happening, and not being able save anyone.

So instead, he downs another bottle, relishing in the dulling of his senses and the slowing of his mind, and he digs his fingers into his hip just to feel something.

-

Eventually she finds him, and he wonders why Thor likes her so much, if those standards he had as a child for the Valkyrie hold up.

They do her no justice, and if Loki weren’t such a prick, he’d be able to admire her tenacity. She’s pretty too, and were Loki unchanged and not frightened of her, he’d hit on her.

As it were due to recent events she has moved on list from a necessary nuisance, to reluctant allies.

She sits next to him, the barstool squeaking as she turns to face him, hands reaching out to open another bottle. She takes a long drag, and Loki loses himself to all the ugly swarming inside his head.

He’ll die on this ship, he can feel it, the way the Aesir stare at him with muted fury. Or Thor will come to his senses and realize Loki is a burden that doesn’t deserve second (he’s well past second) chances.

He hopes it’s Thor that does him in, partially because he wants to scar his brother forever, and because he figures if Thor were to die Loki would want to be the one to kill him.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” He says eventually, once the two of them empty a bottle between them, his vision unsteady and stomach bucking with nausea.

“Done what Lackey?” She says tiredly, bored of his presence already.

“Not my name. And you saving me.” Loki says, gesturing to himself as an explanation. Her eyes flicker to the bandages hidden under his sleeves, and then they flicker back up to him, a resigned pity filling her eyes.

“I have a duty to the royal family.” Which is utter bullshit, but also probably true as she can never go back to Sakaar and any semblance of a first home was destroyed by Loki’s doings.

“I thought you gave that up. It’s hard to be a royal guard when you’re the last of your kind.” He spits, mostly for posterity, and Valkyrie to her credit, barely flinches.

“I happen to like Thor.” She says instead of punching him, but Loki still eyes her clenched fists with apprehension.

“Yes. Most people do.”

“You’re not immune.” She points out, a hand reaching behind the bar to grab a handful of nuts. Loki stares at them wondering how she managed to hide those from him, before he reaches for his own handful, if only to keep his mouth shut for a moment.

“I am. Sorry to disappoint your expectations, but I’m not particularly fond of that oaf like the rest of you.”

The lie tastes funny on his tongue, and he wishes for their relationship from a few years ago, if only so the lie would come easier.

Valkyrie laughs then, amused and disbelieving.

“You came back. You didn’t have to.” She points out, smirk dying for a second as she glances at his arms again.

“Stop. The staring is unbecoming.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have done that.”

Loki stares at her, a hand pressed against the dagger on his hip, and he wonders if he taunts her enough she’ll end this.

Or at least beat him to a pulp. People tend to like him better like that.

“Why couldn’t you let me die?” He asks, suddenly aware of how drunk he is, and he stares up at the ceiling, staring at the dim lights and ugly interior, feeling anything but peace.

“As I said. Loyalty to the throne. You’re part of that, whether you like it or not.” She pats his shoulder harshly, but he can see the remnants of that worry that crossed her face when she found him.

“Piss off.” He murmurs, staring down into a bottle of particularly nasty liquor, and he wonders if he could die like this, the liquids eating him up from the inside.

He hears Valkyrie sigh in frustration and walk away, and he doesn’t fight the relief or the disappointment that threaten to drown him.

He takes another swig of the bottle, and presses his arm into the counters edge, not flinching when he feels a wound reopen from the pressure.

-

Thor doesn’t find out, a small miracle in the sea of not so small miseries.

It doesn’t stop the man from worrying though.

Thor watches him from the mirror in front of him, and Loki watches him back, as the man undresses and gets ready for bed.

“How did you do it?” Thor asks quietly, later when both are in bed, on opposite ends but still touching, because Thor is massive and the ship isn’t meant for people of their stature.

For a moment Loki thinks he’s talking about something else, and he raises his head quickly, just to get a read on Thor’s face. The man looks tired and grumpy, but no signs of his usually melodrama that revolves around Loki is there. Loki deems it safe to continue, and he falls back into his spot with a huff.

“Do what?” He murmurs into his pillow, and Thor’s hand reaches out to brush his, warm and comforting, everything Loki doesn’t want.

He pulls away slightly, and does his best to not notice the flash of hurt crossing Thor’s face.

“Being a king. Granted you weren’t a good one, but you did it for long enough to have gained some knowledge.” Thor says it through a tired smirk, growing wider when Loki wacks his shoulder in response.

“I don’t know. Why are you asking me Thor?” He says quietly, and Thor stares at him with his single eye, full of so much affection that he might drown from it.

“Because you’re my brother. And these are your people as much as mine.”

“They aren’t.” He denies and Thor sighs, scooting closer to him, holding out a hand.

“Because I want you to stay, and I don’t know how to keep you unless you feel needed.” Thor admits, and Loki takes the man’s hand, and ignores the way they both shake. Loki from blood loss and too much alcohol, Thor from exhaustion and too much emotion.

Loki doesn’t know how to tell him he doesn’t want to be here, or anywhere for that matter.

“I’m staying.” He lies, and he must give himself away, because Thor’s face tightens, and he is closer until Thor is practically hugging him.

“Are you? Because if you’re not, you need to let me know.”

“Why?” He asks foolishly.

“So I can get a head start on my grief.” Thor says quietly, face serious and tired, and aged up far too much for how young he truly is.

“I’m sorry for not exceeding your expectations Thor.” He says quietly, with as much venom as he can manage. “Stop expecting me to play into your plans.”

Thor stares at him, eye dim and resigned, and Loki can feel him shift further away, giving Loki space.

“I’m not. I don’t expect anything of you anymore. That’s why I am asking you to be honest.”

“You won’t stop me?”

“Loki.” Thor says sadly, smiling with no humor. “I couldn’t make you stay even if I tried.”

“So you’re giving up on me?” He asks, hysteria shaking his voice, and the panic builds in his chest, for some unfathomable reason. He schools his face into something better, but he can see the flicker of surprise cross Thor’s face.

Except he knows why it hurts him so. Thor has never given up on him (not even when he should have), and to come to a point where Thor is resigned and prepared to let him go frightens him.

“Loki.”

He is shaking, and he can feel Thor press his hand against his forehead, checking for a fever he won’t find.

“Loki?” Thor says again, and Loki does his best to focus back on him.

“What?”

“Please stop shaking. What can I do to help.”

