Archive of Our Own

“Doubt thou the stars are fire,

Doubt that the sun doth move,

Doubt truth to be a liar,

But never doubt I love.”

—Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2

Thor realized something was wrong with Loki when he stopped talking. 

As per usual. 

To be fair, the Statesman was relatively quiet in general. After a month trapped with a couple hundred refugees on a Sakaarian ship heading toward Earth, there had been very little to talk about. Most of the Asgardians had simply kept to the remains of their family or friends, taking up small alcoves around the ship to themselves. 

Loki and Thor had claimed one of the rooms for themself—which was surprisingly Loki’s idea. He had argued that a King of Asgard (or what was left of it) should have no issue being in a room smaller than Thor’s bathroom back at the palace. Thor had honestly been quite taken aback with Loki’s reasoning. He had originally opted for the larger cabin near the front of the ship, but Loki told him it would be better to give the space to mothers and children who needed it more. 

It was definitely wiser, Thor had to give him. This newfound nobility (that certainly hadn’t been there the past few years and arguably sometimes there during the years before) unnerved Thor. But he took it with stride, that his brother may finally be coming back. 

It was only recently that Thor had seen signs of something wrong with his brother.

Right after the cooling system broke down. 

Valkyrie had come into his cabin looking pissed off (perhaps that was just her normal face), her dark braids frizzed up, gloves taken off and well-worn hands sticky with engine grease. She gestured for Thor to follow her—Loki was busy at the helm, probably bickering with Heimdall, so he was alone—and they made their way down, down to a part of the ship Thor had yet to explore. 

Winding ramps and staircases, dubious-sounding creaks, and the groans of pipes lined the walls, echoing eerily. They emerged at a large, dimly-lit room where Bruce Banner was tapping away at a machine in his hands, graying hair slick from sweat—the room was quite hot, Thor noticed, and he was leaning against one of many massive, groaning machines that lined the wall. 

Valkyrie walked up to Banner and took the small monitor from him. He glanced at Thor and back at her, they held a silent conversation that seemed to consist entirely of their eyebrows. Sighing, Banner muttered, “I gotta break it to him, don’t I?”

“No choice.” Valkyrie said cheerfully, at the same time Thor asked “Break me what?”

Bruce turned to him, inexplicably giving the machine behind him a venomous kick. He rotated a rusty dial and glanced at the machine, what Thor supposed might have been an engine. It yielded no results. 

“The cooling system broke down.” Bruce said, pressing a button on the machine over Valkyrie’s shoulder. If anyone else had tried to invade her personal space like that, they would no longer have an arm. Fortunately for Bruce, she just glanced at him for a second and pressed the same button he just had. Nothing happened, from what Thor could see. 

“The—the cooling system?”

“Yeah.” Bruce nodded. He walked over to another large wall machine. Thor followed him. “This ship isn’t designed for long-distance travel. It’s not going to run out of life support anytime soon, but it’s definitely a pleasure cruiser, not a rescue ship for an abandoned population—“

“Loki just picked a cruiser that was big enough to hold Asgard, he probably didn’t have time to find a ship that—“

“I’m not against your brother for picking an inconvenient ship.” Bruce reassured him. “I’m glad he got one at all.”

“What Bruce is trying to say,” Val took a swig of alcohol from a flask at her belt (probably not safe to drink and operate a ship’s engine at the same time, but it’s not like Thor was going to tell her that). “Is that the system broke down from overuse, it’s gotten too old. I’ve fixed what I could, so we’re not going to be sucked into the abyss of space if it implodes—“

“If it what now?”

“—but the cooling system was keeping the ship from overheating from the engines, which are constantly at work. It’s going to get as warm as Muspellheim here, really fast.”

“What?” Thor knew exactly what they were saying, but his brain needed a refresh on the uptake.

Bruce sighed. “We’re in for a very hot trip.”

“But can’t you just,” Thor gestured confusedly at the machinery. “Use your seven PHDs on it?”

“That’s not how PHDs work.” Bruce sighed, but he looked like he wished he could.

—————

The effects started up a couple days later. It started when Thor woke up covered in a sheen of sweat, his blankets shoved off the bed. The air was sticky, like an Asgardian summer. Across the room, it looked like Loki had fared no better during the night, his dark hair damp with sweat and long limbs starfished across his cot as he lay belly-down. He sighed when Thor sat up on the other bed. 

“It’s just going to get worse, isn’t it?”

Thor nodded. 

Unfortunately, it did get worse.

By day two of the Statesman Heat Wave, everyone was in a fit of panic, knocking on Thor’s door at all hours of the day and night begging for the reason why they had been unwillingly forced into a slow-cooker. Thor woke up on day three with the resolve to tell the refugees about their increasingly shitty situation. 

“—look, there’s nothing we can do but wait it out. It’s only going to be a week and a half until we reach Midgard, and it’ll be over.” 

“What if it’s not over?!” Some shouted at him from the crowds of refugees that were bunched in the main hull, met by grunts and yells of affirmation. “What if it doesn’t stop heating up?!”

Thor glanced nervously at Loki for help, but Loki was curled up in a black chair, nodding off slightly. It seemed fair that he was tired, he had stayed up the night before working on a treatise to use when they reached Midgard. His hair hung around his pale face like a curtain, accentuating the bags under his eyes. He was still dressed in that blue leather uniform from Sakaar. 

“Loki?” Thor asked. 

Loki jolted, blinking blearily and sitting up. He pushed his hair away from his face and wiped his sweaty forehead. “I…I’m afraid my brother is right. There’s nothing to do about this but wait it out. We have no means of repair supplies, and I don’t believe we could fix the aging system if we could—“

The crowd riled up again, looking even more distressed. They began to shove themselves and shout. 

“Asgard!” Heimdall shouted, squinting irritatedly at the crowd with golden eyes, drawing their reluctant attention back to Loki. They stared at him expectantly, disgruntled and obviously scared. 

Loki glanced around the crowd, his expression unreadable. “We will increase the water rations that you each receive. Not by much, but enough to bring you comfort in the heat.” 

There were sounds of mild agreement and grumbling. The refugees simmered slightly and Thor had to take a moment of awe for how his brother could control a crowd of angry Asgardian with a few well-placed words. He was also surprised with Loki’s confidence. It didn’t make sense either—they didn’t have any water to spare, it was being stretched to the minimum intake to make sure they had enough to reach Midgard. 

“I will take any remaining questions.” Thor declared. There was no response from the crowd, many in the back had decided to leave and return to their little cubbies—sufficiently satisfied by Loki’s offering.

“Very well. Thank you for listening and please resume your normal duties.”

They already really were at this point. Thor moved away from his self-proclaimed stage with a heavy sigh.

Loki pushed himself off the chair tiredly and turned to leave the room as refugees retreated back to their homes and alcoves. Thor grabbed his arm on the way over. “What are you doing, brother? You know damn well we don’t have the water to provide.” 

Loki shrugged his arm off as they stepped down the dais, and Tho could practically see his cocky little smirk “Thor, I know what I’m doing, and yes, actually, we will.”

“What—“

“Rán!” Loki yelled, gaining the attention of a silver-haired woman in the corner. She glanced over at them and promptly scowled, crossing the room surprisingly quickly considering she was one of the shortest people Thor had ever met. 

