A/N: Born out of my frustration at a certain scene in Thor: The Dark World, which should be fairly obvious once you start reading. Also a giant f you to whoever thought it was a good idea to kill Frigga off. Loki is not in a very good frame of mind in this, just fyi.

Trigger warning for suicide. Though it is strictly in the context of resetting the time loop, something the character is aware of (not that that makes it exactly healthy, but yeah).

Reviews are greatly appreciated!

Loki dies on the desolate plains of Svartalfheim, Thor's howls of grief ringing in his ears.

He surges up from his bed in his cell. The metal cup he was playing with tumbles to the ground with a muted clang. Heart pounding, Loki looks around. Everything is in place. As though he hadn't torn through the place a few hours ago. As though the attack had never happened. As though Thor had never let him out.

Loki raises his hand to his chest. It almost throbs with remembered pain, but there is no wound. Had there ever been one? Had the past day been just a nightmare? Or a portent? A chance to fix his mistakes? He huffs a laugh at the last thought. The universe would never be so kind to him to allow him that. He has never been so lucky.

Lost in his thoughts as he has been, he only now registers the growing commotion outside of his cell. The noises are chillingly familiar.

Loki stands and goes to the energy barrier, looking out. Sure enough, the Kursed is free and freeing others, killing whatever guards he comes across. He ignores the other prisoners gleefully joining in. His full attention is on the Kursed. The creature that had killed the one person in all of Yggdrasil who still held any affection for him. Loki's chest burns, whether from phantom pain or the force of his anger. He cannot tell anymore.

Not a dream then.

Soon, the creature will reach his cell. Like before, it is unlikely to let him out. Especially now, when he cannot hope to control the expression on his face. The emotions are still too raw. And he does not wish to. There is no need for him to exit his cell to accomplish what he wants. He does not need to say a single word.

Like he should not have before. The first time. Loki can fix this. He will. He must.

When the creature finally stands before his cell, Loki does not hide his sneer. This creature's days are finished, whatever the outcome of this day. Loki will not forget and he will not forgive. When Thor lets him out to enact his ridiculous plan for the Aether, Loki will be ready. He will kill the Kursed again.

It looks at him, almost confused at Loki's blatant hostility. Like before, it leaves without breaking the energy keeping him within his cell. This time, Loki does not call out to it.

Loki spends the aftermath of the battle in the dungeons pacing. After the Kursed had gotten away, the fighting had died down. Thor had raced off to battle the Dark Elves attacking the palace. Occasionally, the very stones above him shook. But it would all be fine. Thor would arrive on time. Or Odin. The Kursed might even still be wandering, unable to find its way. The thought makes him smile.

All will be well. Asgard would repel the Elves and events would continue like they had, with the only difference that mattered. Only this time Loki does not intend to be stabbed upon the same weapon he had used. His blood still burns with the remembered poison that was the Kursed's blood.

Loki stops as a thought occurs to him. He curses under his breath. He has half been awaiting another guard to come and tell him the result of the battle. Except there would be no need for a guard to come down to the dungeons to tell him anything if all was well. What reason would they have to spare a thought for a mere prisoner? Thor might not even need his help. In this case, no news was good news. Even if it cost him his chance at the Kursed. Loki can live with that. He smiles, relief pressing down on him like a tidal wave.

He turns. A guard is standing in front of his cell.

Loki does not come to his senses until he hears Thor's voice. He blinks and sees what he's done to his cell. It has been utterly destroyed, burned away. Compared to the ruin now, last time it had only been a little untidy. Last time, he had spent his guilt and rage over the cell. This time, he does not even know what he'd felt. It had not been his fault. This time. Not directly. How foolish had he been to think his words were all that had decided her fate? One sentence of direction versus thousands of other variables. None of which he knew. How arrogant of him to think his words were the lynchpin. The Kursed had probably not even listened to him the first time either.

"Loki," Thor says again. There's an edge to his voice that makes Loki think he has been repeating himself for quite some time.

"Th-" he coughs, his throat feels shredded. He swallows and tries again, turning his head to look upon his brother.

"Thor." His voice is flat. Hoarse. Thor does not look as cold as last time. He is trying, but grief and surprise at Loki's state have made a shambles of his attempt. Perhaps he should not have tried to hide last time. There is only one course of action left to him. One slim hope this had not been a wasted chance. Perhaps...perhaps he can try again. If nothing else changes...

Loki staggers up, ignoring the soot and ash streaked all over him. His hand leaves a paler imprint on the wall when he uses it to regain his balance. Pain in his left foot makes him stumble. There is still glass inside. He catches himself on the barrier. His hand burns as the barrier sparks, but he ignores it.

Thor's eyes have widened. Loki grins, a death skull of a smile. He must look like quite a sight.

"When do we start?"

This time the cup hits him on the face. He scowls and sits up. Everything is intact once more, no sign of either of his bouts of destruction. He rubs at his chest where the Kursed had impaled him once more. He pushes aside the memory of both burning and choking on his own blood, of Jane's stricken face over Thor's shoulder. Useless mortal. This is all her fault.

The important thing is that it had worked. For whatever reason, he has been brought back. Again. A third chance.

He does not have much time. First, he must get out of this cell. He hadn't really tried before, content to gather his strength back from his little sojourn to the Titan's realm and Midgard. But now he has reason to try. The best reason.

He approaches the barrier, studying it. His hand itches, the one he had burned against the barrierbefore. If the Kursed could overwhelm it, so can he. Probably more efficiently as well.

