(Used to be called Blue as the Sky. Except I hated that name 'cause it made the whole 'eyes as blue as the sky' seem seriously fucking redundant.)

Playlist: Manhattan by Sara Bareilles, Sparks by Coldplay, Yellow Light by Of Monsters and Men

- s-h-a-d-o-w-s - a-n-d - s-e-n-t-i-m-e-n-t-s -

.

.

And I'll tiptoe away so you won't have to say you heard me leave …

.

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It is a lovely summer afternoon in Asgard. The sound of insects buzzing lazily drifts through the air like the warm breeze. It is hot in the palace gardens—very hot indeed. At the moment, none but two living souls seem present. Thor is swinging in the oak tree, the old one in the palace gardens, laughing as he twists and flips in midair. Loki watches on in awe from the bench beneath the tree.

"That is amazing, brother!" Giggles cascade from his throat as he clambers onto the bench towards his brother, his eyes bright with wonder and hope. "I want to try!"

"No, Loki," Thor scolds. "What if you got hurt?"

Loki pouts, sitting back on his heels. "You're doing it."

"That's because I'm the older brother," Thor says with a funny sort of superiority. Since Thor has turned twelve, it seems everything Thor does is for older children, while Loki is still too young.

"You're not that much older," Loki grumbles, curling up and turning away. He is only two years younger than Thor, after all.

Thor sighs and drops down from the branch. It isn't that he is the younger brother, of course not; it's that Loki is too small, too untrained. Unlike Thor, Loki refuses to train heavily, insisting instead upon reading books of magic.

Books do not give you strength, Thor thinks. They do not teach you how to swing from trees.

But Loki doesn't know that. He doesn't really care that much, not when Thor smiles at Loki and tells him in his sure, big-brother way that it's all right. Big brother always loves you no matter what.

(always always always)

And so Thor sits next to his little brother, throwing an arm over his shoulder. "There. See? Now I'm down here with you."

Loki frowns reluctantly, but gives in, snuggling up against him. "Tell me a story, brother," he begs. "Please?"

Thor chuckles and ruffles Loki's hair. "Once upon a time, there were two brothers. Their names were—"

"Loki and Thor," Loki interrupts, snuggling into his chest. "The best names."

"Of course," Thor agrees. "So, once upon a time, there were two brothers named Loki and Thor."

"And they were both great warriors, and they were strong and fast and smart and—"

"I thought I was the one telling the story," Thor says firmly, and Loki pouts again but relents. "They were two great warrior princes, strong and fast and smart. They went on great adventures every day and saw all sorts of monsters and people. Then when they were old enough, they got married and had lots and lots of children together. They ruled their kingdom wisely, and when they were old, they went to live in the forest."

"The forest?" Loki mumbles.

"Aye, the forest. A little cottage hidden deep in the woods, just for the two of them. All peace and quiet and wide open air, because they're so tired after being kings. They'll spend all their time together, just living in the forest. They'll raise animals and grow fruits and vegetables in their garden, too. Corn and tomatoes and apples and strawberries."

"We can have chickens and horses and cows and rabbits?"

Thor nods. "Aye. Lots of chickens with peeping little babies. We'll help our mares give birth. We'll have fresh milk every day from our cows. And we'll have endless rabbits in a little hutch, and we'll play with them all day long."

"Can we have adventures and get married and have children and live in our cottage in the forest?" Loki asks him hopefully. "Promise?"

"Aye, Loki," Thor says softly. He can see it now—not a story, a future. A beautiful dream to come true. "I promise."

Loki nods. The afternoon is so warm, so comfortable, that the younger prince cannot help but drift off. "Thor?" Loki murmurs, his eyes drooping with sleep.

"Mmm?" Thor is only half-awake, stroking Loki's hair back from his face. His back is against the trunk as the afternoon sun smiles down from the heavens above.

"I love you," Loki mumbles softly into Thor's chest. Thor smiles, his eyes watching his little brother's sleeping form, the soft breathing lulling Thor into soft sleep as his brother slumbers beside him.

When the two princes are found, they are still curled up together peacefully, dreaming of forests and cottages, as if the two brothers could stay that way forever. They bring them both up to their rooms, and Loki wakes almost instantly, demanding he sleep with his brother in his room. When they finally oblige, he does not sleep; he only watches Thor, his eyes refusing to

look at him, I shan't speak a word, as if he weren't even there, Loki thinks savagely, desperately. I won't give him the satisfaction.

