A/N This is Whumptober day 16 with the necrosis prompt

There's only one person who knows every inch of Asgard; every secret entrance and exit hidden from view; every crack between realms that hasn't been discovered yet.

It's Loki.

Thor's violent, treasonous little brother.

He'd tried to give him a second chance. He'd tried to bring him home, to bring him back to his family, but he refused. They're not his family, he'd said. His Jotun blood mattered more than the thousand years they'd spent together. It had hurt at the time, but watching him play tricks on the Avengers, tearing the human world apart as some elaborate plan for revenge, his sympathy had waned.

As it stands, Loki's been in the dungeon for nearly a year and a half by now, and Thor hasn't seen him once. Nobody has, as far as he knows. Much to his chagrin, that's about to change.

He'd heard, of course, that Loki was the only one left in the dungeon; that Malekith had freed the rest of the prisoners, but Loki had remained. This may very well be a part of his plan, and Thor may be playing straight into his hands. But when the alternative is to let Malekith destroy the Nine Realms because Odin is too grief-stricken to act, he feels he doesn't have much of a choice.

So he enters the dungeon.

It's quiet down here – eerily quiet, though not unexpectedly so. The only surprise is that he's not greeted by a sarcastic remark from his so-called brother. When he reaches the cell, he understands why: Loki's buried himself beneath his blanket, with only the sole of his boot poking out to show that he's under there. Why he's lying on the floor when he has a perfectly good (if fairly disheveled) bed to use, he doesn't even try to understand.

"Loki." His voice booms in the silence of the room.

Loki doesn't move.

Thor gives him a moment. Maybe he's still waking up. Maybe he needs a moment to process it. But when the silence and the stillness stretch on, he only finds himself growing irritated.

"Loki!" He's louder this time; more audibly frustrated. In spite of how their friendship ended, giving him the silent treatment like this is just childish.

Loki moves beneath the blanket, just enough that Thor can see the faint ripple of the fabric. So he's awake. He knows Thor is here. He really is just ignoring him.

He shouldn't do this. He knows he shouldn't. But they only have so much time. The Convergence is nearly upon them, Malekith is preparing for war, and Jane grows weaker by the moment. He doesn't have time to waste waiting for his brother to finally give him the time of day.

So he shuts down the barrier that holds him in his cell. His grip on Mjolnir tightens, just in case he needs to use it, just in case Loki tries to make a run for it, but he doesn't. He doesn't move at all.

Thor grits his teeth and stalks up to him. "Loki," he growls, reaching down to grab his blanket. He doesn't know exactly what to expect when he rips it away. Loki could jump up, ready to fight. He could simply hold the blanket tighter so that Thor can't steal it from him. It could go in a lot of different directions, but he tries to be prepared for all of them.

But he's not prepared for what he sees when he pulls it away.

Loki is curled up in a ball on the ground, one arm hugging his legs to his chest while the other lies limp on the floor in front of him. His dark hair is matted from mistreatment, tangled together in a mix of dirt and blood and resting carelessly over his face. His skin is littered with gashes and bruises, some scarred over while others continue to drip blood onto the dungeon floor even now. Whatever happened to him, it's been going on since long before the Dark Elves returned.

"Loki?" This time, his name comes out gentler, barely a whisper, and he finds that he's dropped his guard. He knows that this could be a trap. He knows that Loki could simply be trying to lure him in before taking him out. But he doesn't care. This is his brother, and he's hurt – or, at least, he looks hurt. He looks helpless. He looks almost unrecognizable in his misery. How could Thor look at him and feel anything but pain?

He kneels down in front of his brother, and he reaches a hand out, but it hovers just inches from his face. "Loki..." He wants to touch him. He wants to brush his hair out of his face; he wants to clean him up; he wants to get him dressed. He just doesn't know if he can do that. He doesn't know if that will make things worse.

Loki's only reaction to his voice is to try to curl in on himself further, to shrink himself even more as though he's trying to disappear entirely.

"Loki, it's just me," Thor says quietly. "It's just Thor. You're okay."

Loki whimpers softly, and Thor's heart breaks in two.

"Who did this to you?" Thor asks. "Was it the other prisoners?" They weren't supposed to be able to reach him. He'd been given his own cell for a reason; a former prince of Asgard was bound to be a target by those that Asgard held captive. And the dungeon is never left without a guard. There's no possible way–

Unless the guards were in on it.

Unless it was the guards.

Thor squeezes his eyes shut and swallows hard. He'd been so sure he could trust them. They're the royal guards. Their sworn duty is to protect the dungeons. To let this happen to their prince – even a disgraced prince – is akin to treason. Should the Nine Realms survive and should he live to return to his home realm, he'll ensure those traitors are dealt with swiftly and painfully.

But for now, his focus has to lay on his brother. He brushes his blood-crusted hair out of his face, and he presses a fist into his mouth to stifle his gasp. He should have known that his brother's face would look no better than the rest of him, but he hadn't been prepared for this. He hadn't been prepared for the two black eyes. He hadn't been prepared for the crooked, swollen nose. He hadn't been prepared for the busted lip or the dried blood that runs from his mouth down his chin. He hadn't been prepared for any of it.

"Oh, Loki..." Thor shakes his head solemnly. He never wanted this for him. Even at his angriest, he never would have wished this on him.

Loki ducks his head, pulling himself tighter into a ball.

Thor reaches down, cupping his cheek in his palm the best that he can. "Can you hear me?"

