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A giant warship rises in front of them, swallowing their own Statesman in its shadow. The larger ship blocks their path forward and with mysterious, foreboding intent, brings questions Thor knows will not be pleasant. Thor looks at Loki in alarm—Loki looks at Thor in a panic.
“We need to communicate—” Thor starts.
“We need to escape—” Loki argues.
A laser weapon on the warship charges, light growing brighter until an energy beam strikes. The entire ship shakes from the impact.
They scramble for the doorway. “You handle evacuation pods; get the people to safety,” Thor says, running up the corridor. “I’ll see if we can talk to them—see if we can stop the attack.”
They split in a corridor, Loki heading towards the commotion with the rooms everyone is living in, and Thor heading for the ship control room.
Gravity on the ship is fluctuating and he hopes Heimdall is managing system control of the damaged part of the ship, locking off other areas. He's not sure what other features a regular cargo ship like this would have, but he's seen the airlocks.
He taps a panel in the wall and rushes in. Heimdall is managing the ship control system warnings, and the Valkyrie yells into the microphone, “THIS IS A CARGO VESSEL HOLDING REFUGEES. I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A WAR VESSEL. WE ARE CARRYING REFUGEE FAMILIES.”
“Who are they?” Thor asks Heimdall. There are few looters roaming open space like this, and their travel barely crosses any major ports. Empires like the Kree have expanded nowhere near this part of space, and the ship is too large to be an ordinary vessel. With how powerful the blast earlier was, it’s outfitted for interplanetary war.
“POOR CIVILIANS, NOT MUCH TO LOOT,” The Valkyrie repeats, before Thor snatches the microphone.
“This is Thor Odinson, from the ship you just attacked. Who is this?”
The other side crackles, the only indication that the line is open.
The weapon on the warship finishes charging up and shoots, and the Statesman trembles as it is hit again.
“This is King Thor of Asgard; we are a vessel of non-combatants—”
Thor's desperate explanation is cut off by Heimdall’s loud announcement. “We've had a breach of the supply wing.”
Thor swears, closing the line. It's clear no diplomatic solution is wanted—if there has been a breach, they have no choice but to fight.
His eyes search over the display screen, trying to absorb all the information available. There are cameras in the corridors, and the cargo holds, but not the other rooms of the ship. Nothing is visible so far, only the small swarm of alien soldiers using the supply landings to enter the ship.
There are only a dozen of them, if that—Thor doesn't recognise their race through the screen but some sort of hive mind, mercenary species is likely.
He checks the holomap—they need to be sure of some sort of plan of attack; they should have already prepared for such a scenario, but have not. A mere day from Ragnarok, they didn't expect more trouble.
“We’ll corner them into cargo hold C,” Thor directs, leaving the ship controls. “It's close enough to the supply wing and smaller than the others. Better to bottleneck them, since they are likely to have energy weapons.”
Without Mjölnir, Thor has no weapon yet. Once the people are safe on a new planet, he will consider what options there will be to commission a new weapon of power, but for now he wields a sword like any other soldier.
They take their own suffering routes to cargo hold C, ensuring they do direct all intruders that way. Thor thanks the designers of the ship for placing escape pods on the opposite side of the ship—the people, at least, will be safer this way. He has no doubt Loki will manage to herd most of them into some form of calmed conformity and send them safely off.
He trusts Loki, and there is no reason to worry about the evacuation effort, not when Thor hears the screaming start and hurries his pace.
Women, bodies strewn across the hall, blood staining the walls and floor around them. Most of those that escaped Ragnarok are women. One woman lies dead with a child clutched in her arms, her face unrecognisable with the way a hole has been burnt through her face. The work of a blade first, rather than solely an energy blast.
Thor’s anger grows inside him, a tempest of violence waiting to crawl over skin and consume him in its calling.
The first intruder Thor sees dies with the third sword blow Thor delivers—they are not easy beasts to kill, and they chitter in an insect tongue that Thor only vaguely recognises. Their blood is a thick, sickly yellow, diluted with specks of brown and orange.
He comes across one more creature, similar to the first, before he reaches cargo hold C.
There is fighting inside, already taking place—he enters to see the Valkyrie batted aside with the back of a giant hand; her blade falls out of her grasp and clatters to the floor by Thor’s feet. Thor grips his own sword tighter, watching as Heimdall—Heimdall, with his famed broadsword, is parried with an armoured glove and picked up by the neck. The hold lasts only a moment before Heimdall is thrown into a wall.