Loki sits collapsed on the ground, his body too weak to fight back, the runes branded on his chains draining away his magic. Thor looks at his not-brother, Mjolnir still clutched tight in his grip. This is Loki's first week back from Midgard, inside his new prison chambers. Loki will never see the light of day again. After everything that has happened, Loki doesn't want to. He would stay hidden, locked away, wallowing in this dungeon, far from the rest of the Nine Realms that hates him so deeply, invisible to the eyes of the world.

Thor looks at him, his eyes unreadable. Under his gaze, Loki feels raw and naked and ashamed where he wants to feel nothing but his own dark, bitter satisfaction. Don't look at me that way, Loki thinks savagely, desperately. He has but a shard of ruined pride left—he will not lose it for anything.

"You brought this on himself," Thor says quietly. Since New York, he has not once looked at his not-brother with any emotion, having learned to keep a wall up around him, a barrier to keep him out. The thought is unbearable, but then, Thor is only giving Loki a taste of his own medicine.

"We were raised together, we played together, we fought together. Do you remember none of that?"

Do you? Loki wants to ask him. He doubts he does now. (But you were expecting that, weren't you?)

Loki opens his mouth, and realizes there is nothing to say. Then he coughs, his body wracking with pain. Thor is there, kneeling in front of him, the barest hint of concern bleeding into his sky-blue eyes. "Loki …"

Loki squirms; he is too close now, and he cannot get away this time. He curls up in a ball, stifling the heavy, aching pain and the barking, choking coughs bursting from his throat. He refuses to speak, keeping his jaw clenched tightly. Thor moves away eventually, recognizing the rejection.

"Why?" he asks finally. When Loki says nothing, he slams his hand against the walls of the cell. Loki flinches imperceptibly but remains silent, and Thor grabs him and shakes him. "Answer me!"

And Loki won't say a word.

Thor deflates slowly, staring at Loki who won't look at him with anything but hatred he doesn't feel as deeply as he wants to, only dark, cruel humour, inwardly hoping that his not-brother will leave him alone.

But he doesn't. (Of course he doesn't.) Instead he pulls Loki into his arms, holding him tight against his chest with his face buried in his neck. And Loki lets him. (Of course you let him.)

"Oh, Loki," Thor whispers, his voice breaking, and Loki shivers, closing his eyes. "What have you become?"

I didn't become anything, Loki wants to tell him. You were just too blind to see who I really was all along.

It does not last long. Loki is too exhausted, too drained to remain conscious. Soon he is slipping away, watching him leave. He does not look back. As the exhaustion clouds Loki's mind, he thinks dimly of how sad it is that Thor takes all the control he has, no matter how hard he tries to push him away. How foolish.

(come back come back come back)

(He thinks later that he's never felt anything more painful than realizing that no matter how slowly he walks away, Thor will no longer stop him from leaving.)

Perhaps, if he had asked, Thor would have visited him. See him once a week, a month, perhaps even only once a year, so he doesn't drown in the emptiness that follows, the endless staring at blank walls, remembering every damn thing he did for every second of every day since— but he

"—won't," Thor slurs, his eyes unfocused. "Wanna keep drinking. MORE MEAD!" he roars. Or he would have, if Loki had not clapped a hand over his drunken mouth, wincing as he slobbers all over it.

"The prince wishes to go to bed," Loki announces, but no one notices. They're all drunk. Less so than Thor, who is utterly drenched in spirits, but the feasting Asgardians are still too intoxicated to pay any attention to the two princes.

(And maybe it's Loki's fault they all got drunk, and maybe it isn't. He only supplied the mead; they didn't have to go and drink it all.)

Loki does his best to pull Thor away, half-supporting and half-dragging the larger man, panting and sweating profusely. By the time Loki manages to pull him back to his rooms, his hair is clinging to his skin, as are his clothes.

"Loki, le' go 'me," He swipes wildly. "Why're you so mean?" he whines as he collapses into the bed.

"I'm not trying to be mean." Loki laughs a little, but it comes out choked and forced. "Especially not to you. I have never wanted to be cruel to you."

He turns away, all of the words he's always wanted to tell Thor bubbling up and out of his throat. "Sometimes I wish I were not your brother. Sometimes I wish that I would be the one who would lay down with you, night after night, and you would be the first thing I would see every morning. I wish that somehow, I would have some chance, no matter how slim, since I don't even have a shred of hope that you could love me the way I love you. Sometimes I wish it didn't hurt—"

Loki's voice breaks. His breathing is deep, and he looks at him, unable to speak any more. But it doesn't matter, he's sleeping, and Loki knows he would never have the courage to face Thor and say this when he could truly hear him.

Loki looks at him for a moment, then tugs the covers up and over him, tucking him in as Thor once did to him when they were little and scared of the monsters that would come, sleeping next to Loki all night long just to keep him safe.

