The Trickster: Ragnarok

by: Shadow Chaser

Author's Notes:

This is the big concluding story within the Trickster Universe and is set one year after Captain America: The Winter Soldier and follows immediately after the events of Frozen in Time. A few things have been altered from the original MCU, namely all characters know that Coulson is alive and certain characters that died in the movie are dead. The only movie as of December 2014, that is NOT CANON in my universe is Thor: The Dark World.

Important Note:

To fully enjoy this story, please make sure you are familiar with the cliffnotes of the Trickster Universe in the Author's Notes at the end of Chapter 10 of Frozen in Time, as well as have read Chapter 16 and onward of Frozen in Time, otherwise you will be missing most of the backstory/politicking/plotlines that sets up this one. For those who have plowed through all three stories – have fun with this one!

Story:

Chapter 1

Heimdall took great pride in his duties as the Guardian of the Realms; executing them with the powers bestowed upon him thousands of years before by Bor Allfather. It was a duty not taken lightly, even with the knowledge gained from it or from the many years of watch of the realms. He had seen empires rise and fall, the stability and occasional staleness of rulers, the ebb and flow of rebellion, war, and peace. Chaos rose and fell like the constantly fluctuating tide of moons and stars rotating in orbits that were not symmetrical. Though he knew that there were stars beyond the ones of the nine realms that Asgard watched and ruled over, it was his duty to guard against the threats that would threaten the peace and stability of the other realms. He was the vanguard, the forefront of the might of Asgard – a power none took lightly for the thousands of years of peace.

But Heimdall was also practical and knew like the ebb and flow of tides, the peace was not to last. It was why he had been tasked, to watch and raise the alarm of potential chaos coming to the realms. But chaos did not necessarily have to come from outside the realm, it was easily bred within. The past few years were a testament to the chaos of the universe, even though it was a mere blip in the long life he had led thus far, still proved to him that his watch was sorely needed . However, more often than not chaos came from outside the realms, especially the circumstances that led to his appointment as the current Guardian of the Realms. And so he kept his strict vigil, watching Midgard more often than he had in the past hundreds of years than the other realms, shadows in between that he barely glimpsed, and beyond the realms' borders.

Midgard was the usual source of chaos in the past few years, the mortals gaining knowledge by the thousand fold; perhaps it was due to Thor's presence there. He knew of the swirl of rumors, of what the Court thought of Thor's affections for the mortals, a whim of fancy in the Court's opinion – but Heimdall could tell that the Crown Prince held a deep affection that went beyond mere curiosity, for the mortals. He held in great affection and value for his newly found comrades, the Avengers. Heimdall himself had no opinions on the mayflies of the mortals, but he did acknowledge their fighting prowess and cunning ingenuity against the foes that would cause further chaos in their realm that would have spread to others if they had left it unchecked. At the very least, they had his acknowledgment and occasional sympathy. He saw as Guardian what the others of the Court did not see, perhaps refused to acknowledge, sometimes what even Odin Allfather refused to acknowledge to some extent. But that was not his duty to trouble his liege and lord. He was Guardian. He saw beyond one realm and towards others and even further.

But at this moment, Midgard was the object of his watch, ever since he spied the Crown Prince pacing the stonework of Asgard's halls before summoning the fortitude to talk to the second Prince, and then suddenly appearing on Midgard. Prince Loki was clever enough to have concealed his overt involvement in transporting Crown Prince Thor through the shadows of Yggdrasil, something Heimdall still could not see much to his concern. But it would have been obvious who helped Thor if they had seen what he had seen. But there was no harm to the realms, just trickery and concealment afoot and something while it annoyed him to an extent, was not threatening.

The second Prince's transporting of the Jotun assassins however, had been another story. That had been a direct attack and threat on Asgard itself.

Still, the fact that Prince Loki had literally transported his brother into the midst of an intense battle between HYDRA and whatever remained of the mortal Phil Coulson's organization warranted his watch – if only to sate his curiosity. He watched the Crown Prince dispatch his foes before doing his duty and summoning Thor back to Asgard. After all, it had been against the explicit orders for the Crown Prince to not leave the realm and had to wait until the HYDRA soldiers had been dispatched before he activated the Bifrost to bring the wayward Crown Prince back.

