Asgard is burning. It's once golden fields of crops now glows orange and red with flames. The fire eats everything in its path, not knowing the difference between Asgardians and Dark Elves. The battle between the good and the evil has been all night. Warriors' bodies from both sides litter the ground, staining it red with blood. Asgard's forces are overwhelming Svartalfheim's. Thor is smashing Mjolnir into elves left and right doing his best to protect Jane, who is actually doing a fair job at protecting herself. She has been trained by Frigga (before her death) in battle strategies and knife throwing.

Loki is doing a fine job on his side, too. He uses his magic to blast the elves hundreds of feet in the air where he drops them and they land with a satisfying CRACK on the ground. He has never felt more thrilled in his life. Using his magic always sends waves of adrenaline through him and he is addicted to the feeling. Loki looks over at Thor, welding his hammer and memories flow through his mind. Memories of all the battles that he, Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three have fought. They would keep count of how many enemies they could slay and then the loser would have to ride a horse over the Rainbow Bridge backwards. It was a petty bet, but it was always fun to do.

Now Loki catches Thor's eye and the brothers grin at each other. Their relationship is ever so slowly healing. Loki has deep scars that will probably never be able to be healed, but they can at least try. Thor relishes every moment when Loki gives him a smile or looks at him without disgust in his eyes. It has been far too long since the brothers have been civilized with each other.

Thor later blames himself for not seeing Malekith appear behind Loki. Malekith unsheathes his dagger, its silver blade glinting in the early morning light. Then he drives it right through the middle of Loki's chest. Loki's grin vanishes from his face as he looks down at the dagger protruding from his chest. He frowns like a child who is not able to reach for something because they are so small. Loki's holographic image of himself, standing a couple of yards away, flickers as if it is a candle slowly burning out. After a couple of seconds, it disappears completely.

Thor falls to his knees. He feels as if time has stopped. "NOOO!" he bellows, even though he knows that that won't help anybody. He stares at a smirking Malekith as the Dark Elf pulls the dagger from Loki's chest and lets him slump to the ground. The elf wipes the blood from the sharp object on the leather part of his armor. This action reminds Thor of a hunter who has just slaughtered his first kill and does not want its blood on his new knife.

Rage runs through Thor's veins. He stands and raises Mjolnir high, pointing it to the sky. With all of his might, he calls on the clouds in the sky to form a storm of ear-shatteringly loud thunder and blinding lighting. This is the true God of Thunder. He floats into the air and glances down at Sif. They exchange a silent conversation.

"Asgardians!" Sif shouts. Her call travels over the fields as other Asgardians look to the sky and kneel onto the ground as a way of taking cover.

Suddenly, the world is bathed in a white light, like a star exploding. The sounds of battle are forgotten and muffled silence fills its place. Time slows. The people on Asgard hold their breath, waiting for the light to clear and for sound to come back to the world. When the light dims down to normal and the silence is filled with the wounded's cries and the warriors' panting, the plains look as if a tornado has rolled over them and maybe one has. The Dark Elves are injured or dead. Their advanced weaponry lay on the ground all around them.

Thor doesn't pay attention to any of those details, though, because he only has eyes for Loki. Loki who has his head turned toward Thor, his arm raised. A bright blue glow emanates from Loki's hand. Magic. Thor jumps out of the ways just in time as Loki's magic surges out of his hand like a torrent of icy blue water. Thor lifts his head to see Malekith fall to the ground, glowing blue, and his eyes staring blankly at the smoke filled sky. The Dark Elf must have come behind Thor when he was summoning the storm. Loki collapses on the ground, exhausted.

Thor runs to his brother, falling to his knees next to him. He gently rolls Loki onto his lap "Loki," Thor chokes. "Speak to me, brother."

"Thor I cannot believe you did not sense Malekith behind you," Loki chides.

Thor laughs shakily. "And I cannot believe that you are not concerned about your own welfare."

Loki looks down at the ugly wound in his chest that blood steadily flows from, soaking Thor's hands. He sighs as if this is a huge inconvenience to him. Thor shifts his hands under Loki's back to get a better grip. Then he lifts Loki a couple of inches off of the ground. Loki can't help but let out a groan of pain and Thor immediately puts him down.

"Loki, moving you will hurt, but we must get you home," Thor says, shifting his hands again.

"Thor," Loki says. Thor keeps trying to find a more comfortable position for Loki. "Thor," Loki says, firmly. Thor looks Loki in the eyes. "Thor, don't. You can't do anything. It's hopeless."

"No. No it's not. Do not speak like that." Thor's eyes fill with tears. "I will get you home. You will live to see another day." But Loki just keeps shaking his head. NononoNO. Every breath Loki takes is a challenge. He shakes as his chest raises and falls. It's so, so hard to breath, just make it stop pleasepleaseplease.

"Brother….do you forgive me?" Loki asks his voice barely above a whisper.

Thor lets his tears fall like raindrops onto Loki face. He thought he would never hear the word 'brother' spoken from Loki's lips ever again. He could barely even remember the last time Loki said it without spitting the word, without it being bittersweet. "Oh Loki. I have forgiven you since the beginning of all this."

Loki sighs and relaxes. Something inside of him has waited to hear those words since he fell through the Void. "Are you proud of me?" Thor does not understand what this means at first, but realizes that Loki's question is meant for their father, Odin, and not him.

Thor has been holding onto Loki's hand this whole time. Slowly, Loki's grip is slackening.

"Are you proud of me?" he repeats and Thor understands now what Loki means. Are you proud of me? It was the question that had been eating away at Loki since the time when he first let the Jotuns into Asgard. Are you proud of me? It was the question that Loki had hoped that Odin would answer when he hung by Gungnir on the edge of the Rainbow Bridge. "No Loki," Odin had said. It drove Loki over the edge. Are you proud of me? The thought ran through Loki's head as he stood on Stark Tower in New York on Earth as he watched the Chitauri come down through the portal in the sky. Are you proud of me? Loki had screamed as he banged on the glass of his prison cell in the dungeons of Asgard when nobody was around. Are you proud of me?

Loki is crying now, silently, and blood drips from the corner of his mouth. He is slipping away, agonizingly slow. "I can see her," he says suddenly. "I can see Mother."

"Where, Loki, where?" But Thor knows the answer that he will receive.

Loki moves his finger a centimeter. "There." There is nobody there. Loki's eyes are wide. He stares at his brother; not knowing what will come if he closes his eyes. "Are you proud of me?" he whispers again.

There is another figure that has appeared on the other side of Loki: Odin. His armor is damaged and he has some bloody cuts, but he is faring well. He grips Loki's other hand. "Yes, my son. I could never be more proud."

Loki is too far gone to hear these words. The words he has been waiting for his entire life. His eyes stare unblinking at the sky. His chest moves no more. The youngest prince of Asgard has fallen.