Her hair hung in reflective silver waves across her back, so slippery-straight it was like liquid, much like her weird eyes—one was brown and the other a dark green similar to Loki’s. Her outfit was one of a miscellany, obviously salvaged armor and tattered fabrics in all shades of greens and blues, including a cloaked poncho that Thor was pretty sure was made of fishing nets. Her eyes were lined with age, but they only seemed to make her even more regal. The thunder brewing on her face was enough to send fully grown Sakaarian warriors scrambling out of her way.

“Hello, Rán.” Thor said, waving at her. “Nice to see you outside the fishing docks for once.”  

“Hmm.” Rán looked him up and down, scrutinizing him grumpily. Her gaze rested on his missing eye for a moment longer before turning to Loki. It gave Thor befuddled whiplash, usually Loki was the ignored sibling.

“What do you want, Silvertongue?” She snapped.

Ah. There it was. People generally only paid attention to Loki when they wanted to either insult him or beat the everloving shit out of him (ninety percent of the time, for good reason). This was nothing new. 

Loki looked undaunted by her obvious distaste, smiling that stupid, egotistical grin that meant he had screwed something up and needed help fixing it (again). “If I may, I need your help in the water storage room. That spell you taught me a couple centuries ago.” 

“What in the Nine Worlds—“ Her eyes widened. “You don’t actually have water rations to give out to us, do you?” 

He shushed her slightly, leaning in with a smile on his face. “Not yet. I ask for your assistance in that matter. I think a liquid duplication spell would work quite nicely in this situation.”

She glared at him for a second, arms folded over her chest (that poncho was definitely netting, Thor was sure of it). Then she sighed. “Where’s my net?”

“What net?” Loki said innocently. 

“The one you borrowed half a millennia ago! You never returned it!” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’m afraid.” He said, shaking his head with the most magnificent poker face Thor had ever seen. 

Rán didn’t buy it. “You know what net I mean. The one that I used to scavenge with  and have so much fun drowning Midgard sailors in. You stole it—I haven’t been able to properly drown anyone in forever!”

“I am sure you can drown Midgardians by any other means.” Thor reassured her. “Or rather do not. I quite enjoy mortals, they make wonderful allies.” 

“But it’s not fun anymore.” She scowled. “I want my net back, or so help me—“ She advanced, pulling a white knife (was it made of bone?—Thor didn’t want to know whose) from Norns-know-where, the blade facing Loki’s neck.

“Oh, you mean this net?” Loki smiled, all teeth and snarky mischief. He waved his hand and a large green net that smelled disgustingly of fish appeared in his palm in a flash of green light. It was not a good smell combined with the advancing heat of the ship, hot rotten seafood and musty air. Thor wrinkled his nose and even Loki seemed disgusted by the smell, holding the net at arm’s length. 

“Finally!” She snatched it from him in a heartbeat. With a flick of her head, it disappeared into midair with a flash of blue light not that different from Loki’s. 

“Are you a sorceress?” Thor asked curiously. “I thought you were simply a goddess of the sea.”

“Eh.” She waved her hand in a ‘so and so’ gesture. “I dabble.”

“You undersell yourself, Rán.” Loki protested, discreetly wiping his fishy hands on his leather pants. “You taught me half of what I know about pocket dimensions. Anything Frigga didn’t show me, you found some way to weasel it into my teaching.” 

“I don’t believe in the banning of magic. But look where that got me.” She sighed. “On a ship with the two biggest idiots in the Nine Realms.” 

“Thor!” Banner appeared out of a side hall, stumbled into a Sakaarian hunk of a warrior, and backed up from him with a rushed apology. He made his way across the room to where the two gods stood next to Rán. “Thor—wait—“

“Correction, three biggest idiots.” She amended, eyeing the wheezing Doctor. 

“Who’s this?” Banner asked, eyeing Rán. She looked unimpressed.

Thor thumped a hand on Rán’s back, which she immediately hissed and smacked off—very reminiscent of Loki. “This is the mighty goddess Rán, ruler of the seas and great scavenger! She used to babysit me and Loki when our parents were off-world.” 

Loki rolled his eyes.

“Right.” Banner nodded. “Nice to meet you, I’m—“

“The green one, yes, I know.” Rán waved dismissively. “I used to pick up some of the stuff you broke when they dropped into the seas, not exactly working order though—I don’t suppose your next bout of destruction could be less…er…damaging?”

“Rán…” Thor sighed. Bruce looked extremely confused, so Thor provided some context. “Most of Lady Rán’s time is spent scavenging the oceans of the Nine Realms for anything she desires.” 

Bruce nodded slowly. “Right.” He said again, not looking like he meant it.

“What did you want me for, Bruce?” Thor asked, remembering. Bruce blinked. 

“Oh, I was going to update you on the status of the repairs to the cooling system.”

Thor frowned. “But it’s unfixable?” 

“It’s not like we were just going to give up on it. We’re doing what we can to get it in at least semi-working order.” Loki said, rolling his eyes. Thor was surprised his brother knew about it before him, but Loki was seemingly quite involved in the upkeep of the ship—probably because he didn’t think Thor was. “What do we have, Banner?”

“It’s…uh…” He glanced between the two brothers and a very curious Rán. “It’s not too good. The next few days are gonna be about this hot, as we make scans to figure out the complete issue, but—“

“Let me guess.” Loki said, in the same tone one would sarcastically say what fun. “It’s going to be hell.”

Bruce nodded miserably. “In the next week, we’ll have to shut off the cooling system completely to get into the inner workings properly and reconfigure some of the old gears—possibly replace some. It’s gonna be really, really hot. It’ll be okay after that, probably go up down a bit over a normal temperature—we don’t know until we can get inside—but it’s gonna be really bad for now.”

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fantastic.” He turned to Rán, who looked simultaneously befuddled, horrified, and exhausted. “Would you be so kind as to follow me to the water preserves? I find no time is better than now to replenish our supplies.”

She sighed, nodding. “You know it’s a massive spell, right? It’ll take an hour to write, and then we’ll have to update it every eight hours to make sure it’s working properly if we want a lasting supply that can feed the ship.”

“Unfortunately, I do know that.” Loki pushed his hair back from his face again. Thor noticed it was simply a way to disguise him wiping his brow, which he did. “But if we would not like the entire ship-full of refugees to die from heat exhaustion, I suggest we get moving.” 

Rán sighed and unbuttoned her fishnet poncho, which she folded up and placed in a pouch slung over her back. “This is wonderful, isn’t it? The best way to spend my time is with a loser of a prince trying to make sure a bunch of space junk doesn’t collapse and kill us all.”

“Mhm.” Loki grunted, not exactly listening. They turned to leave.

“Would you like me to come?” Thor asked, not sure whether he’d be much use in the water storage room—perhaps they would desire electricity at one point and he’d be able to step in. 

Loki waved a hand dismissively. “You need to talk to Heimdall, let him know about the situation—actually, he undoubtedly already knows, and come up with a plan to prepare the rest of the ship for the damned heat wave.” 

“Should I—“

“Yes, tell Valkyrie too, if Bruce hasn’t already done that.” 

And Loki was gone, walking down the hall looking ridiculously disproportionate next to the tiny Rán, tall and elegantly graceful (where in fuck had Loki learned to swagger?). Ràn evidently noticed and swatted Loki on the back of the knee, roughly the height of her waist. He scowled and Thor chuckled quietly over by Bruce with satisfaction.