(love you love you love you)

He brushes the hair back from his brother's face, that oh-so-familiar tightness in his throat and chest as he watches his brother sleep. Like so many times before, Loki finds himself unable to look away from Thor's peaceful expression, his chest rising and falling smoothly. Slowly, gently, Loki presses his lips to his forehead, stroking his hair back.

Thor twitches, and Loki's heart leaps in his chest as he shifts in his sleep, his brow furrowing. "You oaf," he murmurs, and slumps next to him, wondering if he'll ever have the courage to

"Say goodbye."

He doesn't quite mean for it to escape him, but it does anyway, watching as Thor tucks a blanket up and over the mortal woman's shoulders as they hurtle over Svartalfheim. The sight reminds him of when Thor used to do the same for him. Remembering now is painful, but Loki swallows it down, trying to forget how much he cherishes such a long-forgotten time.

"Not this day." Thor pulls back, striding along the ship and avoiding Loki's gaze. Thor knows it will come, and he's stil willing to love this woman.

"This day, the next, a hundred years is nothing. It's a heart beat. You'll never be ready. The only woman whose love you prized will be snatched from you."

Thor looks at him with a mixture of resentment and disgust. "And will that satisfy you?"

You think I want to surrender knowing I'll never have what I want the most? "Satisfaction is not in my nature," Loki tells him.

"Surrender is not in mine," Thor retorts, and Loki shakes his head and laughs humorlessly.

"The son of Odin," Loki says, and Thor growls.

"No, not just of Odin! You think you alone loved mother? You had her tricks, but I had her trust!"

Loki's heart snaps in two. Too far, he wants to scream, but after all that he's done, Thor can say and do whatever he likes to Loki, and Loki knows he will continue to stand and push Thor away only to find Thor breaking his heart over and over again. "Trust," he sneers. "Was that her last expression? Trust? When you let her die?" Loki's voice breaks. How could you let her die?

"What help were you in your cell?" Thor snarls, and Loki clenches his fists, feeling his eyes burn.

"Who put me there?" he hisses, trembling with the effort of keeping the quiver from his voice. "Who put me there?!"

Thor storms forward and grabs Loki, and Loki's eyes widen as he stares at Thor, heart pounding wildly in his chest from surprise. "You know damn well! You know damn well!" he bellows, slamming him against the side of the ship, and the two stand there staring at each other, breathing heavily. Loki wants to scream, caught between leaning forward to kiss his not-brother (as if Thor would let him, as if he wouldn't push him away in shock and disgust) and screaming back at him, and instead finds himself doing nothing at all.

Something flickers across Thor's expression, and then he releases Loki, panting slightly. "She wouldn't want us to fight."

Loki blinks and comes back to himself, staring at Thor. "Well, she wouldn't exactly be shocked," he says, almost dryly. At this, Thor smiles, and Loki can't stop himself from smiling back, and gods, it feels so good to have this again, this shred of a memory they can only have in snippets now, if ever.

"I wish I could trust you," Thor tells, him, and it's wistful, sad. He turns his back, apparently no longer able to look at his not-brother, and Loki watches him. He wants to reach out, wants to blurt out reckless promises. You can trust me. You can always trust me. But as much as Loki wants to believe it, he's tired of trying to fool himself; he knows that wherever he is concerned, there can never be any promises, never any hope of redemption, and even if he was capable of something beautiful, even if he could tell Thor the truth, he knows Thor wouldn't believe him anymore.

"Trust my rage," he whispers roughly, and that's all he can ever promise him. If Thor hears him, he says nothing. It doesn't matter anyways; even after all this time, he can't understand that

somehow, Thor stopped being just Loki's brother.

Somehow, he became this complex, indefinable role in his life.

Somehow, it got just a little bit too hard to look him in the eye.

Somehow, it became second nature to watch him, drinking in the sight of him with that terrible pressure squeezing his heart in his chest so, so tight.

Somehow, he found a way to steal the breath from Loki's lungs just by smiling at him, his beautiful eyes as blue as the sky and as warm as the sun.

Somehow, it got so, so hard to be close to him, to catch up to him. The list of why I can never be close to him just kept growing and growing. And yet somehow, the only thing that really mattered on that list was that Thor was becoming a grown man, a worthy ruler of Asgard, too busy for his cruel, scheming brother and his mischievous, lying, thieving, immature behavior.

Somehow, Thor grew up, and Loki never wanted to in the first place.

