Loki stares past Thor to the picture before them and says nothing more. What must be going through his mind, Thor can only guess. Distracted as he is by his own resurfacing grief, it is difficult to concern himself either way. But he must if he's to achieve anything by this. He must push his own pain from his mind. He must focus on the purpose of this agonising reimagining and on the meaning it will hold for his brother, unprepared though he is for so brutal a sight.

"She gave her life for Jane's," Thor says somewhat distantly. "She defended you to the end, and she did what she could to protect us. Both of us."

The scene replays itself in full, though much of it is a construct of Thor's beleaguered mind. He was not there when it counted, of course.

Malekith's dark plans. The threat to Jane. Frigga's staunch refusal. Thor's too late reprisal despite his every effort to defend his mother from harm.

Even now, the horror Thor feels is enough to steal the breath from his body.

From the corner of his eye, Thor catalogues every twitch and frown Loki makes. He seems at first incredulous, as though this eventuality is so far from his imagining as to be completely beyond belief. Some dark emotion swiftly replaces this, and as the narrative progresses a look of accusation replaces the shock there but a moment before. Loki turns a glare upon his brother, its attention only diverted when the figure of their mother appears before them both.

"Mourn me, but do not despair," Frigga says to Thor, her tremulous outline standing sadly over where she lays slain. "Take this as the lesson it is. I will wait for you, and watch over you both. My sons. My children."

The lump in Thor's throat chokes him and he cannot speak to answer. She reaches a hand out to cup his face, and the tear that runs down it goes unnoticed.

"Take care of your brother," Frigga entreats him, a gentle smile her last gift.

Thor returns it, sadly, and Frigga's form begins to dissipate.

Behind him, Loki raises a hand and erases the entire spectacle with a sharp gesture. Where before Frigga's form lay serene even in death, there is now a space ironed smooth to marble.

It has not taken long for Loki to master the strange magics of Midgard's most knowledgeable practitioners. The thought is as comforting as it is alarming.

Thor takes control of himself, thrusting the raw emotion the visions have stirred firmly to one side.

"I do not show you this to hurt you, Loki," Thor says. "I mean only to help you see."

"Spare me your lessons," Loki spits in return. "I care little for your imagined tragedies and even less for whatever point you think they serve. If you think you can win me over with this pathetic attempt at familial compassion you're even more of a fool than I took you for."

Thor allows himself to a moment to close his eyes in silent mourning. He forgives Loki his scepticism and envies his ignorance, but he must push on. He will honour his mother regardless, and hopes that in time his brother will forgive him in turn for his failure.

It is a simple matter of focus and concentration for the scene around them to shift, and as the skeletal outlines of the room around them fold neatly away, new pictures form to replace them.

A cell of a new kind is conjured into being, and a conversation much like this one takes place between its occupants. Thor notes with a hint of dry amusement that their roles were much reversed that day in spite of the similar circumstances, with Thor the reluctant party and Loki the world-weary petitioner.

The words that pass between them seem hollow to Thor now.

They effect their escape and craft their plans, squandering what small chance they have for meaningful exchange on posturing, slights and redirected anger. For all the catharsis their fighting brings, there is much left unsaid. The missed opportunities pain Thor now to witness, yet behind him Loki lounges against the wall with an affectation of boredom. If he is listening to the small snatches of truth the two of them manage to exchange, he pretends not to hear them. Thor expects this and does not linger here.

Time speeds forward to erase much of their long journey and the stilted silence of the craft as they travel. Thor glances wistfully a the figure of Jane at the skiff's bow but soon refocuses his attention on the new scene forming from nothing.

Thor shivers to remember this place. He fancies he can feel the slick shift of silica beneath his feet even as he remains standing on the hard surface of the cell floor. A misremembered stench of ruin and old smoke coats every porous surface of his body, and even now the thrill of impending danger has his muscles pulling taut.

The battle is already in full swing, slain elves littering the ground around the two of them as they dance with deadly skill. When the Kursed raises his blade to smite Thor a terminal blow, the counterstrike his brother delivers stirs a triumphant admiration in him even now.

The rest is difficult to watch. The retaliation the Kursed delivers, the clever ruse his brother reveals around gasps of pain, the finality of the grenade's completion. Thor's knees weaken all over again to imagine catching his folding brother, the blood slick and hot beneath fingers that clutch tightly to Loki's rigid form.