“Nothing.” He spits, but he reaches out for Thor’s hand anyways, because Thor is still his big brother and Loki sometimes feels terribly small.

After a decade of fighting and hatred, Loki is doing his best to let love take over. He is trying to do right by Thor in this aspect.

“You’d tell me if something ailed you.” Thor doesn’t phrase it like a question, and Loki ignores the pulse of guilt that eats him alive.

“Of course. I’m not that self destructive.” He says, and the smile that crosses his face feels wrong, too wide, and Thor must think the same.

“Please Loki. I won’t go through this again.”

“Through what?”

“Watching you die.” He says solemnly, and Loki can’t help the hysteric laugh the crawls out of his throat, desperate and sad.

“I’m not dying Thor. For Norns sake, stop being so dramatic.”

To prove a point (of what, he’s not sure), he curls up to Thor, relishing in a warmth that he would normally dislike. He runs colder these days, and this is a good enough way as any to get warm.

His nose presses into the soft line of Thor’s throat, and he breathes in a smell he thought he’d never witness again, and quells his heart to stop beating so hard.

“You can talk to me Loki.” Thor says, still concerned but Loki can hear the shock, the pleasure at having his brother curled next to him for the first time in centuries.

“I know.” Does he? Still he pats Thor’s shoulder awkwardly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight brother.”

Thor puts an arm on Loki’s hip, and he wishes the man would dig his nails in and keep him here. Hurt him, so that the ugly emotions in him have a physicality to match.

Mostly he just misses when his brother had faith in him.

-

“You look tired.” Thor says at breakfast, eyes trailing all over Loki’s body, and he curls further into himself, staring at the dull space food and the burning hole inside him.

He sets his utensils down, eyes flickering back towards his brother.

“How astute of you.” He says dryly, and Banner from the other end of their table laughs, and Loki looks over for a moment to find Banner grinning at Valkyrie and the woman staring at him right back at him.

He blinks in discomfort and switches his gaze back to Thor. Who is also staring, eye gleaming with that hungry emotion that Loki thinks is affection.

Or perhaps it’s rage, and Loki’s mind is as messed up as ever.

Thor laughs tiredly, a hand coming up to rub Loki’s neck, and it takes all of him to not shy away from his brother’s touch.

Thor wouldn’t hurt him. Not if it wasn’t warranted. But that doesn’t stop him from thinking about it.

“Don’t be cruel brother, I was simply stating the truth. You need rest.”

“We have work to do Thor.” He says, voice scathing, and suddenly he can’t stop the tumbling of words out of his mouth. “You go on about not trusting me and be worried about me leaving you here, but then you get angry at me helping. Pick a side Thor, I don’t have time to wait for you to figure out where your heart is at.”

He is standing by the time he is finished, chest heaving, and one of his hands has crawled up to grip his forearm, nails pressing in deep.

Everyone around them has quieted, and Loki can’t stand all the eyes in him, or that vile desperation that makes him want to do something terribly stupid.

Like offing himself in front of everyone, just so that he’s remembered just a little longer.

“Sorry.” He manages before fleeing the dining hall, all too aware of Thor watching him leave.

-

Thor typically leaves their room before Loki awakes. Partially due to kingly duties and also because ever since Loki’s outburst, there has been a growing tension between the two of them.

He avoids his brother and curses his vain existence, and slips into bed long after he knows Thor can stay awake. It’s a cowardly move, but Loki never thought he was anything but.

He slips out of cold sheets, arms aching and head throbbing, stumbling to the vanity in the corner of the room. He gets dressed carefully, mindfully of all the bruises he hasn’t had healed, and every self inflicted wound he still doesn’t want to address.

If he does, then he’ll have to admit something is wrong. That this isn’t just his usual bouts of melancholy.

He washes his face and dries it with Thor’s towel, glad that his brother isn’t in the room. He could easily do this with his seidr but some part of him longs for the simplicity of doing it by hand. The towel smells faintly of Thor, of home and foreign spice, and the crackle of lightning.

He lets himself sit there for a moment, the scent of his childhood surrounding him, and he does not cry but it’s a close thing.

Loki quietly slips through the hallways, and enters the small closet he had hid a few of his favorite bottles in. In a ship this small, with so many people, personal possessions were hard to come by. It makes Loki feel selfish for hiding, but he cannot find it in him to care.

Except when he closes the door and flicks on the light, he finds Valkyrie already sitting on the floor, a bottle in hand and an eyebrow raised in annoyance.

“What are you doing here?”

“No, that’s my question. How did you find this place?”

She rolls her eyes, and takes another sip, eyes taking on that shiny appearance that tells him she’s been drinking for a while.

“I followed you when you brought these here. Quite rude, hiding these from me.”

“Why would I want you to have them?” He exclaims incredulously but he still takes the offered bottle, and takes a swig, sighing when that familiar burn crawls down his throat.

“Because I know your dirty secrets, and it kind of makes me sad to see you mope.” She says quietly, eyes near sympathetic but it doesn’t stop Loki from sneering anyways.

“You know nothing about me. Don’t pity me.”

“I know how you feel.” She replies, and then rolls her eyes again when Loki shoots her a glare. “Alright not exactly. Still I’ve been in a similar position.”

“Are you here to tell me life is worth it? That people love me?” Loki spits, and then takes another drink because his life is slowly falling apart and he can’t find it in himself to care entirely.

“No. Life sucks. And I don’t think that many people love you.”

Ouch. Still he doesn’t argue with her, and they sit in silence, arms bumping together when they pass the bottle back and forth.

“Loki?” Valkyrie says, and it’s the use of his name that gets him to turn, to see her earnest eyes and that disgruntled expression people get when they are about to step out of their comfort zone.

Loki’s arms itch, and he wants to reopen them, find every flaw about him and let them bleed out, until maybe everything good about him is left. Part of him thinks he doesn’t have enough good to sustain himself, and for a moments it’s not red blood in his veins, but a violet hue that makes him nauseous to his stomach.

Of all the terrible things to happen to him, finding out about his adoption is rather tame. Still there is something to be said about being the very thing you were taught to hate.

And hate he does.

“Thor will care.” A pause and then a sigh. “I’ll care, just in case you think that no one would.”

His throat burns as he stares at Valkyrie, and to quell it, he pulls his knife out, pointing it at her with snarl.