There are bodies and burning debris all over the room. The lighting is a deep blue, casting all flames burning brightly to appear purple more than orange. There are other creatures—a range of species that he does not recognise at all, varying in height and stature, carrying cruel weapons and standing around the room, not engaging in battle at all. They watch, just as Thor does.
A few others charge at the large, purple beast of a man—a Titan, Thor thinks, a species rare, their planet having long died out. Thor recognises none of them more than other survivors of Ragnarok, and all of them fall quickly, joining the bodies on the floor. Thor watches their attempts fail, their weapons clashing against skin and failing to draw blood even when they land. He watches Heimdall’s head move to the side, where dark blood smears a trail down the wall to his body. His mouth moves in what must be a groan, and though the Valkyrie rises again, she does so with an ordinary weapon picked off the floor.
They need a weapon of power. A proper weapon—a famed weapon, a blade that wields power from its forging rather than one of legendary acts. Thor picks up the Valkyrie’s sword, knowing it is his best chance.
Thor charges with all the rage a king can harbour. He brings the sword down between the Titan’s neck and shoulder, and finds that though it cuts the armour, it does not cut through.
For a moment Thor is shocked—his anger does not comprehend the loss. He grieves every life they have lost to a cowardly foe, a foe content to kill anyone over nothing. He dreads that without a weapon, he will not be able to protect their people after all.
He feels a blow that ruins his shoulders, and something pierces his lung. The room blurs with black and purple lights, and he lands hard on a pile of metal. He struggles to lift his head or even shake his vision into focus.
When he is able to move, he sees one of the other creatures standing not far away. It has a large axe held over its shoulder, a brute of a species with hardened skin over his head. This one looks taller than the Titan. Thor wonders if the weapon this one carries would have the power to cut through the Titan’s skin—he could… he could take it —and then, maybe, if he timed it well—
Its eyes move, glancing at Thor with no emotion. Its eyes slide away, and Thor is left rasping for breath, wondering if he will die before he is able to try and fight the Titan again.
If he can. They need to delay them, they cannot let the Statesman be destroyed so quickly—
“Thor!” A voice hisses, and his dazed head looks around.
There’s a gentle vacuum of space bending, and Loki is next to him, holding Thor’s limp hand.
“Loki,” Thor coughs, tasting the metallic burn of blood in his mouth. “Loki you can’t… he’s too strong, even for me, stronger than Hela, you need to leave.”
“They've been sent off, all set for Midgard.” Loki reports. “One pod left. Those who wanted to fight remain.”
There is yellow blood on Loki’s fingers and sleeve. Thor knows more people must have died than what he has seen.
“Loki…” Thor’s anger does not have the strength to scold, only to murmur. “You should…”
Loki’s hands squeeze Thor’s. Thor does not feel it. “Asgard needs its king.”
One moment Loki is by his side, and the next there is his blood spraying on Thor’s face; and an axe embedded in Thor’s chest. Loki’s body doesn’t sit upright for even a moment, and Thor—Thor doesn’t scream as his breath is taken from him, more forcefully than ever before.
Thor is standing in front of a large window, the expanse of all space before them. A giant warship rises, swallowing their own Statesman in its shadow.
“We need to escape,” Loki argues, to whom, Thor does not know.
“I—” Thor looks out the window at the rising warship again. He looks at his hands, clean and unscathed. He can feel them again. “Loki, did you do something?”
Panic floods Loki’s expression with traces of guilt he tries and fails to conceal. “This isn’t the time! We should get everyone away.”
“Did you reverse the attack?”
“What attack?” Loki asks, a moment before the ship is hit by a beam. The room shakes, and Thor places a hand on the window glass for support.
Loki can’t rewind time, can he? Thor recalls Loki learning about spatial and temporal manipulation, but if that's the case, why is Loki pretending he doesn’t know?
What’s going on?
Thor doesn’t move for the door, though Loki starts to. If time truly has reversed, then their people… they are not dead and can still be saved.
Thor follows him, questioning how this is possible. He has seen many people die, and never before has he had such a chance to try and stop it.
“I need to warn Heimdall,” Thor says, when it comes time for them to part. Thor isn’t needed to evacuate the people—Loki is capable of it; Thor knows this. “Evacuate the people,” Thor instructs. “And leave with them.”