Thor's past self lowers his brother to the ground with a desperate reluctance that sears his lungs even now. He is caught up in it, dragged along by a suffocating sense of responsibility he knows younger siblings will never quite understand.

This is his doing. His responsibility. He has failed in the one sacred duty entrusted to him a lifetime ago, enforced upon him by birth and circumstance yet strengthened by bonds of love long forged and tempered.

"No!" his dream self insists to an unfeeling sky. "What have you done?"

The Loki in his arms whispers words that cut to his core, and even knowing what he does now of how they have been used since, Thor still feels tears surface at their uttering.

It is hard to look away, but look away Thor must. He focuses his attention on the figure at his back, the effort to surface from the memory one that demands much of him.

Loki watches all this with something of a haughty air, and although he tries to hide how much the scene has affected him, Thor has learned to read between the lines of his brother's bluster.

Loki turns from the scene with a derisive huff and pours some much diluted venom over his shoulder. "You are deceived, brother," he scoffs. "I see you are as easy to play now as you always were."

This is of course true, Thor must admit. However these events came about, it is obvious now that he was fooled, his willingness to believe the best of his brother enough to blind him to the true events that passed that day. He suspects there is more to the tale than he has managed to extract from his brother yet, the best lies always holding an element of truth, but whatever truly transpired he may never discover.

I didn't do it for him still rings in Thor's ears as the scene shifts.

When they watch their father's last goodbye, Loki remains silent. Gone are his snide remarks, the affectation of boredom, the mocking disbelief. He is much as he was on that same day not all that long past - quiet, pensive, caught between a truth he wants to believe and a lie he has taken for his own. He shutters his face against any sort of expression, and when Hela dispatches them both he has not a single word to say.

Thor presses on, sparing not a detail from the story he must tell. Their separation on the Bifrost (Thor thinks that perhaps Loki winces at this, but if he does he covers it well), the landing on Sakaar, their reunion under the amused condescension of the Grandmaster. It says something of Thor's state of mind at the time that the projections his recall produce do not paint his brother in the best of lights during these moments, but then the shining threads of any fabric only stand out with the plain cloth behind to contrast them.

Loki remains silent throughout this retelling, his sullen demeanor always at Thor's back.

When Thor's past self and Loki's future one defeat their sister and abandon their home in glory and ruin, Loki finally breaks his silence.

With laughter. Incredulous, mocking laughter.

"Oh, come now, Thor!" he chides, breathless not with mirth but with the effort it takes to push the harsh sounds past the pain in his ribs. To Thor it sounds forced and false, but he does not comment on it. "I admit the rest had some troubling realism to it, but this is beyond far-fetched. I've always thought you an unimaginitive creature, but clearly I've underestimated your capacity for self-delusion."

Thor lets this insult go unanswered. The irritation he might ordinarily feel has fled him, though he almost wishes for it now. He is sorry for what he must do, for the pain he must cause, for the final defence he must strip from his brother. He approaches Loki slowly, pity and stern determination warring for dominion in his breast. He keeps his eyes locked on his brother's face as he wills the scene to change one last time, a cowardly part of him thankful to be spared the view now at his back.

Loki's eyes goes wide as the space around them darkens, a shuddering groan ripping through the projected hull now enclosing the room. The distant booms of pounding weaponry reverberate in Thor's chest even without an accompanying jolt of movement. Without turning to look, Thor imagines the smoke curling and drifting along the corridor's ceiling, the bursts of liquid sparks as infrastructure fails, the glow of heat from fire approaching every corner and intersection.

And at the port window beyond, a huge looming presence blots out the stars.

There is recognition now in the fixed gaze of Loki's eyes. Recognition, realisation and terror.

He sees now. He sees beyond doubt. This can be no trick. No fanciful story created by Thor's mind, no manufactured narrative meant simply to manipulate him. It cannot be dismissed and discounted. The monstrosity assailing them is one only he has seen before this day.

Loki's throat works soundlessly, and Thor must close his eyes against his brother's raw and unguarded distress.

The urgent conversation proceeding at Thor's back is one he almost does not recall, the adrenaline and the urgency of their situation conspiring to overwrite it in his mind. The memories are evidently there, and now that he has opportunity to review them, he gleans meaning that passed him by before.

Loki is arguing with him, stridently. The plan they are formulating is being beaten into shape as they run, half-remembered orders being barked to the frantic people they pass along the way. Loki's resistance had been maddening, Thor remembers now. He had not had the time to consider why in the moment.

"They will follow you!" Thor's past self is insisting, breaking off to give directions to a small group of fleeing people.