Loki still isn't quite clear on how everything went sour and how he managed to ruin it all, to the point that he fell in love with the wrong person. All he knows now is how much it

makes Loki want to laugh, the way he can feel Thor's anger pouring off him in waves, can see fresh pain in his eyes and know that he caused all of it. He remembers he once said he would never wish to be cruel to Thor. Apparently he lies even to himself.

Thor stands before him, breathing heavily. He has tossed his not-brother down on some range of small mountains, some belt of green twining its way below under the silver light of the moon. Everything in his expression conveys hurt, rage, desperation. He still has no self-control, Loki thinks, struggling to his feet.

(But you do. Of course you do.)

"Where is the Tesseract?" he demands.

Loki laughs, and it is an odd, bitter reminiscing laugh. "I missed you too."

Thor growls. "Do I look to be in a gaming mood?"

"Oh, you should thank me," Loki replies, trying to stamp down the stubborn pounding in his chest with icy words. "With the Bifrost gone, how much dark energy did the Allfather have to muster to conjure you here, your precious Earth?"

Thor grabs Loki, dragging him close, looking at him as if he were not entirely sure he was real. "I thought you dead." His eyes pained.

(You control yourself when he looks at you and you feel your jackrabbit heartbeat pounding in your chest.)

"Did you mourn?" Loki asks quietly.

Thor blinks. "We all did. Our father …"

Loki lifts one finger, stopping him. "Your father," he says softly, pushing him away. "He did tell you my true parentage, did he not?"

Thor's tone is pleading now, and Loki forces himself not to be affected by that look on Thor's face. It appears he is attempting to bore into his skull with his eyes; Loki swears he can actually feel them singing the hairs on his head. "We were raised together, we played together, we fought together. Do you remember none of that?"

(You control yourself when you see him touching beautiful women, knowing he would never even dream of touching you like that.)

"I remember a shadow, living in the shade of your greatness. I remember you tossing me into an abyss, I who was and should be king!"

"So you take the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights? No, the Earth is under my protection, Loki!" Thor insists.

Loki gives a nasty laugh. "And you're doing a marvelous job with that! The humans slaughter each other in droves, while you idly fret. I mean to rule them. And why should I not?"

"You think himself above them?"

Loki considers for a moment. Does he really? … Maybe? "Well, yes."

"Then you miss the truth of ruling, brother," he murmurs, his voice shaking, unintentionally goading Loki's anger. "A throne would suit you ill."

(You control yourself when he pushes his way through your walls, always trying to shove him back out so he never knows the truth.)

Loki gnashes his teeth, storming away. "I've seen worlds you've never known about! I have grown, Odinson, in my exile!" I am not your baby brother anymore. The words remain unspoken, but they are there. "I have seen the true power of the Tesseract, and when I wield it—"

"Who showed you this power?" he interrupts. "Who controls the would-be-king?"

"I am a king!" Loki yells.

"Not here!" he shouts, grabbing Loki before he can squirm away and shakes him, as if to fling these murderous thoughts from Loki's head. "You give up the Tesseract! You give up this poisonous dream!"

He tightens his grip on his not-brother, clasping his neck with one hand, thumb stroking just below the shell of his ear; a familiar gesture. Loki feels his heart seize in his chest. Suddenly he's young again, and he's forgotten everything else but his brother (his not-brother), and how much he just wants to touch him.

"You come home."

(You control yourself when he is arguing, screaming at each other, an inch from each other's faces, and you think of how easy it would be to just lean forward and press your lips to his.)

Loki forces himself to breathe, letting out a quiet, almost bitter laugh. Still, after all this time. "I don't have it."

Thor releases Loki then with a roar of fury, raising his hammer; Thor will hit him. Loki continues, letting the lies spill from his throat with an odd, sick sort of satisfaction at seeing the rage on Thor's face, pleased he can still make him feel something for his not-brother even if it won't ever be the sort of love Loki craves from him. "You need the cube to bring me home, but I've sent it off, I know not where."

Thor snarls; his knuckles are painfully white as he grips Mjolnir. "You listen well, brother. I—"

And then he is gone.

(Where is your control now?)

After a moment, Loki recomposes himself. "I'm listening," he says, but no one's listening to him, and he stands utterly alone on the top of a mountain in a chill breeze, realizing just how familiar the sensation of loneliness has become, that he can't even remember what it feels like to stand

together in the Bifrost, the stream of light blazing and the walls crackling with energy, like roots searching out water, like blood running through veins. Thor stands in front of Loki with his hammer clutched tight in his grip.

Everything about him is different, something he's never known. He's someone softer, kinder, wiser. A better king. Loki had thought once that he would be the one to change him, rob him of his arrogance, irresponsibility, and impulsive behavior, make him into the great king he was always meant to be. Loki had never even considered the idea that it would be someone else that could make him great in a matter of days, make Thor see them and love them and change for them, when he couldn't even make Thor love who he really was in a thousand years.