A premonition, Thor thinks, is that what I saw?
Thor has always leant towards that aspect of witchcraft, though his mother always told him details were ever-fickle and difficult to discern. Thor’s visions always seemed clear to him, and now he does not have the time to deliberate the correctness of a second chance.
If he is going to have to face that foe again, he will at least ensure that this time Loki will live.
He will ensure they spend their energy on their central enemy, the Titan, rather than dividing for the lesser intruders. If they all fight together—Thor blanches when he reaches the control room door. If they all fight together, then what?
Thor does not have a weapon that can breach the Titan’s skin, nor did anyone aboard the Statesman. The Valkyrie’s sword is the closest they have, and Thor is unsure if that will have any effect on bare skin.
With no weapon, how can they fight?
How can they fight?
Thor struggles for breath, not from the journey to the room but from what lies ahead. Is he going to have to sacrifice so many Asgardian lives and still save only a handful of their people? What other methods might a Titan be weak to?
Thor curses himself for not asking Loki what he remembers of the extinct race; though they attended the same lessons, Loki is ever better at remembering details.
An airlock, Thor thinks; even Aesir can only survive in space for so long, with no air.
Very few intelligent species have no use for breathing.
The Statesman shakes from another attack.
Thor slides the door open and rushes in.
“Contact is useless,” the Valkyrie informs, quickly closing the transmission line.
“They are strong. We will need to sync our attacks.”
Heimdall looks at Thor, curious, but is quickly distracted by system warning messages.
Thor picks a route they will take to cargo hold C together. He tells the Valkyrie she needs to be their main attack—he doesn't dare ask for her weapon.
Heimdall and himself will be secondary attacks, though they will not let the Titan know this. They will be distractions, allowing her sword to succeed.
“We've had a breach of the supply wing,” Heimdall announces, reaching for his sword. “A fight it is, Your Majesty.”
Thor confirms the plan with Heimdall on the way. They ignore the stench of death that reaches them, already late to the slaughter.
They reach the room.
“Point first,” Thor reminds the Valkyrie. “Always go for the head.”
“I’ve been doing this longer than you, Your Highness.”
Thor nods, grim. I know.
Second chances are a very rare thing. Thor’s hands shake if he does not grip his sword, and so he does not hold it lightly.
The Valkyrie and Heimdall had reached earlier than Thor in his vision, fighting and falling in turns—Thor had fought on his own and come to the same end. Now that he is here to fight at the same time, the result will be different.
They converge on their enemy in a single wave of attacks, blow after blow that is blocked or lands, with little difference. The Valkyrie’s weapon is no more effective than their own when she tries for a killing blow.
Heimdall is knocked aside first, and then Thor. The Valkyrie dodges a hand but is on her back by the next.
Thor struggles to rise and stumble towards him again, not content to let their hope die in such a way—but once he makes it to the Titan, he is weak and slow, with a cracked sword.
The Titan’s hand swipes Thor again, hitting him into the wall head-first.
The room is dark, so dark, and the metallic scent of blood is all he can smell. His limbs ache where they have broken and been hit by a foe so strong that Thor, even if he had his lightning, can stand no chance against on his own. The fighting continues, and Thor focuses on taking a few more breaths while he can.
His vision fades. His chest refuses to inhale.
A giant warship rises in front of them, swallowing their own Statesman in its shadow. The larger ship blocks their path forward, and Thor looks at Loki in relief—Loki looks at Thor in a panic.
Another chance to fight.
Another chance to—no, fighting has not worked. He should try and gather information before he acts—that’s what Loki would do.
“We need to escape,” Loki insists.
The third time, it is not as disorienting as the first or second. Some sort of temporal loop, Thor assumes, possibly, probably, connected to his death. A third chance to right what has been wronged. If any others retain memories, he does not know it.
“Loki,” Thor asks. “We can survive in space for some time—what other weaknesses do Aesir have?”
“Thor,” Loki’s eyes are wide, but his words are firm and carry urgency. He takes the situation seriously, even without knowing the threat as Thor does. “We need to evacuate.”
“We will,” Thor assures, but he needs to know. Is fighting him with weapons their only chance?
Loki purses his lips, already moving towards the door. “A blade, a blunt hit that is strong enough. You know this.”
Thor sighs, exasperated. “Yes, but are they the same as Titans?”