He had then let Odin deal with his designated Heir who had been waiting in the Observatory with a stony look on his weathered face. Prince Loki had waited next to the Allfather, every inch of his body language and expression denying that he had transported Thor back to Midgard just minutes earlier, but it seemed Odin's ire had been directed at Thor instead of Loki when he had returned. Heimdall had been partial to many of the royal family's...disagreements, even involved in a few himself – though that had been more during Bor Allfather's reign than when Odin had taken the throne. But even he had been involved in the disagreements between Odin and his sons.

This latest one was of similar vein; ultimately regarding the Crown Prince and his association with the Avengers, but had been worded with a careful emphasis on more the fact that Thor had disobeyed the Allfather's orders, again, than of him coming to the rescue of his mortal friends. What was different about this one than the last time Thor had confronted his father in the Observatory was that Thor had begun to show some of the qualities that had only been overt in Prince Loki – a play on words and of careful consideration of said words. Thor had actually disagreed with Odin and had stated that he had not asked Heimdall to send him back and instead had just, appeared of all things, on Midgard before being seen by Heimdall and retrieved after dispatching those that might have potentially harmed Asgard.

Perhaps there had been merit to Thor's latest adventures with the mortals, because Heimdall knew from long experience that the Allfather would have turned to the second Prince and asked if he had walked his brother through the shadows, but Odin did no such thing. He instead, had just stared at Thor for a very long moment before gesturing to the two Princes to return with him to the heart of Asgard with the barest murmurs of the Queen missing them for evening meal.

When Thor had been finally allowed to return to Midgard, there had been the unspoken command to Heimdall to watch the Crown Prince carefully. He knew that Odin disliked Thor's association with the mortals, finding it a flight of fanciful whim instead of actually focusing his efforts on the title of his station. He obeyed his king and lord's command and thus found himself watching Midgard with a careful eye. He knew it was not worry of the Crown Prince's health, Thor certainly could take care of himself and then some – assassins over the many years long dispatched by him or by Prince Loki – but of the fact that Odin wanted Thor to take over the throne. To take his rightful place and put away the childish things of youth, like adventuring with the mortals. Heimdall himself had little to no opinion on the Avengers, but he did occasionally find them fascinating, and more often than not, acquiesced to Thor's request to watch his friends during the times he was unable to join them on their adventures.

Midgard itself was going through changes in the last few years – merely a blink of an eye through Heimdall's long life – but changes nonetheless. Whereas change on some of the other realms crept by in decades and centuries, Midgard's changes were quick, fast, and more often than not degraded from peaceful negotiations to warfare. Some of the warfare was not the flying of primitive projectile weaponry, but of their technology – looking a lot more like the magicks of Asgard and the other eight realms as they kept discovering the artifacts left behind from ages ago.

And so Heimdall watched as Thor arrived back on Midgard, meeting the son of Coul, hidden from the eyes of his enemies in an underground bunker of sorts. Curiously enough, he had never heard mention of the dissolution of SHIELD to the Allfather from Thor, even though he had witnessed it himself. It had not involved Asgard and Heimdall certainly knew that the Allfather only made the treatise as a formality with Director Fury, something to placate the mortals and their over entitled sense of superiority against the rest of the realms. But he thought it would be something the Crown Prince would have mentioned to the Allfather since SHIELD's fall a little over a year ago. But there was no mention, not even a hint and since it did not involve Asgard, Heimdall himself had not mentioned it. There was no danger to the realm with SHIELD's dissolution by its enemies. He knew that they probably had a name, but was not inclined to find out what it was unless it was a threat to Asgard. So far, the nameless enemy of SHIELD did not seem to be a threat, confining its activities to Midgard.

He watched as Thor bustled around the bunker, his eyes turning occasionally to the others as the Crown Prince had more private moments with his Lady Jane. The curious addition of the metal-armed man in recent days, accompanying the warrior Rogers had garnered a bit of his attention. He had watched the man's curious interaction with the warrior Rogers, and had seen how Thor had treated the man, a kindly humbleness that was unlike the occasional time Heimdall had seen Thor treat Loki. But the difference was that there was a respectful acceptance and almost understanding to the metal-armed man at Thor's words and gestures – as if he craved it, but was still trying to overcome whatever demons plagued him.

Though Heimdall was indifferent to the happenings of Midgard, he was still curious enough to know that perhaps there was merit to Thor's adventures with his mortal friends – it opened his eyes to the vast possibilities of ruling the realms and made him more aware of the plights of those he would soon rule over. The only thing that inhibited this was his constant focus on Midgard instead of taking a far greater interest in the other eight realms, even of Asgard herself. Heimdall understood Odin Allfather's concerns, but it was not his place or station to voice them, unless directly ordered to.