"I've changed."

"So have I." Loki smiles, fighting against the ache in his chest, lifting his spear. "Now fight me."

Loki slashes at him, letting everything, all the anger and bottled-up rage and pain he has felt from every minute of every day of every week and month and year, eons of pain, wash over him in waves, knocking Thor back with a grunt.

"I never wanted the throne!" Loki screams at him. "I only ever wanted to be your equal!"

"I will not fight you, brother!" Thor bellows.

"I'm not your brother." Loki forces his voice not to break, to shatter into a million pieces. He still thinks of you as his dear, oh-so-troubled brother. Of course he does. "I never was."

I never wanted to be.

"Loki, this is madness." Thor is shaking. Loki can see him searching for him. Loki almost smiles; there is nothing left of what he used to be now.

"Is it madness? Is it? Is it?" he ask roughly. "Come on, tell me what it was on Earth that turned you so soft!" Turned you into something I can't recognize. "Don't tell me it was that woman!" Even he can hear the envy and longing seeping into his voice as he look at Thor, desperately hoping that what he already knows isn't true.

Thor says nothing. In that moment it seems he has ripped Loki's heart from his chest and smashed it with his boot, splintering and shattering and smashing it beyond repair. Loki can feel tears burning and slipping from his eyes, his breath coming out in shuddering gasps, but Loki tries to silence himself. You never held a single claim to him anyways.

"Oh," Loki breathes, his voice torn and rough and bubbling up with tears. "It was." He stifles a sob. "Well, maybe, when we're finished here, I'll pay her a visit myself!"

Thor growls and lunges forward. Finally, Loki screams, and he throws himself at Thor, weapons clashing, stabbing and rolling and thrusting his spear, trying to hurt Thor, relishing this, because of course his dearest not-brother would be too wrapped up in the battle to see the tears streaking freely down his face.

As Loki is sent backward through the air, he mutters an enchantment to cushion the blow, struggling to his feet and casting a quick spell. An illusion flashes in the corner of his vision, begging Thor to help him up, and he does. Loki laughs bitterly behind him, and the illusion vanishes, replaced by many more by his side.

"Enough!" Thor shouts, slamming the hammer down to the ground and sending Loki flying.

Loki groans in pain, dazed and wincing. He open his eyes to see Thor looking down at him, his eyes dark and guarded. He places Mjolnir on Loki's chest, turning away to look at the Bifrost, knowing Loki cannot lift it. He knows his not-brother is unworthy.

You will never be worthy. But you know that already, don't you?

"Look at you," Loki shouts as he struggles and squirms, meeting Thor's gaze. "The mighty Thor! All your strength, and what good does it do you now?" Thor looks back at Loki, expression wild. "Do you hear me, brother?" Loki yells. "There's nothing you can do!"

Thor lifts his hand, and Mjolnir flies to him.

As Loki struggles to his feet, his heart pounding madly in his chest, he hears the crunch, the snap, and watches in horror as Thor slams his hammer down into the bridge, over and over again, his shouts of exertion not quite lost over the roar of the Bifrost.

"What are you doing?" Loki demands. Thor ignores him, slamming his hammer down onto the bridge with a cry. "If you destroy the bridge, you'll never see her again!" he shrieks, stumbling towards Thor, trying to stop him.

"Forgive me, Jane," Loki hears him say before he strikes the bridge one last time.

Everything explodes with fire and light, sending the Bifrost tumbling, tumbling down into nothingness and Loki over the edge as well. Panic grips his heart as he screams, flying over the edge of the broken bridge and into the darkness—

And Thor is there, holding one edge of the spear Loki grips with desperation in his eyes, as is the All-Father, who holds his ankle. He can pull us up, Loki thinks.

The sight of his father, the man for whom he has strived to show his greatness, has broken past all of his barriers and harsh words. He is a child again, and Loki can feel tears, icy hot then bitter cold, slipping down his cheeks into an abyss as everything crumbles to pieces.

"I could've done it!" Loki calls out, almost begging him to understand why he did what he did. His voice is shaking. "I could've done it, Father! For you! For all of us!"

"No, Loki." Odin's face is sad, endlessly sad, as if he has always known this would happen, as if his second not-son disappointed him for the last time, as if he, too, has always known that he was never worthy of Thor.

He isn't pulling me up, Loki thinks. He doesn't want to save me.

(Ah, but whoever said you were worth saving?)

Something shatters, and Loki feels nothing.

"Loki, no," Thor begs, eyes widening as he realises what Loki is about to do.