The screaming starts elsewhere in the dungeon. He snarls and starts to tear at the barrier with his seidr. There is no time for a more delicate solution.

The barrier resists him. He pours more energy into it. It wavers. The Kursed passes in front of his cell, looking into it curiously.

Loki screams in rage and the barrier shatters outwards. He launches himself at the creature.

It swats him away and his head crashes into a column. His head spins, then clears. Stupid. He has lost any element of surprise. The Kursed now knows him as an enemy. Everything will be ruined. Unless he ends this right here and now.

It had turned away from him, disregarding him as a threat. A mistake.

The ground around him is littered with the bodies of guards and prisoners. He lifts a sword from one of the guards, the dessicated hand gripping the sword crumbling away with a touch. Teeth bared, he rushes at the Kursed.

It's already halfway through the side exit, the one used by servants and guards who wish to make a more discreet entrance. It does not even notice the first swing Loki takes at it. The second makes it turn. It seems annoyed. Loki grins at it.

He knows he cannot win this fight directly. There is no way he can make a dent in a creature that had punted Mjolnir aside without breaking a sweat, not as drained as he is from breaking out of his cell. But he does not need to win this, just delay it. He just needs to keep it away from his mother.

They begin their deadly dance. Compared to him, the creature is a lumbering mess. But it is quick, for all its lack of grace. The more Loki evades it, the more frustrated it gets. It takes all of Loki's concentration to stay out of its reach. If it touches him, it will just drain him of his life, prolonging its own cursed suffering. According to all the lore he has read, the Kursed were never meant to last long.

He is just about to cast an illusion to get some distance when Thor's voice breaks his concentration.

"LOKI!"

Loki does not know or care whether Thor yelled from worry or anger. Both maybe. What matters is that the Kursed uses his distraction to grab his neck and slam his head against the stone wall. And again. And again. Loki loses his grip on the borrowed sword and slumps where it leaves him. It rushes away. NO! He has to get to it. He has to stop it! He -

He can't lift himself up. His vision is graying out. Something in his neck grinds together. Blood trickles down the back of his head and his skull shifts sickeningly when he tries to move.

Something pink and yellow drifts in front of him, a rumbling sound vibrating through his bones. He blinks. It hurts to focus. Something is touching the back of his neck, the rumbling sound growing more urgent. Loki cannot hear him anymore, but he is somehow aware that Thor is the one in front of him.

The coil of emotions in him at the realization makes it hard to breath. He still tries.

"Go after him! Stop him! Don't let him kill mother." He wants to say the words. Wants to tell Thor to stop coddling him. Stop looking at him as though he cares. But his tongue barely moves. His words slur.

A slim shadow appears over Thor's shoulder. Loki can't see who it is, but he feels like he should know. It scares him and reassures him.

Everything fades.

The cup hits him on the head again. He springs up from the bed, heart racing. Outside, the dungeons are quiet and calm, no sign of the battle that had raged only moments before. Or rather, that has not yet raged. It seems he is brought back to the start upon his death, whatever the method. It is not tied to keeping up an act all up to Svartalfheim, to constantly being impaled by the Kursed. Good. If he fails again, he can try earlier.

His fingers twitch. He does not run them over the back of his head. Loki knows his skull is intact. Had never been broken, even. It does not stop his head from pounding.

He does not have much time. Getting out of his cell takes too long and the guards will try to stop him as much as they will try to stop the Kursed and other prisoners. And the Norns know Thor will always meddle. Perhaps he does not even need to be involved?

"Heimdall!" Even if they do not believe him at first, surely once the Dark Elves start attacking, they would be in a better position to help than him? "The Dark Elves are after the Aether inside Jane Foster! They will kill the queen if you do not answer. A Kursed is in the dungeon to provide a distraction. Heimdall!"

He does not feel Heimdall's gaze upon him. He continues screaming into the air, banging on the barrier. At the commotion, the guards approach his cell, yelling at him to calm down. The others laugh at him, jibing at each other that the once prince had finally gone mad. Even some money exchanges hands. Those, Loki vows, he will kill just on principle.

Loki snarls at them and continues. Until he hears the screaming from the other cell, the one the Kursed was in.

"Damn you! That is the Kursed! Sound the damn alarm!" Most of the guards ignore him. One of them (Loki recognizes Ivar with a chill) is at least competent enough to send a few guards to investigate. They do not return.

Loki screams in frustration.

"Heimdall! They will go where the Aether is! They will kill her! HEIMDALL!"

He orders the guards to go the queen. They laugh at him. They laugh until the Kursed reaches them and they are forced to fight. They die. The Kursed turns to look at him, but Loki is beyond dissimulating.

"I will kill you! I will tear your heart from your chest, monster!"

It turns away from him, continuing out of the dungeons. Loki screams after it, burning his hands on the barrier until he can no longer feel them.

When they come for him, it is an entire battalion of guards. Even more than had escorted him to his "trial". Loki ignores them. He continues staring at his hands, blackened and crackling. He cannot move his fingers.

They crowd around him, wordless imposing presences. Something is placed around his neck. It is not until he hears the metal clink that Loki even registers the collar. He finally looks up. It is Ivar. His old childhood guard. Loki would laugh if he felt any humor. Of course that guard had survived. Of course he had.

"The queen is dead," he tells Loki. Loki flinches, only a twitch of his head. It was the same inflection and volume as before, deliberately void of as much emotion as possible. Ivar had probably practiced a dozen times before speaking to him. He is strangely gentle when he puts the cuffs around Loki's ruined hands.