“Stop talking to me.” He says, standing up and keeping the bottle firmly in his hand, as he backs away to the door.

“Hey give that back!” He hears but does not respond as he slams the door, and teleports back to his room, already in near tears. The effort makes him spin, and he hadn’t realized such a small use of magic would ruin him so. He locks himself into the bathroom, finishing the last bottle of Sakaarian alcohol on the ship.

It was a shit-hole of a planet but their substances were always quite good.

He pulls up his sleeves, staring down at the long ragged line that travels up each arm, and for a moment he stares at his knife and wants to reopen them.

Wants to bleed out on the tiny bathroom floor and forget everything awful about himself.

And then he thinks of Thor and what he would say, and he puts the thought away for later. He pulls at his healing powers and presses his fingers down onto his skin, hoping to get rid of some of the pain.

They don’t heal, and he wonders why his seidr is failing him, why he even cares.

He’s crying, and he supposes that should mean something, but he does not know what.

-

Loki used to love reading outside near this one tree against the castle gardens. It was a space of sanctuary and somewhere Loki’s growing mind could rest.

He could hide away from duties and from people who already disliked him, and pretend for a moment that his fading adolescence didn’t scare him as much as it did.

And then Thor and his friends came and turned it into a sparring ground, and Loki had to leave. Thor tried to entice him into staying, mocking his skinny build and siding with his friends harsher cruelties.

He learned two things that day, that Thor won’t always have his back (and will always have trouble understanding him) and that he will always feel alone.

Loki is prone to bouts of melancholy, but he has had them since he was a kid. They were almost worst then, the not knowing, the general expectation that children should be happy.

He was happy, just not as much as he should have been.

He doesn’t necessarily think that’s what is wrong with him, but he does figure it’s a reaction to everything that is wrong.

He doesn’t quite understand it, but he’s always had these urges to be anywhere else, nowhere at all. When he was younger, he didn’t know this desire meant death, but he understands it now.

Thor wants him to stay, wants him to be safe, and Loki doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he’ll never be safe, not when his mind is still broken.

-

Loki wakes up to a letter resting next to his hand. He recognizes Thor’s hand writing, short and choppy but somehow still regal, and his curiosity beats the exhaustion threatening him to fall back asleep.

It’s a small note, pointless really, but it breaks the avoidance and lack of talking they’ve had the last week. Loki does not smile but it’s a close thing.

He holds a while longer, staring at the vacated space in the bed, and for a moment he allows himself to deeply miss a brother who is still here.

He slips the note into his pocket and gets ready for the day, ignoring the steady ache in his arms and the hurt in his chest.

-

Thor wants to watch the stars with Loki. Loki personally thinks it’s stupid because of all the stars they have seen, these are subpar. Still, he goes anyways, because Thor is his brother, and even if he hates himself he’s trying his best not to hate Thor.

He tells Thor this, the stars being subpar bit not the rest, and he gets an eye roll in response.

“That’s because you’ve been spoiled with vaster galaxies.”

“Yes, and I’d prefer them to this.” He says, and while he points to the stars he also means being on this stupid ship, with Asgard destroyed and their race nearly desecrated.

Thor hums in agreement, and sits down on the cool floor, patting a spot next to him.

“Yes. It would be far grander on Asgard.” Thor says quietly, and Loki sits next to him, watching the man’s eye slowly water.

Loki looks away in guilt, because while Thor bade him to do it, Loki was still the one in the end to bring the demise to the place they both grew in.

“Nothing could compare.” Loki says, and Thor looks at him, with misery but also quiet acceptance and love, and it makes Loki’s throat tight.

Loki, sodden with grief and self hatred, and an insatiable need to feel seen, scoots closer to Thor until their shoulders are pressed together. Thor smiles, and wraps an arm carefully around Loki’s shoulder, and they sit there for a while, burning from each other’s heat, coupled with the lonely cold of space.

“Oh Loki.” Thor says sadly, and he cannot figure out why his brother is looking at him like that, like some precious thing bound to break.

“We’ll be alright.” Loki murmurs, a reassurance for Thor as much as it is for himself. Thor is still looking at him, and Loki can’t tear his eyes away, that ugly choking feeling in him rising in his chest.

“At least you’re with me.” Thor murmurs back, a strong hand coming up to rub Loki’s neck, and Loki allows it, focusing his gaze back on the slowly moving stars, and the expanse of a galaxy far bigger than them.

-

The impulse to die was always a distant one, until it wasn’t.

Loki had took his favorite dagger to his wrists and tried to drain himself of all the bad. It was a thought that had haunted him constantly, and his growing hunger and weakening mind ended up breaking him in the end.

He had taken himself far from where Thor could find him, and he hoped that whoever did would break the news gently.

He watched himself bleed out, felt his seidr weaken, and wondered who would find him, if anyone was looking.

His death was not the intention, but it certainly would help.

-

He didn’t die, because Valkyrie found him instead.

He was foolish for doing it in the abandoned corridor (the Hulk had smashed a few too many things, and Thor deemed the space unlivable), and perhaps he shouldn’t have faulted her for finding him so fast.

“What the fuck Lackey.” She says, not quiet a yell but close, and Loki is peering up at her with blurred eyes.

“Hello. Funny seeing you here.” He replies and then moves his arm the best he can to wave her off. “Please leave the stage, exit left.”

Instead of doing that, she kneels next to him, eyes flickering between the blood drenching the floor and his face, a strange anger taking over he face.

“What the fuck!” She repeats, hitting his shoulder roughly, while she tears off his cape, ripping it to smaller shreds.

“Ouch.”

Valkyrie glares at him and Loki shuts up, staring at the ceiling with a frown, wondering how he could convince her to stop saving him.

“Why did this happen?” She asks quietly, hands now on his other arm, and he winces sharply, when she tugs his arm up to reach the groove of his elbow. Her hands are stained with his blood, and Loki stares at it, wondering why it’s red.

“It just did.” He eventually says, and more time must have lapsed, because his arms are bandaged tightly, and Valkyrie is holding a bottle out to him, as if alcohol is a good way for people to heal.

He takes it anyways, because the burn of alcohol will make the tears clogged up inside him stay for a moment longer. It will allow him to forget his failures (and this too will be a failure, where Loki can’t even cause his demise).

Valkyrie doesn’t reply at first, and when Loki looks over it’s because she scrubbing at her hands, desperately trying to get the blood off them.