(sorry sorry sorry)

Loki lets his grip loosen, and he falls, tumbling backwards, falling from the edge of the world with Thor's anguished cry echoing in his ears. Loki closes his eyes, imagining that he's sleeping, and maybe, like he's done for eons past, he will

dream of him.

Just like he always does.

Loki stands in a meadow, clean and pure. Lovely flowers wave gently in a soft breeze, sunlight outlining the world in gold edging, the grass thick beneath his toes. It is beautiful here.

Thor stands before him, tall and warm and golden, a smile on his face, as if he has been waiting for him. His hair glints like sunlight, and the breeze that rises around him brings his earthen, comforting scent close. Loki breathes deeply and swallows hard, already feeling his eyes start to burn. He is so beautiful, so perfect.

He isn't yours and he never was.

"Hello, Thor."

Thor says nothing, simply continuing to at him with that familiar laughter in his eyes. It has been forever since Thor has looked at him like that.

"I never wanted to hurt you. But I had to. You know that, don't you? You must."

He does not move, does not speak, his perfect curve of a mouth still etched sweetly on his beautiful face.

"I—I loved you. I still do. But I had to, you see. We're brothers, after all. I … I'm not supposed to." Loki is blathering now, but he can't find it in himself to care—just the sight of him sends Loki's world crashing down over his head, as only he can do.

"You know, it's silly, but even now, I still can't get rid of this sentiment." Loki gives a choked little laugh, unable to tear his gaze away. "That's why I had to do whatever it took to push you away, you see? It's better this way for the both of us. It's better if you don't love me at all, because—because then perhaps I wouldn't want to be near you so badly. I—I can get over you this way."

Thor looks at him, all adoring eyes, still that same gorgeous blue that Loki has always, always loved. His halting, stuttering laugh has turned to sobs. "You're everything to me, you know. You always have been. And it still hurts so much. But … I promise … I can stop loving you."

He thinks about how much he used to wish that Thor didn't see him as his dearest little brother. Now Loki would give anything to be that person again. To be the one that Thor needs, even if he can't be the one he wants. But it's too late now.

"I think what hurts the most is how easy it was to push you away," he whispers. "and I think maybe you didn't ever love me as much as you thought you were supposed to, because it was just so easy. But …I like to pretend, sometimes, that you really do still love me anyways. That even after everything I've done, you never stopped caring about me. It makes it all hurt less to pretend."

Loki looks at him, still frozen in place, already knowing that this is nothing more than a beautiful dream. And Loki wants to stay dreaming. He could be here like this forever, and he would finally be happy.

But he will wake up. He always does. So he takes a step closer, reaching out to touch him. He presses his palm against Thor's cheek.

He's warm.

(happy happy happy)

"I'm sorry," Loki tells him, voice breaking, "Gods, I'm sorry—"

When he wakes, he is drenched in cold sweat and shaking madly. Loki's face is wet; he's been crying in his sleep. The blank ceiling of his cell in Asgard stares back at him, empty, cold.

Such a beautiful dream.

As Loki hunches down into himself, bone-tired and sleepless, he knows that tonight, like so many nights before, he will not

"—sleep, brother," Thor whispers in Loki's ear. His hand brushes his brother's sweat-dampened locks back from his forehead, pressing a blessedly cool kiss on the fevered skin. The breath in Loki's lungs is shallow, his throat is raw, and there is a dull ache ringing throughout his entire body, keeping him from even the simplest comfort.

Thor isn't even supposed to be here, really. He'll be sick as well, catch his brother's cold. Or at least, that was what the nurse had told Thor, scolding him as she took gentle care of the younger prince. But he is here now, pressing a cool, damp cloth to Loki's forehead, comforting him constantly, ignoring his weak protests when he adds more furs on top of his covers, trying to break the fever.

But the soft moon is shining, sending its gentle beams in through the windows, and the long, empty silence of the castle is peaceful; and with Thor here, it hurts a bit less.

"Close your eyes," he murmurs, and Loki sighs quietly, letting his eyes flutter shut as sleep rushes over his head like the waves of the ocean.

"Stay with me," Loki thinks he whispers hoarsely, but perhaps that was a dream.

And perhaps, as the waves take him into deep slumber, he feels soft lips on his cheek, lingering too close to his mouth to be simply innocent, and a reply: "Always."

But that would be ridiculous. A preposterously clichéd and desirous delusion concocted by only the most foolish minds. Thor would never kiss him. And yet, he's never felt so

tired.

Such irony, that a would-be-king would be too tired to fight for a would-be-throne.