He helps him up, keeping him steady when Loki stumbles. Another guard puts his leg shackles on. Loki watches him dully, not bothering to play the tricks he had the last time this had happened. When he is sufficiently secured for their peace of mind, they pull him through the dungeons. Ivar always catches him when he stumbles, guiding him gently over the corpses and rubble.

Loki follows, not registering where they are going until they are in front of the doors to the great hall.

It is a ruin. Most of the pillars were knocked down by the ship lying abandoned in the middle of the hall. The throne was demolished. Bodies, both Dark Elf and As litter the floor. Scorch marks and blood cover the entire hall. At the end of the hall, Odin, Heimdall and Thor are waiting. A shadow moves in the corner of his eye. He turns his head and sees Jane hiding behind a pillar, escorted by Sif and the Warriors Three. She looks like she's been crying. Loki spares a sneer for her and her expression shutters. She turns away.

He follows her gaze to face the three waiting on the steps before the crumbled throne. Odin flicks his gaze to Ivar.

Ivar presses down on Loki's shoulder. Loki stiffens his back and straightens. He will not kneel. Odin's expression darkens even further. On Loki's other side, a guard shifts. He kicks out and Loki's knees buckle. He hits the ground, a stab of pain radiating from his knees. Loki does not make a sound. He stares at Odin, betraying nothing.

"Are you satisfied with your machinations, Trickster?"

At first, Loki has no idea what Odin is referring to. He lets out a disbelieving laugh when it hits him.

"Oh this is rich, Odin. You think I had something to do with this?"

"Enough! No more lies. Heimdall reported your words to me. How convenient for you to draw the guards from their posts just in time for the Kursed to strike."

Loki stares at Odin. Even for the Allfather, it is a reach. He ignores Odin. Thor will not meet his gaze. Heimdall's is inscrutable, as always.

"So this is how it will be then? Am I not to have a word to say in my defense?"

Odin scowls.

"What can you possibly say to explain your actions? I am curious, what lies shall Loki Liesmith tell this time?"

Loki feels cold. Even the ache of his hands has lessened, unimportant compared to the turmoil inside him. Does it even matter what he says now? He licks his lips and speaks.

"I knew, because I have already lived through it. I saw it. So many times. I try to change it, try to save her -"

Odin's slap stuns him into silence. The king is suddenly in his face.

"SAVE HER?! Your actions led to her death! Everywhere you go, death and destruction follows! And now, the only reason you still drew breath, is dead! You used her gift to finally kill her! You will never harm anyone else!" Odin is practically screaming at him, one eye bulging, spittle flying into Loki's face. Loki keeps his face blank.

"For your treasonous actions against Asgard and the Nine Realms, I, Odin Allfather, sentence you to death!"

Thor finally stirs, expression stricken.

"Father -"

"NO! No, Thor. I have given this snake more chances than it deserves. Let it rot with the rest of its kin, unmarked, unmourned."

Odin's wrath is so great that Thor quails, bows his head and steps to the side where Jane is lurking. She grabs his hand, watching with wide eyes.

Odin's wrath he can take, the Warriors Four's grim satisfaction he can ignore, but Thor's quiet acceptance of his guilt...that hurts. Loki struggles to contain his emotions. He clenches his fists, the agony of it centering him.

"Heimdall," Odin orders. And turns away. He keeps walking even as Heimdall's sword is drawn. He does not look back even as Heimdall raises it over his head.

"The Dark Elves were already attacking by the time I heard your cries. It was too late, I was too late," Heimdall's quiet words ring out through the hall, almost apologetic. Loki tears his gaze from his father's retreating back to meet Heimdall's eyes. He nods, a sharp jerk of his head.

Heimdall swings.

His throat burns as he watches the Kursed walk away from the dungeons. It keeps burning when Ivar comes to tell him of his mother's death. Loki doesn't react, doesn't even pretend to read. He is waiting for Thor to come. To let him out. His hands ache with memory and seidr.

Thor comes, right on time. Loki goes through the motions. He waits until Thor lets him out, until he relaxes just the slightest bit when Loki does not immediately try to run or fight. When Thor tries to push Loki through into the room where is armor is, Loki strikes. Hands burning with seidr, he clamps them to Thor's head.

Thor is yelling, trying to shove him away. He cannot get the leverage. Thor starts to scream, his flesh melting. Loki's hands burn as well. He's also screaming, but in rage. He can barely feel the fire. Thor kicks out and sends Loki flying. Loki scrambles up and flings himself at Thor again like a rabid animal. Something snaps in him and the air turns cold. Ice grows and crackles over his ruined hands and he lunges forward, stabbing deep into Thor's chest at the same moment Mjolnir caves in his and sends him flying into a wall.

Thor slumps against the wall, staring at him. Loki just grins, teeth bloody as his mouth fills with his own blood.

"Loki...why..."

Loki laughs. He laughs until he chokes on his blood. He keeps laughing through that, laughs until he sees Thor's blue eyes dull and grow lifeless. It is not until then that he starts crying. He cannot gasp for breath any longer. Shadows move in front of him, the cries of the guards distant to his ears as his vision turns red red red...

Something faintly familiar ghosts against his face and he fades away.

The next cycle, Loki perceives everything as through a fog. It is a struggle to even understand what is going on, even though the events have now been seared into his memory.