“Will you do it again?” Valkyrie asks and Loki shrugs, unknowing of how he’ll deal with this in the morning.

“Maybe, if the feeling comes again.”

“Don’t let it then.”

“It’s not that easy. Thank you for the advice however.” He says coldly and Valkyrie looks like she wants to hit him again, but she doesn’t which probably means she pities him now. Great.

“I don’t want to have to save you again.”

“Then don’t. No one asked you to.” And that gets Valkyrie angry, as she surges to her feet, eyes furious and watery.

“I have a duty to the crown! So saving my king’s idiotic brother from offing himself is something I must do.” She spits, and Loki takes another drink of the strange pink liquid.

“Did you drug me?” He asks instead of acknowledging how unnerved Valkyrie is.

“Yes.” And honestly Loki expected her to lie, so he is stunned to silence for a moment, and answers her with a glare instead.

“That’s rude.” He whispers, and he thought the room spinning was the blood loss, but maybe it’s whatever she put in his drink.

Valkyrie hums in acknowledgement, and then she’s tugging him up, and Loki feels like he should fight except he can’t move and his breathing is starting to hurt.

“Don’t tell anyone.” Loki asks, as Valkyrie drags him through corridors, ignoring the people that stop and stare at them, jumping away as she barrels through them.

“Don’t tell me what to do Lackey.”

Loki laughs and then he starts crying, terrible heaves of desperation, and it makes Valkyrie look back at him with thinly veiled concern.

“It’s Loki.” He manages unable to wipe the tears away from his face, and she does it for him, her frown deepening as she does so.

Part of him despises her touch and she wishes she would let him die.

“I know.”

“Oh.” He breathes, and his right arm must have been injured more cause its burning like Hel right now. “Where are you taking me?”

“I’m taking you to bed.”

“Kinky.” He slurs, and he can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or not. When Valkyrie doesn’t respond, he laughs again, manic and sad. “I’m good in bed you know.”

“I’m sure you are my prince.” She responds almost kindly, and it makes Loki uncomfortable.

They continue to walk towards his room (it’s Thor’s too, and he doesn’t know how he’ll deal with that) and he can tell he is still crying, but he can’t feel his sadness from earlier. He feels empty.

“We all do.” Valkyrie responds, and she grabs his hand to scan the door open, pulling him inside, and Loki realizes he’s been narrating out loud.

She pushes him onto the bed, and Loki falls willingly, staring up at the ceiling, as the familiar scents of his brother and his living space surrounds him.

“Sleep.” Valkyrie orders and Loki hums in response, unable to lift his head.

Whatever she gave him works, because he doesn’t recall her leaving and he doesn’t remember falling asleep.

Loki tries to not remember anything at all.

-

Thor had found him later that day, still laying in bed, and he figures he must thank Valkyrie for putting him in a new shirt, because Thor can’t see anything.

That doesn’t stop him from worrying, hands tight on the bedsheets next to him, as he stares at Loki with a frown. There is something knowing in that eye of his, but as long as Thor doesn’t ask, Loki won’t admit anything.

He drinks from the glass of water that Thor hands him, thirsty and weak, and ignores the way Thor gently tugs him up to sit, how carefully he maneuvers him.

“Are you alright?” It’s a dumb question, but Thor asks it anyways, sitting on the edge of the bed, hands hovering, and eyes desperate.

“Just a headache.” He says tiredly, and Thor grabs his wrist, desperately close to digging his nails in. A part of Loki wants him to, so that Thor will hurt him and Loki can make him feel bad.

He loves Thor and hates him in the same breath, and never more so when he cares.

“Alright.” Thor says soothingly, adjusting his grip to grab his hand, and Loki allows it, slumping against the headboard. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing.” And perhaps he says it too quickly, because Thor stares at him, thumb rubbing soft circles into Loki’s palm. “My seidr is acting up. It makes me more tired.”

The best of lies are ones that are mostly truths.

“Why? Have you see the healers about it?”

“I know healing too Thor.” He says condescendingly and his brother doesn’t back down. “No, there is no need. It’s healing as we speak.”

He doesn’t think it is, but that hardly matters. He doesn’t want to be here long enough to see that through.

“Are you sure?” Thor presses, earnest and too good for Loki’s awful.

“I’m sure.” As a way to change the subject, he smiles slightly (and if it feels fake, it’s only because Loki forgot what a real smile feels like in the first place) and he pats the spot next to him.

“So what was my King up to today?”

Thor grins, and crawls over him to sprawl next to him, and Loki listens to the lulling sound of his brother’s voice and does not notice when he falls asleep.

-

Thor and Loki have made up. Sort of.

Thor still seems worried and Loki is still pissed at him for giving up on him so easily, but on a ship so small, and a need for companionship, they eventually find each other again. They always do.

Thor is more affectionate and careful with him these days, like he’s afraid Loki will break, and it’s so clear to everyone something is wrong with Loki. But Thor won’t press him on it, and Loki feels like he should be relieved.

He isn’t.

“Hello brother.” Thor says, sitting next to him in the cafeteria, ans he presses a kiss to Loki’s forehead, like he used to do when they were children and care-free.

It makes Loki’s eyes burn, and in response he dramatically wipes his face, smirking a little when Thor looks slightly hurt.

“Signe wants you to join them as a healer.” Thor says conversationally, and Loki pushes his plate away as an act of frustration (instead of one of someone who won’t eat) and he glares at Thor.

“Stop getting me jobs, I can find my own quite well thank you.”

“I know.” And the worst part is Thor is completely serious, which makes Loki even more upset. “You’re very talented and the healers would be honored to have you join their ranks.”

“No one likes me here Thor. Besides I recall you mocking me plenty for being into magic instead of warfare as a child. What happened to that?” He says, picking at the bread on his plate, and considers throwing it at Thor, but he’s King now and Loki should probably treat him better.

“I was wrong.” Thor admits. “And you are a brilliant fighter, although I did always hate sparring with you, with all your tricks. But those tricks keep you alive, so how could I ever disapprove.”

Thor says it all in one breath, like he’s been holding onto it for a while, and Loki feels his face burn up, more telling then any words would be.

“I’m honored.” He says hesitantly, and Thor smiles slightly, either unaware of the eyes that track them both or uncaring.

“You needn’t be. You are the one thing I care most about, and anything about you is inherently precious.”

“Even my betrayals?” He says mostly to be mean, the sentiment making him nauseous.