Bruce turned to Thor. “You know, sometimes I wonder which one of you is actually the King.”

“Shut up, Banner.”

———————

That had been three days ago. The beginning of the worse heat waves had just started, and Thor was feeling it in every ache of his bones.

Most Asgardians had abandoned their cloaks and armor, some dressed in thin sleeping tunics from day to night simply for the chance to feel a smidgen less hot. The first girl to pass out from the heat was carried to the healing room, where all they could do with their minimum of supplies was request she get sleep, and on the highest parts of the ship. Rarely had anyone gone anywhere near the hull in the past days, the ship was like the core of a planet. The center (or engine) was insanely, unbelievably hot, and it radiated outwards. Now Thor was quite glad for the small cabin Loki had requested, as it was right up near the top of the ship and far away from the overheating engines. 

Loki had rarely appeared in the cabin whenever Thor was there to sleep, change, or grab a bite to eat. Every time he saw his brother, he looked more exhausted than ever, his dark hair hanging limply over his face. Thor had patted him on the back once, to offer some means of comfort, only for his hand to come away slick with sweat.

“Perhaps you should lose some layers.” He advised, eyeing the green-blue leather suit Loki still hadn’t gotten rid of. 

Loki shook his head. “I’m fine.”

He certainly didn’t look fine, by any means. Especially when Thor decided to take a trip across the ship to the water preserves, where Rán and Loki had set up a camp. They spent most of their time locked among the preserves with the massive tankards of water. 

Loki could be found sitting amid scrawled chalk marks of runes that made two intricately linked circles of ancient, magical writing across the room, his hair a tangled mess of black strands and arguing venomously with Rán, who usually had a hand placed over the nearest water tank, powering blue magic threads into the water supply.

“I am simply trying to say, the best approach would be a line of runes, it’s impossible to mess up at such a close level and we cannot risk mistakes with this—“

“Which is why your whole plan would fail.” Rán snapped in return, rolling her eyes. “You’re used to seidr magic, the simple task of pulling it from oneself. Water is fluid and ever-changing, it wouldn’t conform to a straight line—we need either helixes or woven threads of runes—“

“Helixes are for genetic alteration spells!” Loki shouted indignantly, not noticing Thor, who was standing awkwardly at the door and pretending that he knew what they were talking about. “They’re mapped after the DNA strand, not after a bloody tankard of water, you can’t use helixes for a liquid replication—“

“Remind me, who taught you this spell again?” She scowled. “I know much more of this magic than you, you upstart—“

“Oh, is that so?” He sneered. “I’ll have you know that in my absence from Asgard, I’ve gained enough power to do this spell thrice with my hands tied behind my back and tongue cut out—“

“Yes, that’s not the only thing you gained when you were away from Asgard. Another one is a ridiculous ego.” She snapped. “Don’t lecture me about power, I know damn well that the hold of the ship’s heat is draining you like everyone else.” 

He scoffed, turned from her to chuck a piece of chalk across the room and knock over an empty plastic cup with unnerving accuracy. It was like having two Lokis in the same room—which probably explained why they had slowly grown to hate each other.

Thor coughed uncomfortably. The attention of the two snapped over at him at the same time, like cats, distracted by him awkwardly standing by the wall. He was rather afraid to come closer and risk stepping on a rune line (Rune helix? Rune thread?). 

“So…” He glanced around the room and back at his disgruntled brother, who scowled at Rán before stepping out of his little rune-circle alcove to rub away a chalky word at the corner of the line. “How is it faring?” 

“Fine.” Loki muttered. 

Rán shot him a pointed glare before gesturing for Thor to enter the room. He stepped very meticulously around the rune-lines by his feet. “We’ve managed to create a self-sustaining spell that will replicate a liter of water for every two depleted.” She explained.

“Is that good?”

“Better than no water at all.” Loki said. He had begun to scribble in another rune where the erased chalk one had laid. Thor realized Loki had removed the fingerless gloves of his Sakaarian uniform, his only concession to taking off any layers, and his fingers and hands were coated in chalk dust. “This won’t mean we have infinite water, obviously. But at this rate, we could stretch the fluids we have remaining until we reach Midgard. But that’s it.” 

He peered at the rune he was writing before holding up a hand to Rán. “Green chalk.”

She didn’t even blink, just picked up a corresponding piece of well-worn chalk from a basket beside her and tossed it to him. 

“Thank you.” He said absently, and resumed his scribbling with a different color as if nothing had happened. 

Thor blinked and looked between them. “I am confused as to whether you two despise each other or not.”  

“We hate each other.” They said simultaneously. 

“He’s a pretentious, self-absorbed idiot that thinks that simply because he had an affinity for illusion-projecting means that he’s better at this too.”

“I am better at this!” Loki protested. “I’ve done magic that you could barely dream of!” 

“And I’ve done these spells for longer than you’ve been alive.” She retorted, picking up another piece of chalk—dusty yellow—and throwing it at his head. He ducked and it skidded across the room. “You’re not perfect at everything, certainly not this.”

Loki didn’t rebuke her outright (which was very out of character for him). Instead he turned to Thor. “She’s a senile old woman.” He stage-whispered, to the offended scoff of Rán. “The only reason she’s outlived the Allfather is because she’s a cockroach that doesn’t know how to die.” 

“Nice.” Rán rolled her eyes. “Very droll. Reminds me of someone I know.”

Thor winced and Loki rolled his eyes but refused to look at him. Rán glanced at the door. “I’m going to get some food. Loki?”

“What?” He snapped. 

“Can you handle the next spell update on your own? It’s in thirty minutes. Or do you need me to babysit—“

“Go away.” 

She gave a huff of self-proud laughter and stepped across her floor of chalk runes, reaching the door. Turning around, she glanced at where Loki had placed a glowing green hand on his runes, to no effect. 

“Helixes.” She said as if a witty one-liner.

Loki scowled. “I will stab you.” 

“Do you want some food?”

He shook his head. “I’ll get something later.” 

And she was gone, stomping up the staircase to the main part of the ship until she was out of earshot, befuddling Thor evermore.

“She reminds me more and more of Sif in her old age.” Thor said, trying to smile. 

“You mean that she’s arrogant and a bloody know-it-all that believes I’m incapable of a simple liquid regeneration spell?” Loki said flatly. He wiped his hands on his thighs, and sighed when he realized the chalk marks had gotten all over. “Then yes, she’s exactly like Sif.” 

Thor chuckled, and stopped chuckling when Loki glared at him. He forced his face into sobriety and looked around at the chalk-covered floor. 

“Did you do all of this?” 

Loki glanced up from his scribble and looked around. “Most. My work is in green and Rán’s in blue.” 

Sure enough, more of the runes on the side of the floor that Rán had presided was a bright cerulean, neat and defined, none of them were smeared like Loki’s, who had a cacophony of green and white chalk scribbles lining nearly all surfaces, making a labyrinth of language and magic across the ground. 

“This is impressive.” Thor said, trying to keep the conversation alive.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Please. I could do this type of magic in my sleep, it’s hardly my forte.” 

Thor frowned at him. “It’s good, I’m serious. I can’t even imagine how much power it must have taken to make this feasible.” 

“Not much.” Loki shrugged. “I could have done it myself if we hadn’t been surviving off of singularly ration packets for a week.” He threw the chalk across the room. It landed in a basket in the corner with a clatter. 