“We have no weapon that can cast a fatal blow on board.”
Thor purses his lips, disappointed. If there are truly no other options Loki knows, then information may be useless to gather.
Thor does not stop for the Valkyrie and Heimdall. He enters cargo hold C, and with his sword out, pushes to the forefront of the Asgardian crowd.
“I am Thor Odinson, King of Asgard.” Thor's throat closes around his words as the thought of bargaining for lives that he has already seen lost thrice clogs him. “We can negotiate.”
The Titan smiles, a gruesome thing that sends shivers down Thor’s back.
“Found you.”
Thor focuses on the fight from then on, not understanding what makes this time different from the rest. The Titan focuses on Thor alone, beating him with less force, toying with him.
When Thor is battered and bleeding, the Titan lifts Thor up to witness the carnage overtaking the rest of the room.
Thor’s vision is halted by blood flowing from his hair over his eyelid, but even he sees the destruction that has been cast. The Asgardians that remain stand trembling as their King bleeds before them. Thor is waved in the air as if to show what has quickly become of him.
Thor is thrown aside, and the creatures descend on him. They tear at his clothes, pushing blades through his shoulders to pin him down and laughing when he squirms, unable to stop them. Needles reach into Thor’s skin, digging into his face and pressing further up into his nerves, burning him from his face down to his neck.
They laugh and shriek in his face, spitting out words he barely registers. An axe comes down on his knee, and Thor screams. He passes out just as he makes out Loki’s name ringing in his ears, as if any of them know his brother.
Thor does not think he can stand it. There is no rest between repeats, no break between the chances, and Thor can never know which is the last. He does not remember which was the first.
There is an hour for the attack to conclude, usually. If he is lucky, then it may last two. He has no reason to measure the length of time to be sure, and lives within an hour. He lives within the same hour, dozens, hundreds of times. There is no way to injure Thanos beyond a scratch with the Valkyrie’s sword, but Thor has no other plan, and there is never time to stop and think of one.
It is exhausting, living within an hour.
Loki dies, the Valkyrie dies, Heimdall dies, Thor dies, everyone dies, and Thor has no better plan but to fight. Fight and win. He lays on the metal ground, facing the ceiling, and tries to cry out everything he still feels when he watches them die.
He has watched all of them die, more times than he cares to count. The screams continue to get closer, the screams of his people, being slaughtered.
He curses the weight on his shoulders, the knowledge that they are his people to save and he has failed them, even given infinite chances to do so.
Thor’s hands tremble, but no tears come to him.
They are standing in front of a large window, the expanse of all space before them, in which a giant warship rises. It swallows their Statesman in its shadow, and Loki looks at Thor with confusion and barely-hidden fear.
When Thor does fight again, it’s always with the same plan. He has not come up with any alternative but to try and beat the Titan in a fight—it will take only one defeat to give them a better chance.
A giant warship rises in front of them, swallowing their own Statesman in its shadow. Loki looks at Thor in a panic—Thor looks at Loki, not particularly feeling anything.
“We need to escape,” Loki insists.
The nth time, it is not as disorienting as the times before. Some sort of temporal loop, Thor knows. connected to his death. Connected to his death, which always comes.
The scenario does not change, nor do the resources available. It is not until an eternity has passed that Thor thinks of gathering information again, rather than putting his all into a physical altercation with the Titan. It has been some time since Thor has gathered his wits around him, rather than feel the pain of continuous death lodged in his limbs.
“Loki,” Thor asks. “Is there a way to reforge a weapon with seidr?”
“Thor,” Loki’s eyes are wide, but his words are firm. “We need to evacuate.”
“We will,” Thor assures, but he needs to know. It may be the only way they stand a chance of fighting the Titan. “Is it possible?”
Loki purses his lips. “Not for me. I would need a lot more seidr.”
Thor purses his lips, too. Loki is Asgard’s foremost mage. If his seidr stores are not enough, then it is not possible, not without an object of power, of which they have none.
“I could probably do it,” Loki grumbles. “If I had time to prepare.”
“How much time?” Thor asks, dubious of Loki’s tone.
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t have enough.” Loki steps towards the door, “I’ll evacuate who I can.”
They will have to try again with the Valkyrie’s sword, or Heimdall’s. If they coordinate their attack, Thor might be able to channel some lightning despite the absence of sufficient atmosphere on the ship.