Thor stays silent for a minute, and Loki takes it for an answer. He stands up, decidedly done with sitting in the bright dining hall with an empty stomach and a brother who won’t forgive him.

(He will never forgive himself, but that does not stop him from wanting forgiveness anyways.)

Thor captures his wrist, gently, and makes him stay.

“It’s true that you have destroyed the trust between us many times.” Thor begins, and Loki’s stomach buckles although he keeps his face straight. “It’s also true that I can’t find myself trusting you entirely, for each day I fear whether you shall stab me in the back or leave us here. But you are my brother, and it is hard to hate you for what you have done, when you are alive and with me, and call me family. I can’t forgive or forget yet, but I am willing to look past it because I love you.”

The dining hall is quiet again, and Loki pulls his arm from Thor’s grasp, backing away slowly, as Thor looks at him tired and knowing.

“You were always a sentimental fool Thor.” Loki spits, uncaring of who hears, and Thor nods in agreement.

“Perhaps. It hardly matters in the scheme of things.”

“It will.” Loki says, already regretting what is spilling out of his mouth. “When you wake up one day, with a knife in your back and me gone for the final time it will matter.”

Thor looks stricken for a moment, standing up to face him head on, and Loki takes another step back.

“Will that happen?”

“I haven’t decided.” He answers truthfully, and Thor’s hands twitch like he wants to throttle Loki.

It’s a disappointment when Thor stays still.

Loki stares, chest tight and furious, and he wants to hit Thor, make him angry, get the man to beg him to stay.

He hates Thor when he was arrogant and uncaring, but he hates this Thor too.

He doesn’t have the energy to teleport himself away, so he takes satisfaction in turning and walking away, despite how unsteady his feet are.

“Loki.” Thor calls out, angrier than before, but it does not matter, Loki is already gone.

-

Later that night, when Loki sneaks into the room, he finds Thor staring at him, still up as if he intended to wait for Loki.

“Turn off the lights.” He says, and Loki does so, stripping out his leather pants and into some silky ones that Thor used to make fun of.

Thor doesn’t make of them, or him anymore.

His shirt stays on, and Thor doesn’t comment on that either.

Quietly he lays down, pulling the sheets up to his chin. Thor is still staring at him, and Loki sighs, closing his eyes.

“Sorry for earlier.” He apologizes and finds that he means it.

“It’s alright.” Thor says, a hand reaching out to brush Loki’s hair out of his face, eyes soft and sad.

“Is it?”

Thor shrugs, pulling his hand away as he gets a thoughtful look.

“When we get to Midgard, and find a place to rebuild Asgard, I’d have you stay with me.” Thor says lightly, treading carefully between a request and a question.

“Why?” Loki asks staring at him with something similar to disbelief.

“Because I enjoy sharing a space with you.” He responds and then his expression gets more serious. “And because I’m worried about you. And I’d prefer being able to see that you’re okay.”

“I can’t make any promises Thor.”

“I know. Just think about it.”

Loki nods, and they stare at each other for a moment before Thor turns around to go to sleep. Loki stays as he is, staring at his brother’s back and wonders if he could make himself stay.

In the morning, when Loki exits the bathroom, arms newly bandaged and face clean, Thor stares at him from where he is cleaning his eye socket.

“Loki?”

“Thor.” He acknowledges, combing his hair with careful movements.

“What happened to your arms?” Thor asks, voice hoarse as it often is in the morning, and Loki does not turn around to look at him in panic but it’s a close thing.

He hasn’t known that Thor had noticed.

“My arms are fine Thor.” He says causally, and he grabs his dagger, wishing his seidr was working enough to be able to put it away, and he walks out of the room.

He does not acknowledge the eyes burning holes into his back.

-

Thor sets down a soup in front of him during lunch, one he hasn’t seen in years, and Loki looks up at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Where do you get this?” He asks, and his stomach hurts from hunger all of a sudden, and he does not question why he begins to eat it after avoiding food for so long.

“I made it.” Thor responds digging into his plate of dried meat and stale-ish bread and it makes Loki feel something similar to guilt.

He pushes it to Thor with a frown.

“Have some. It would be unseemly to have the King eating scraps while his citizens take everything good.”

Thor swallows and fixes him with a look.

“Kings should be able to make sacrifices. Besides you deserve good things.” It sounds like Thor is making a point, and Loki takes a small spoonful, and it tastes like home and his childhood, and Loki doesn’t dare cry into his soup but it’s a close thing.

Thor is watching intently and Loki musters his face into something neutral.

“It’s alright.”

“I’m glad.” A hand pats his back and Thor goes back to eating.

“Would you really have me stay with you?” He asks quietly, hoping that Thor doesn’t actually hear, but he does because Thor is unnaturally tuned to everything Loki does.

“Of course.” Thor says and then he grabs Loki’s neck and pulls him closer so that their forehead almost bump. “If I had it my way, you’d stay by my side forever.”

Loki swallows thickly, and when he cannot respond in words, he presses a hand against Thor’s and grips it tightly.

-

Loki ends up helping the healers anyways. He can’t do much, with his seidr unresponsive, but he helps them create salves and he plays bed-nurse for Asgard’s sick.

It’s not something he particularly likes, but some part of him likes the acknowledgement he gets when he’s helpful. Like he is part of Asgard, and not just Thor’s strange adoptive brother that he can’t let go of.

Thor sometimes visits him, and he watches with a small smile as Loki tends to children, like seeing his brother in such a lowly position is a grand thing.

His heart does not warm at the sign of Thor’s growing trust.

-

Thor finds him a week or so later, eyes hesitant and a little scared.

“Are you alright?” He asks and Loki nods, and turns back to the mother he’s giving pregnancy advice to. He hasn’t got time to help ease Thor’s worries about him up and leaving, and his brother must understand that because he leaves without another word.

It’s when he is relieving himself in the bathroom that he feels the blood trickle down his hand. His wounds are reopening, and they need stitches of some sort, but Loki doesn’t have the strength to do it himself. Still it’s with the reminder he forgot to bind them his morning that he sees them.

His old used bandages, folded and placed as a reminder on the bathroom counter. He did not put them there.

Loki does not cry in the bathroom, panic heaving in his chest, but it’s a near thing.

-

When he was little, his parents had noticed something was wrong, and had tried to help him. They had tried spells, and head healers, and getting him to spend time with his brother.