Loki doesn't react, but he has to assume he can hear him. He'd flinched earlier, when he was still beneath his blanket. He's not deaf; he's just... scared, probably. It's hard to blame him for that.

"Do you understand me?" Thor asks. That might be a better question, not that he expects an answer. "It's just me. It's just Thor – your brother." He brushes his thumb gently over his cheekbone, and he can feel the bloodied scabs beneath his finger. "I'm not here to hurt you. I want to help you."

Just as he'd suspected, Loki is silent, frozen. He suspects his brother isn't going to accept any help. He also suspects he can't afford not to give him any. Even if he can't get any answers out of him, even if he has to ask Heimdall to commit a graver form of treason than he's already agreed to because Loki couldn't point them to the doors between realms, he's not leaving his baby brother here to rot – especially knowing that some of the prison's guards still live. He can't risk letting them at his brother again.

He doesn't even know where to start. Getting him out of here sounds like the obvious solution, but is there anything he should do first? Anything he can think of to make him more comfortable? He racks his brain for anything he might be missing. What should he...

His shoes, maybe? One boot on and one boot off must be a bit uncomfortable. He could fix that. He could take the other shoe off; let his foot breath for a bit. And it will give him a good indication of how he responds to touch; how he'll respond to help.

"I'm going to take off your boot." Thor tells him. He gets no response to that. It's not agreement, exactly, but he doesn't disagree, either.

Thor takes Loki's foot and tries to straighten his leg. Loki whimpers, but he lets him do it anyway. Thor unfastens the boot's clasps and unzips the zipper, and he tries to angle the bottom of the boot, to free the heel before he takes the whole thing off.

"Does that hurt?" Thor asks.

Loki doesn't answer, and with his head ducked and face buried, it's hard to tell what he's thinking. But he's not trying to fight it. He's not trying to pull his leg back. He's letting Thor do this, so it can't be too painful.

Thor slowly, carefully pulls the boot off, and as he holds the shoe in one hand and his brother's ankle in the other, he watches Loki's foot go limp in his grasp. His leg isn't swollen beneath the boot, he notices; it's actually remarkably thin beneath its sock, much more so than he feels it should be. Maybe the pressure kept it from swelling the way his calf did. If that's the case, the pressure of his sock can't be helping, either.

He rests Loki's foot on the floor and hooks his thumbs beneath the elastic of his sock. He begins to pull it down his shin, but he doesn't make it far before he has to stop and look away.

He takes a moment to gather himself, to rationalize this. Maybe it's the lightning that makes his leg look the way that it does. The dungeon certainly isn't the brightest place in Asgard, and shadows can make things look... out of sorts. That's what this is. It must be.

But he turns his gaze back to Loki's leg, and he knows it was no trick of the light. His leg is black, entirely so, and as Thor pulls his brother's sock down his leg, he's met with the most putrid smell.

He pulls his sock back up his calf. He's not taking this off. For his brother's sake and his own, he's leaving that right where it was.

"Does it hurt?" Thor asks him.

He doesn't get an answer, but he imagines it does. An injury like that must hurt.

So he leaves the sock on. A part of it is to keep Loki comfortable – he doubtlessly doesn't want to smell his own rotten flesh – but, selfishly, his main motivation is himself. He can't bring himself to look at that. He can't bring himself to see just how badly his brother's been hurt.

So he moves on. "I'm going to get you out of here," Thor tells him. "I'm going to bring you to my chambers. Should I survive, and should I succeed in stopping the Dark Elves, I'll come back for you. If I don't, and if, by some miracle, the world continues turning, somebody else will find you there eventually. They'll take care of you if I can't."

He wishes he knew that this was true. He wishes he could guarantee that somebody would watch over Loki in his absence. But he doesn't know who will find Loki. He doesn't know if it will be someone he can trust. After what's happened to him in the dungeon, he doesn't even know who he can trust.

But he does know that there is nothing else he can do for him. Not right now; not with the fate of the Nine Realms on the line. So, as much as it hurts him to do it, he'll have to leave him, and he'll have to hope that he'll still be there when he returns.

Thor cups his brother's face in his hand. "I only have one question before we go," he says. "And if you cannot answer it, that's okay, but if you can, I would really like to know."

Loki's gaze flickers up to meet his. It only lasts a moment before he looks away, but it's something. It's more of a reaction than he's gotten to anything else so far; the first time he's truly felt that Loki's listening to him.

"I need to find a passageway to Svartalfheim," Thor tells him. "The Dark Elves have returned, and they're set on destroying the entirety of the Nine Realms. I need to get to the Dark World, ideally without using the Bifrost, as Father cannot know what I'm doing. Do you know another way?"

Again, Loki is silent. It's about the reaction Thor was expecting, but it was worth a try. If there was a chance he could help...

Loki looks up at him once more, and Thor brushes his thumb over his cheek gently. His heart aches for him, truly. He didn't deserve this. Nobody deserves this.

"Thor?" he rasps.

"It's me," Thor says quietly. "It's just me."

Loki reaches up and covers Thor's hand with his own, and Thor offers him a sad smile.

Loki just looks at him for a few moments, silent, unmoving, and Thor begins to wonder if he should just pick him up now; if he's waiting for something that's not going to happen; if Loki just wanted to hold him, and this is all he planned to do.

But then he croaks out, "Map."

Thor's brows shoot up. "Map?" he repeats. "You want a map?"

Loki doesn't move, doesn't speak, but Thor puzzles it out himself.

"Can you point me to the passage between worlds on a map?" Thor asks.

Loki nods, a small, pained movement.