The buildings of Midgard are collapsing in flames. Ruin is everywhere; the city has been razed. All around, the Chitauri are flying, fighting, killing and destroying. The sound of screams burns red-hot in his ears, but Loki forces himself to ignore it. Broken, chaotic thoughts seem to be fluttering madly within his mind.

"Loki!" Thor calls, eyes burning with fury. "Turn off the Tesseract or I will destroy it!"

"You can't!" Loki yells back at him, smiling cruelly, bitterly as Thor growls at him. "There is no stopping it! There is only the war."

"So be it." Thor looks up at Loki, expectant, as if he believes this will all be over soon enough. As if Thor thinks he will lay down his weapons, return to Asgard, fall back into the shadows behind him and everything will be as it should be. And he still thinks he can see some shred of good left in his not-brother, still thinks he is not beyond redemption, still thinks he is worth saving, and Loki hates that he wishes Thor was right. But he's not.

Loki throws himself forward with a snarl, slashing and hacking and blasting at him with his spear for all he is worth, his eyes burning with unshed tears. Thor retaliates, swinging Mjolnir at him, driving him back as they battle. When the Midgardian plane dips towards the two, Loki blasts it. A second too late, he turns back, but Thor is already there, sending him backwards in a tackle, his fists slamming into Loki's face. He shoves Loki up against a wall, his eyes ablaze as he traps him there with his hammer digging painfully into his armour.

"Look at this!" Thor shouts, shoving Mjolnir harder into his brother's chest. "Look around you!" The whole world is falling to pieces. "You think this madness will end with your rule?"

"It's too late," Loki says, his voice distant in his ears, bone tired. "It's too late to stop it." Loki looks away, breathing hard.

"No," Thor insists, turning Loki's face back to his, and his eyes are filled with hope and melancholy and all his brotherly love, and Loki's heart aches in his chest. "We can. Together."

Together.

Loki look at him, feeling his resolve weaken. They could be together again. It would be so easy, just to submit, to end it all. Maybe he could still redeem himself, finally be worthy of the mighty Thor—

But things aren't that simple. They never are. And they can't go back to the way things were, he can't change, and he knows it. He knows it. Even with all of his flaws, his imperfections, his horrors, Loki only ever wanted Thor to love him anyways.

But he doesn't.

Loki gives Thor a terrible, cracked-lipped smile and stabs him in the side. Thor grunts in pain and stumbles backwards, and Loki can see the utter betrayal in his eyes.

"Sentiment," he whispers, and backs away quickly, because Thor is trying to hurt him now, slamming him into the ground, thin glass shattering all around Loki and catching up flecks of red blood, displaying his rage and pain at his not-brother's betrayal. Quick as thought, Loki rolls away and falls through the sky, landing on a hovercraft and zooming away.

The tears are falling, sliding down Loki's cheeks like rain water, and he lets them, still trying to stand tall with all his damned pride even though it feels as if the world has been ripped away from beneath his feet.

Thor is everything he wants, the only everything he would need and everything he can't have. He's known that all along, even as it truly hits him now. No matter how far he tries to run from it, he can never escape the truth: no matter how much Loki loves Thor, Thor will never, ever love him back.

But that's all right. He always knew how it would end. He was never supposed to mean the world to anyone, never meant to belong. His story was only ever meant to be a tragedy. Everything will be fine, and maybe someday he won't feel as if he's ripped his own heart out.

(it's okay it's okay it's okay)

Loki closes his eyes, trying to pretend that this is nothing more than a nightmare, and he is asleep, and all he has to do is wake up and it will be all over and he will be home, but then, he doesn't have a home anymore—

and to think, Loki muses, there was once a time when I called this place my home.

But that time has long passed, and there would be no point in returning so many years later. After all he has done, his sins, his cruel deeds, he is not welcome anywhere now. All of Asgard thinks he is a failure, a traitor who tried to kill his own brother too many times, a monster who tries to destroy the innocent realm of Midgard. To them, it is a good riddance. Loki has no home, no family, and no one who would care or desire his return.

Loki has a different purpose now. One day, he will be a king, finally worthy enough to stand side by side, equal to the mighty Thor Odinson. Together.

After all, that's all he's ever really wanted.

Thor is sleeping. His stance is so calm, so peaceful that for a moment Loki hesitates, almost releases his cloak of magic and lets go for a moment, just in some bizarre hope that Thor will see him. Maybe his face will light up, and he will hold him and he tell him how much he missed him. How glad he is that Loki is here now. Maybe Thor will tell him how much he needs him, and maybe it will be as much as he needs Thor. Maybe Thor will tell Loki he loves him. Loki almost does, when Thor shifts his face, streaked with dried tear tracks, new lines cutting through the old grime.