Eventually he learned to hide his melancholy from them, so that they would stop trying.

He never realized there would be a time that Thor would be attentive enough that Loki would need to learn to hide it from him too.

He can’t explain why he feels like this, but he probably deserves it.

-

“I’ve been told you’re sick.” Thor whispers to him one night, and Loki stares at him blearily.

When Thor doesn’t look deathly worried he answers in jest.

“Fatal Im afraid. Best you say your goodbyes.” He smiles at he says it, and Thor attempts a laugh too, but Loki forgot for a moment that his death is a sore spot.

They talk most of the night, both of them unwilling to fall asleep. Eventually though, Loki tires, and he falls asleep curled next to Thor.

He wakes up to Thor watching him with a solemn expression and he raises an eyebrow, eyes flickering for a sign of what time of day it is.

“Thor?”

Thor snaps out of it and smiles thinly, a hand coming up to brush the hair out of his face before he stands up, and prepares for the day.

Loki doesn’t think Thor slept, and some part of him hates himself when he rolls into the leftover warmth of Thor’s spot and falls asleep again.

-

He sleeps the entire day and night, and when he wakes the next morning, he feels Thor’s eyes on him.

-

Valkyrie corners him eventually, mouth set in an angry purse and eyes frustrated.

She pulls him into that corridor where she found him, and whether it’s intentional or not, Loki doesn’t appreciate the reminder.

“Have you told Thor?” She asks quickly, fingers digging into his arm, and he winces a bit dramatically just to watch her face light up with realization. She moves her hand to his shoulder instead, and apparently she’s angry enough to inflict pain there instead.

“Why would I do that?”

“Norns you are an idiot. If Thor tried to kill himself would you want to know?”

“That’s different, Thor wouldn’t do that.” He mutters and she grunts in disagreement.

“I didn’t think you were stupid enough to try it, and you’re supposed to be smart.”

“I don’t know how you want me to respond to that? Am I supposed to call Thor an idiot? Because that would only prove your point and I would rather-“ Valkyrie interrupts him by slapping a hand over his mouth, and she leans in close to whisper at him.

It’s quite frightening.

“Tell him. Or I will.” She threatens letting go of him and stepping away. “And I think he’d rather find out first hand.”

“Ah yes! ‘Thor remember all those times you’ve told me you’re afraid of me leaving? Well guess what I tried to kill myself two weeks ago and I can’t stop thinking about doing it again.’ Yes that will go well.” He tells after her retreating figure, and as he takes in a heaving breath he starts crying.

“Damn it all.”

He digs his fingers into all his sore spots, and curls in on himself.

Thor finds him eventually and he doesn’t know how much time has passed, but it must be enough to have annoyed Thor going by his expression.

“I’ve been looking all over for you.” Thor mutters, standing over Loki with a frown. “You didn’t come back to the room last night.”

The waterworks start again and Loki turns his head in hopes that Thor doesn’t notice. He does.

“Loki.” Thor says, anger gone from his voice, and he hears the creaking of the floor as Thor shifts and sits in front of him. “Please let me help.”

Loki shakes his head but he can’t stop crying, and eventually Thor gently turns his head so that they are staring at each other.

Loki gives up pretenses and falls forward, and Thor catches him, pulling him into a hug. Loki doesn’t hug back, but he burrows his face into Thor’s shoulder, sobbing for reasons he can’t decipher.

Thor keeps murmuring to him, and Loki can’t hear much of it, but he hears a small poem that their mother used to read them and it’s both soothing and the most devastating thing ever.

Loki pulls away a bit to wipe at his face, and Thor is staring at him. Tear are still welling up in his eyes, but he manages to quell his crying down to something more minimal.

“Please leave.” He asks quietly, and Thor frowns, not at him but it still feels targeted towards him.

“Not when you’re sad.” Thor responds, and presses a kiss to his hair, as he pulls Loki back into a hug. Loki pulls and thrashes for pretense, but eventually he stills, listening to the sound of the two of them breathing.

“Let’s get you to bed.” Thor whispers in his hair, and Loki nods in agreement, quickly pulling away from Thor and standing up with a wince. His legs hurt from the prolonged sitting, and Thor is watching him intently so he tries his best to shake out the pain.

Thor walks him back to their room and gets him some water, and Loki doesn’t thank him, but he goes Thor can tell he is thankful anyways.

-

In this room, when Thor leaves him alone and that ugly desperation becomes uglier, he looks up at the sky with an anger threatening to destroy him.

“Why! Why would leave us to deal with her alone! Why would you all leave!” He screams up at his parents in Valhalla, and hopes they can hear him. “Why would you do this when you know how I am.”

His chest is heaving, and he digs his fingers into the bruise on his hip, hoping it never leaves.

“Why leave when you know I desperately want to leave too. He’ll be alone.” He utters and he’s going to cry again, and he can’t shed any more tears.

He picks up his dagger, still glaring up at the ceiling hoping anyone who’s ever loved him, feels bad, hates him for what he’s done.

And then he stabs his thigh, and does not flinch when the pain the floods his body. He watches his blood seep into the bedsheets beneath him, and for the few minutes he lets the blade torment his skin, he feels alive.

-

Thor walks a careful line with him for the rest of the week, and it’s clear he knows something is wrong.

Loki has a talent with words, but he doesn’t think he has enough to explain everything.

He’s on children duty this week, tending to cuts and bruises, and children can be annoying, but he prefers them to the knowing agony that adults bring him.

Besides he still feels young, not fully grown, and some part of him relates to every ruined child abord the ship.

Valkyrie and him have gotten into two more verbal fights, and Loki is beginning to lose the ability to care about what she says.

She’ll tell Thor eventually, and when Thor turns to him is disgust or pity, or cats him out for being emotionally unstable he won’t even blame her.

At the dinners Loki goes to, usually the ones where Thor can’t, Valkyrie sits across from him and watches him with knowing eyes.

“This isn’t working anymore.” He says conversationally, when she slams her plate down as she sits down, eyes flickering over her stressed state.

“What?” She snaps, seemingly confused and Loki rolls his wrist between the two of them with a laugh.

“The yelling, the trying to convince me to tell Thor. I won’t do it.”

“Oh.” Valkyrie says, more subdued than she normally is, and Loki raises an eyebrow.

“What has got you less confrontational?” He asks, poking his fork through some weird meat they got at a stop for supplies.