Thor nods as Loki leaves, but he wonders what chance they truly have.
He realises he forgot to ask about the Titans. He doubts Loki knows much more than him when their race is considered extinct, but he should still ask. Thor has assumed the usual weaknesses of the orifices—though they have not landed successful hits so far to prove it.
Thor bypasses stopping for anyone to reach the cargo hold.
He enters the room, pushing to the forefront of the Asgardian crowd.
“I am Thor Odinson, King of Asgard.” Thor's throat closes around his words as the thought of bargaining for lives that he has already seen lost thrice clogs him. “We can negotiate.”
The Titan smiles.
“Found you.”
Thor focuses on the fight from then, not understanding what makes these times different from the rest, beyond knowing who Thor is. The Titan focuses on Thor alone, beating him with less force, toying with him.
When Thor is battered and bleeding, the Titan lifts Thor up, to witness the carnage overtaking the rest of the room.
One of his minion creatures that stands around begins to talk.
Thor’s vision is halted by blood flowing from his hair over his eyelid, but even then he makes out Loki’s figure, pausing in the doorway.
The low buzz of an intercom signal relays a grainy message that Thor cannot concentrate on with the Titan squeezing his head as he holds him on his feet.
“So hear me, and rejoice. You have had the privilege of being saved… Smile... For even in death, you have become Children of Thanos.”
The other creatures have converged around Loki, and Thor knows that even if his jaw wasn’t dislocated, a warning would be useless. It would only show weakness to the Titan.
“Destiny arrives all the same,” a deep voice says, and then a fist of purple is on Thor’s temple, burning a hole into his skull.
Blood fills Thor’s mouth, and he glances up as the fist is momentarily removed. The gemstone that is a dull purple in the glove’s knuckle glows with indescribably power. Thor has no doubt it is an artefact of immense strength, even had it not been used upon him.
“The Tesseract,” The Titan demands, “Or your brother's head. I assume you have a preference.”
For a moment Thor thinks the words are directed at himself—he almost seizes with rage at being given such a choice.
“I do,” Loki says, his voice unable to conceal the lies within his speech. “Kill away.”
Pain overtakes Thor, whiting the vision of his single eye and convulsing his body where it is held up. Loki yells.
The pain stops.
With nothing else to focus on, Thor relays the words in his head. “We don't have the Tesseract,” Thor spits. The taste of blood is strong but never unfamiliar to him. “It was destroyed on Asgard.”
Thor thinks he sees guilt on Loki’s features as his brother slowly lifts a hand, and the Tesseract emerges at his fingertips.
Loki has the Tesseract. Loki has the Tesseract.
The conversation continues, but Thor is unable to concentrate on what dialogue is exchanged.
Loki drops the Tesseract and dives towards Thor as The Hulk emerges and fights Thanos.
Loki’s hands pat Thor’s chest and face, but Thor cannot hear him over the ringing in his ears. His ears hurt from sound, and physical pain throbs deep inside his head. His temple radiates heat where the gemstone was pressed into his head.
The Hulk’s roar vibrates through the floor, and Thor sees one of the lithe creatures stop the tallest, strongest one from assisting their Titan master.
The room glows as the Bifrost is opened on the ship, and Thanos returns, no longer with the Hulk to stop him.
Thor tries to get up and continue the battle, but metal bindings attach to him, forcing him to his knees. Metal binds Thor’s mouth shut, rendering him silent as he waits for this torment to end.
Thor watches the Tesseract be picked off the floor and offered to the Titan, and he watches Loki re-enter the circle of enemies and talk to them as if they were friends. A strategy he has witnessed before, but all Thor sees is white through his pain, and that it will not work.
Loki speaks with familiarity to the Titan, as though they did not slaughter the innocents scattered around. “I pledge to you, my undying fidelity.”
The knife Loki attempts to use is not one of power. Thor looks at the dagger and knows. He wishes it were, so that Loki could have had a chance.
Slowly, slowly, the Titan extends a hand around Loki’s neck and lifts him. “You should choose your words more carefully.”
Loki struggles, hands silently clawing at his own neck, trying to pull the large fingers loose. His legs kick, hanging in the air as the hold around his neck tightens.
Thanos glances at Thor and smiles.
A hand crunches down on the neck within its grasp.
Metal barring him in place, Thor is unable to scream.