"The Valkyrie is perfectly capable-"

"But she is not either of us. Don't play ignorant with me now, Loki. One of us must lead. You know this."

And explosion knocks the two of them against the bulkhead with bruising force, but they are quick to recover. Loki's future self makes a frustrated sound.

"And again I say, that one should be you! Do not pass this burden onto me, Thor. I've had my taste of it and I like it little. Stop being so selfish for once in your life and listen to what I am telling you-"

Thor's projection turns to grasp his brother's shoulders, halting their flight through the bowels of the ship and the nauseating movement the technology has been conjuring into being. A multitude of feeling is communicated in the look they share, Thor knows, though the words to follow do little to scratch its surface. "If I am lost… they will need you. Do this for me, brother, and I will have nothing to fear. Please, for me. Keep them safe."

And keep yourself safe with them.

Loki returns a long and unhappy look, and Thor simply grins. "Besides," Thor says with a casual air he knows he didn't really feel, "who better to make a clean getaway?"

He claps Loki's shoulders and turns to sprint away, ignoring the exasperated screech Loki barely contains. "All will be well, brother," Thor calls over his shoulder as Loki's form recedes behind him. "I've always found you before now!"

As Thor's projection heads away, he hears his name yelled after him like a curse.

The battle progresses from there as a blur, foes dispatched and civilians urged to flee in a series of scenes that flash before Thor's eyes. He watches his past self join with what scant fighters he can find, a motley collection of Sakaaran gladiators and those few Asgardian warriors they had among the refugees. Heimdall he encounters in the thick of it, and together they carve their way through the hordes of creatures spilling onto the ship.

The fighting is long. Thor's sword arm grows weary simply watching this retelling, and as the moment he awaits approaches, he is thankful there will not be much more to come.

The creature that moves to take Heimdall down does not suspect the fate that awaits it, no more than the Thor of the moment can predict its demise. Thor remembers the instant of helpless panic, the arc of the creature's weapon that no effort of his own could avert. The shout of warning he gives is too late for Heimdall to turn, though the gatekeeper sees the blade coming well enough.

Heimdall is bracing for the blow to deflect as much damage as he can when the creature goes rigid, its blade dropping from nerveless claws as its nearest compatriot runs it through. Before it can hit the floor Loki reveals his ruse with a shimmer of fading seidr.

"I leave you alone for two minutes," he says with a quirk of his lips.

Thor sees once again the effort this small illusion has cost him, though his irreverent humour would seek to hide it. Thor may not be schooled in the ways of seidr as his brother is, but he recognises strain when he sees it. He is as confident now as he was then that the immense working Loki has performed has been costly.

"They are away?" the Thor of the memory asks anyway, even knowing the answer.

Loki is serious when he replies, an apology implicit in his tone even as he stands there in defiance of his king's order. "It is done."

Whether the pods make it in safety from there, Thor never does discover. He can only pray that Loki's glamour was enough to spare some of his people the worst of the fates that the battle with Thanos eventually brought.

The rest is almost more than Thor can bear to relive. Only the shame it would bring him to look away while he would inflict this upon Loki keeps him from dropping his head. The Black Order master them with an ease and cruelty that defies reason, and before long their remaining forces are defeated, Heimdall lying mortally wounded at their feet.

He turns now to reach for his brother as the final scene runs its ugly course. Loki pulls the shoulder Thor would grasp sharply from his reach, and as Thanos moves to exact his final vengeance Loki clamps his hands in his hair as he turns way.

"Enough!" he shouts, and it is but the movement of his hand for Thor to wipe the vision clean. The scene fades in flickering pixels, layers folding into one another to reveal their true surroundings, the cold, stark cell and sterile glass that offers no comfort or shelter.

Bland lights now hum in otherwise innocuous quiet, the steady blink of the surveillance cameras the only remaining sign of life. The codes Thor has infected the system with will play back the footage from the cell as it was recorded originally, and but for the terrible knowledge his brother now owns, not a soul will learn of what has transpired here.

They have some time yet before any risk of discovery. Enough to learn the fallout of what Thor has set into motion.

Even now, he is sorry to have done this. It has not been his intention to torture his brother, nor does he revel in Loki's distress. It is a necessary evil, one both of them must suffer if they are to triumph in the end.