And so he continued to watch, the metal arm man slipping out from the watch of the others, confronting another man, bringing him back to the worry and relief of the others, and that was when he first noticed the flicker.

It was too fast for the mortals and their eyes to follow, judging by the lack of reaction from everyone; too fast for even Thor to see – but then again Heimdall saw that he was focused on the son of Coul questioning their newest prisoner. The flicker had come from the man recently captured, bound, sitting in a small room with a hungry, lean look on his face behind the monocle that had appeared during his transportation. A guileless smile was on the man's lips as he taunted, but Heimdall focused on the man's features-

There. There it was again. The flicker that he was sure was of magicks. This man certainly was not who he claimed to be, but that was for Thor and his mortal friends to figure out. But that was not his concern. It was what he had thought he had glimpsed under the flicker of magicks. Tufts of auburn-red hair, slim angular face and lightly speckled cheeks and icy blue eyes that had long been thought dead. His mind rebelled at the possibility – there were mortals who certainly could have similar features, after all, those who disappeared from Lady Hel's gaze sometimes ended up as mortals, or as others in lives different from when they had passed into her realm and care.

But there had been no body.

Lady Hel had even reported in the aftermath that even she did not see him amongst her subjects all the thousands of years ago.

Odin had voiced what they had all thought – he had been lost to the shadows and voids of Yggdrasil. The pronouncement came moments before he had ascended to the throne and became Allfather.

Yet...

Heimdall extended his hand out, using the innate skills he had received ever since taking up the position of Guardian, and mentally summoned one of the ravens of the Allfather. He could feel the tether and snap of command response as he continued to peer down at Midgard. Something had happened, knocking both the red-haired assassin Romanov and the metal-armed man, sending everyone scrambling and leaving the monocled man, whose image wavered with hints of magicks, alone. There. He saw the flicker again, a shimmer that he had long recognized from the thousand years of the second Prince casting his illusions without a care in the world. No mortal, save perhaps one or two that he had deigned to watch on occasion, could ever command such magicks as similar to what had just happened.

The loud caw of Munnin before his heavy weight landed on his vambrace signaled the arrival of the raven. He did not turn his gaze away from Midgard, but saw out of the corner of his eye the raven adjusting its perch, tilting his head inquisitively to stare at him. Munnin was quieter than his brother raven, Huugin, preferring to let his avian expressions convey his emotions and his duties as the Allfather's familiar. Huugin on the other hand, was more prone to chattering, cackling, and cawing as if there was some kind of cosmic joke constantly being told. But Huugin executed his duties as efficiently as his brother raven. Still the two were as much alike when not summoned for duties and the like, Munnin more prone to defend Huugin from attacks by others who disliked their all-seeing eyes, Huugin more prone to playing pranks and trickery as ravens were wont to do.

Munnin shifted his perch and with an air of daintiness shuffled his way up his vambrace, taking care to gently curl his talons enough to keep his grip, but not enough to puncture skin. He cawed softly again and Heimdall pursed his lips. It was imperative that the Allfather be notified of this, otherwise, he would not have needlessly summon his familiar.

"Sleipnir has been potentially spotted," he said quietly, keeping his gaze focused on the small room the not-monocled man had been placed. "Midgard, near the Crown Prince. I will summon Thor back if the Allfather wishes it for further orders." The Bifrost always had the ability to cut through layers of earth and metal if Heimdall deemed it so, but at the same time he knew it was very rude to punch through protective layers. But he was willing to cut through the bunker if it meant summoning Thor back for further instructions and perhaps a retrieval of one who had been thought lost for so long.

The raven trilled softly and Heimdall felt the acute pinch of talons nearly breaking skin as the bird fluttered, trying to keep its balance when it was clearly in shock. Munnin tilted its head and blinked once at him, as if asking him to confirm once more.

"He wears the guise of one of SHIELD's enemies, but I have seen flickers of illusion magicks and underneath that, the features of Sleipnir. I will watch further," he confirmed to the raven who blinked once again and spread his wings, taking off with a quick flap.

The question that lingered for him was, if it truly was Sleipnir, why, after thousands of years, did he deem to show himself now? And why was he only showing hints of flickering magick when Heimdall knew him to be one of the strongest battlemages? Most of all, what had happened to him since that fateful day – the day that marked the ascent of the House of Odin – second son in line to the throne of Bor Allfather.