He tries to stop Frigga from dying. He fails. When Thor comes for him, he follows. He is uncertain what next to try. He does not look at Thor, or speak to him. His giddy flow of words the first time upon his release has dried up. He ignores Thor's worried glances. Let him think what he will. Loki no longer cares.

It is not until Jane Foster breaks her hand upon his face that he pays attention to his surroundings again. He blinks up at Sif's face. Her glaive is pressed against his neck. Thor is hovering over Jane as a healing stone works its magic over her bones. She is staring at him again even through her pain, puzzled at his passivity.

When they enter the ship, Loki activates it without a word. He ignores Thor's questions, letting the oaf fly it himself. He stops Jane from slumping to the floor of the ship. He can see the Aether crawling under her skin.

He lets Thor throw him out of the ship, only controlling his fall enough to land on his feet. He ignores Fandral too. He pilots the ship into Svartalfheim without thinking. He has walked this path so many times now he does not even need to.

The fog doesn't lift until something deviates from the script. He blinks and focuses to see Jane's concerned face.

"What?" his voice is hoarse. It feels as though he has not spoken for decades.

Jane fidgets, tucking a strand of her long brown hair behind her ear. He'd think her as timid as a mouse had he not known better. Sure enough, she plows on ahead.

"I said, I'm sorry for your loss. She seemed like a wonderful woman."

He stares and chokes back the wave of grief that rises at her words. He can feel everything again and almost despairs at the intensity of it. He does not want to feel this. Not anymore.

"She was," he manages. How do mortals stand this? How can they bear to go through with this throughout their lives, again and again and again?

They are silent the rest of the way there. Loki evades Thor's attempts to catch his gaze.

The farce plays out. Loki shoves Jane away from the bomb and moves himself away as well. He does not get caught in the vortex of the grenade this time. He kills the elves automatically, anticipating their movements.

The last veers left when he went right before. Loki stumbles and almost gets incinerated for it. He regains his footing and exchanges blows with the elf, until he finally stabs it in the throat. He needs to go rescue Thor.

But when he gets to him, Loki can see that he was delayed too long. The Kursed is pounding Thor into the dust of Svartalfheim and Thor is not moving.

Loki stabs the monster through the chest, activating its grenade. He evades the monster's attempt to grab at him. He ignores its dying screams as he rushes to Thor's side.

"No, nonononono," he chants under his breath when he sees Thor's ragged, gurgling breaths. One side of his chest is not moving with the rest. He doesn't know where to touch, if he even should. His heart is pounding through his chest.

"Thor, you idiot. Get up, get u-up," his voice breaks. Thor is watching him, blue eyes strangely affectionate. He mouths Loki's name.

Jane skids to their side in a cloud of ash and dust, her own voice breaking.

"Thor! Oh no."

Thor looks to her, his entire face lighting up. He lifts his hand up and Jane grabs it, pressing desperate kisses to it. She is crying. Loki can only watch, a vice squeezing his chest.

Thor reaches for him too. Loki looks at Thor's hand and grabs it just as Thor can no longer hold it up. Thor's gaze flicks between him and Jane. Loki understands. He swallows his scathing words and just nods.

Thor dies, a faint smile upon his lips.

Jane screams and cries until Loki is forced to pull her from Thor's body. There is a storm coming and they need to find shelter. He can feel a way through the realms nearby. He drags her there. If nothing, it will be better than this desolate hell hole.

The path is in a cave. When they get there, Jane pulls away. Her face is streaked with tears, but even as he watches, she gathers herself and straightens.

"What are we going to do? Malekith has the Aether and he's going to use it on Earth to end the universe! And we're stuck here. And Thor's- " she cuts herself off.

With a jolt, Loki realises he had never considered beyond saving Frigga. Even if he managed to do that, there was no guarantee he could stop Malekith. Thor's plan had failed and Malekith had escaped. He always does.

"How do you know what he is planning?" he asks her. His voice is far sharper than he intended and he winces inwardly when Jane flinches.

"I..um, I saw it."

Loki's heart almost stops until she continues, "When he was pulling it out of me. It was like I could see everything for a moment. Earth is at the center of the Convergence. That's where he needs to be to do what he wants."

That is more promising. The peak of the Convergence, when Malekith needs to act, is only a few minutes long. If they can keep him away from Midgard until the time passes, they might have a chance. But there is no point if both Frigga and Thor are dead.

"I see."

Jane perks up.

"So you know what to do?"

Loki smiles.

"I do."

He stands and slits his own throat in front of her shocked face.

He is in Hel.

Nothing he does works. He has died more times than he can count, in more ways than he can count. If it is not the Kursed, it is the guards trying to prevent his escape. One time, it was another prisoner, impatient to get away. His body aches with nonexistent injuries and his mind feels like it's tearing itself apart. Every idea, every plan leads to the same path. This is not another chance. It is a more devious punishment than any Odin could have ever devised.

The screams across the dungeon start right on time. Loki flinches despite expecting it. He keeps lying on the bed, but turns his back to the barrier. The closer the chaos gets, the more his hands shake.

He cannot do this again. He just wants it to end. He was never meant to save his mother. He cannot even save himself. Or that mortal Thor was so fond of, her dead eyes strangely forgiving. A few times, he could not even save Thor. A few times he was the one to kill Thor.

Maybe he should just stay in this bed, even when Thor comes for him. Damn the world. He giggles at the thought and stuffs his shaking hands to his mouth to muffle the noise. What a laugh the Norns must be having at his expense. His eyes burn.