It's as though a weight is lifted off his shoulders. This isn't how he wanted this to go. He'd hoped to leave here with the same anger he'd walked in with, not the pain and heartbreak he feels now. But, in spite of everything, his brother is still trying to help. He doesn't know what he did to deserve this, but it means everything to him.

"I have a map of Asgard in my room," Thor tells him. "We can use that?"

Again, Loki nods.

Thor nods, too, more to himself than to his brother, as he lets the new plan register in his brain. All he needs to do is get his brother to his room without anybody noticing. He can do that. It won't be easy, but he can do it.

Thor starts to pull his hand away, but Loki brings it back to his cheek. Thor cocks his head to the side. Does he have more to tell him? Or does he just want to keep that contact?

"Thor–" His words are interrupted by a cough, and one cough turns to two and two turns to three until he's delved into a coughing fit. He lifts his head off the ground, squeezing his eyes shut all the while, and though he doesn't hold Thor's hand so close anymore, he holds it much tighter in his own.

"You're okay," Thor whispers, gently stroking his matted hair with his other hand. He's okay. He has to be. "I'll get you some water when we reach my chambers."

Loki shakes his head, and he takes a few deep, shaky breaths as his coughing subsides.

Thor's brows crease with concern, and cups his brother's cheek in his hand once more. He doesn't want water? He finds that difficult to believe. He needs some, he's sure, especially after this.

"Thor," Loki tries again, and his voice is impossibly hoarser than it had been before. "Just kill me."

Thor's heart stops.

He shakes his head quickly, vigorously. "No," he says quickly. "No, Loki, I am not going to kill you. I know we've had our differences, but I've never wanted to kill you."

Loki gives his hand a gentle squeeze. "Please," he whispers.

Thor bites his lip, willing himself not to think too hard about this, willing himself not to accept what Loki's trying to tell him, that he'd rather be dead than live like this. And the worst part is that he understands. He can't fault him for that. And maybe it would be the merciful thing to do, putting him out of his misery, but at the same time... can he really be expected to kill his brother? That's just asking too much of him.