Second son, second Prince, second everything. If there was one thing Loki absolutely hated and detested about Asgard and life itself was Odin's words hundreds of years ago - "Only one of you may rule, but you were both born to be kings!" Such cheer, such falsity and hope given, such... Loki rolled his eyes and sneered inwardly as he turned the page on the tome he was reading, ignoring the arrival of the Courtiers and the stirrings of Court coming to life on this early morn. He did not know why he had suddenly thought of his position, but reflected that perhaps it was because the Courtiers had only whispered about Thor since yesterday's interesting turn of events. Thor's sudden arrival and departure certainly had something to do with it – not that Loki had anything involved in sending his bro- sending the idiot through the shadows just for him to rescue his precious mortal friends.

He flicked a quick look up at the already gossiping Courtiers that had arrived early and pursed his lips together. That was probably the source of his annoyance as he looked back down at his tome. He shifted a little, continuing to lean against the pillar near the throne and turned to another page. The Courtiers were still gossiping about Thor and his responsibilities, the Crown Prince, his prowess on the battlefield, his lack of presence in the Court, what they suspected he was doing, what they wanted him to do, what they wished-

Loki wanted to throw something at them. Certainly not to stop the rumors, no he was annoyed yet amused by them, but rather because they were interrupting his concentration in trying to read. His fingers twitched as he considered a silencing spell and heard the soft hiss of laughter from the throne itself respond. He glanced over to the burnished metal chair itself to see the curl of a venomous fang-filled smile directed at him as the serpent hissed his laughter again.

"Jor," he murmured quietly and the snake responded with a very human-like shrug of its body before lowering his head and curling further into the chair. The snake blinked once, flicking its tongue out to taste the air before curling into a tighter and contented ball. Jor's silent point was clear, a few more minutes of idle gossip meant less of a hassle and dealing with the early arrival of the Allfather just because some of the Court decided to jabber away like mockingbirds in the early morning.

Plus he was slightly amused by the fact that Jormungandr had decided to use the Allfather's throne, of all places, as his personal warm nesting spot, more than likely feeling the innate magicks permeating it to make himself comfortable. Since he had his core ripped out of him a little over two years ago and bound to his serpentine form, he had found spots where magick permeated through inanimate objects to be a source of comfort. Loki knew this as well as Jormungandr, having learned it from the serpent's older brother Fenrir when he had talked about his previous assassination contracts. Those who had magicks and their core ripped out – if they survived – usually sought out others with magick or areas of great magick concentration and settled there, trying to fill a seemingly bottomless void that could not be filled.

It was pathetic, Jormungandr clearly deserved having his magick flayed from his source, and Loki did not know why he had kept the serpent near him since Director Fury all but dropped into his hands two years previous. He supposed it was some lingering sentimentality, some foolish whim that he did not discard Jormungandr. At least it provided some amusement, and a healthy distraction from whenever Thor was feeling sentimental or inclined towards his attempts at becoming "brothers" once more. The only saving grace was that Thor still heeded the warnings of receiving a knife in his ribs if he so much as tried to embrace him.

Loki closed the tome with a quiet thump, startling the two Courtiers that had been obliviously chattering near him and they hastily bowed, fear flashing in their eyes before moving away, their stilted conversation muted into whispers. He watched them go, saw the minute tremble of fear as both turned to look back, scurrying further away. Had the fear been for the fact that he was a Frost Giant? Monster still told in stories and lore, the peace treaty with Jotunheim made three years previous not withstanding. Or did they think his magicks allowed him to bewitch their minds and use their words against them in some nefarious purpose?

Either or, he was glad for the silence. He was, however, a little more than irked that there had only been fear, but no respect in their eyes. Three years; three years since and Thor was still the whispered one, the Crown Prince, the darling of the Court – even with his absence for the most part. His attempt at conquering Midgard had not been considered heroic nor his attempt to blast Jotunheim into oblivion with the Bifrost. For a war-like race, the Asgardians and Aesir were certainly hypocritical of the bloodshed before them.

