viii.

'You know, there is nothing as tempting as a locked door.'

That one had gotten a laugh from Thor, and a heavy arm slung round his shoulders while golden hair tickled his face. Father had even chuckled, once. Now only the silence answered him, breaking like calm water and then quieting as if no-one had ever been there. The jest was foolishness, Loki knew. He wore the face of Asgard's King; no door was truly locked to him. And there was always silence now, when Odin departed from his people. He had no wife, no sons, no-one left to him; the golden halls stood empty where once they walked. Loki had almost pitied the man – almost, when he tumbled down into the Odinsleep, a look of grief etched on his weathered face. Almost.

I am King now.

King of Asgard, ruler of the Realm Eternal, commander of vast armies, lord of suns and stars and galaxies. King you are and King you will be, the Other had said. But when he turned to make a jest, only silence answered and he could not sleep. Not this night, and not for many nights past. He would jerk awake, gasping in the still night air with Thor's voice ringing in his ears or toss and turn until the dawn light washed over him. Loki was exhausted. Not that he looked it, under his glamors and spells. But when the night came and he drained the magic from his face, looking into the mirror was like staring at a ghost. Shadows like bruises ringed his eyes.

Loki was never honest with himself, as a rule. But if he were to speak the truth to this empty room... The crown was killing him, piece by piece. Or maybe it was all the souls he had trodden to ascend the golden throne. Thor's face swam behind his eyes, broken with grief, shattered like a storm. He should've spit out some clever, cruel jest in those last moments on Svartalfheim. Maybe now it would hurt less to see his not-brother struggling rudderless across Midgard. But he had wept and babbled and pleaded like a fool, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, because he could not say Forgive me for gutting your heart once and forever. Any cruel, amusing lie would have been better than the almost-sincerity of his last words. Loki was well and truly ruined when he stepped outside his cocoon of sharp jests and cutting laughter. Jests...

He was vaguely shocked his golden, idiot, glorious, heartbreaking not-quite-brother had locked the door to his bedchamber in the first place. A fine sheet of dust dancing under his footsteps, Loki shook his head. When had there ever been dust on this floor?

They were children again and Thor had chased him through the sun-dappled trees and the simmering streets and the whispering halls. Loki had torn around the doorway to his brother's room, stuck out a bony foot, and sent him sprawling to the shining floor. Thor laughed like a hurricane as Loki flopped on the mess of his bed and squinted at the sun. A summer wind whistled through the windows like a piper's reel.

They were children again and Loki went sneaking and sliding down the hall to his brother's door and pushed on the beams with all his might. His blanket trailed on the floor.

'Thor?'

'Hnrrgg?'

'The monsters aren't really real, are they?'

'Loki, how should I know?'

'You said you knew where hiccups come from.'

'Well hiccups aren't monsters. And if they are real, they're certainly not stuffed under your bed.'

'You don't know that.'

His brother sighed and rolled over at this point. A bolt of terror struck Loki.

'Thor,' he hissed desperately, 'Thor, you can't go back to sleep!'

Thor laughed a little and scooted over.

''M not. Come here.'

Loki scrambled eagerly into his brother's nest of blankets and furs, cracking a satisfied smile when Thor's arm looped around him. Golden hair brushed over his eyes as an indistinct rumble of G'night reached his ears.

There had been no more monsters that night.

Never once in his life had Loki seen Thor make his bed, but now the furs were folded neatly under their own blanket of dust as dustmotes whirled in the starlight. No-one's here to sleep. Something in Loki wanted to sob, to curl in on himself and gasp and retch and rasp until his heart lay stewing at his feet. But he was so tired – and his tears had all frozen in the icy nothing between worlds, or maybe he had always been frozen on the inside. He was so cold.

Thor's leather mantle lay sprawled on a carven chest, the only thing out of place in the room. Squashing down the Don't be a child! and the He's not your brother, Loki grabbed the thing curled its heavy folds around himself, smelling leather and rain and woodsmoke. The trickster god was past caring. Exhaustion gnawed at him like a living thing and Thor meant blood and thunder and heartbreak and rough embraces and rest. Loki let himself tip forward onto his brother's bed. He wrapped the mantle around his narrow shoulders and crawled beneath the dusty furs, warmth finally settling into his aching bones. Pathetic. You won't leave his shadow. But living in Thor's shadow was warm and safe, he thought, eyes closed and mind hushed like a stormy sea suddenly calmed. There were good dreams, too, safeguarded memories.

. . .

Loki was tiny in Thor's shadow, and Thor, not very big himself, was in a hurry. A hand wrapped firmly around his brother's pale fingers, the boy trotted down the hall toward the great outdoors.

'Too fast,' Loki complained, 'Too fast, Thor.'

His brother slowed, frowning. 'Keep up, Loki.'

Loki shrugged. 'Too fast,' he offered again.

Thor huffed in irritation, but Loki wasn't worried. Thor had waited for him, and that was all that mattered. They reached the courtyard at last, the sunlight bursting in upon them. It filled up the walled court like water in a glass. Thor gently detached his hand from Loki's and ran to meet Sif, who hurried toward him, smiling.

'Thor! Thor,' she called, 'I beat Theoric fair and square.' Her smile was blinding. Thor grinned back. 'You knocked him down! I knew you could!'

She laughed and he laughed with her, grabbing her hands and spinning them around in a circle. A summer wind was singing round them, chasing between the garden trees. And Thor was dizzy, just a bit, so he sat down against the warm stone, under the shadow of many trees. Loki slipped under his arm and leaned his head on Thor's shoulder. Thor almost pushed his brother off with a grunt and a frown, as he had so often, but something stayed his hands. The dark sheet of Sif's hair disappeared around an archway and silence fell on them. Loki hummed quietly, a wild tune in his ears. And the summer wind whistled through the windows like a piper's reel.

. . .

Thor woke with tears on his face and an ache in his heart. He had so hated silence, but now it filled up the gaps in his life as sunlight had once. Jane was still sleeping, chestnut hair spilled over her milky face. Rain broke like a wave across the window, casting the apartment into a slate-colored twilight. It was not dawn yet. Once a brother, always a brother, Volstagg had told him in a moment of wisdom. And, indeed, a part of Thor would be missing until the day he died. He lay down again, a green-eyed boy smiling in his memory.

'Thor,' Loki had said, 'Thor, you waited.'

But all he could hear was, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.'

.Finis.

I really, really hope this chapter made sense! Since Thor and Loki share memories, I thought it would be possible, perhaps plausible, for them to dream about the same event. The shift of POV in the dream/memory was intended to be a poetic transition; I dearly hope it wasn't confusing! (I head-canon Aesir reliving important memories in dreams for some reason; perhaps since their lives are so long they have different memory structures than humans and part of that manifests in dream-memories... I don't know.)

In any event, this story is now finished! I'm sorry to leave you with such a tearjerker. I realized as I was writing this story that it was becoming my attempt to reason through Phase II fallout for the various characters. Creating any sort of reunion/closure between the brothers would radically change the canon landscape and I wasn't ready to deal with that.

I'm incredibly grateful to everyone who reviewed; your words mean so, so much to me. That there are real, dear people out there who want to read my writing is honestly kind of mind-blowing in a wonderful way. I'm sorry I haven't had time to respond to all of your reviews; I've been incredibly over-busy lately. However, with this story completed, Fridays Always End in DOOM is next on my writing list, which some of you are probably glad to hear. :) I feel dreadful for neglecting it so.

Thank you all so much and I'll see you next time!
-RandomCelt