Sitting quietly on the floor of his cell, as close to the glass wall as he could get without activating its barrier, Loki slowly rotated his arm, cataloguing the runes with the impassive study of a scientist studying a particularly curious specimen. His flesh was thicker like this.

Coarser, as well.

The Jotunn's biology had evolved to weather harsher climates, a boon which had ensured the survival of their race when the All-father stole their sole means of control over the brutality of their environment.

With little else to do, Loki had taken to filling the shallow basin in his cell with water and freezing it. To start with, he'd placed a finger in the bowl, counting the seconds as they ticked by before the entire basin was frozen solid. Then he tried shortening the amount of time, and when he had it down to less than a second, began attempting to project the sub-zero temperatures from distances that increased by increments. From what he could discern, the frigid temperatures came as a result of his body's own internal homeostasis. It was constantly keeping him chilled so he wouldn't overheat, which also meant that overusing the powers inherent to his race disrupted that balance. Those of Jotunn descent were unable to sweat, and so, it wasn't until the room was coated in a thin layer of frost, the ice spread thinly over the glass like delicate webs, that Loki realized the harsh breaths escaping his lungs were a result of his systems struggling to compensate.

The cooler his cell became, the higher his core temperature climbed.

He'd attempted more than once to resume his Aesir appearance. Always it was cosmetic, a veneer, an illusion. The casting Odin had partially sustained since the day he'd stolen him from Jotunheim was well and truly gone, and Loki mourned the loss in spite of himself.

Weeks passed without a single visitation.

It was to be expected. Odin did not allow him even that small comfort the first time he'd been confined. There was no reason for him to do so this time, especially not after Loki had made it very clear that Odin's tainted past would cease to remain concealed much longer. Gilded halls could not hide blood forever.

Regardless, the sting refused to dull. He felt it like a thorn in his heart, digging deeper into vulnerable flesh with each breath he took in isolation, with naught but the guards casting wary glances his way for company.

One could understand, then, why he didn't quite trust the image of Thor standing in the distance. His golden locks were shorn close to the scalp, a remnant of his time with the Grandmaster. There was a patch over his right eye to protect the cavernous socket beneath from dirt and infection. Chainmail covered his arms, and a regal cape flowed from his broad shoulders, its hem trailing the ground as he strode out of the shadows.

"I've missed you, brother," he rasped, voice full of emotion. He placed a hand on the glass.

After a moment, Loki rose to place his own hand over the glass, allowing the magic inherent to him to flow forth from his fingertips. The false Thor jerked at the sudden chill, a bit of his flesh sticking to the glass. Watching as he examined the burns on his palm, Loki gave a close-lipped smile, "You are not my brother." Did Thanos think he was a fool? "I watched my brother die at your master's hand. None of your tricks will work here." Confusion and hurt appeared on the false Thor's visage, so very convincing.

If Loki didn't know better, it might have worked. Instead, he snarled wordlessly, slamming his palm against the glass with enough force to send white cracks racing out from under his palm. The impostor's image faltered, glitching. "Strange, please," it called out desperately with Thor's voice, "I need more time!" Then another Thor stepped through the illusion, and it vanished, the long-haired, wary Thor of this time taking its place.

Loki schooled his features, determined not to give anything away, as Thor took in the frozen basin, the frost on the walls, the mending cracks in the glass.

When at last his gaze rested on Loki, much to the latter's dismay, it was with a searching, questioning air. "You haven't changed back."

Carefully, Loki agreed, "I haven't."

"Is this Father's doing?"

Stepping away from the glass, Loki said, "You saw what happened. You know what I did."

Thor looked as though he'd like to follow, though they both knew it wasn't possible. "Indeed, I saw much." Again, that searching gaze. "And heard much. And understood very little."

Long ago, to hear Thor admit as much would have given Loki great joy. Today, what coursed through him could be likened to pride. Thor had come so far since his coronation day, and would go farther still. He had seen it happen. The great man Thor Odinson would become. The good and fair king he'd always had the potential to be.

