I heard footsteps behind me and glanced up to see Odin himself, sporting both eyes and sandy brown hair. His wrinkles were reduced to laugh lines, and his smile was genuine.

"Father," I whispered, still growing accustomed to the word. It left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"My son. I didn't think I would see you so soon. I am sorry."

I loosened my grip on Mother for a moment to turn my attention to him. He may have appeared younger, but his eyes betrayed him. Odin - Father - looked exhausted.

I didn't trust myself to speak. Instead, I worried at my lower lip and tried not to break eye contact. It had been so long since I'd last seen him alive and in good health. Yet for a man spending eternity in a blissful paradise, he didn't seem at peace.

"I should be happy to see you. After all, you made it to Valhalla." He chuckled softly, but I could see past his weak mask.

"Did you assume I would end up damned to Hel? That, of course, would have been partly your fault. You locked me away for years with no chance to atone for my supposed crimes. Thank you for that." I spat out, my voice dripping with venom.

His face fell, and I realized all too late that it was the wrong thing to say.

I didn't really care. I'd been aching to give him a piece of my mind ever since I found out about my jotun parentage. He deserved to hear every word of it.

Mother put a hand on my shoulder.

"Loki, please." She whispered, but I shrugged her off.

"Don't 'Loki, please' me. You of all people should know what that old fool did to me. And to Thor. He lied to both of us." Saying Thor's name felt like a stab to the gut. "Oh, Norns. Thor...."

Odin opted to stay silent and let Mother talk to me instead. I fought through the guilt eating away at me. The guilt that burned my heart to ashes from the inside out. He needed to learn when to shut up.

But so did I.

Well, you know what they say. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

"I think I need some time to myself," I confessed, barely above a whisper.

Mother nodded in understanding and let me pull myself to my feet. I didn't need her help.

"Of course. Let me show you to the palace."

✧✦✧

The palace, as it turned out, was huge. With ornate engravings and glistening alabaster arches supporting the massive structure, it was hard not to be at least a little bit overwhelmed. Still, I didn't act like it was a big deal. I just let Mother show me to my chambers and locked the door behind me.

Once I was confident that no one could hear or see me, I buried my face in my pillow and let out a shuddering breath that I didn't realize I'd been holding in.

My shoulders shook with every sob, and the longer I thought about it, the more it finally set in that I wouldn't see Thor for thousands of years to come if he didn't die in battle.

I was supposed to be there for him through it all.

I'm here. I had told him back on the Statesman.

Those two words were a promise. They meant something.

I couldn't abandon him.

When my tears had dried, I stood up and walked a few feet away from my bed. Closing my eyes and sucking in a deep breath, I called upon every ounce of magic coursing through my veins. I channeled every last bit of energy that I'd collected from the spells and enchantments broken after I died.

I pressed my fingers to both of my temples and squeezed my eyes shut tighter, whispering a spell. My voice layered into a symphony of syllables joining together to connect my mind to an illusion that I placed on Midgard. It took extra energy to track Thor down, but none of it was wasted.

Finally, a room surrounded by white walls came into focus. A few intricate abstract paintings hung on the walls, and a window let in the warm orange light of a new sunrise. Thor sat on a mattress fixed with an ornate bedspread in the corner of what I assumed was a guest bedroom.

Judging by the strange, but beautiful, patterns in the design of the room and the landscape outside of the window, it didn't take me long to figure out where my brother was.

"So this is Wakanda." I mused, observing a vase filled to the brim with brightly colored flowers that sat atop Thor's nightstand.

His head snapped up, but the quality of my illusion was terrible, and it didn't take him long to recognize the telltale green glow around the edges of my transparent copy.

"Are you dead?" He shook his head. "Never mind, that was a stupid question."

I gave him a small grin.

"Yes, that was a stupid question. One that, unfortunately, you know the answer to."

Thor sighed.

"I don't know why I get my hopes up like that."

I shrugged my shoulders, unsure of how to continue the conversation. Truth be told, I wasn't quite sure what I was thinking when I decided to cast an illusion in front of my very-much-alive brother.

"Did you win?" I whispered softly.

He heaved a sigh and shook his head.

"Thanos collected all six infinity stones. He snapped his fingers and wiped out half of the universe. The Avengers and Wakandans are still searching for the remaining survivors."

Closing my eyes, I tried to think of a way to give him some sort of hope or at least keep him calm until I could figure everything out. When I opened them again, I could see tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I'm going to find a way to come back. Don't worry. I may not always be a man of my word but you can rest assured that the sun will shine on us again."

My attempts at reassuring him were futile. He didn't seem to believe a word I said.

"Do you have anything else you'd like to tell me? If it's really even you. I mean, I know it's your illusion, but I don't quite know what to trust anymore."

I frowned as I gazed upon this broken man. His spirit had been crushed, he lost everything and everyone in his life, and now I just had to show up and remind him that oh, hey! By the way, I'm dead and I'm never coming back. Hope your day is going great! Sentiment tugged at my heartstrings and left me, the silver tongue, at a loss for words.

I was rapidly losing the strength to bridge the gap between worlds, and I knew that I had to end this soon.

"Thor," I tried, stepping forward carefully.

I held my hand out as if getting ready to high five him. His eyes, filled with so much grief and sorrow, seemed to lighten a bit at the gesture, and he lifted his hand to meet mine.

Somehow, from impossibly far away in the realm of Valhalla, I felt his fingertips brush against mine, and I realized how desperate I was to live again.