Loki realized Thor was watching him, watching the tiny waves of green magic float around his runes etched across the floor. 

“What?” He snapped. Thor blinked. 

“Apologies, brother. I haven’t seen you use your magic in a long time.”

Loki scoffed, to Thor’s surprise. “I use my magic all the time.” He waved his hand through the air, summoning a gleaming knife to prove his point. Thor blanched and Loki rolled his eyes, letting the knife disappear into the void again. “It’s hardly a one-time experience—you’ve definitely seen me use it before.”

“Yes…” Thor glanced around the room, at the labyrinth of runes and scrawled writing, at the glowing lines that flashed every once and a while like a heartbeat across the floor. “But not like this.” 

Loki frowned at him. 

“It’s pretty.” 

He rolled his eyes again. “If you would like to see pretty magic, I could conjure an image of that mortal woman you were so invested in. I believe her name was Jane something—“

“No!” Thor blurted, and a flicker of a grin sparked on Loki’s tired face. “You may have changed, but your knack for chaos certainly hasn’t.” He scowled, making Loki snort. 

“I guarantee you that it’s only gotten greater.”

Thor blinked. “What are you doing now, Loki?”

“Nothing at all.” He said with a pleasantly surprised poker face. “Whyever would you accuse me like that? Your own brother!”

Thor bent down, picked up a piece of white chalk, and promptly chucked it at Loki’s head. Loki ducked easily and caught it with his other hand, letting out a snarky laugh. 

“Loki, you may be the Crown Prince, but I will not hesitate to throw you out into space without an airlock if you even try something foodhardy with the Statesman.” Thor warned him jokingly, picking up another ready piece of chalk as he slid onto the ground to sit across from Loki, separated by a bridge of chalk.

The self-assured smile dropped from Loki’s face, replaced with utter shock. The chalk dropped from his hand.

“What?” 

Thor hesitantly put the chalk down, feeling an ebb of humor and suddenly getting uncomfortable. He must have said something wrong. “I wouldn’t actually shoot you into space. Probably input some minor rebuttals and put you on bathroom duty, but—“

“You made me Crown Prince?” Loki said quietly. He had abandoned all chalk attempts to simply stare at Thor. To the god’s surprise, there was no glee or happiness in Loki’s expression, only shock and what looked like aghast fear. 

“Well yes, you’re my little brother.” Thor was confused. “I thought you knew this. I’ve technically been king since Mother and Father died, and you’re obviously next in line. It’s what you wanted this whole time, wasn’t it?”

“But I’m not…” Loki’s voice trailed off. He opened his mouth and closed it again, obviously dicing his words back and forth across his throat. 

“Yes, of course.” He regained his composure a moment later, as if Thor hadn’t seen the surprise-distress-horror-something that had flickered across his face. He picked up the green chalk and reached across to a perfectly nice rune to smear a piece off. “Thank you, Thor.” He said quietly. 

“You’re…welcome.”

Awkward silence. Thor remembered something Loki had said so long ago, before his fateful plunge into Ginnungagap, screaming in Thor’s face as he clutched Gungnir like a scythe. Something about equals.

“Loki?” Thor asked hesitantly.

“Hmm?” He didn’t look up. The chalk rune died a valiant death as Loki swiped a hand across it. 

“Do you want to be Crown Prince?”

“Why would I not want to be?” Gone was the smarminess, replaced with a flat monotone. “That’s how we were raised, on blood and books and diplomacy. We were born to be kings, Thor, and I suppose we both might be.”

Thor sighed. “You’re avoiding the question.” 

Loki huffed and turned around, sitting down in the middle of his empty center of the chalk maze. After a moment where he wiped his chalky hands on his thighs and seemed to mull something over in his head, he glanced up at Thor, wetting his lips. “Why didn’t you pick anyone else? Why me?”

“Who else is there to pick?” Thor said dryly.

Loki scoffed. “I don’t know! Valkyrie—“

“I’ll let her rule a kingdom when she can last two days without alcohol flushing out her system.” 

He hesitated, then reluctantly dipped his head. “That’s fair. But she’s damn better at it than I am, even now. Heimdall…“

“While Asgard would definitely be much better off with Heimdall, Harbinger of Common Sense as our leader,” That made Loki snort in agreement. “I believe he seems content as an advisor. He’s never exactly been interested in ruling a kingdom, only fixing one when the resident king fucks up.”

“Yes, exactly, I’m the fuckup.” Loki persisted, and Thor didn’t like the way he said fuckup like he had used it before, in his head. “I’ve been king before—I did such an abysmal job you told me yourself! I hardly think-“ 

“Loki.” Thor abandoned his hesitancy and stepped into his brother’s circle. He bent down next to him and grabbed Loki forcibly by the back of the neck—firm, comforting, the only way he had ever been able to get his brother’s gaze to reach his honestly. Loki did just that, the green eyes glancing at Thor like a nervous animal (the bags under them were more pronounced than normal, Thor made a mental note to forcibly pressure him to go to bed). “I understand your hesitation. You may not have been the—for lack of a better word—best king before—“

Loki rolled his eyes. 

“But you did one thing right. You kept Asgard safe—to the destruction of the Nine Realms, yes—but it’s unlikely they want our help right now anyways.”

“Yes, we would be extremely aiding in our current situation.” 

“Shut up. My point is, you focused on Asgard, on helping it prosper. Right now, all Asgard has is Asgard.”

“Your choices of speech are magnificent.”

“I will sew your mouth shut.” Thor threatened, but it was rather hard to keep a straight face. Loki’s mouth twitched—of course he had been doing that on purpose. “I’m trying to say that we have no colonies to monitor, no neighbors to guard. All we have left is our population, our people who are desperate for protection and the prosperity you once bestowed upon them. I need your help with that, should I be unable to be crowned.”

“Don’t.” Loki said abruptly. His hand came up and gripped Thor’s sleeve tightly. “I don’t know what I’d do if I had to be king.” 

That shut Thor up for a moment. He and Loki stared at each other, the rising desperation dancing behind his brother’s eyes. 

“I won’t.” Thor said softly. “Trust me.” 

————

The worst was upon them. 

Thor faintly remembered a movie Stark had made him watch once on Earth, called Star Battle—Star Wars? Whatever the title, there was a very dramatic fight scene between an older redheaded man and a dark-haired teenager—most of the movie made very little sense to him, and neither did the glowy sword-weapons (he should ask Demitri to make him one, the dwarves would know how). The scene took place on a fiery planet called Mustafar, which was a very close interpretation of how the Statesman began to feel. 

Putrid, sticky, and oh so hot. 

People were starting to drop like flies, no matter how much water was being handed out, if someone was working any physically demanding job to repair the ship, there was a solid chance they would simply drop from heat exhaustion. 

Everyone took this in a surprising amount of stride, picking up unconscious people and carrying them to their bunks and hardly blinking an eye. 

The ship smelled like sweat, every corner of it, and even the top reaches of the upper stories were no longer safe from the hideous, skin-melting temperature of the ship around them. 

Loki wouldn’t wake up one day. 

Thor stirred from fitful slumber like he had for the last two days, mouth parched and dry, his head spinning and the sheets of the beds abandoned in a heap in the corner of the room. 