“Don’t let me watch you die again,” Thor begs.
They are standing in front of a large window, the expanse of all space before them, in which a giant warship rises. It swallows their Statesman in its shadow, and Loki looks at Thor with confusion and barely-hidden fear.
Fear, always fear, because Loki knows Thanos before Thor did, and he knows to fear him.
“We should escape,” Loki says. He sounds desperate and ignores the words Thor said before him.
They could escape. Both of them had time to evacuate who they could and then take a pod for themselves. They could escape, and maybe the chances here would end. They could leave, but what kind of king would Thor be?
Loki has the Tesseract. Loki has the Tesseract. The realisation is not lost on Thor.
The Tesseract is powerful; with it they should be able to do something, but Loki rarely responds well to the idea. He claws and gnashes at Thor’s words more than he does for Thanos, no matter how many times Thor watches him die.
The ship rises in the window in front of them.
Thor turns to Loki. “Use the Tesseract!!”
Loki’s eyes widen comically, a sheer, flimsy attempt at denial. “You—you shouldn't know about that!!”
“Loki,” Thor growls, but is cut off from repeating himself when the Statesman shakes, hit by a beam.
“Loki!” Thor yells, “Use the Tesseract and get us all out of here, you know how to use it!”
“That's not how it works!” Loki snaps, “If I take it out, he’ll know that it's here!”
“He already assumes that you have it!” Thor grabs Loki’s head between his hands as the ship shakes, struck again. “Thanos already knows.”
“I— You —” Loki's eyes shift around, frantic. His voice breaks, “You know about Thanos?”
“You need to act now, Loki.” Thor's anger emerges—anger that his brother hid such a powerful item from him, anger that he hasn't used it in all their chances before, and anger that he won't do as Thor says now. “Everyone will die if you don't!”
“You know about Thanos?” Loki repeats, louder to match Thor’s tone.
Thor snarls. “Now isn't the time, Loki!” Everyone will die. You won't save them this time either. What if this is the last chance? “He is going to kill all of us.” You, me, every last Asgardian aboard this ship.
“You knew about Thanos,” Loki screams, pushing Thor's hands away from where they held him, “You knew, and you still didn't care!”
Thor's eyebrows draw in, watching Loki take steps back until he hits the wall. His arms wrap around himself, and Thor reaches out, confused. “Loki?”
Behind them, the ship begins a descent closer.
“Loki, Thanos will kill all of us if you cannot do this.”
Loki clutches his head in his hands, and his eyes do not see, no matter how they rush around the room.
“He killed me!” Loki screams. His voice jumps to a shrill, higher pitch, “HE KILLED ME, AND YOU DIDN’T CARE.”
“Loki, brother, that’s not—” Thor reaches out, only for Loki to step away—madness and fear war in Loki’s expression—panic, disbelief, grief —an expression far more open than Thor has seen in so long he does not remember a time.
The statesman shakes beneath them, the sound of a distance crash—no doubt the same parts of their ship are being targeted as every other time.
Loki shrieks. “I’M NOT YOUR BROTHER!”
Loki braces against the wall, arms covering his ears as he crouches and ignores Thor.
“He knew, he knew, he knew and he—” Loki’s voice chokes, “You knew— ”
“I can explain,” Thor says, anger clamped down by Loki’s… display. He grits his teeth, not understanding most of this reaction. “But you need to move us away before they get on this ship!”
“You knew,” Loki snarls, “This entire time, you knew, and you’ve, you still—I don’t know why I came back.” Loki huffs out an amused, bitter breath. “You knew about the Tesseract too; of course you knew.”
“Loki,” Thor pleads. “The Tesseract.”
Loki looks at Thor, anger blazing in his eyes.
Thor’s breath catches; he does not see rage in Loki often. Loki has always been kinder than him, more collected, he has always been better at thinking his actions and words through. Even in the throes of madness, Loki never let his anger make decisions for him; of that much Thor is certain.
The vitriol in Loki runs out of him like water from a wrung cloth. It leaves dampness that is impossible to ignore and will take time to dry.
“I don’t have it,” Loki laughs lightly. A lie. He does not pretend it is not a lie, saying the words as though they mean nothing to him.
Thor remembers those same words years ago on Midgard.
He does not have time for Loki’s twisted games!
Thor grabs Loki’s shoulders, gripping him hard through his leather and shaking him harder. “The Tesseract, Loki.”