He is so tired. He cannot even sleep. Every time he closes his eyes, he wakes up screaming to dead empty brown eyes, chest burning as though he had just been speared again and red, so much red everywhere.

His breath hitches when he hears the now familiar tread of the Kursed approach his cell. Before, he had been so angry. It is still there, but the fear is greater. He does not want to look at his and his mother's and his brother's murderer again. Not this time.

It leaves. Loki muffles the cry that escapes and gasps. He keeps gasping. He cannot draw a breath. He cannot stop shaking.

He won't face the Kursed again. He won't. He is going to ignore Thor when he comes. Just this once, at least.

His breathing evens out. Loki closes his eyes, ignoring the moisture that slips free.

Behind him, the fight rages and dies down. He ignores the guards who try to catch his attention. He keeps his eyes closed, but stays awake.

Visions of Frigga float through his head. She must surely be dead again by now. But he doesn't know. So he pretends she is here, actually here. He can almost feel her presence behind him, strangely intense. Her hand ghosts over his hair, she whispers something. He sighs and slips into dreams.

His dreams are strangely peaceful. For the first time since this began when he opens his eyes, he feels somewhat rested. In body at least. He is not sure this soul weariness will ever go away.

"Enough, Loki." Thor's voice rouses him fully. Oh. He is still in the middle of this cycle . Too late to change anything yet again. But he feels calmer than he has in a long time, his mind no longer running aimlessly down fruitless paths.

Loki rises from the bed and faces Thor. Thor looks slightly surprised. Perhaps he had thought the sight of Loki sleeping was an illusion.

"Tell me," Loki stares at Thor. Before, so many times before, Thor would refuse. Would start in on that speech about trust and betrayal so many times that one time Loki had killed him rather than the Kursed. He had died from a blow to the head by Mjolnir that time. This time, Thor must have seen something in his face or countenance to falter.

"What is it you wish to know?"

Loki almost snaps at Thor to stop being an idiot. But he considers. He needs to know everything. How much time he has. What the Kursed movement's are. Where Frigga and Jane were. Where was Odin. Thor. He needs to know everything in order to move all the pieces into place. He had not thought to do this before, too full of rage and grief and fear. Trying the same thing each time would lead to nowhere but madness.

"Everything, Thor. Who attacked, where, how?" He pauses, before adding "Why?" Even Thor is not that much of an idiot to miss Loki not asking that.

"We do not have the time for that, Loki."

Loki laughs. It sounds more unhinged than he would have liked.

"That is where you are wrong, brother. I have all the time in the world. Try again."

Thor scowls, but acquiesces. He tells him of the shield generator, Malekith, how close he was to saving mother, how close Odin was, how the Dark Elves could sense the Aether in Jane, how he had actually left Frigga and Jane far from the palace when the trouble at the dungeons had started. So many variables, so many moving parts. All a perfect storm that lead to the queen's death.

Loki is not satisfied, but it will have to do. He wants Thor to leave so he can have time enough to think this through. He knows Thor won't. It is frustrating.

"Loki, you know what I will ask. We need to lure the Dark Elves away from Asgard and we cannot use the Bifrost. Will you give your aid?"

Loki smiles. Thor has just started to relax when Loki says no.

"Snake!" Thor lashes out at the barrier, making it spark, "You would let all the worlds die for what? Pettiness?!"

Loki laughs in his face. Thor has no idea what he had already given for all the worlds. What he is still trying to do.

He is still laughing when Thor lowers the barrier and grabs at him. Loki twists away and kicks out. But Thor is not in the mood for games and Loki's reactions are still dulled from sleep. Thor has him in chains within moments.

"You are going to regret this, Odinson," Loki hisses, his own temper fraying, the memory of Thor's bowed head still burning like poison and mingling nauseatingly with the memory of his lifeless blue eyes.

"No, Loki." Thor ignores his flinch, "You are."

Thor drags him along a now familiar route. Only this time, he is still barefoot and armor-less. Not that he particularly cares. He is not planning on staying in this situation long enough for it to matter. He needs more time to plan and he does not feel like going through this whole farce on Svartalfheim again while he does.

This time, when Jane slaps him, he deliberately does not turn with the hit. As amusing as it always is, he is once again tired of her hitting him. Jane screams as her bones break again. Thor grabs him by the neck, but Loki only sneers at him. Thor will not harm him. He hadn't harmed him the last time this had happened either.

"Thor no," Jane calls out, "It was my fault. I should've realized it would be like hitting a brick wall."

Loki ignores the flicker of surprise at her defense of him. He always does. Thor only growls, but drops him. Thor can hardly fault him for not reacting at all to someone assaulting him.

"Watch him," Thor mutters at Sif, before rushing to Jane's side. Sif's glaive rings out as she places it against his neck, her glare just daring him to move.

"What possessed you to do such a thing, Trickster?" She growls at him. He laughs, the same unhinged laughter as before.

"You would not believe me even if I tried to explain, dear Sif."

He does not like to look back on the one and only time he had tried.

She only makes a sound of disgust and keeps watching him, prepared to strike if he makes any move.

Jane is staring at him, her brown eyes tearing up from the pain, but her expression curious. Even now, she is trying to figure him out. He wishes her luck. Thor is next to her, crushing a healing stone over her hand.

He straightens up, just in time to see Loki grin at him. Both their eyes widen in belated realization.

Loki lunges forward, Sif's blade biting deep into his neck.

Through the blood and red haze, the last thing he sees is Jane's shocked expression, healed hand covering her mouth.