As he grunted and pulled himself to a sitting position, he saw Loki curled up at the foot of his bed, head leaning back against the bare mattress and forehead pressed to a nearly undrunken glass of water lying precariously on the edge of the bunched-up sheets. He had finally decided to strip off a singular layer of leather armor, the uppermost leatherworking was at the top of the bed and far away from his perspiring form. He seemed as if he was too hot to even sleep in the bed, dark hair slick with sweat and untangled matts. He looked like he had just returned from the water storage room and lacked enough energy to even crawl into the mattress. 

Thor rolled out of his bed and went over to Loki, bending down next to his sleeping form. “Brother, it’s time to wake up.” 

No response. 

“Loki?” He prodded him in the shoulder gently, to no avail. “Loki, you must awaken.”

Loki hummed but made no other movement. 

“Loki.” Thor said firmly. He almost opted to prod Loki on the cheek, but gave him a minute to respond. 

He rolled his head over and opened one of his eyes, slightly. It was blurry and unfocused. “Mother?” He said, muffled and weak from his sleep-induced state.

Thor frowned. “No, Loki, Mother isn’t here.”

Loki’s eyes refocused with obvious struggle. “Oh—Thor?”

That was odd, he thought, but he brushed it from his mind. “Yes, brother, get up. We have a meeting today with the Council, you need to be there.”

Loki closed his eyes like he was about to drift off again. “Right.”

Thor frowned and put his hand on Loki’s forehead. Loki didn’t even react. It was hot and sticky with sweat; feverishly flushed. “Loki, you must wake.” Was he sick?

Loki hummed noncommittally, and Thor took his hand off as he opened his eyes. Bleary and unfocused, he glanced around the room before his eyes rested on Thor, who was crouching in front of him with obvious worry across his face. “What time’s the…meeting?” Every word was slow and deliberate, like he was tasting them coming out so as to not misspeak. His eyes were glazed.

“Ten minutes.” 

Loki sighed. Then he grunted and attempted to get to his feet, glancing around and evidently surprised by his choice of sleeping area. His hand slipped on the bed frame and he nearly toppled over (something was wrong, a voice said in Thor’s head, but he silenced it). Thor grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet.

For a moment, Loki just stood there, teetering slightly and looking light-headed. His grip on Thor’s arm that had pulled him upwards was withstanding, like a lifeline.

“Loki?” Thor asked hesitantly. 

Loki seemed to check himself and blinked, looking dazed and startled simultaneously. Then he let go of Thor’s grip. “We should go now.” His gaze snapped, now it was alert and focused, nothing like moments before. He grabbed the glass of lukewarm water from his bedspread and took it over to the little table in the corner of the room with way too much pep in his step.

“Yes, we should.” Thor frowned at Loki’s back. “Loki, are you alright?”

Loki’s eyebrows twitched in evident confusion. “Yes, of course. Why?” 

Perhaps it was simply morning grogginess. Loki seemed fine now, waiting for Thor to answer with the glass in his hand. A bit pink in the face and a bit tired-looking, but weren’t they all?

“Nothing.” Thor mumbled. “Let’s go.” 

He left the room and began to walk down to the control room, Loki leaving the glass on the table and following behind. 

———

“You look like shit.” 

“Rán, as delightful as always.” Loki replied, sliding to the floor next to her and ‘accidentally’ wiping away a bit of her runes. 

“What’s wrong with you?” She asked bluntly, and Loki was forcibly reminded of Sif, which reminded him that he didn’t know where she was, and then reminded him that the reason that he didn’t know where she was was because he had given her a fake mission to go out for the stones to hide the fact that he had taken over Asgard, which reminded him of the stabbing scar in his stomach of the Kurse’s blade, paining him at random moments—

“Loki?” He heard Rán say. It was the tone of voice in which she probably had said it multiple times before to garner his attention. 

“Wh—yes, I’m just tired. Thor…Thor woke me up early to consult about…you know how it is on this ship, lots of organization attempts, and nowhere to rest—“ He was rambling and he wasn’t entirely sure he could stop until Rán gave him a weird look. He swallowed the rest of his words and glanced away, trying to seem intently focused on his task. 

“Your hair is wet.” She noted. 

“Yes, it’s this funny little thing called sweat.” He said in an acidly peppy voice. “Could be the heat in here, or just me.” And he bent over the fading marks in the ground to rennervate them, hoping she would leave it at that. 

She didn’t. 

“I think it could be you, actually.” She said in a casual-not-so-casual tone of voice, taking an unusual amount of focus on the rune in front of her. 

“What do you mean?” Loki said sharply, and winced internally about how it came out. 

“Do you know who my husband was?” She asked calmly, like that had any importance in this conversation. Loki thought of Odin and his stupidly dramatic speeches that winded for hours and summed up to I don’t know.

“No.” Loki replied, just as casually. Two could play in this game. “Didn’t he die roughly a millennia ago?” 

It was harsh, he knew, but from the lack of reaction on Rán’s face, she was expecting it. “His name was Ægir,” She said, not relenting. “The reason you and Thor never met him was because he wasn’t allowed to live in Asgard.” 

“Hmm.” Loki hoped that she would get bored and hurry up. “A rebel, was he?”

“No,” A beat. “A frost giant.” 

Loki froze. 

Ràn raised an eyebrow coolly, like she had been expecting this. She reclined back against the water tank, exhaling slowly. Loki could feel his breathing pick up, and his hands were shaking. He took a deep breath that sounded too much like gasping to his ears, and clenched his hand into the fabric fisted to his thigh.

“So you knew? About…about me?” Loki asked her carefully. “For how long?” 

She sighed. “I’ve known since you were a babe.”

Loki tried not to let that dig at him. It didn’t work and he felt himself heat up with poorly contained anger. 

“Of course,” He scowled. “The one person Odin would trust with the care of a frost giant was the one who had a sickening attachment to the monsters—did you enjoy when the savagery reaped us of our sanity and we fulfill the Asgardian myths of bloody, mindless beasts—did you enjoy watching my life fracture, because you knew it would happen, you enjoy being a spectator to my disgusting, abhorrent fate because nothing is funnier than laughing at the monster in the cage when they ram against the bars—“

“I punched Odin, actually.” She said, with a raised eyebrow. 

“What?” Loki said stupidly. 

“Punched ‘im.” Rán swung her hand faintly as if to show him what punching looked like. Loki simply gawked at her. 

“What?” She said, frowning in offense. “This old king goes up to me and tells me to hide a secret he thinks is shameful, and when I tell him it’s a bloody bad idea he just shrugs it off and says it’ll be fine, and I’m not supposed to punch him?”

Loki licked his dry lips, feeling somewhat chastened. “I suppose not.” He couldn’t quite the image out of his head of Rán giving the king of Asgard a sharp uppercut.

“Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wish I could have.” 

“I’m sure.” Loki said, bending over the chalk and trying to purge the last few minutes from his mind. 

“Cold air.” Ràn said after a second of silence. 

“What?” Loki looked up at her, and she was leaning back against the tank, peering thoughtfully at him. 

“You need cold air.” She watched him and he felt like she was either judging him or doing that thing Eir did when she was deliberating what medicine to give him for the injury he had approached her with. “Ægir always had an issue with the Asgardian summers when he was able to visit me. It’s the circulation of the cold in your body, there’s less moisture in the air to keep you going when it’s hot and dry.”