He sighs and takes his hand back from Loki's face. "I'm going to bring you to my room," he says. "Then we'll talk."

~~~

Thor does not kill his brother.

And, much to his relief, Loki accepts that. When Thor tells him that he can't, that it's something he could never bring himself to do, he seems to understand. So they proceed as Thor had planned: Loki stays here while Thor goes to Svartalfheim, and, after a lengthy fight spanning multiple realms, Thor is finally able to return.

He doesn't know what's happened to Heimdall after his treason, but he suspects that whether the gatekeeper is in Asgard's favor or not, the Allfather will learn of his son's return soon. He will come searching for him, and he will find him here, in his chambers.

And he will be forced to face the reality of the life he condemned his youngest son to.

Thor knocks on his door, quietly so as not to startle his brother, and when he's met with no answer, he opens it. Loki lies in bed right where Thor had left him hours before, curled up beneath his heaviest blankets and sleeping soundly with a pillow hugged to his chest.

For a few moments, Thor just stands there, a frown on his lips. What does he do now? Does he just let him sleep? A part of him wants to; he's sure he needs the rest. But he also doesn't know how long he has until someone bursts into the room, and he'd like to make some progress helping his brother before someone comes.

"Loki?" He says it quietly, cautiously, testing the waters.

Loki whines softly and hugs his pillow closer.

At least he's somewhat awake. That makes him feel a little better about this. Thor closes the door behind himself and flips on the light, earning yet another quiet whine from his brother.

"It's just me," Thor tells him. "I'm back; I dealt with the Dark Elves; everything's okay." That's not necessarily true – he committed treason against the throne, after all – but he doesn't want to bother Loki with that right now.

Loki doesn't acknowledge any of that.

"And, by the way," Thor adds, an attempt at some lightheartedness in a dreary situation, "that passageway you sent us through is a death trap." It was so small, he thought he was going to fly straight into a rock.

Again, Loki doesn't respond.

Thor sighs and approaches him, and he takes a seat on the edge of the bed by his brother's side. He flips the top of the covers down and gently takes the pillow away so that he can see his brother's face. Loki opens one eye, just a little bit, just enough to look at him, before he closes it again.

"I want to get you cleaned up," Thor tells him. "Okay? We're gonna get all that blood off of you."

Loki's silent.

Thor rather reluctantly accepts that he's not going to get another answer, so he sets about it as though his silence was agreement. If Loki has a problem, he'll say something – or he'll do something, or he'll make it known in some way. If he's not complaining, he must be okay with it, right?

So he pulls Loki's blankets down, leaving him uncovered as he's curled up on the mattress. He doesn't move, so that must have been okay. This next part is going to be more difficult.

"I'm going to sit you up," Thor tells him. "Okay? I'll put a pillow here for your back..." He lifts his brother's head and slips a pillow out from under it, which he rests against the headboard behind him. "And I'm going to sit you up."

Again, Loki doesn't do anything, so Thor rolls Loki onto his back. For the briefest moment, his face contorts in pain, but then it returns to its blank resting state.

Thor furrows his brows, and, after a halfhearted warning to his brother, he rolls him away, so his back is to him. He slips a hand underneath Loki's tunic, and in an instant, Loki's pulled himself back into his tight ball, his every muscle tensed.

"You're okay," Thor coos. "I'm just looking for injuries."

That does nothing to calm him, so Thor makes it quick. He pulls Loki's shirt up in the back, and there's so much going on here, he doesn't even know where to look. He's always been small, but right now, he's skinnier even than he was as a child, his spine standing out sharply down his back and his ribs clearly visible. There are bruises littered across his back, mostly along the spine and shoulder blades, where he has no padding to protect him. But not all of his injuries can be blamed on his loss of fat and muscle, because there are dozens of scratches down his back, some near-healed while some are fresher, still crusted in blood.

Thor lets out a long breath. He's glad he set the pillow up behind him now; he just hopes that it's going to be enough. With a brief warning to his brother, he rolls him onto his back again, and he hooks one arm beneath his knees and the other under his back. He gives his brother a countdown, and then he hoists him up, sitting him on his bottom and letting his back rest against the now-padded headboard.

Loki whimpers, and as soon as Thor removes his arms, he wraps his own around his legs, hugging himself tight.

"Does that hurt?" Thor asks. "Sitting like that?"

Loki looks up at him, but he doesn't give him an answer, verbally or otherwise.

"Is this okay?" Thor asks. "Do you want me to move you again?"

Loki shakes his head.

Thor pauses, processing that. "No, you don't want me to move you?"

Loki nods.

"Okay," Thor says. "Okay, I'll leave you right there."

Loki's grip on his legs seems to loosen slightly, and he lowers his gaze to his knees.

Thor excuses himself and slips off to his bathroom, where turns the sink on, letting the water warm up while he gathers what he needs. The only problem is that he's not actually sure what he needs. He'll need a new set of clothes for him; he'll get those from his bedroom. Rags are a must-have, of course. Soap, too, for some of them. What about his hair? Does he even want to touch that right now? Maybe he should wait on that. It's far beyond saving, but maybe he can find his brother a wig to wear before they have to cut his hair off.

He wets a few rags, and he returns to his bed, kneeling on the edge of the mattress beside his brother. Loki looks up when he returns, and he watches Thor's hands warily.

"I'm just going to clean you up," Thor tells him.

That doesn't seem to lessen his concern.

Thor looks down at the rags, and then back at his brother. Maybe...

Maybe Loki doesn't want someone else to do it. Maybe he doesn't want to be touched more than he needs to be. If every physical interaction he's had since his imprisonment has been the kind to leave long-lasting wounds like this... Well, he wouldn't blame his brother for not wanting anybody to touch him right now – or ever.

So Thor holds out a warm, soapy cloth. "Do you want to wash your face?" Even if that's all they do. Even if they just get his face and leave the rest for another time.

Loki looks at him for a moment, and then down at the rag, and then back at Thor. His brows draw together ever so slightly, and he doesn't move, doesn't reach for the rag, doesn't say a word.

"Loki?" Thor says cautiously.

Loki blinks.

"Do you want to wash your face?" Thor asks. "Or do you want me to?"