Loki let out a small quieting breath, calming himself from his sudden burst of anger and annoyance. Three years was a drop compared to the hundreds and thousands of years he knew he had left of his life. But he also knew that time was of the essence, and that the rumblings of Odin's succession was growing louder. The Allfather did not look as weary as he did in the days before Thor's exile four years past, but Loki could sense that something was amiss. Perhaps it was the beginnings of the Odinsleep, but somehow, he knew that it was not the case. Thanos' imprisonment was all but ensured, treatises drafted with Nidelheim and Jotunheim ensured trade and prosperity as well as the affirmation of non-hostilities from Jotunheim. The coterie were all but dead at his hand and of the two that remained, one bound to his serpentine form, the other, ruling the realm of the unjudged dead under the careful watch of Heimdall.

So then what was this unsettling feeling?

As if the Norns decided to laugh at him and answer his unspoken question, Loki felt and heard it before he saw it – Jormungandr suddenly lifting his head and hissing a warning, coiled and tense.

Escapeescapeescapeescapeneedtobefreenofreedom

The ripple of aberration that should not have been there, a voluminous mass of dark, writhing wrong appeared in the middle of the Court. The golden burnished splendor of Odin's throne room was slivered with the loud silence of nightmares. Even before he saw it, Loki dropped the tome to the ground with the heavy thunk and automatically drew out his glaive from the spaces in between he carried with him. As the rip to the void of Yggdrasil grew larger, he took a step forward, magicks tingling at his fingers, his other hand ready to fire the world-shattering ice power of the Casket of Ancient Winters embedded in the glaive's crown.

Nofreedomcannotbefreemustbefreeneedtoescapeescape

Just as suddenly a flash of auburn-red hair stumbled through the open ripple into the shadows of the void, dressed in distinct Midgardian clothing that seemed like it belonged to a military. His body trembled with exhaustion as he turned around and with shaking hands, sealed the portal with a thin blue line before the whispers and cacophonous silence abruptly stopped.

Task done, the man slumped to the ground, clearly exhausted, as he hung his head and half-closed his eyes, seemingly gathering himself. Loki eyed the newcomer warily, magicks still tingling at his finger tips as he extended his senses. The magick that swirled around the man seemed artificial, but not in the sense that he had gotten from the man of iron, Tony Stark, but rather, it was borrowed. He could feel the fraying threads, the sinews that seemed abruptly cut and haphazardly welded together as if the man once had magick, but somehow had been abruptly severed. He could not feel further, running into an odd resistance and stiffened as the red-haired man opened his eyes and slowly looked up.

His features were aristocratic and angular and Loki could sense the lingering spellwork of an illusion that had once coated him, but had long dissipated. The magicks of a very powerful explosive spellwork lingered around his skin instead of just his fingertips and out of the corner of his eye, he saw several of the guards shift closer weapons drawn, bringing the man's gaze on them.

"Einherjar..." he breathed out quietly, looking around him, his icy blue eyes widening as if he was seeing everything for the first time.

"You obviously are not mortal, to have survived Asgard itself," Loki spoke up quietly, lowering his glaive, but kept it close and almost idle next to him as the man's eyes focused on him. He decided not to mention the man crossing the shadows of the void; the knowledge known only to a very select few.

"This...place..." the man breathed out quietly, looking away from him for a brief moment, staring at Odin's throne to which Jormungandr hissed rather angrily from where he nestled and puffed up, coiling tighter. "This..." the man turned back to look at him and Loki saw the clear relief in them, even though he had weapons pointed at him, "...I am finally...home..."

The man smiled almost deliriously as he looked around again, his hands pressing on the floor as if he could not believe the runes and etchings in them. Loki watched him carefully as some of the Courtiers who had not fled in the initial opening of the portal, slowly stepped forward, murmuring to each other at the newest unexpected visitor. There was something that he could not pinpoint about him, but nonetheless, he could feel the waning of magicks around the man as he looked around before finally turning on his knees to face him and bowed low, his head touching the stonework.

"I beg of you, milord, please tell me if Odin Borson rules as Allfather?"

"He does..." Loki answered and saw the bed of red-hair nod, shoulders slumping as if a weight had been taken off of him.

"Then all is right," he barely caught the muttered whisper before the man continued in a louder voice, "I wish to seek an audience with him for it has been a return long coming. Please tell him that his Sentinel-"

"-Sleipnir..." Odin's voice was but a whisper, yet Loki thought he heard it as loud and as clear as if he had shouted the name across the cavernous throne room. All heads turned to see the Allfather standing by the secondary entrance, Gungnir held tightly in his hands. "You live..."

Author's Notes:

And so it begins...