“Oh, teaching me ways to keep the beast inside me healthy, hmm?” Loki said, forcing out the first words to come out of his mouth. “Did dear Ægir have a human facsimile as well? Did he pretend to be a god as I do, clamoring for intelligence to hide the beast within, like a monkey in a person’s clothes?”

“Do not.” Rán’s eyes met his and suddenly they were cold and frankly terrifying. “Speak of my husband that way. You won’t live to regret it.”

Loki opened his mouth, thought better of responding, and turned back to the chalk runes (threads, not helixes, he had won that argument). He tried not to think of how it must have reviled anyone else to be so close to a monster as she was with him. He subsequently scooted back a step, swallowing in his dry throat and trying to avoid eye contact. 

“Listen.” 

Loki looked up carefully, and saw that Rán had put down her chalk entirely. She adjusted her shawl, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the other runic labyrinth. 

“You’re hiding something on your arms. I can sense it, and I think I know what it is.”

Loki debated blatantly lying, but his brain was too muddled by the heat and exhaustion to actually muster up the motivation. “What makes you think I would show you?”

“Because I don’t think you realize how quickly the heat may actually kill you.” She said, cocking her head at him. “You’re—“

“Oh, because I’m special?” Loki snarled. “Because—you’re going to insert some pretty words to take away the fact that I’m just weaker—and I need to take care of myself more?”

“You’re really very stingy when you’ve been caught out of a lie.” She remarked calmly, making Loki force a frustrated breath out of his nose. 

“So I’ve been told.” He responded shortly and turned away. 

“I’m telling you to give it a rest. Get some rest. Don’t go dying on us,” She got up, he could hear her bones creaking and she made a small old-lady oof noise as she made her way to the door. “Drink water. Get some sleep. Oh. And,” She turned back to him and he reluctantly looked up at her. “And you’re benched.”

“Pardon?”

“You’re benched. No more helping me update the water system until you can walk without your head turning into a merry-go-round.”

“You can’t stop me.” Loki snarled, but his attention had been diverted back to the headache he had been stoically ignoring, and now it was pulsing in his skull. He swallowed in the dry air, but it felt like he was gulping on sand. 

“Your hands are shaking. Can you make them stop?”

He couldn’t. 

“Yeah. Get some sleep. And good luck denying your own impending sickness once your brother finds out about it.” 

He shot her as much of a glare as he could muster. It clearly wasn’t much of one, because she only raised an eyebrow and swept from the room, leaving him with the skein of chalk magic, cooking in his own skin.

————

Thor watched him during the meeting. 

He was amazed he hadn’t noticed anything earlier. 

Loki’s hands had been quivering the whole time, and his skin was pink and feverish. His attention wandered constantly, and he repeated himself, stammered, when he tried to make a point. The only reason Thor thought no one else noticed was that he actively shrank from the eyes of the council, made opinions only when attention was called to him, and spoke softly, like every noise pained him. 

He was invisible in almost every way.

Norns damn it.

The meeting was adjourned early, as all of them had started to be. The council members pulled at their collars or wiped their brows of sweat, looking relieved as they filed out of the room. Loki was one of the last to get up, and Thor stayed, watching his knuckles clench on the tabletop as he managed to struggle to his feet. Val shot the two of them a concerned look as she escorted Banner outside.

“Loki,” He called as his brother almost reached the door. 

The room was empty besides the pair of them. Loki stopped with his hand on the doorknob, and Thor saw his head sag slightly and exhale a breath, before he turned to his brother with a politely blank expression. 

“Yes, your Highness?” 

Thor sighed. “You’re my brother and we are alone. There is no need for formalities.”

“Yes, Thor.” Loki corrected dryly, making his way around the room to Thor’s side. He sat down, a flicker of relief passing across his face, and turned to his brother, folding his arms. Was it just Thor’s imagination, or were his wrists thinner than usual? “How can I help you?”

Thor debated for a moment trying to be sneaky. He decided not to, only because he had been sitting on this all day, fuming, and he wanted to let it out. “I talked to Lady Rán.”

Loki’s expression, which was deliberately nonchalance, tightened. His lips thinned and he looked away, still forcibly calm. Which was bad, because it meant that he was about to attempt to bluff his way through this. “And? How is she faring? Has she been updating you on the situation with the water tanks?”

“Loki,” Thor sighed, wiping a hand down his face. “I’m not a fool.”

“I beg otherwise,” Loki said, his eyebrow raising, but he was still coiled as tightly as a spring. 

“You should have told me.” Thor got up from his chair, his legs stiff, and put his hands on his hips as he paced to the other side of the room, before turning back around. “We were doing so well a couple of days ago! You know you can come to me about anything.”

“I know,” Loki said immediately. It was almost convincing, but you don’t grow up with the God of Lies and learn nothing. 

Thor ran a hand through whatever hair he had left, which didn’t really help, it just made him sad on top of his worry, because he missed his hair. “No, you don’t. I learned from Rán. I should not have learned from Rán! If you’re feeling ill, tell me.”

“I'll tell you when I’m ill! But I’m fine!” Came Loki’s indignant reply. He looked defensive, and he leaned back to cross his arms over his chest. “Honestly. We’re all a bit off-tempo from the heat—“

“But not all of us are Frost Giants, Loki.” Thor said, almost pleadingly. “It’s the heat, you know it is. I want you to be okay, not passing out from exhaustion in Val’s arms!” 

At that moment, something twitched in Loki and he snarled. “Oh, is that what this is about? You’re trying to care for the poor, little Jotun, who can’t handle a bit of hot air like everyone else? I’m not as weak as you think, Thor.”

“What?” Thor blinked, taken aback. “Loki, that’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant.” Loki answered coldly. 

“No, it’s not.” Thor almost growled, stalking over to his brother. “You’re not weak. You just push yourself too far, and it’s up to me so you don’t rip yourself apart trying to live up to everyone’s expectations—“

“Live up to expectations?” Loki repeated. “I don’t live up to anyone’s expectations! I never have! That’s not the goal, Thor—“

“Then what is?” Thor arched an eyebrow. He moved slightly sideways and leaned against the side of the round, throne-type thing they had all collectively looked at and decided ‘yeah, the king should sit there’. Probably because it had the best cushions. Thor wasn’t complaining about that part. “What is, Loki? Why do you never come to help until you’re bleeding out, or dying, or been in pain for so long that we have to fight to keep you breathing?”

“That’s not what is going on.” Loki said, quieter, dangerously. His brow was low, and he looked a little wary, like he might bolt or attack Thor if anything changed. “It’s not,” He responded to Thor’s dubious glance. “Nothing is happening. I’m fine. I swear it. Nothing but that.”

“I really thought we’d gotten past this,” Thor sighed, pressing his fingers into his eyelids. “Why, Loki? Why does everything have to be a fight?” He was pacing now, and his voice was growing louder. “What makes you feel like everyone is allowed to be injured but you?!”

“Because I don’t matter like they do!”

Thor stopped. Loki did too, his eyes widening with what he had just burst out. He hunched back, slightly, his lips thinning. 

“Loki,” Thor started, not sure how he would continue. 

“Don’t.” Loki said, his face hardening. “Just leave it, I’m fine.”

Thor tried to respond, but at that moment Loki got up from his chair (unsteadily) and strode across the room to the door. “I’m fine, Thor. There is no need to bother a healer about it.”