Loki hesitates, and then he unwraps one arm from around his legs and slowly reaches for it. Thor holds it closer, and Loki takes it in his shaking hand, letting it lie flat over his palm.

"Is that temperature okay?" Thor asks. "Is it too hot?" It might be a little warm, but it was a nice warm, he'd thought, like a spa towel.

Loki looks down at it, and then he brings it to his face. He presses the towel against his skin, and for a few moments, he just lets it sit there. He doesn't start scrubbing or wiping off the blood and dirt and grime. He just leaves it.

But then he takes it off, and he bunches it into a wad. His brows furrow, his lips pursed as he tries to maneuver with just one hand. When he succeeds, he brings it back to his face, dabbing it against his forehead. He's not necessarily accomplishing much, but Thor doesn't say a word about it.

His slow, gentle movements migrate across his face, and though it's only minimally useful, it must still feel nice. When he's done, he looks down at the rag, frowning at the small bits of dirt and blood on it. It's probably best that he hasn't looked in a mirror, then.

"Do you want another one?" Thor asks. "One without soap, maybe?"

Loki holds his rag out to his brother, and Thor takes it from him. Though he didn't answer the question, Thor holds another rag out to him anyway, this one wet and warm but without soap, and, after a moment of hesitation, Loki takes that one from him, too.

Loki spreads the washcloth over his face, and this time, he doesn't take it off. He uses his fingers to seemingly massage it into his skin, and whether the gentle scrubbing is helping remains to be seen, but his arm looks far more steady when he's not holding the weight of the rag in it.

Finally, he takes the washcloth away, and again, he looks down at it with a frown. This time, he removed a fair amount of grime from his skin, and it shows both on his face and the rag.

"Does that feel better?" Thor asks him.

Loki looks up at him, and, after a pause, he nods.

Thor offers him a small, somewhat insincere smile. "I'm glad." He wishes he could do more, but this is a start.

Thor holds his hand out, and Loki hands him the rag, which he leaves on the bedside table. He picks up another soapy rag. "Do you want to wash your upper body?" That, he'd assume, would be the next step. His lower half will be a problem for later, he's sure, but maybe his chest and his back? They could definitely use some attention.

Loki's eyes seem to widen slightly, and he shakes his head, a bit too quickly, too vigorously.

"Okay," Thor says, and he wastes no time in putting the rag back down. If he doesn't want to do it, they're not going to do it. He will leave his brother as he is for now. If he changes his mind later, if he feels safer later, maybe that will change, but for now, he is going to leave him be.

Thor lets out a long breath, looking at his brother with a frown. Loki looks down at himself, too. He straightens one leg in front of him, but the other, the blackened one, he has to grab with his hands. He can't straighten it all the way – he can't reach far enough to put his leg down – but he gets somewhat close.

"Does it hurt?" Thor asks him. "Your leg?"

Loki shakes his head.

"It doesn't?" He has to admit, that's not at all the answer he was expecting. "Are you sure?"

Loki nods. He presses his hands into the mattress and readjusts his position, grimacing as he sits himself back down. "Used to."

"It used to hurt?" Thor repeats, and Loki nods. "But it doesn't anymore?" That sounds... rather backwards.

Loki raises one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug.

Thor furrows his brows, eyeing his brother skeptically, but Loki doesn't meet his eye. He looks down at his hands, both resting in his lap, but then he frowns and brings his good leg back up, hugging it gently to his chest. The bad leg, he doesn't move again. It makes him wonder if he doesn't mean what he says; if his leg isn't quite as pain-free as he claims.

But if Loki says it doesn't hurt, then Thor is going to pretend that he believes that it doesn't hurt. He doesn't want to push him to say or do anything he doesn't want to do. He's doing enough of that by keeping his brother alive against his wishes.

He doesn't know if he wants to broach this subject right now, but he also can't imagine that it will get much easier to discuss as time goes on, either. So, though he knows it won't be a pleasant conversation, he brings it up anyway.

"Eventually, we will have to bring you to the healing room," Thor tells him.

Loki's eyes go wide, and he shakes his head emphatically – and this hadn't even been what he was afraid to discuss. They haven't even broached the subject of what to do with his leg.

"I'll be with you the entire time," Thor assures him. "I won't leave you for a second, and I promise you, I will not let anybody hurt you."

Loki continues shaking his head, no comfort taken from his words.

"Loki, I promise." Thor rests his hands on his brother's shoulders, and Loki's head slows to a stop as he looks at him. "I'm not going to let anybody hurt you. Not again."

Loki shakes his head once more, but this time, it's a small, gentle movement. He opens his mouth, but then he closes it, letting his gaze drop to his lap.

"What?" Thor asks softly. "What is it?"

Loki bites his lip, and, after a moment of hesitation, he whispers, "I'm scared."

Thor sighs. "I know you are," he says. He must be, if he's willing to admit it. The old Loki, the Loki that he used to know, never would have said it aloud. He may have shown it, but he wouldn't have said it. But then, the old Loki had never been in a situation like this. "But you can trust me. You know that, right? I'm your brother, and you can trust me."

Loki hesitates, but then he nods. It's a small movement, but it's there. That's enough for him right now.

"I'm going to take care of you," Thor tells him. "Like I should have done all along. And I promise, I'm not going to let anybody hurt you."

Loki takes a deep breath, and as he lets it out slowly, his head falls back against the headboard and he closes his eyes.

Thor crawls across the bed so that he can sit down next to his brother. He leans against the headboard, much like Loki does, and straightens his legs in front of him. If Loki knows he's moved – and he must feel the mattress dipping – he doesn't show it.

"I suppose I should warn you," Thor says, "I am a fugitive of the throne now. I imagine if we do not turn ourselves in, somebody will find us instead."

Loki looks over at him with a frown. "But you'll stay."

"Of course I will," Thor says. "I will stay with you, no matter who may try to interject."

Loki nods slowly, letting himself process that, and then he rests his head against his brother's shoulder. Thor smiles softly and puts an arm around him.

Loki tenses under his touch, and his head snaps up to look at him. Thor immediately pulls his arm back.

"I'm sorry," Thor says quickly. "I'm sorry; I wasn't trying to..."

I wasn't trying to ruin things.

But he did. He ruined things. For the briefest moment, Loki almost looked comfortable, and he ruined that. He tried to go too far, tried to go too fast, and he should have known better.