The next two cycles pass similarly. He takes to his new found ability to sleep peacefully with a vengeance, ignoring the chaos outside his cell the best he can. After Thor comes, after he extracts every bit of information he can from him, he plans. Then he makes Sif kill him, taking perverse pleasure in forcing her to do something she has long wanted to, but never dared.

Though the pained shock in Thor's expression does get old after a time. That is one part he does not look forward to seeing again, so he usually focuses on Jane. Her horror is growing less satisfying as well. It is far less amusing when the blighted mortal seems to care for some reason. She also seems to realize what he is about to do sooner and sooner, strangely enough.

However, this entire song and dance has allowed him to determine a very important thing. Whatever is affecting him, making him relieve this nightmare, it is affecting only him. If he does not change anything, events transpire the same. No detail ever changes. It's reassuring. He really does have all the time in the world to get this right. But not the patience. Or the sanity.

These past few cycles have been a break, but he can already feel the stress and anxiety of it fraying at his mind once more. Too many unknown variables still. And even if he does succeed, there is no guarantee they will even stop Malekith. Thor's plan never works. But it might if they could keep Malekith on Svartalfheim. After all, it is Midgard he needs to reach (why, why is it always Midgard?).

The biggest problem, Loki finds, is that he does not have enough time, ironically enough. Breaking through the barrier takes far too long when he does it subtly, and is far too noticeable when he rushes. And either method leaves him exhausted at the end. He'd been running on fumes and adrenaline for so long that he only now realizes how sloppy he's been. He'd been tackling the problem head on, too consumed with rage to deal with the Kursed in a more sensible way rather than direct combat. He had tricked the Kursed the first time. It was time for him to trick it again.

Now that mindless rage is not the driving force of his planning, thinking of a suitable trick is laughably easy. When the screaming starts, Loki creates an illusion of a cell filled with criminals, but otherwise bare. He disguises himself as just another Marauder. Loki knows from before that the Kursed is not able to see past his illusions. Sure enough, when the Kursed comes, it does not spare him or the other "occupants" of his cell a glance, just breaks the energy barrier.

Loki jumps out, a savage smile on his face. He directs the other illusions to do the same, dispelling them when they blend in enough in the chaos. The Kursed has already turned away, not interested in some random prisoners.

Loki cloaks himself in invisibility and sidles up to the creature. He can't see the grenade that he used to kill it so many cycles ago. He swears inwardly. Of course the Kursed would not have any on him now. It would've been taken away upon its arrest, if it had even carried any in order to get arrested. Still, there must be other Dark Elves around. Loki remembers the corpses littering the halls of the palace after the invasion.

He will have to follow the creature until an opportunity arises. To have come so close and to be foiled by such a stupid oversight is not an option.

As always, the Kursed takes the stairs straight ahead. It leads deeper into the palace, where there are a dozen more twists and turns and stairs and guards that lead to the shield generators. Even had the Kursed taken the left path as Loki had once so foolishly told it, there was no direct path to the royal chambers. Or anywhere near where Frigga should have been, honestly. Even the great hall, where Loki had originally hoped to aim it was a long way off from the dungeons, a maze to get through for anyone unfamiliar with the palace. An effective enough deterrent for situations just like these, in fact. In light of that, the Kursed's unerring aim for the shields was unnerving. How had the Dark Elves known which paths to take?

Underneath his feet, he could feel the hum of the seidr that signaled the shields were rising. Damnably slow as always, but they were never intended for enemy ships, not truly. Any defense against an invasion of Asgard had always been centered on the Bifrost. Arrogance is what it was, Loki could now see. With the Dark Elves' cloaking technology, it was actually a wonder they hadn't just dropped right on top of the palace before any alarm could have been sounded.

He will have to delay the Kursed reaching the shields. With the shields still up, the ship that carried Malekith would never land. Frigga and the rest of the palace would be safe.

He pauses in the middle of raising another illusion. And Malekith would disappear into his ship to wait for another moment to strike, using a plan Loki would have no way of anticipating. And leaving the Kursed with them to deal with. At this point, Loki doubts even Gungnir would be effective against the beast. And no ship landing within the palace means a lack of convenient Dark Elf corpses to loot of their grenades to stick on the creature.

Decisions, decisions...

Loki leaves the Kursed to it and races to the great hall. He waits in the shadow of a pillar, well away from the initial onslaught. His heart is pounding in his chest. Has he timed this right? Will he be fast enough? Can he do this without being discovered?

The shields shudder and fall. Only moments later, the Dark Elf ship crashes into the hall. Loki skirts the edges of the fierce melee that follows. As and Dark Elf fight, the elves slaughtering a respectable number of Einherjar before being mowed down. He sees Malekith saunter past the fighting, a retinue of guards at his heel. Loki has to force back bile at the sight of him. Today would be the end of Malekith, one way or another.

Finally, he sees an opening. A Dark Elf is lying only feet away, crumpled against a pillar, its armor slashed and crushed. Loki pockets a grenade and dagger and rushes away, his gut churning. He has now lost sight of both Malekith and the Kursed. He knows where they will be, but there is no guarantee he can be quick enough. But there is also no use wandering the palace in search of them. That is just begging the Norns to make him only seconds too late to be of any use to anybody.

He runs to reach Frigga's side, using every short cut and hidden passage his long years of exploring the palace have made known to him. He lets his invisibility slip, conserving his energy. He is so focused on his goal, so intent on reassuring himself that this time, this time he will make it that he almost crushes Jane Foster in a narrow passage concealed behind a statue that leads into the rooms where Frigga had confronted Malekith and the Kursed. And died.