“But I want to,” Thor started, but Loki was already gone. He stopped, closed his mouth, and sighed, running a hand through his cropped hair. He turned back to the chair, stared at it, and then picked up his papers and left the room through a different door. He had a feeling that the conversation had solved absolutely nothing. 

————

The Valkyrie was waiting for Loki when he left the council room.

He stopped, still internally fuming, and debated whether he should unleash the toxic rioling in his gut onto her, or if the toxic roiling in his gut was a different kind of toxic roiling and he was actually about to vomit. He had money on the latter. 

He felt like a grenade, and everyone else had their finger hooked through the pull ring, about to detonate. He also felt sick and feverish. He wanted to go lie in his bed and never get back up.

Val eyed him up and down. Loki curled his hands into fists and attempted to walk past her, adamant on returning to his rooms. No such luck. She followed behind him, casually enough that he knew it wasn’t casual, long strolls and her dark braids swishing behind each step. He felt like he was being flanked. 

“What?” He snapped. Normally he would be more subtle, but the heat was slowly turning his brain into a pile of porridge. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the barest glint of some hallucinatory poltergeists' grin, terrifyingly sharp. He ignored it. 

“Why does there have to be a what?” She replied, shrugging a shoulder and falling into pace with him. He refused to look at her. “What if I just want to accompany my prince to the cafeteria for our dinner?”

Oh. The absolute manipulator. “I was planning to return to my quarters, actually.” Loki tried to salvage, but he knew when he was cornered. 

“Really? But it’s the ‘designated supper time organized by the council to maximize the efficiency of people served,” She said in a mock of a council member’s accent. “Certainly you want to eat,” She cocked her head at him, as a challenge. 

Loki felt the noose draw tight. They reached the crossing point where the hallways diverged from the cafeteria on the right, filled with noises of food and silverware that made Loki feel nauseous, and on the left leading to the rooms and sleeping quarters of the Statesman.  

He swallowed in his dry throat. Val stopped next to him. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked coolly. Loki took a second, and recognizing the way he had been backed into a corner, knew he had no choice if he wanted to look healthier than he was. He turned sharply on his heel to the right, storming down the hallway, just because he could. 

Val raised her eyebrows, but said nothing, and followed behind him.

Loki was about to get irritated about how stupid this whole thing was, but then he realized why it was a mistake to walk fast so suddenly. 

Blood rushed to his head, and heat, enough heat to make him dizzy. His head swam and he stumbled blindly, his thoughts fizzling out. 

“-Loki!”

He came back to awareness leaning against the wall, his legs about to collapse. It has only been a few seconds, but he could feel the nausea and blurriness seeping into his skull. He squinted, trying to focus on Valkyrie in front of him, and her face. It was moving back and forth. That wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?

He pushed away from the wall, and took an unsteady step towards the cafeteria. Immediately his knees buckled and Val caught him, bracketing him with her arms as he attempted to regain use of his legs. It didn’t work so well. 

The memory came to his head of what Thor had said earlier: I want you to be okay, not passing out from exhaustion in Val’s arms! 

How embarrassing, he dully thought.

“Loki, respond.” He realized Val had been lightly slapping his face, and he made a small noise, pushing her hand away to get her to stop. He was on his knees, somehow, his shoulders held up by Val. “Loki. Loki. Wake up, you idiot. Would it kill you to drink water at least once in your life?” 

He scowled, his vision fuzzy around the corners. “Probably. I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re not,” She scowled, and hit him again as he started to list sideways. “You can’t even stand up. Don’t act all macho on me now, I can see through your shit. How long have you been like this?”

“Like what?” His ears were ringing. 

“Like this,” She put a hand to his forehead and immediately pulled it back. He must be warm. “Loki. Don’t lie to me. You’ve been all kooky for a while now, and if you pass out here Thor is going to kill me.” 

“Can’t have that,” Loki said dryly, and levered himself upwards, putting his knee up and very, very slowly got to his feet. He swayed, and put a hand on the wall to steady himself. 

“Sit down.” 

“No.” Loki took a step to spite her, and could see the end of the hallway. It looked very far away. He could make it. Probably. His throat was dry, and he felt an urge to vomit, his head spinning like a top. 

“Hey, what’s…Loki?” 

Loki tried not to groan. Bruce Banner was standing at the end of the hallway, watching both of them in surprise. What a sight they must be, Loki practically falling against the wall and shaking all over, and Valkyrie with her arms out next to him, to keep him from tipping over. 

Bruce moved forward immediately, and before Loki knew it, another hand was touching his forehead. He jerked back, weakly, but Banner paid him no mind and turned to Val. “What happened?”

“I dunno!” She defended herself. “One minute he’s cranky and sweaty, and now he’s about to pass out—“

“I’m not going to pass out,” Loki began to snarl, but at that moment another wave of sickening nausea overtook him. He decided the least embarrassing thing to do was slide against the wall down to the floor where he had been standing. He pressed both palms to the ground in an attempt to get his head to stop swirling. 

“Loki!”

He focused on his breathing. The air was too hot. It was always too hot.

“Loki, can you look at me?”

“Oh, shit, is he gonna die? Thor will absolutely strip me for parts and chuck me in space, come on, Loki—“

“His pupils are dilated.” Banner lifted Loki’s chin, and Loki let out a small groan as the lights of the hallway, bright, always too bright, penetrated deep into his head and made it pound. He pulled his head back and leaned it against the wall. “It looks like heatstroke to me, and in pretty late stages. His skin is flushed,” Banner was muttering, more to himself than Valkyrie. “Loki, can you take deeper breaths for me?”

“I’m not a child,” He wanted to say, but when he opened his mouth his world tilted sideways. 

And righted itself. Val was on his other side, and she forced him to stay upright against the wall. Her hands were too rough. She didn’t know how to handle a sick person. 

That was what he was, wasn’t he? Loki was loath to admit it, but he certainly was sick now. And in a way that he couldn’t hide it. The air was too thick. It was hard to take any breaths. 

“I’m going to get Thor,” Banner said, and moved away from Loki, letting some more ceiling light burn through his corneas like a spotlight. 

Loki instantly felt a jab of horror deep in his heat-riddled body, and he jolted. “No,” He said, his voice slurring. He moved forward and reached for Banner, who was now walking down the hallway briskly. “No. No. Don’t tell him, he’ll…”

“Loki,” Val said warningly, but it was too late. Loki had already forced himself to his feet in a rush of fearful adrenaline. 

He made it two steps down the hall. His vision blackened. His knees buckled. His head hit the floor, and the last thing he thought before the world went dark was how hot it was. He wished it would stop. 

————

He woke up, and the room was making a hissing noise. Perhaps there was a gas leak. He should get that checked out.

No. Wait.

He turned his head to the side, and saw a ventilator in the corner of the room. The rest was all white and gray, empty. Not his room, then. A wing of the haphazard medical ward, likely. It was cold, relievingly so, and his breathing didn’t feel like he was inhaling hot gas every second. 

He immediately bit down a groan and squeezed his eyes shut. 

They had alerted Thor. Fantastic. He could hardly wait until his brother came in, probably sparking at the edges of his hair and knuckles. 

He looked down at his hands, and saw that someone had removed the layers of leather between his festering skin and the air, and he was dressed in a thin hospital gown that made him feel oddly vulnerable. Someone had taken his clothes off when he slept. In the past, that wouldn’t have mattered, in medical situations, but now it made his stomach roil uncomfortably. 