Such a future would surely come to fruition. It would not be stolen from him again.

"It is nothing that will not pass," Loki lied, if only to spare his brother several wrinkles before his time. There would be far worthier causes for him to crinkle his brow in the coming years, after all. "You must simply be careful not to touch me. I cannot control the ice just yet."

"Can you not?" Thor didn't have to gesture to Loki's interior decorating choices. The reason for his skepticism was clear enough. "Truly?"

"Do you think I would harm you?" In that moment, Loki regretted his decision to dismantle his Aesir guise. His scarlet sclera was off-putting, he knew, and though Thor did his best to hide it, there was no doubt that it disturbed him. Sighing, Loki turned away, averting his eyes so Thor couldn't see. "Perhaps, I did," he said softly. "Once. I've since had a change of heart." After trials and tribulations, some of which this incarnation of Thor would hopefully never experience, they had somehow found themselves fighting by each other's sides once more. Standing together as equals. Loki frowned at the ice creeping out from beneath the soles of his feet. Jaw tight, he closed his eyes. "Victory was not so sweet as I had imagined it to be. Or rather, the loss far more bitter than anticipated."

A shuddering breath passed his lips. Exhaustion weighed his limbs. "Why did you come here, Thor?"

"Because I believe you." Loki twisted to look at him, his eyes narrowed into slits as fatigue fled. "And because Jane needs your help."

"Jane?"

Thor looked briefly annoyed. "Do not pretend not to know-"

"Of course I know," Loki snapped. He hadn't realized so much time had passed. Nor did he realize he was smiling until Thor stepped back, and he caught sight of his own red-eyed reflection in the glass. He looked wild and half-crazed, but couldn't find it in him to care. Long had he waited for this day. "Take me to the throne room."

"Her spirit still resides in Valhalla in our time. Nothing's changed," Loki would go on to tell the false Thor. Or rather, the true Thor. It had taken some convincing, but several weeks after Loki had frozen Malekith solid and shattered the remains, a man with golden close-cropped hair and mismatched eyes traced the crude image of a snake through the condensation on the glass of his cell, then left without a word, leaving the silly creature behind. When next Loki was visited, he wore a patch again, and couldn't seem to recall drawing the snake. Even so, Loki decided to trust him. Mostly.

"But it has. Not for us, but for our counterparts. Your actions here saved her life." Loki decided not to dignify such a paltry comfort with a response. "How is he by the way?" Probably-Thor asked him. "Your past self?" They were each sitting cross-legged on opposite sides of the glass.

Loki shrugged. "As well as could be expected, given the circumstances." He flinched. "Venomous little pit snake."

"I'm rather fond of snakes," Thor reminded him, a twinkle in his eye.

"I'm aware," replied Loki, not unkindly.

Stretching, Thor climbed to his feet. He leaned back, eliciting several pops and cracks as his spine shifted with the movement. His single eye fell on Loki, bright with mischief. "Are you ready to return now?" It occurred to him then that it had been a very long time since the guards had made their rounds.

Perhaps, Thor had suggested they take a break. A suggestion normally made with fists or some blunt object.

Unable to resist the smile curling his lips, Loki rose readily, "I believe I am." He dusted himself off, showering the tile in fine shards of ice.

The glass wall between them vanished, opening up a world of possibility. A future.

Thor outstretched his hand, turning it over to expose a palm covered in burns and scars. Loki knew some of them, but not all. This proved to be a comfort, though he hesitated still, thinking back to Malekith, to Heimdall in another life. Sensing this, Thor's expression softened. He took Loki's hand between his own, saying,"You don't frighten me, brother."

There was a sudden commotion down the hall. It seemed someone had alerted the guard's to Thor's presence, after all, but it was far too late for that now. The pull of Strange's magic had already begun. It was regrettable that he would not get the chance to say goodbye to the Thor of this time, but perhaps such a parting was for the best.

He did so loathe goodbyes.