Loki's shoulders heave, his back turned but his anguished breathing loud for both of them to hear. Thor does not think to approach him again. The embrace he so dearly craves would not be welcome now. May be lost to him forever, in fact. He can no more be its initiator than he can demand his brother's love, not while so much time and distance hangs between them. That distance may never be closed if Thor's plan to alter events is successful. It is a likelihood he carries with great sorrow, but one he is determined to see through to the end nonetheless.

"Loki…"

Loki whirls, tears shining in his eyes, anger and anguish trembling in his voice. "What is the meaning of this," he tries one last time, clutching at denial as though it has any protection left in it. "How have you invented this... this sorry excuse for a tale-"

"I am not one for illusions, brother. You know that."

This switches Loki from hot to cool in an instant, and the closer they come to the crux of the matter the tighter the band around Thor's chest grows.

"Do not paint me as the hero, Thor," Loki hisses. "Do not project your lofty ideals onto me and expect them to fit. I am nothing like you. I harbour no secret desire for your approval. There is no noble side of me hidden in the shadows. I do not long to be redeemed. I rain chaos on those around me and I laugh as they burn."

It is a pitiful attempt, but no less sharp for all that. Thor has cut himself on Loki's defences many times before, shredding himself to ribbons the more weight he threw against them. But not this time. This time Thor sees the purpose of these words and the persona they would conjure. It is the ferocity of a wounded animal, an illusion of strength woven by the magic of speech alone. Thor wonders now why it took him so long to see it all for what it is.

"You do not want to believe me. Then see for yourself." Thor holds his arms to the side in invitation. Let them be done with this. Let them finally come to this last chance, the one Thor will gamble the fate of the universe upon.

"I will not stop you," Thor continues. "You have all the proof you could need in this very room, if you choose to see it."

Loki remains as he is, suspicion and reluctance mixing together, fear and doubt conspiring against him even as he is determined to deny the truth. Thor feels his own impatience rising, an edge of panic to it.

He seizes Loki's arm at the wrist and tugs him forward with a force borne of desperation. He presses Loki's palm to his head and holds it there, their eyes locked together.

"Do it," he commands, his voice rough with emotion. "I know you can. I know you have that power. If you're so certain this is all a construct of my imagination you have nothing to fear, so just do it! Prove me wrong!"

Loki's expression spasms but he cannot look away. He does not fight Thor's grip, and when Thor drops his hold, Loki remains frozen in place. He squeezes his eyes shut and Thor almost thinks he will not do it, then with a grimace and a growl his seidr surges forward.

For all that everything seems slowed and ponderous, moments drawn out into full instances of exquisite joy and pain, the many impressions Thor sees act to constrict these past years into a concentration almost too intense to withstand.

First there is the grief of his brother's loss, the pain of it twisted by anger and betrayal, guilt and doubt, and beyond that bewildering tangle a great many questions that cannot be answered. He does not know how this could have happened. He does not know what he could have done. He does not know why he didn't see it, why he didn't stop it, why he couldn't make a difference when it mattered. The confusion is as unbearable as the certainty that he was somehow at fault and still cannot quite grasp why.

Then there is anger. Previous betrayals pale in comparison to what he feels now, and despite the purity and righteousness of his ire there is also a slow dawning horror. He mourns what he has lost all the more for it and begins to lose faith, his victory bitter and the peace it brings tainted. The signs he should have seen he discounts, his hurt too great to overcome.

Next there is sorrow. And blame. And guilt. Still he cannot break free from the defences his heart has built. Not until it is too late. Not until sorrow follows sorrow and the blood on his hands is twofold. The shame that follows is his to shoulder alone.

Weariness steals the joy he should feel next. He doesn't let himself hope, not this time. He resigns himself to one final loss, a loss by choice this time, and if by pushing his brother away he can finally have something returned he is not sorry for it.

The small glimmers of happiness he can snatch after so many defeats are short-lived but burn bright, and the resurgence of hope kindles others from the ashes. There is pride there, pride for every life saved, for every glimpse of the brother he once knew, for every possibility open to them now. The road will be hard, but it will not be one Thor has to travel alone. His gratitude he will repay a thousandfold.

But finally there is regret. Regret and pride and love and a crushing, suffocating loss. His grief is white hot, a sentient agony that drives him to correct all that has led to this terrible, senseless future. All the lost opportunities, the stolen reparations, the chance to mend all that is so broken discarded like something worthless - it is more than he can bear.

He is reckless in the face of it, and if he decides that if dies or lives it is of little consequence.