The heat rashes were still apparent, blotchy pink and red on his forearms. His wrists were almost scarily thin. 

The door clicked and opened quietly. Bruce Banner walked in, with a tray carrying a cold compress and a glass of water. His eyes widened when he saw Loki was aware of his presence. “Hey,” He said. “You’re awake. Do you…uh,” He looked down and up Loki’s limp form, and made his way further into the room. “Do you know where you are?” 

“The medical bay, I’d expect,” Loki responded. His throat was hoarse and so quiet it was barely audible. He coughed to clear it, and Banner immediately shuffled to his bedside, holding out the glass of water. “Why?” He took a long guzzle, propping himself up on one elbow. As soon as he had finished the glass, he dropped back down, barely able to stay upright. 

“You…um, weren’t very coherent the last couple of times you woke up.” Banner looked shifty about it, and he took the glass back to prop it on the table. “Muttering, yelling, the occasional loud song lyric from the early 2000s. Thor was getting concerned.”

“How long has it been?” Loki didn’t clarify when. They both knew about what had happened in the hallway, and Loki would prefer not to talk about it. 

“About three days. The engine is fixed now.” Banner tugged at one of his grayed curls, the bags under his eyes incredibly pronounced. “Eir looked like she was going to kill you, once we got you in.” 

“Eir has been known to be melodramatic,” Loki responded, hackles raised in defense. “She knows little of my condition or what caused it.”

“The heatstroke?” Banner raised an eyebrow. “Thor told me. Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Loki stopped, reeling. Logically, in his head, he had known there would be those who couldn’t stand to be in his company anymore, once learning of his…heritage. Those who would abhor being in the same room as him. He was lucky Thor and Rán were the way they were, but this was how the real world operated. “I…sorry.”

“You’re damn right you’re sorry.” Bruce muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose and dragging his hand down his face. He let out an explosive breath. “So I just essentially nearly killed a person who runs on cold, with heat, and had no idea until you passed out on me and were about to die from organ failure.”

Loki blinked. “What?” 

“What?” Bruce frowned at him. “Loki, you scared the hell out of us. Why didn’t you tell us it would affect you more?”

“I…” He knew his answer sounded stupid. “I honestly didn’t expect it to.” He winced at the way Banner’s face dropped. 

“You’re made of frost, Loki.” Banner ran a hand through his hair and scowled. “How did you even survive Asgard as a kid?”

“Not literally!” Loki propped himself up on his elbows, and immediately his arms started shaking. “I’m not weak, I can handle a bit of heat—“

“I know you can, I’m not insulting the Asgardian toxic masculinity you have going on.” Banner interrupted. “You can probably walk around in Subarctic temperatures for hours longer than the rest of us would last before our toes fall off.”

Loki frowned. He hadn’t thought about it that way. 

“Is there anything else I should know about?” Bruce asked. Loki was so very confused. He cleared his throat, which still felt parched.

“No.” Not that you need to be aware of.

“Good,” Banner looked back at the door. “Thor is going to want to see you.”

Loki sighed, dropping his head forward in defeat. “Might as well talk to him too. Kill two birds with one stone.” He let his arms drop so he could lie back on the bed in defeat. Banner frowned at him.

“We were really worried, Loki.” He said it in a gentle, soft kind of way that felt weirdly sincere. Loki’s jaw tightened.

“Well, your concern is unwarranted. As you can see, I am fine now.”

Banner looked dubious. He opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment, the door opened. Thor poked his head in, and his brows raised when he saw Loki was awake. 

Loki exhaled tiredly. “Hello, Thor.” 

“Loki,” Thor nodded to Banner, who made his way around the two of them and out the door, latching in behind him. 

Thor moved forward, and took a seat in the chair next to Loki’s bed. His expression was smooth (as smooth as he could make it, seeing as this is Thor) but there was underlying anger underneath.

“Well?” Loki asked. 

“Well what?” 

“Well, are you going to let it out? I am not so delirious that I cannot see your constipated expression.” 

Thor winced slightly. Too soon. “Loki…” He stopped.

“Say it,” Loki demanded him, keeping his face blank. 

Thor took the invitation easily, which meant the emotion had probably just barely been brimming under the surface. He stood up, and moved across the room, pacing twice before putting his hands on his hips and dropping his head forward. He sighed. “You fucking idiot.”

Loki blinked. “Pardon?” 

“I said, you’re a fucking idiot,” Thor repeated, looking and and reaching his eyes. “I just got you back, and then you go off and almost die again, and the next time I see you, Eir is practically resuscitating you, and you looked like a raw sausage left out in the sun! We can’t keep doing this, Loki. I’m serious,” He rubs the back of his shaved hair. “I’m not losing you again.” 

“Thor, I wouldn’t have died, it’s fine.” Loki protested, lifting one of his hands to rub at his eye. Thor started forward and took his wrist, inciting a hiss from Loki. 

“This? What do you call this, then?” Thor turned up the heat rash, which Loki twitched at when he saw. His wrist looked positively fragile, surrounded by Thor’s thick fingers, and his skin was crossed with blue-ish veins. 

“A mistake,” Loki responded dryly. “I may have overcalculated slightly, I admit.”

“Overcalc—“ Thor inhaled a sharp breath through his nose and let it out. Loki could have sworn he muttered “Right, he didn’t know,” and he let go of Loki’s hand. “Right. An overcalculation resulted in a three day semi-coma, where all you did was scream when we brought you anywhere near warm air, or muttered incoherently at random intervals. An overcalculation almost killed you. What would an overcalculation have done if you had made a mistake with Surtur? One wrong step, and you wouldn’t have made it onto the Statesman. An overcalculation has killed people, Loki.” 

Loki was speechless for a moment. “Thor. I…” 

“I pushed you too hard. And I apologize for that,” Thor said, pinching the spot between his brows. Loki blinked in surprise. “That conversation in the council room did not go how I had planned it to, and when I reflect on what I could have done or said, I realize that I put you on the spot, and created pressure that you consequently reacted poorly to. I assumed things about you that were unfair. So. I am sorry.”

Loki felt like he had all the wind blown out of him. He gaped at Thor like a fish out of water, long enough that Thor started to look uncomfortable. 

“What?” He demanded.

“Who are you, and what have you done with Thor?”

“I rehearsed,” Thor said defensively. “I knew you were probably going to be really irritating to me and make fun of me if I didn’t practice what I say. I’m trying to be different. You said our family has never been good at communication. I want that to change.”

Loki was watching him still in consideration, cataloging the way Thor stood, a bit awkward like he wasn’t used to his height. He clearly was well-intentioned, even if what he said sounded so insanely strange to his ears. Thor, apologizing? To Loki? And meaning it, and clearly nervous about what he had said. Perhaps he truly was trying to make a difference. 

“What if it doesn’t work?” Loki prodded. “What if we can’t change what our Realm has been like for over many millennia?”

Thor shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to try,” He said, and he sounded so sure of it that it hurt. Then he went forward and sat down next to Loki on his bed, letting out a sigh. “But that means all of us have to try and change as well.” He gave Loki a look.

Loki returned him a dry glare. “Yeah, sure.” 

“Loki, come on.” Thor scowled. “If you had trusted anyone, we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.” 

(The rest of this I was too lazy to write, so I hope you enjoyed 11,000 words of what was supposed to be a motherfucking one-shot.)