"Who're -" Is all Jane manages to say, her eyes widening, before Loki grabs her and puts a hand over her mouth. Of course Frigga had hidden her here of all places. She could not place Jane very far from her, for the Elves could sense the Aether within her. A few paces might fool them, but not an entire room away.

"Be silent if you wish to keep living," he hisses at her. She just nods. It strikes him that she has no idea who he is, not yet anyway. He would laugh, were it any other situation.

He peaks into the room, still keeping a firm grip on the mortal. He does not trust her not to do something stupid and ruin everything. Frigga is sitting near the pool. Loki stares at her for a long moment, heart feeling like it will pound out of his chest. Here and now, she is gloriously, gloriously alive. He is far too aware of how fragile such a thing is. How fleeting. It takes all his willpower not to call to her. Jane squirms and he loosens his grip slightly. He does not truly wish to break her, after all.

An illusion of Jane is waiting nervously near the curtains. The illusion is only a few feet away from where he and the actual mortal are hidden. Beyond Frigga is the door where Malekith will enter. Thor had told him that the Kursed had surprised mother from behind. It would pass a mere arms length from them through the only other entrance to the room. The grenades only took a few seconds to detonate. Would that be enough time? Would mother be within reach of the thing? He will have to risk it.

He waits, tense. Finally, the doors open and Malekith strides in. Mother rises to confront him, the illusion of Jane making a good show of acting nervous. Jane is as tense as a bowstring in his hands. He can feel her heartbeat, fluttering nervous and quick like a bird's.

He gives only half his attention to the ensuing fight. He knows mother's prowess with a blade and Malekith is only a passable swordsman. He is far more focused on the other passage, waiting for the Kursed to make an appearance. Finally, the beast lumbers into his sight. He pulls a veil of invisibility over himself and as an afterthought, the mortal too. He lets her go, paralyzing her into place. She must not interfere.

He activates the grenade and places it on the Kursed's belt at the same time Frigga manages to disarm Malekith and hold her short sword to his neck. He rushes past the creature, leaving an illusion of himself in his place behind the Kursed.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

He lets the illusion grab their attention. He sees Frigga's eyes widen and her grip slackens in surprise. She mouths his name. Before Malekith can take advantage of her surprise, he takes the sword himself and slits Malekith's throat, letting his invisibility fade. The elf's dark red blood splatters all over his mother.

The Kursed, who'd turned only to see the illusion dissipate, roars. It starts to charge, but the grenade explodes. It screams again, this time from the agony of being compressed into a singularity.

It is not until the last bit of the Kursed disappears that Loki drops the sword. He is heaving, inhaling in great gulps as though he will never breathe again. He has done it. He's done it. His mother is alive and the Dark Elf threat is no more.

"They're gone," he says in disbelief, "They're gone, they're gone, they'regonethey'regonethey'regone..."

Warm, familiar arms and a billow of comforting perfume surround him, but Loki cannot look away from the place the Kursed used to exist. There is noise around him, but he can't make anything out over the roaring in his ears. He can only clutch at his mother. He can't stop shaking. Someone steps into the place where the Kursed was. Jane. He looks at her and all he can see isredredredred-

Everything goes dark.

On Svartalfheim, Malekith lifts her into the air and -

- she can see everything. The branches of the universe spread out before her in a blaze of red, spiralling into infinity. It is vast, so vast her mind can hardly bear it. She feels like she's burning in the center of a fulcrum, one that will devour her in its intensity. But the feeling is such that for a moment, she does not even mind.

It stretches, lasting for an age. She can see the stars being born, singularities living and dying, leaving behind only fragments. The universe blooms further and farther, filled with an infinite diversity of life in an infinite number of combinations. The universe is soalive, she almost weeps for the sheer beauty of it. She can see the flow of everything, all the patterns and spirals so clear at this scale. If she retains even a fraction of this when it ends (and everything must end), she will have a lifetime ahead of her studying it all.

The moment passes and she feels like drowning, burning, freezing, melting, unable to remember whowhatwhenwherewhy until by chance (is anything by chance?) she notices another as lost as her, falling through the Void, lost (so lost), falling. She reaches out and knows him -

Loki, she says his name and a titan fails to sink his hooks deep enough when (Loki, she calls again) the lost one remembers and -

she can see him screaming his rage inside a cell, drowning in grief and he is dying on a dead world after he'd (savedher) saved Thor (watchedhimdie) and Thor and she remembers Thor and (JANE! he screams) she knows who she is and the chaos just

stops.

Jane floats in the red and she can see everything. Malekith's plan and Loki's death and Thor so destroyed by grief he can no longer stand to look at his home. An old, weary king driven mad by loss, prepared to kill the only son he yet acknowledges. A dead queen, who loved her sons enough to die for a mortal one loved. She sees it and thinks

that will not do.

And it is easy, so easy (too easy) to reach out and touch Loki's cold dead face. She knows (Reality tells her) that to change too much is dangerous, even for her. She is not Time, after all.

She touches Loki's face and knows him and weeps for the knowing. It is easier to tear him from his place, for she (realitymindspace) has already touched him will touch him is touching him and she said his Name.