Loki, Thor thinks, please. Loki, please.
It hurts Thor to see Loki this way—broken, fractured, hateful—but he thinks of each chance he has been given, every time he has watched Loki die in front of him, every time he has died, not knowing that there is more he could have been trying. The Tesseract is an object of immense power.
Thor had thought it hopeless to win when they have no weapon that can harm Thanos, and here the Tesseract has been, the very object Thanos is seeking, and Loki has had it hidden away the entire time.
Thor’s anger surges, and he pushes Loki against the wall. There is a crack, a distinct sound. A bone has broken, and they both know it. Loki gasps softly, but does not look surprised.
Thor snarls, but lets go.
The sounds of screams are loud when they start and closer than they should be. Neither of them left the room this time around. No one has evacuated.
It’s too late, Thor realises. He looks at Loki, leaning against the wall, a hand delicately shielding his collarbone. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you, Thor thinks. I’m sorry I can’t save you. I can’t save any of you.
The screams get closer, and Thor wonders if it’s the insect-creatures that will kill them, or one of the special ones. Thanos himself doesn’t care for Thor most of the time, even if he does seek Loki. At least, Thor thinks, he now knows why.
Broken neck, broken bones. Cut down, torn apart. It is always the same.
He looks at Loki, shoulders shaking, a shielded expression of pain every time they do. He looks like a wounded animal, and Thor… Thor just wants them to live.
Don’t let me watch you die again.
Not again. not again. not again.
(Thor knows it will happen again.)
The warship rises in the window ahead of them, casting its shadow on the Statesman.
Thor turns to Loki. “I love you.”
Loki’s words die in his mouth, producing an aborted sound. His panicked expression looks back to the warship and then to Thor with urgency.
“I love you,” Thor repeats. He holds Loki’s face in his hands, forcing him to calm. “Loki, you must know that I love you.”
Loki’s breath comes out ragged, and though he tries to look out the window, Thor does not let him.
The Statesman shakes beneath them, hit.
“I am stuck in a temporal loop, Loki. I have more information than I know how to use, and I need you to trust me.” Thor watches Loki’s eyes flutter. He can practically hear the gears in Loki’s mind absorbing the information.
“I know you have the Tesseract.” Loki sucks in a breath. Thor continues, careful not to mention Thanos by name. Loki never responds well to his name. “Do you know how to use it?”
“I know how to use it,” Loki confirms. He hesitates, “But for a small group, or to open a portal. Not for a ship of this size.”
Thor feels his lungs deflate, finally having an answer. Like every other dead end, so is this.
Thor thinks, loosening his hold. The Tesseract’s primary use is spacial transfer; if moving the ship instantaneously isn’t an option, what else remains?
Loki glances at the window, “We should escape.”
The Statesman shakes, hit by another beam from the warship.
“Is it possible to move Th—the enemy somewhere else?”
Loki frowns. “Outside an airlock, yes. Somewhere far away, not without a lot of preparation.”
Thor’s shoulders drop. The nearest star must be too far.
“How long… have you been in the temporal loop?” Loki’s voice is filled with concern Thor does not need at a time when he has less than thirty minutes before he is killed.
“I don’t know,” Thor snaps, “A long time. The man on that ship” —Thor does not miss Loki’s slight flinch—”kills us all.”
Loki clears his throat awkwardly.
They stand in silence until Loki speaks again. “Have you tried a weapon—”
“There are no weapons!” Thor insists, aggressively rounding on his brother. “He kills all of us, and I cannot even wound him deeper than a scrape.”
Loki seems to accept this and nods. “The Tesseract is not a weapon either,” Loki agrees.
Thor disagrees. An object of so much power, he is sure that Loki simply does not know how to use it as one.
“If I take it out, he’ll know that it's here,” Loki points out. Thor is about to silence him when Loki gives him a look that he recognises. Thank the Norns, Loki has an idea. “ But… ”
“If I’m given enough time, a weapon could be forged through the Tesseract’s strength.”
“Do you know how to forge?” Thor asks, not as impressed by the idea as he could be. It is a breath of fresh air to have a conversation try to lead somewhere productive, but there is little chance Loki ever learnt how to forge.
“No, but it can’t be too difficult.”
What little hair he has left, Thor feels the urge to tear it out.
