He was falling. Falling through space. How long had it been since he let go?
Let go of Gungnir? Of Thor? The Bifrost?
Everything?
Had it been Minutes? Hours? Days?
Did it even matter?
Feeling was lost when the sharp cold turned to nothing.
He felt nothing. Could see nothing. He was numb to it all. As the black abyss consumed him he continued to fall…
o.0.o
Was he awake?
Dreaming?
Breathing?
Was he imagining these thoughts?
Did Thor even catch him?
He could remember him being angry, but what for?
He didn't know.
What he did know was that Thor wasn't coming. Wasn't going to come and save him.
Or help him.
Prevent him from the endless fall.
He was alone. Remained alone.
No one was going to help. Why would they? A monster.
o.0.o
All he could remember was the fall.
The falling of technicolour fragments of the Bifrost. The falling of tears. The falling of himself. Neverending.
Memories burned. Pieces broke. Pieces were lost. Fragments of himself lay strewn amongst them.
No one was going to help.
Nobody could.
He felt nothing. He had lost. He was helpless.
He screamed.
'Help me' the words still burned on his psychic paper in black ink. The Doctor pocketed it again as he moved around to the controls of the TARDIS. He first noticed the message when he had been minding the vault, he was inclined not to follow up on it then, but then he thought the vault was always going to be there and if there was even the smallest chance it was his duty to do anything he could to find the sender and aid them.
The TARDIS materialized at the co-ordinates he entered beforehand. At first, he thought it was a false reading, there was no planet, no satellite or moon in sight just the emptiness of space. Then, as the monitor on his console showed what was below, he thought maybe he was too late.
A few meters below the TARDIS was a body- a person- clad in green and black. Long strips of fabric trailing behind, torn from the coat they were wearing. It was a mournful sight- falling backwards, drifting in space, likely unconscious- they looked young.
He considered turning back, but then he would have to face Nardole. He didn't like the prospect of explaining why he left his post without anything to show upon return. Plus, there was the message itself, he didn't receive psychic messages often and if this one was sent while the sender was in that condition it meant that they had a powerful mind and weren't dead.
Determined he accelerated and steered the TARDIS into a position behind the body. Then he twisted a dial to extend the air field to create an air passage and pulled the lever to open the doors. With the TARDIS parked and sights set, he jumped.
He travelled through the air passage using a swimming motion to reach the body. Up close he could confirm his earlier suspicions that they were young, along with the fact that they were male. Pale fair features including cheekbones and black hair just long enough to reach his neck bellow the ear, his youthfulness probably deceived his true age.
Carefully he wrapped his arms around the young man, the strips of fabric flowing slightly with the movement as The Doctor headed back to the TARDIS.
Back inside, he gently laid the young man on the floor and knelt down. Cautiously he rolled up the right green sleeve and felt the skin on the young man's wrist, looking for a pulse. The skin was cold to touch but as he waited he could feel a soft rhythmic thump.
"I don't know how you did it," The Doctor said getting up "but your alive. Stay there."
He went back to his console and turned on a switch to increase the warmth he then existed the room to get more supplies.
o.0.o
Before he could see he could hear; music, but unlike anything else he had listened to, the notes sounded metallic. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant.
He twitched his fingers. Gradually, he became aware that there was something on top of him and that he was lying on something hard, turning over onto his side, he opened his eyes.
"No need to be alarmed." The stranger who was sitting above him said in a calm voice, "I am The Doctor. It's incredible that you are awake so soon."
He didn't know why but some of the panic he felt left.
He tried to get up from the floor.
"Don't stand." This man who called himself The Doctor said quickly, "You were on the brink of death when I found you."
"I am an Asgardian. I have healing." He said but obeyed anyway. Choosing instead to sit against the column that was behind him.
"Asgardian? The Asgardian race is mythical."
He shrugged, "The world is full of liars. Those who write the volumes of history get things wrong. They deceive and betray."
The Doctor removed his instrument and placed it next to him against the banister, "I know a bit about history, so who are you?"
He looked down. The question was spoken so simply that he was taken-aback. What was he? He was certainly no writer… "I'm no one."
But there he was on the throne... "King."
"You presented dissonance just now." The Doctor pointed out, "Switching between extremes, both eyes- you're neither of what you say. However, your mind went straight to royalty. Prince?"
He looked up. "Loki."
"God of Mischief, yes?"
Another peculiar question, not so much what was said but by how. Almost as though there was a genuine interest. He slowly nodded.
"I'm sorry but I can't help you." The Doctor said just as hurriedly as he got up and walked past. "This moment or really the next moments are fixed, in time, in space, because of you," The Doctor pointed at him, "This is where you turn." He continued punching in co-ordinates. "I can't take you back to your home planet, shut up, but I can take you where you need to be. Get up."
Although different words were spoken, the ferocity in them was something he knew intimately. He complied as The Doctor came back over.
"Listen to me," The Doctor said grabbing his shoulders before he could react, "They are not going to like you. You have to be resilient. Think of a way out of it without them knowing about the plan. You can do it," The Doctor released him, "the fact that you sent a message to my psychic paper confirms you are not a pudding-brain, you have intelligence."
The vessel that he was in made a screeching sound and all at once the realisation of what had transpired crushed into him, "You heard my scream? You accept me?"
"I believe I also rescued you. Now off you go, respect is hard to find."