She takes his hand as he dies from a head wound, closes his eyes after a sword swings, grasps his shoulder - there are so many, too many and she can feel his Soul fray -

she brushes his hair back, whispering him into dreams (it will hold for long enough)

and takes his hand through the last few times

until she can see him clearly, standing before her in his mother's arms, heartsick and soul weary but alive. She smiles and -

falls to the floor in Frigga's chambers.

He wakes and for a long moment dares not open his eyes. But soon enough, he feels the gentle sunlight on his face and familiar soothing herbs and knows he is not at the start of another cycle. He is in the halls of healing. He covers his face, but can't hold back the sharp breaths that he can't even pretend aren't sobs. He is too drained to properly cry from relief.

Something moves nearby and he freezes. With a last shuddering breath, he pulls himself together. He blinks up at the pale sunlit ceiling and turns his head.

Jane Foster is sitting beside his bed, watching him. The rest of the hall is strangely empty. At least he is not in chains, which is somewhat unexpected. He'd half expected not to wake up at all. She smiles wryly.

"What are you doing here?" his voice is hoarse and dry. He is parched. When was the last time he had eaten or drank anything? His stomach growls. He's been so sick at the thought of food for so long, it comes as a surprise.

He scowls at her, daring her to laugh. Though her eyes are alight with mirth, she doesn't comment. There is something strange about her, something in her he does not recall noticing before.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

His brows pull together in confusion. She has barely interacted with him this cycle, what is she even apologizing for?

"I'm sorry for putting you through all of that. But I knew you could do it, wanted to do it. It was easier since you-" she stops talking when he pales. He feels sick, all thoughts of food forgotten.

"You." All this time he'd wondered. Why? How? And it had been staring him in the face the entire time, hidden under an unassuming face and doe brown eyes. He knows now what he has missed about her. The Aether crawls under her skin, no longer destroying her from within. Somehow, this slip of a mortal girl has tamed it.

"Me," she says, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear.

"If it helps, I remember everything now. It all seemed so clear when it was happening, but it's a bit of a jumble now. I think I could remember it all properly, but I'm not sure I want to," she's flexing her hand, the one she had broken against his face so many times.

He can't help it. He laughs. Ultimate cosmic power and it falls into the hands of a too curious for her own good scientist who doesn't even want to use it. Perhaps that is for the best though.

"Why me?" He asks. He is not sure he wants to know, but he asks anyway.

"Because you hate me." She barrels on before he can interrupt, "Because you hate me and you protected me anyway. Because you helped Thor even when all that waited for you at the end was a cell. You could have run. Don't deny it." He closes his mouth on the vehement denial that wanted to spring forth.

"Because the reason you hate me wasn't for what I am - was - but what it meant for your brother."

He winces.

"You were awake for that."

She grins.

"I was awake for that. Thanks for not calling me a goat, by the way."

He chuckles, surprising himself. He looks at her, seeing all the ways she has changed. And all the ways she has not. Their first meeting feels like it happened centuries ago.

"I do not hate you, Jane Foster. Perhaps before. I find I can't quite muster the necessary vitriol right now. But even then, I was not lying when I said I liked you." More fool him.

"I don't think those two are as incompatible as most people think," she says.

She fidgets, looking to the doorway.

"Listen, your mom threatened to flog me if I didn't go get her the moment you woke up. I just wanted to let you know that I explained everything to them. I'm not sure what Odin's planning to do, but I don't think your mom is going to let him put you back in a cell or do anything bad to you. Thor is beside himself with worry, but I think he might be ready to try talking."

His good mood vanishes. Recent memories threaten to drown him. He cannot even begin to untangle the emotions in his breast at the thought.

"I do not think I am," he realizes. Even though it had now never happened, some things he is not ready to forgive, "I do not wish to see him. Or Odin."

She bites her lip, but nods.

"I'll let him know. Not sure I can do much about Odin though."

The amount of relief he feels at her not referring to Odin as his father is pathetic. He swallows.

"Is that all?"

She takes a deep breath.

"Just one more thing. You know what's coming."

He can feel his face drain of blood and a cold terror creep into his veins. It is strange, but he instantly knows what she is referring to.

"I do."

"I'm not going to let him win. I could...I could use the help."

His first instinct is to rail at her. How dare she ask that of him? After what she has already done to him? But he knows that she knows exactly what she is asking of him. She has seen it. Reality itself has shown it to her.

"I have no more wish to let him win than you. But you cannot ask this of me, not now."

He is so tired. He cannot fathom the battles further ahead right now. He wishes to rest, secure in the fact that his enemies of the moment are dead and his mother is still alive. He is all too aware of how brief such a thing may be, even for them.

Jane smiles, a sad, knowing smile.

"I understand. Think on it?" She says and leaves.

Loki sighs and turns to stare out onto the balcony. It is a beautiful day, little sign of the battle that was fought anywhere. How long as he been asleep? It does not feel long, but there is no sign of destruction or bodies. And he is still so tired. How much more can he sleep?

The answer, it turns out, is quite a bit. He wakes to his mother brushing his hair out of his face. He opens his eyes to see her smiling tearfully at him. Night has fallen; moonlight is pouring in.

"Oh Loki," she says. He turns his head into her caress. He is having trouble remembering the last time he was touched kindly and without pain. Desperate dying embraces do not really count in his opinion. They are filled with too much pain and fear.

She does what he cannot bring himself to and gathers him up into an embrace. He finds himself clutching back desperately. Once more, his eyes sting.

"Thank you for saving me, my son," she says as she rocks him gently.

"Mother," he doesn't know what else he wants to say.

But he knows this, all of this was so so worth it, just for this.

END