Valkyrie stares at him, and Loki knows she’s trying to figure out if she should tell him or not. So he looks as uninterested as he can, and she sighs, looking down at her food.

“It’s my anniversary today.” She eventually says, and Loki nods hoping she’ll continue. “With my girlfriend that is.” Hs stops and stares at him waiting for a reaction and when he doesn’t she raises an eyebrow.

“Was I supposed to be shocked that you like women?” He says drily and she almost laughs, sobering up again all too soon.

“She died on this day, when we fought Hela.” She admits, and Loki recalls the vision of when he forcefully entered her head, and remembers Valkyrie reaching out for a woman, grief ruining her face.

“Ah.” He says delicately and when Valkyrie huffs irritated he continues. “I’m sorry for your loss. And for forcing you to relieve that.”

Valkyrie looks at him a little shocked, but she nods slowly, eyes flickering up to the ceiling for a moment, and Loki wonders if she too hates being here, when her loved ones watch her from Valhalla.

“Why did you tell me this?”

“Because I tried to kill myself. After she died, after all my sisters died at Hela’s hand. And if I can still be here, nothing you went through should make you leave this life before you’re due.” It’s crass and sharp, but he can hear the slight affection in it, born from weeks of yelling, drinking, and spending time together.

“It’s not the experience that makes me like this.” Loki offers in return. “I’ve always been like this, recent events just tipped me over.” She hums in recognition, reaching over to hold his hand for a brief moment, before she lets go.

“Please don’t leave Loki.” As if the sentiment was too much she reiterates. “I adore Thor and would hate to see him broken.”

“You care.” He says, a little amused and she shoots him a glare.

“I dont.” But the light in her eyes and her actions prove different, and Loki wonders why he’ll have to hurt yet another person if he decides to die after all.

When he is checking over his arms later, impressed with how fast they are scarring, he hears a knock from the door outside.

He listens, trying to figure out who it is, and Thor wouldn’t knock, so he figures it’s Valkyrie.

“You may come in.” Loki says loud enough to travel to the hallway, and peels his pants down to stare at the mess of his thigh, green with infection and not healing as well as his arms have done.

He listens to the door to the room swing open and close, and he hears the footsteps and he goes back to glaring at his leg and wishing he hadn’t done it.

He presses down on it, just to be mean, and it sparks pained tears in his eyes, that he won’t let fall.

And then the bathroom door opens, and he looks over to see Thor standing there. He stands there, face expressionless, except for when his eye flickers over Loki’s arms and leg, and only then does Loki see a twinge of something.

Grief is an apt way to describe it.

“Thor.” He acknowledges and his hand closes around the dagger, which catches Thor’s attention, causing panic flickering over is face.

“Put the dagger down Loki.” He pleads, and Loki stares at him, wondering when he became scared of Loki stabbing him.

But he looks at Thor, sees the genuine fear on his face, and his hands that shake as they reach out, and he realizes Thor thinks he’ll use it on himself.

He drops it to the floor, and Thor gulps in relief, eyes never leaving Loki’s face.

“I don’t suppose we’ll have to talk will we?” He asks, but he’s already pulling his pants up while Thor stays still, face suddenly wrinkling up with emotion as if it just dawned on him what’s happening.

“I need a drink.” Thor says hoarsely, and Loki watches him leave the room, chest clogged and hip hurting.

He presses his fingers into it anyways, does not since, and he follows Thor out.

-

Loki watches Thor down two glasses of water, and the whole time Thor doesn’t speak. He stares at Loki through that stupid mirror on the wall, and does not speak.

“Please say something.” His voice comes out far more irritated than it should be and that’s what gets Thor to react.

“What would you have me say?” Thor asks, pining him down with a stare, and Loki shifts uncomfortably. “I ask you to not leave, I give you reasons to stay, and you still try to leave.”

Loki barks out a laugh.

“That ridiculous. This is not me leaving you Thor.”

“It is your death, one I cannot stop, and that outcome leave me alone.” Thor shoots back. “I’ve dealt with you dying before. It’s never pleasant. And now with our home gone and many of our people dead, I will not fare any better.”

Loki stays silent for a moment. Thor hums in annoyance, walking over to sit in the bed, elbows digging into his legs.

“Brunnhilde told me you two have been talking lately.” Thor says and it’s enough of a turn of conversation to surprise Loki.

“Who’s that?” He asks tiredly, and Thor looks at him in confusion.

“How do you not know her name? Valkyrie?” He says incredulously and Loki is a little stunned.

“I didn’t know she had a name.”

“What have you been calling her?”

“Valkyrie?”

“That’s like calling me the god of thunder. Valkyrie is a title Loki.”

“Well you are that god, and it hardly matters. We aren’t friendly like that.”

“That’s not what she told me”

Loki pauses, narrowing her eyebrows. “What has she told you?”

“Well clearly she’d have plenty to say, given that.” Thor says gesturing towards Loki, and he frowns in response.

“She doesn’t know anything.”

“She does. Far more than you let me know.” And there it is, the reason he’s actually upset.

“For Norns sake Thor, is that what this is about?” He hisses, stepping forward to poke Thor’s forehead. Thor swats his hand away with a frown.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You’re not upset by me almost killing myself, you’re upset because I confided in someone else!” Thor grabs his hand the instant Loki is finished, and Loki sees the hurt flashing through Thor’s face and he musters up the decency to shut up.

“Is that what you think of me?”

“I don’t know what to think of you.” He admits and Thor stares at him for a moment before his eyes flicker back down to where Loki’s arms are now covered. To Loki’s dismay Thor begins to cry, silent slow tears, and Loki bites back the sting of guilt that comes with it.

He never did like seeing Thor cry.

“Please don’t do that.” He says quietly, and he sits on the floor, at Thor’s feet, hoping that the man will look up at him.

“I’m sorry.” Thor says slowly, voice watery and low. “For taking the moment away from you, for not noticing you were falling ill. I’ve failed you, thinking I could step back and you’d someone stay.”

“This isn’t about you.” Loki says, and then he brushes his hand against Thor’s hand, as if his words will sting less. “And it’s not an illness that suddenly came by. I’ve always been vaguely sad, so it’s fair that the destruction of Asgard would exacerbate it all.”

Thor looks devastated, and he covers Loki’s hand with his own, still so gentle that it makes Loki’s heart a little wobbly.