"Promise, Jane," he murmurs. "Promise I'll come back soon…"

(foolish foolish foolish)

Loki turns away with tears sliding down his face, oblivious to the miniscule slip of his magic; he doesn't sense the inevitable, almost inaudible rustle of cloth against air, and a flicker of forest green against gold.

But Thor does. Of course he does. And Thor, whose deep blue eyes flash open and widen with shock and desperate hope, silently mouths his not-brother's name: Loki.

With a flurry of movement, he throws back the sheets and tumbles out of bed, eyes glowing with happiness. The excitement and hope on his face is like that of a child on Christmas; he is reaching out with his arms thrown wide, ready to embrace his brother, and everything will be all right—everything will be all right—

But Loki is already gone, distant, aloof, and so, so far from his reach, and Thor stops, breathing hard with his hands still outstretched. He lowers hands to the sides with his fists clenched, thinking that he was wrong, and it was nothing more than a longing hallucination. Thor falls to his knees, putting his head in his hands. His shoulders shake with sobs, lost in painful memories and desperate hopes that he can't bring himself to let die.

(Tell me a story, brother.)

Late afternoon sun tickles Loki's skin lazily. The two princes lie together on the grassy side of a hill, close enough to the palace and yet distant enough that they feel a whole universe away.

Thor came of age yesterday. Female suitors are already lining up outside the door.

(Please?)

"Loki?"

"Hmm?" Loki says absently, watching the clouds drift past, the sky a lovely shade of blue. Just like Thor's eyes, he thinks. He begins counting clouds, alone in his thoughts.

"I'm getting married someday. Most likely soon."

(Once upon a time, there were two great warrior princes, named Loki and Thor. They were strong and fast and smart. They went on great adventures every day and saw all sorts of monsters and people. Then when they were old enough, they got married and had lots and lots of children together. They ruled their kingdom wisely, and when they were old, they went to live in the forest.)

Pause.

(The forest?)

Breathe in. Breathe out.

(Aye, the forest.)

"I know."

Hesitation.

"Do you think you will ever marry, brother?"

(A little cottage hidden deep in the woods, just for the two of them. All peace and quiet and wide open air, because they're so tired after being kings. They'll spend all their time together, just living in the forest. They'll raise animals and grow fruits and vegetables in their garden, too. Corn and tomatoes and apples and strawberries.)

"For political reasons, perhaps. You know Father."

"I think you will, but for love." Thor's voice is soft. "You're so smart, and good, and you're so lovely." His tone has grown wistful. "I'm sure someone would fall for you in an instant and sweep you off your feet." Loki laughs. "If you ever marry, do you think you'll have children?"

(We can have chickens and horses and cows and rabbits?)

"I'm not quite sure."

Loki can hear the pout in his voice. "I do wish to have a niece or nephew with those beautiful green eyes of yours."

"Of course you would."

Thor chuckles. "It's all right if you don't want to have children, Loki. You're my brother. I'll always love you no matter what you do."

(Aye. Lots of chickens with peeping little babies. We'll help our mares give birth. We'll have fresh milk every day from our cows. And we'll have endless rabbits in a little hutch, and we'll play with them all day long.)

"Perhaps, brother," Loki whispers. "We shall see."

"I'd like that," Thor says after a while. Loki hears the smile in his voice.

Silence.

"We will grow old together, won't we, Loki?"

(Can we have adventures and get married and have children and live in our cottage in the forest? Promise?)

If only, if only. Loki could almost laugh at the endless sky if not for the tears that have begun to slip softly down his pale cheeks, dripping to the grassy ground in glittering silence. "Of course, Thor. You are my brother, after all … I wouldn't have it any other way."

"We'll always be together." He is solemn and sure. Loki wipes away his tears, plastering a bitter little smile on his face as Thor sits up, gazing at him. "Always."

(Aye, Loki. I promise.)

"Always," Loki repeats, an empty promise even to his own ears, and closes his eyes, blocking out the sky.

.

.

My heart is yours, it's you that I hold on to …

.

.

.

For Canute, writer of marvelous fan fiction that relates to Loki, and a great lover of chocolate; and b-isforblair, one of the most amazing writers I will ever know. Thanks for the inspiration, you two. I'd advise reading We Stood To Fall by Canute and Unrequited Love by b-isforblair if you liked this one. Unrequited Love isn't in the Avengers fandom, but it's AU and can be read without actually knowing anything about the anime or manga.

Special kudos to my beta Aquanova for putting up with this melodramatic load of shit. I hope that stack of work on your desk finally shrinks.

All rights go to Marvel.