For Zero, for the C/P Valentines exchange, prompt: identity.

A fic about her most favorite character in all the MCU.

Half the population of the universe gone, dissolved like ash into their elemental components, and Thor still could not find a place to be alone.

"Here Lies Loki: Beloved Brother," Loki read, and cocked his head. "That seems a bit sentimental, even for you."

"Shut up, Loki." Thor crossed out the words. "Besides, I haven't settled on it. It was just an idea."

"Thor with an idea. Never thought I'd live to see the day." He grinned. "Then again…"

"You think this is funny? You think your funny?" He slammed a fist onto the writing desk and rose. "You stand there and laugh and laugh, while I carry the weight of our lost people, of your death and every other!" He crumpled the paper and threw it at the image of the man who he could not hate, could not love, could not forget.

The paper projectile passed through Loki, as he knew it would. It arced through the air and bounced on the floor, settled onto a scattered heap of similarly crushed ideas.

"Old habits die hard, I suppose," Loki said. "But I assure you this is not one of my illusions."

Thor sank back into his chair, a hand over his eyes. "Why can't you leave me in peace? Just for once?"

"But I have left you, brother. Permanently, in fact. It is you who keeps bringing me back to torment you."

"Yes, you were so good at it in life, it's no wonder you're just as good in death."

Loki spread his arms wide. "I aim to please."

So many of them were gone. No – all of them were gone. Father and Mother and Heimdall and Sif and Volstagg and Bor and Fandrall and Tyr. And Loki

And Loki.

"Out of everyone, only you remain to follow me around, to remind me of what it is I've lost. Why, Loki? Why you?"

"Oh, brother. Can you not guess?"

It was Loki's way, to answer a question with a question. In life, his brother believed no one knew the answers he kept buried in his heart, locked forever in a chest of doubt and fear. But he gave himself away, time and time again, in all his tricks and games and deceptions that somehow became more real than his physical presence. Loki, who was always there, yet never there, and therefore could never truly leave him.

"I must finish," Thor said. "I must finish before the sun sets." He tore a new sheet of paper from the pad and leaned back over the desk, pen in hand. "Here Lies Loki: a brother turned traitor; a villain turned hero. He gave his life to save mine, and in turn, I shall honor his."

Loki rubbed his chin and hummed. "Rather verbose, but suitably dignified. Appropriate, I think, for such a complex and fascinating creature as myself. But I wonder – does it really cut to the emotions? Does it give one a sense of, not only the subject of the epitaph, but the person who wrote it?" He shook his head. "Back to the drawing board, I think."

He left Thor's side to pace along the wall-length windows, peering out at the small armada of model wooden ships lining the shore. "The traditional burial rites of Asgard." He turned back to Thor. "Brother, remind me again what the point of all of this is? Why bother laying me and the others to rest, when there's nothing left of us to lay?"

Nothing? Yes, nothing. Bodies burned and throttled and lost to the frozen hand of space. Nothing remained of Asgard except Thor and his regrets.

Thor swallowed. "Our people may be gone, but they need not be forgotten." Not while he still lived. Not while he still remembered. "Even you deserve the respect due an Asgardian."

"Even me…" Loki laughed. "Though I can't really blame you. I suppose in many ways I did fall short of the mark." Loki's words were bitter. "That mark being you, of course."

But Loki was not there to lend his voice a sour note, and perhaps it was the sting of guilt in the living brother that ensured the departed's voice rang true.

"I was never the standard you thought I was, Loki. I wish you had seen that while you lived."

"And you were petted and coddled and flattered, while I was left to find my own way. I wish you had seen that while I lived!" His image flickered. "While we both lived."

Thor looked down. The paper was a mess, words blotted and running together. As usual, Loki was correct. That grand, yet soulless, epitaph would never do. "You always wanted to be Loki, the Savior of Asgard. You always wanted to be wanted. Couldn't you see that you were?" He crumpled the paper in his hands.

"No, I couldn't. Not until the end." Loki turned back to the windows. The sun was sinking in the sky. A vivid blue yielded to soft pinks and purples and the sickly shade of a strangled man's last, gasping breath. "Not until the one moment when you really, truly needed me. Me, and only me."

"But I did. I still do." He wiped his eyes. He stared at the gentle rolling of the waves on the beach, fringed with white foam and the lust for moving on. "With everything that happened between us, I thought I was prepared to watch you die."

"So did I. I used to imagine it. The golden heir, fallen. His tomb bejeweled and wept over by the masses, while I remained to struggle in his place, tolerated, but never loved. But when the moment came, when Thanos had you in his grasp, I knew." His image waned. "I knew."

And Thor knew. He knew that his brother was the only person who had ever died for him. Not for Asgard, or for the glory of Odin, or to save the universe from peril. But for him.

For Thor.

For his brother.

"You shouldn't have done it," Thor whispered into his hands. "Why did you do it?"

"Oh, brother. Can you not guess?"

And like a snap of the fingers, he was gone.

Thor placed the sheet of paper on the boat, placed the boat upon the water, and lit them both aflame.

The burning ship that carried his brother's soul bobbed out into the sea. The paper that carried his brother's legacy transformed to a smoke that curled upwards to the heavens, where he knew the gates of Valhalla would open for him.

"I shall see you again, brother."

Here Lies Loki, The Savior of Thor