They break away from each other gasping, Loki clutching his hand to his body as though he has been scalded. He stares at Thor wide-eyed, his gaze liquid and shimmering with unshed tears. Thor's own burn at his eyes and he must force his breath past a closing throat. He feels as though he might shatter, but he cannot break down, not now. This is no more than the suffering he carries with him every day, and he will weather it. He must.

"Is this some sort of punishment?" Loki half-whispers, his voice rough with hurt and a half-suspected betrayal. "A foretelling of all my many mistakes and the bitter fruits they will bear? Is this a reckoning of all the many ways I have failed you?"

For a moment Thor cannot breathe well enough to answer, the struggle to control himself almost beyond his strength.

Can Loki not see? Even now, can he not see that if this is a catalogue of errors, they are as much Thor's as his?

"I have not come here for revenge," he manages finally to say, his voice hoarse but unyielding. "I have come here for you. For all of us."

Loki averts his eyes, and suddenly he seems small and diminished. "So this is what you would ask of me, then. For a way to defeat the Mad Titan. For my aid in the fight to come."

Oh how Thor's heart clenches. That his brother would misunderstand him even now. That he would undervalue his place in Thor's heart, blind to the regard and the love Thor holds for him, deaf to the simple truth that Thor has never wanted anything so much as the return of his brother to his side.

Stepping forward, he clasps a hand at his brother's nape and urges Loki to meet his eyes. That Loki allows this speaks more clearly than his words ever could.

"Loki," Thor urges thickly. "Brother. I would ask your forgiveness."

Loki's face crumples then, and it is but a small effort for Thor to tip him forward and into his arms. He guides Loki's head to press against his shoulder, the heat of his shuddering exhales soaking into the skin there, and wraps his other arm across his back. His own tears he allows to flow freely.

How Thor has longed for this. To finally release all that has kept contained these last years, to seek the comfort he has so long been denied and to ease some of the torment he has seen in his brother's haunted eyes. He tightens his hold the longer they remain and although Loki does not return it, neither does he fight to pull away.

Thor strokes his hair and makes a silent vow to the first fathers and any other ancestors that are listening. He will do all he can to protect his brother and earn back his loyalty. If fate will only grant him a reprieve, he will not waste this new chance he has been given. When he feels Loki's fingers clutch blindly at the fabric at his front he releases a long breath that carries with it some of his guilt, and a tension eases within him that has been his companion for longer than he can remember.

They remain that way for some time, their breathing calming, the intensity slowly ebbing away.

After a last deep and wet sounding breath, Loki extricates himself carefully from Thor's embrace. He swipes roughly at his face but will not look his brother in the eye, though Thor ducks his head to try to catch it.

"A wasted journey," Loki says in answer to the request Thor has made. He flicks a hand vaguely to indicate the vision that has long since disappeared. "I see you already have it. But you cannot have it from me." Then reluctantly, more quietly: "Not yet."

This pains Thor, this one last tiny shard. Of course it does. But he has more than he could have hoped for, and balanced against all that he has overcome it is a small thing indeed.

He cannot contain the hope that warms his core and steals over his face, though he strives to hide it as best he can. "I can be patient," he says with tremulous smile, and if Loki doesn't exactly return it, he does glance away with something resembling acceptance.

"How did you get in here, anyway?" Loki sniffs, a signal that he will entertain the matter no further. He turns his back to compose himself, and Thor is content to leaves things there for now. So be it. If all goes as planned, they will have time yet to heal.

Thor allows himself a smile, pleased with how easily the expression now comes. "You're not the only one with secrets, Loki."

Loki nods at this, but Thor can tell he is not really listening. Already his bearing has begun to change, a semblance of his old self returning as he plans their next move. Thor is reminded of all the times he has missed his brother's shrewd counsel and hopes he will have need to count on it many more times to come.

"We will need my sceptre," Loki thinks aloud, turning back to capture Thor's attention after a hesitation Thor only notices because he knows to look for it. "And one other thing."

Thor allows his smile to widen into one reminiscent of the Loki of old, and his brother responds to it with equal parts caution and approval.

"Let me guess," Thor says, bringing a hand from behind his back and flipping the object hidden there neatly in the air. "Something like this?"

The tesseract glows eagerly in Thor's palm, its light bathing them in a wash of blue.

"Why yes," Loki agrees, a glimpse of his old mischief returning. "That will do nicely."

"Lead on?"

The grin is sly and just a little bit manic. For once, it's one Thor knows he can trust absolutely. "I'd be delighted."