Title comes from the Old Norse word for Bright and Clear. Reference: Old_Norse_Dictionary_ #b

Thor's first thought is that Loki looks like a child.

His brother's body is heavy and limp, and by the time Thor finally reaches him his eyes are starting to close.

"No, no, no, Loki, no," the words flow from him without his control and he pulls the other god into his lap, cradling his head with bloody hands.

It takes him a minute to realize that Loki is saying something-each frantic gasp is two words, over and over and over...

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm-"

"Shh, shhh..." Thor's throat tightens and he knows what he's supposed to say; I forgive you.

But he doesn't.

How can he forgive him for New York, for killing thousands, for wreaking havoc and destruction upon Midgard, for conspiring against all of them, for corrupting Hawkeye...how can he forgive him for all of that?

But it doesn't matter.

None of that matters, because now all he sees is his little brother-pale and choking and staring up at him with eyes that are so blue, and so scared.

"Loki, Loki, stay with me, Loki..." he swallows hard and says what he has too, what he needs too, "I will tell father of what you did today...I will-"

Because Loki must be recognized, his brother deserves every bit of praise he can manage for this deed today. Odin has never favored Loki with anything, and he deserves this. He deserves to be a hero. The nine realms deserve to know how truly clever and special his little brother is.

Loki huffs a laugh, and Thor winces at the sound. Blood bubbles at the edges of the other god's lips and he presses them together, shaking his head. "No..."

Thor stares down at him, stares at the face which so often had been so alive with mischief and laughter, and other times, more recently, as mask of calculating cruelty. This face that he had grown up with, come to know and to appreciate and to cherish.

These past few hours have seemed like the older days to him-when Loki could make him laugh and frustrate him at the same time, when his little brother always knew exactly what to say to get under his skin, when their arguments were both excruciating and endearing.

"I wish I could trust you," he had lamented to his brother only a short time earlier, after Loki had been him laugh once again.

But trust doesn't matter now. Nothing matters now except the fading light in his brother's eyes and the boy underneath the vengeful god. The boy that Thor can see in Loki's face, the boy that preferred reading to swordplay, who could be found practicing magic with Frigga into the late hours of the night. His studious, clever little brother who was the better, more cautious part of himself.

"I didn't do it for him," Loki whispers.

No, Thor knows that. Loki has always despised their father. Odin treated him like nothing.

But Frigga...

Frigga saw in Loki what no one else, not even Thor, did. She saw potential and heart and power and she showed him how to use it. Thor should have appreciated Loki more, should have helped him and not mocked him, should have pulled him up when he'd fallen, should have, should have, should have-

His head is spinning so badly with regrets and adrenaline and pain that for a minute he doesn't realize that Loki has stopped reaching for him, has stopped his frantic whispers.

He stares down at the unmoving face and pulls the body to his chest, weeping for his brother, for Frigga, for his people...

He cries because Loki will never know how much Thor still appreciates him, but when he thinks back later, to their banter and their arguments and their battle together, he thinks that Loki knew. Loki was always able to see through Thor's illusions and read his true thoughts, even when Thor himself was not even conscious of them. They had known each other intently and fully, and sometimes in dreams Thor can still hear Loki laughing.

Do you like this trick? He asks, and appears in the doorway of Thor's chambers, healthy and strong and alive, I think it's one of my best.

No, Thor always replies in the dream, I do not like this game, Loki. Where are you, really?

His little brother grins, a smile that stretches all across his face, and spreads his arms wide. You'll figure it out, he says.

Loki's image fades, and Thor opens his eyes, wipes away his tears.

He's mourned Loki once, he can bear it again.

At least that's what he tells himself.