“This I knew of. You’ve always thrown yourself into danger too recklessly.” Thor murmurs, staring down at their joined hands, and Loki thinly smiles.

“That’d be you brother.”

“Then when you let go on the bridge, that wasn’t intentional?” Thor asks, and Loki’s silence is as telling as anything else.

“Why did you come find me today Thor?” He asks, in hopes Thor will stop looking at him like he might disappear. That if he touches him with any more force Loki shall crumble.

“Brunnhilde came to me with concerns.”

“Oh.” He bites down onto the inside of his cheek, relishing in the blood that seeps into his mouth. “Then why have me tell you if she so clearly is ready to talk anyways.”

“Because she was worried about you. And I had though you two hated each other.” Thor looks up then, and tilts his head, an unhappy smile crawling into his face. “And I wanted to see if what she told me was true.”

“What did she say?” He asks mostly to buy time, and he tries backing away, but Thor reaches for him, desperate hands holding onto his shoulders.

“Don’t.” Thor says quickly. “She said she was afraid you’d attempt again. I hadn’t understood at first. Because my little brother is so smart and brilliant, that he wouldn’t do that. Well imagine my surprise when I find you with self-inflicted wounds and a desperation I haven’t seen before.”

“Imagine my surprise when I discover my brother wants to die, and I haven’t realized he already tried.” Thor lets out, with a watery sigh, and Loki wishes he were anywhere else but here.

“Well I am a coward. Why wouldn’t I go out in a cowardly form.”

“Loki.” Another insistent tug of his shoulders that he resists. “You have made cowardly acts before. But the brother I know, the one that has returned to me in the past months, is a hero and brillant help, someone who is helping Asgard survive.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”

“Why? Because it’s sentimental? How dare I show affection for my first friend, for the brother I love more than anything else in the world.” Thor is angry now, which pisses Loki off in turn.

“Stop thinking love will save me. It won’t make me stay and it won’t heal me.” Thor grits his teeth and lets go of Loki, slumping back onto his elbows.

“So you’d have me not care? Loki, you could’ve died.” Thor exclaims, and those awful tears are back, and Loki doesn’t quite understand why his brother is the one crying here.

“Yes Thor! My death was the point.”

“Damn it Loki. What if Brunnhilde didn’t find you?” Thor looks desperately sad now, like he wants to grab Loki and never let go. And that awful part of him that can’t let go of his big brother would let him.

“She found me Thor. Please don’t make a big deal of things of the past.”

“So you must stop holding your birthright over me, and everything wrong thing between us.” Thor says and Loki rolls his eyes. He didn’t mean it like that.

He tells Thor so, and Thor laughs humorously.

“You never do. You live by your own rules and expect everyone to adhere to them.”

“Well if you despite it so much you’d let me leave!” Loki yells, standing up and pacing away from Thor, prepared to leave the room and drink himself under.

“Loki!” Thor yells storming up behind him, and he grabs Loki by the arms only to wince in apology when Loki bites back a yelp.

“Stop it!” Loki exclaims, pushing at Thor’s chest, and were he feeling better he would summon a dagger to stab him. “I have not asked you for anything since we took off in this Hel forsaken ship, but please shut up.”

Thor doesn’t let go, but he does quiet watching Loki with an inscrutable expression.

Loki drops the staring competition and he storms over to the bathroom, to do what he was doing before Thor interrupted him.

Thor follows him silently, and watches Loki strip back down to his underclothes.

“Why haven’t you healed them yet?” Thor says, near silent and Loki looks over at him, undecided on whether that urge to claw the man’s eyes out has left.

“Shut up.” He says instead, gathering a salve he had taken from the medical wing, and he rubs it into his thigh. He does not wince, especially not in front of Thor. “My seidr feels empty. I believe Hela may have done something to it, or perhaps it understands I am drained.” Loki adds, rubbing the salve into his arms next, disappointed in how easily the scars are disappearing.

Thor sits down on the bathroom floor, watching Loki with a frown.

“Why haven’t you told me?”

“Because I know you’d worry.”

“Reasonably so given the circumstances.” But Thor drops it, and he watches Loki go through his daily process of aiding the healing process so that he doesn’t scar. Loki is not a warrior, he is not fond of scars.

Still that part that wants to see every inch of his skin destroyed despairs. He wonders if Thor will find these scars worthy, ones that warriors get after great battles.

And that’s the thick of it. Loki wanting to be worth just as much as his darling terrific brother, and falling short.

“Loki?”

“Yes Thor?”

His brother holds out a shaky hand, and Loki shakes his head at him.

“No, I have it.”

Thor keeps his hand out, eyes stuck on the pale expanse of Loki’s skin. And eventually Loki catches up, and he smiles despite himself.

He lets his unused hand fall into Thor’s one, and he he relishes in the warmth of his skin in comparison to the chill of the bathroom. Thor rubs his thumb up and down the back of Loki’s hand, and they sit there for a moment, in quiet nearly comfortable silence.

“Loki.”

“Is that the only word you now?” He says dryly, except his voice catches and perhaps he was crying for a while. Curious.

“I love you.” Thor says, and Loki wonders if his brother will ever tire of expressing that insatiable affection of his.

“I know.” And he slides off the chair to press his side against Thor’s. “Any of my actions are not a reflection of your treatment. So it’s not your fault. Try not to worry.”

Thor’s mouth twists in disagreement. “If it’s not mine it isn’t yours.”

“It was by my hand, it would be hard not to blame me.”

“Perhaps. But that is your mind’s doing. For making you feel as if you had to. If it means anything, I could never find any action of yours to worth of this punishment.”

They are silent for a while, and Thor’s head slides further down the wall, and if Loki weren’t so sad, he’d find himself brimming with fondness.

“I don’t want to go.” He murmurs, wondering if Thor is still listening. “But my brain doesn’t want me to stay. I ask not for your help but for your patience.”

“Always.” Thor whispers back, eyes closed but present all the same, and it allows Loki to smile in response, without fear of Thor seeing him any more sincere than he’s been.

“Love you, even when it feels like the opposite.” He says tightly and watches the slow relived smile crawl over Thor’s face. Thor brushes his other hand against Loki’s knee, a familiar gesture.

Loki squeezes Thor’s hand in response, throat tight and tears falling slowly.

The room is a tight fit, made for lesser creatures, but he feels safer here, with his brother there to protect him. From the world and himself.