“Loki!” Thor hisses. He thinks of all the times Loki has died in front of him, before and during the current chances. His tongue refuses to scold.
“The Tesseract is kind and has been conscious longer than me. I’m sure if asked politely, it could assist. If it lends me some heat and energy, I can weave the seidr into a sword—or a dagger—that we already have.”
“A sword,” Thor agrees. “Does it matter which one?”
Loki shakes his head. “It shouldn’t. How much time do we have left?”
Thor can hear the screams of their people now, and he is sure Loki can too. Loki handles this better than him.
“No more than twenty minutes.”
Loki purses his lips. “I don’t think that will be enough, but I can try.”
Loki twists his arms and pulls a sword from his dimensional pocket.
Thor narrows his eyes upon the inscriptions of the blade. It seems familiar. “Is that the Sword of Woe?” he asks, appalled.
“Does it matter?” Loki rolls his eyes, hesitating for a moment before bringing the Tesseract into his outstretched hand.
“Loki,” Thor criticises, “That’s a cursed blade; it fuels evil intent into the wielder!”
“It’s mildly powerful, and the only sword I have with me.”
“Loki,” Thor realises, “Did you steal that from the vault?”
Loki scoffs. “The items would have been lost to fire and void if I had not.”
Items ? As in, multiple?
Thor laughs, a hoarse chuckle so deep that he cannot help.
It has been so long since he has had a reason to laugh.
He leaves Loki on the floor, sweating as he coaxes energy to be channelled through him into his hands to carefully heat the metal.
There is no time to look for the Valkyrie and Heimdall in the control room—Thor is sure they have found their way to the cargo hold already. He rushes through corridors of rotten flesh and blood, no sense of foreboding penetrating his mind. He trusts Loki to try, and if their effort is not enough, then surely, surely, they will just have to try again.
Thor enters and finds a small crowd of Asgardians still standing. The lights are a dark blue, and flames burn bright to appear purple because of it. There are other creatures—a range of species that he does not recognise at all, varying in height and stature, carrying cruel weapons and standing around the room, not engaging in battle at all. He has never gotten them to speak; he only ever heard the hairless, squid-like one give his speech of salvation.
The Asgardians charge where they can, being easily thrown aside and batted away for all their war cries and anger.
Thor’s own anger does not make an appearance. Many have died, but maybe this time they have a chance to win?
He should push his way to the front and take Thanos bare-handed while he can, but if he is injured before the sword is reforged, how will he use it?
Such a short temporal loop has made Thor impatient, for all the times he has been unable to act. He can wait a little longer for Loki. For a plan that will not, cannot, save everyone, but perhaps will leave more alive than there would have been before. This time.
The crowd thins as more Asgardians are slaughtered. Thanos smiles cruelly, waving his gloved hand like a shield where he can. The purple gemstone in a knuckle lays dormant, and Thor shivers, remembering all the times it has been of use against Thor. He only ever uses it on Thor when he knows who Thor is—or if he knows who Loki is.
A sister artefact to the Tesseract, if the times it was crushed and put into it as well were an indication.
Thor’s patience runs short as he watches more Asgardians be killed. There were so few of them left from Ragnarok, and now there are many less.
He pulls his sword out, ready to face the Titan. Ready to die and be given another chance.
He thinks of Loki, convinced to work in tandem after so long of concealing the truth it has driven Thor mad. Perhaps in the next chance, he will have the ability to wait.
Thor charges at Thanos, his sword swinging with all his strength.
There is a the vacuum of space being bent, and the sword in Thor's hand cuts into Thanos’ armour—
—and through his neck.
Thor pants, frozen in disbelief at the head that hits the floor and rolls.
The sword in his hands thrums with power, no longer his own but one that has been reforged.
The workmanship is a terror to look at, even in the deep blue and purple flickering light of the room. It is unmistakably the same that Loki had produced earlier. The smell of death soaks into Thor's bones, and lightning thrums in his veins.
He casts his gaze upon Thanos’ minions, standing around the room.
They tortured Loki, Thor realises, from scrambled bits and pieces he has put together over the loops.
The weight of the universe converges on Thor's shoulders, reminding him of all he has learnt.
The cycle is broken, Thor thinks. It must be.
He lifts his sword, stained with Titan blood, at the nearest of Thanos' creatures. In his periphery, a flash of green crashes into one of the others.
There will be no more chances, and they will set things right.