Loki shakes his head. He turns his head away and coughs, just twice this time, before he looks at his brother once more. "I'm sorry." His voice has been hoarse all along, but it's grown even more so after that.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Thor assures him. "Now let me go get you some more water."

He waits a moment in case his brother objects, and when he doesn't, Thor slips off the bed and grabs the cup on the bedside table. He takes it into the bathroom, and he fills it up with some fresh, cold water. It's not the best water in Asgard, but it's something – and he can't exactly get his brother a glass from the dining hall right now.

He returns to his brother's side, and he hands the water over before he climbs back onto the bed. Loki looks down at the cup, and he slowly brings it to his lips. He takes a small sip, then lowers the glass, and he grimaces as he swallows. Then he does it again. The sips get no larger, but the pain seems to lessen a bit as he makes his way through it.

He drinks a good deal more than he did the first time, before Thor went off to Svartalfheim. When the glass is almost empty, he puts it on the table beside the bed, then wraps his arms around his leg once more. His head falls forward, his forehead gently propped up on his knee, and Thor can't deny that he's a little disappointed he's not leaning into him again.

Thor knows he shouldn't go here; that he shouldn't let his curiosity get the best of him. But he just has to know. He has to know who he should be angry at. He has to know who to keep an eye on. And he has to know if his theory is right; if Asgard's most trusted aren't to be trusted.

So, cautiously, he says, "Loki?"

"Hmm?"

He pauses, debating how best to phrase this. Finally, he settles on, "Who did this to you?"

Loki shakes his head minutely.

He feels he should stop; that he should accept that non-answer for what it is. But he wants to know. He needs to know.

"Was it the guards?" he asks.

Loki tenses at the question. That's an answer in and of itself.

Thor sighs. He'd suspected that was the case. He'd been near certain that the guards hadn't cared, at the very least. But it doesn't make it any easier to hear. It doesn't make it any easier to know that the people he'd trusted to watch his brother were the very ones who hurt him.

"I'm sorry," Thor says quietly. "I didn't know. I never would have thought..." He shakes his head to himself. "They were supposed to be Asgard's best." Clearly, his faith was misplaced.

Loki doesn't move, doesn't speak, doesn't relax even the slightest bit.

"I'm sorry," Thor says again, and he means it, more than he could possibly say. "About all of this. I shouldn't have left you alone all this time, and I am so, so sorry that I did. I'm so sorry that this happened, and I'm so sorry that I didn't know."

Again, Loki is still, unmoving. A new wave of guilt hits him. Maybe he was right; maybe he should have waited to ask. Maybe he shouldn't have risked opening up such fresh wounds like this so soon.

But though Loki doesn't move, he does speak, after a pause. "They thought it was funny." His voice is barely a whisper as he says it, and Thor has to strain to hear his words.

Thor clenches his jaw, but he tries not to show his rage in any way that his brother may notice. "They what?"

Loki swallows hard. "They thought it was funny," he says again, no louder this time than the first. "To 'own' a prince. They..." He trails off, but he's already said enough.

One part of Thor wants to reach out, to hold his brother close, to assure him that he's okay and that this part of his life is over now. Another part of him wants to march out of this room and track down each and every guard that's ever stepped foot in the dungeon and make them suffer tenfold the torment they put his brother through.

But he does neither. Because he can't leave his brother alone; he's already promised him as much, and that's one promise he doesn't plan to break. But he can't hold him, either. Loki won't let him.

And if that's what he wants, then it's okay. Of course it is. He would never force his brother to accept his affection, especially in this situation. But it makes him feel so useless. His brother is hurting, and there's nothing he can do to help. He hates that.

Because he can't act, because he can't do anything, he's left only with his words; a pathetic fix for a situation as serious as this.

"I'm sorry," Thor says finally. "You didn't deserve that. I hope you know that – you didn't deserve any of this." Even if they tried to tell him otherwise. Even if he tried to tell himself otherwise. He didn't deserve this. What he did was wrong, but it didn't warrant this.

Loki shrugs minutely. He wraps his hands around the thigh of his blackened leg and picks it up, pulling it in next to the other. He wraps his arms around his legs and props his chin up on his knees.

Thor just watches him, a frown on his lips. He feels awful about this. He feels angry about this – angry about the people who did this; angry about those who let it happen; angry at himself for not caring enough to notice. He's made many mistakes, but none have come back to haunt him the way this one has, and the way this one will continue to do for the rest of his life.

He doesn't know what to do. He wants to help. He wants to make things right. But he can't fix this. He's not naive enough to think he can. All he can do is just be here, and that doesn't feel like enough.

Loki lets his palm glide down his blackened leg, watching it with a frown. "How bad?"

Thor hesitates. "Have you seen it?"

Loki shakes his head.

Thor nods slowly. He could tell him the truth. He could tell him that his entire lower leg is dead; that it will never heal and he will never be able to walk again. He probably should, if he's being honest with himself. This isn't a fair secret to keep from him. But at the same time, it doesn't feel fair to burden him with the truth, either. He's been through so much. How can Thor pile more on?

"That bad?" Loki asks.

Thor nods solemnly. That bad indeed. However bad he thinks it is, Thor suspects it's actually worse; that Loki can't even conceptualize just how bad his leg is. But this feels like a good compromise. He doesn't lay the whole truth on him, but he doesn't lie. They'll work their way up to the truth, slowly.

Loki sighs and lets his head fall forward against his knees. He wraps both arms around his legs once more, and there he stays – silent, unmoving.

Every piece of Thor tells him to reach out; to do something, but he can't. There's nothing to do. His brother's life is all but ruined. He'll never be the same – physically or mentally – and there is nothing Thor can do about it. He can stay by his side, and that's all he can offer.

There's a knock on the door, and Loki's head snaps up, his eyes wide.

Thor puts his finger to his lips. If there's any chance they can convince whoever's looking for him that he's not here, he wants to take it. But he knows that's unlikely. He just committed treason against the throne. He just disobeyed the Allfather's direct orders. The guards are going to be looking for him, and they're going to be thorough. Nobody wants to tell the king of Asgard that they've failed.

There's another knock. It's met with silence once more.

Thor climbs off the bed, and he picks Mjolnir up, holding it at the ready. He's as quiet as he can be as he makes his way over to the door. He doesn't want to fight. He's done enough of that today. But if the door opens and one of the dungeon's guards stands on the other side, Mjolnir will be seeing a bit more violence today.

There's another knock on the door, and then...

It's Odin's voice.

"Thor?" He sounds... off. He doesn't sound angry, the way Thor would have expected him to be. He doesn't even have that usual air of authority to his voice. He sounds almost... uncertain. That's not something that Thor's accustomed to hearing from him.

Thor glances back at Loki, who shakes his head vigorously. Of course he doesn't want to see their father. It's a shock he's even okay with having Thor here after what his family did to him.

But Thor can't just ignore his father, either – especially if Odin's going to open the door and see that he's been in here the whole time – so he mouths to Loki, "I'll be back," and then he opens the door.

He only opens it a crack; just enough to see Odin on the other side. He glances around, looking for the trap, looking for whoever else has accompanied his father here, but, at least with this narrow view, he can't see anyone.

"Thor," Odin greets him. Still, he sounds wrong. He sounds solemn – apologetic, even? It's difficult to tell, really; it's not something he's heard much from him. "May I come in?"

Thor doesn't answer; instead, he slips out of the room, closing the door behind him as quickly as he can. He doesn't know how this is going to go, but he does know that letting Odin see who he's hiding in his chambers is not going to help right now.

"I had to do it, Father," Thor says. If his father has come for an apology, he wants to make it clear that he's not going to get one. He did what he had to do, for Asgard and for the Nine Realms as a whole, and he has no regrets about it.

Odin nods solemnly. "I know you did," he says. "You were right, my son. You did what needed to be done – what I was too much of a fool to do myself."

Thor furrows his brows, head cocked slightly to the side. He's... okay with this? Thor just disobeyed his direct orders and gathered his friends to commit treason against the throne, and Odin is okay with it?

"The Alignment has brought all the realms together," Odin continues. "Every one of them saw you offer your life to save them."

Thor isn't quite sure what to say to that, so he says nothing. His fingers drum along Mjolnir's handle uncomfortably. If he's not in trouble, then he would really like to just go back to his bedroom and sit with his brother for a while longer.

"I'm proud of you, my son," Odin tells him. "You've grown a great deal in the last few years, and you've proven to me that you will make a wonderful king."

Thor forces a smile that he hopes doesn't look as awkward as it feels. "Thank you, Father," he says. "I am simply glad that everyone is okay."

"As am I," Odin replies.

Thor twirls Mjolnir in his hands, just to give them something to do. "If that is all, I am rather tired. I'd like to go to bed, if that's alright with you."

Odin furrows his brows, eyeing him suspiciously.

Shit.

"What are you hiding?" he asks.

"Nothing," Thor says quickly, maybe too quickly. "I imagine you know everything by now. I am an open book." He plasters on a smile that fears may be doing the opposite of helping his case.

Odin just looks at him for a few moments; then, "What do you have in your chambers that you don't want me to know about?"

"Nothing," Thor says again. "I'm just tired, Father. It's been a long day." He spreads his arms and looks down at himself, a gesture for Odin to do the same. He's still covered in dirt and grime from the battle – as he said, a long day. He really would like to take a shower and go to bed. He won't, of course. His priorities lie elsewhere. But in a perfect world, that's what he'd like to do.

Still, Odin is skeptical. He's quiet for a few moments, and then says, "You brought the human back."

Thor shakes his head. "Jane is back on Earth, where she belongs," he says. "You held her prisoner as she was dying of ailments beyond her comprehension. I assure you, she will not return to Asgard willingly."

Odin lowers his head, and, for the first time in Thor's life, his father looks ashamed. He's never seen this before. He'd never even entertained the thought of it. Odin has always been a confident ruler. He's never doubted himself for a moment. And yet, right now, there's a look of shame on his face. It almost feels wrong to see.

Thor sighs. "If this is all you have to say to me, I'd like to go back to my room now."

Odin hesitates, but then he nods.

"Thank you, Father," Thor says. "I will see you in the morning."

He turns around and opens the door just enough that he can slip back into his room, and he kicks the door closed behind him. Loki is watching from his bed, still sitting exactly as he had been when Thor left him a few minutes earlier. He's apprehensive as he looks at Thor; then his gaze drifts higher and his eyes go wide with fear.

Thor whips around to find that his door never did shut behind him, and that his father never did leave. Instead, he stands in the doorway, his foot holding the door open. His father's eyes have found Loki, and in that moment, all Thor knows is fear.

He steps up in front of his father, blocking his path before he can move in. "Father, please," he says quickly. "I can explain." He can tell him everything. He can tell the misery his little brother has been through in the last year and a half since he was thrown in jail. He can tell him how much his brother has changed; that they no longer need to fear him. He can tell him anything – will tell him anything – as long as it means he will leave Loki alone.

Frigga's not here anymore. There is nothing stopping Odin from killing his youngest son anymore – nothing but Thor, and he doesn't even know where to start.

Odin steps around him, putting his hand up to stop Thor from blocking him once more. Thor would resort to stronger methods to hold him back if he thought it was necessary, but right now, he's not sure they are. Odin isn't moving toward him at all. He just stands there, looking at Loki with an unreadable look on his face.

Thor glances back at his brother, who simply looks terrified. If he'd thought he could trust his father not to strike, he'd leave him here and go comfort his brother instead. But if Odin makes a move, Thor wants to be here to stop him, just in case. He's let too many people hurt his brother. He can't let that happen again.

Finally, Odin asks, "Did you do that to him?"

Thor shakes his head. "The guards did, I believe." Loki never did confirm it aloud, but he has to assume that was the case.

Odin tears his gaze away from Loki and turns it to his other son. "The guards did this," he repeats, somewhat skeptically. "Why?"

Because they thought it was fun.

Just the thought makes Thor angry; to say it aloud, he imagines he'd feel it tenfold. So instead, he says, "What was supposed to be a simple imprisonment swiftly became something far more sinister. I couldn't just leave him there. If you'd seen him..." Even Odin – the levelheaded warrior he's supposed to be – wouldn't have left him in that state. He knows it to be true.

"No," Odin says quietly, "you couldn't have."

He approaches the bed, his movements slow and uncertain. Thor follows beside him, watching him carefully. He doesn't look like he's going to strike, but then, it can never hurt to be too careful.

Odin lowers himself onto the side of the bed, and Loki watches fearfully. A part of Thor wants to interrupt; to tell his father to go before he scares his brother further. A part of him wants to see where this goes. If Odin's had the same change of heart that he has...

Odin rests his hand on his son's shoulder. "Loki..."

Loki looks at him, then down at his hand, and then back to him. He's quiet at first, until finally, he whispers, "I'm sorry."

Odin smiles sadly. "As am I," he says. "I should not have left you in the dungeons all this time. If I'd known..." He trails off with a sigh, and his hand comes up to his son's face, cupping his cheek as his thumb brushes over the bruise around his eye.

Loki looks down at his hand again, a frown on his lips, and raises his gaze to meet his father's once more. "Will you bring Mother?"

Thor bites his lip, and he has to look away before the look of hope on Loki's face really sinks in. He doesn't know, then. The guards never did tell him about Frigga like they'd been ordered. He still thinks their mother is alive. He still thinks there's a happily ever after to their story.

Odin lets out a long breath, but a few moments pass, and he doesn't answer. Thor can't fault him for it; he doesn't answer, either.

"Father?" Loki says cautiously.

"Loki," Odin says, slowly, carefully, "your mother, she..."

"She what?"

Odin sighs. "She's gone, Loki," he says. "She gave her life to protect Asgard."

It's quiet after that, and after a few moments, Thor finally lets himself look at his brother again. He wishes he hadn't. Loki stares straight ahead, his eyes filled with tears. And yet, he doesn't speak; doesn't move. He just sits there in silence as he lets that sink in.

It's only when the first tear falls that Odin wraps his arms around him in a gentle hug – and he really is gentle about it. He doesn't hold him too tight; he doesn't squeeze him. But despite the care he takes, Loki still goes rigid in his arms.

Odin must notice, too, because he slowly pulls away from him, looking up at him with a frown. "Loki? What's wrong?"

"I don't think he wants to be touched," Thor tells him. At least, not like that. Not in a way that leaves him trapped.

Odin looks back at him, confused, but when he looks at Loki once more, he starts to make some sense of it. He moves away a little, giving him some more space. Loki begins to relax, though he doesn't move from his curled-up position.

Odin studies him for a few moments, then asks, "What did they do to you?"

Loki just shakes his head.

Thor would like to leave it at that. If Loki wants to leave it at that, he doesn't want to push. But while Odin is here, and while he's sympathizing and asking questions, he feels he has to show him.

"I'm going to roll up your pants," Thor tells his brother.

Loki looks at him, wordless, and Thor gives him a few moments to object if he decides to. After a pause, Loki gives him a small nod.

"You don't have to look," Thor adds. "If you don't want to know, you don't have to know."

Loki nods once more. Whether that means he plans to look or not, Thor doesn't know, but he continues anyway.

He rolls up Loki's pant leg, and Loki moves his arms to let him pull them up before clasping them around his leg once more. Thor has to gently move them away again so that he can roll down the top of his sock, just enough to show his father what lies underneath.

Loki sucks in a sharp breath, and Thor looks up just in time to see him turn away. He covers his mouth with his hand and squeezes his eyes shut. Thor debates the merits of reaching out to comfort him, but ultimately, he decides against it. He doesn't want to risk making this worse.

Odin doesn't even flinch as the stench of rotten flesh fills the air. He moves closer once more and picks Loki's leg up in one hand, the other brushing over his blackened skin. He studies it for a few moments, looking over the wound in silence.

Thor joins his brother beside the bed, and he reaches out to take his hand. He's gentle about it; he doesn't try to pull his arms away from holding himself. But when Loki feels a hand against his own, he grabs onto it in an instant, squeezing a bit too hard, but Thor doesn't say a word about it.

Odin sighs and rests Loki's leg back down on the mattress, and Loki picks it up in his hand and pulls it closer to himself. Thor loosens his grip on Loki's other hand in case he wants to take it back, but Loki's grip only grows tighter, so Thor doesn't let go.

"You need to go to the healers," Odin tells him. "They–"

Loki shakes his head vigorously, and he squeezes Thor's hand impossibly tighter. Thor grimaces, but Loki doesn't notice; his gaze is glued to their father's face and his eyes wide with fear.

"Loki, it's okay," Thor says quickly. "You're okay. You're not going anywhere without me – without us. We're going to keep you safe, I promise."

But it doesn't calm him down. Loki keeps shaking his head, no less panicked than before. Thor can't even tell if he's listening.

"Loki, you're safe," Thor says again, most forcefully this time, more urgently. "You don't have to go. You can stay right here, I promise. If you want to stay here, you can stay here. You're okay."

"Thor," Odin says quietly, and he looks at his father. "His leg is beyond saving. If he doesn't–"

"I know," Thor interrupts, his voice just as low. "But he's just been freed from well over a year of torment. If he's not ready to go anywhere, he's not going anywhere." He will gladly give up his bed for the night if it will give his brother even the smallest semblance of relief.

They both look down at Loki, who's still shaking his head as though they're not even speaking. He really isn't listening. It's like he can't hear a word that's being said.

But when Odin rests his hand on his shoulder, he slows to a stop, looking at his father fearfully.

"What do you want to do?" Odin asks him.

At first, Loki seems puzzled by the question. He takes some time to think about it, until finally, he just says, in the quietest of whispers, "Please don't send me back."

Odin sighs. "I lost my wife only a few days ago," he says. "I will not lose my son, too. You are free from the dungeon, now and forever – as you should have been many months ago, and for that, I am so, so sorry."

Loki bites his lip, and as the corners of his mouth turn upward in a small smile, his eyes begin to well with tears.

"I love you, my son," Odin tells him. He looks up at Thor. "I love you both. And though I do not know how I lost sight of that, I promise, I will never do that again."

A single tear slips down Loki's cheek as he looks between the two of them. He gives his brother's hand a gentle squeeze, and he says, "And I love you, too."