Swan Song

A farewell. A goodbye. She let go of him before her time. But even after she was gone, he was left alone to just hang on.

I apologize ahead of time for how much it truly sucks.

"Loki! Loki!"

Asta. Her voice was a melodious song, a delicate and poetic composition of the softest notes known to any man, Asgardian or not, and he missed its soothing tone. He missed her. But for all the might he had in his body, for all the magic he'd use to cast another of his great illusions, he could never replicate what had once been before him, a masterpiece of beauty and splendor and light that had fallen into a deep sleep she'd never wake from. He'd tried countless times and failed them all, and each time he'd cast a new illusion, he found it farther and farther away from his intended design. All hope he'd had to have her back for even just a second was fading into oblivion. And it troubled him to no end to know that someone like her had such an affect on someone like him, someone who was supposed to be above all, a primordial being who'd existed for millennia upon millennia. And yet she'd left him feeling hopeless, drained, and empty. She'd left him, a god, feeling like a human.

And if he thought himself unloved before, he definitely felt it now that she was gone. A true hole in his chest. A pocket of ice so cold even he, Laufey's son, was unable to grow accustomed to it. The entirety of this situation, quite frankly, bothered him in ways nothing else had bothered him before. It made him hurt in places he didn't know he of all people could hurt in. But looking back on all the times she'd been there for him when no one else was, all the times she'd picked him over Thor, all the times she'd risked her life to save his, he couldn't stop his broken heart from aching. Somehow, as unnatural as it felt, it also felt... right. Like he needed to feel this pain. Perhaps it was part of the grieving process? Which brought Loki's attention to something even more sinister than the emptiness inside of him.

He was mourning. He actually cared for the girl, the girl with bright eyes and a voice given to her by the gods, the girl who'd cared for him when it seemed no one else did, and, as fate would have it, she was sent to Valhalla, the resting place for warriors, where he could never be with her. Of course, one day he'd see her again, because some day he too would fall into an eternal slumber, but that day was not this day. He could only look forward to when that moment came. Be it in a bloody battle to the death or a simple slip up in words with his own silver tongue that led his enemies to him, eventually, he'd hear her voice and be lucky enough to stand in her presence once more.

"Loki, promise me that we'll always be friends! No matter what happens! You have to keep your promise too, and don't let Thor or anyone else take you away from me, alright?"

"Alright, I promise that we'll always be friends."

"Good! Now, let's go out into the field! You promised to show me the magic your mother taught you!"

Loki tensed. For a moment he considered what had led him astray. Maybe it wasn't just being Laufey's son that had bestowed this life of treachery and ill will upon him. Maybe it was her who led him down this path of evil and wrongdoing, and he presently wondered if had he not met her, would things be different? Would all the bad he'd done cease to exist? Was there another timeline where he was the good guy because she wasn't there? His thoughts were quick to disperse. No. She'd tried to better him, to warm his freezing heart, and even though she'd kept it thawed enough for him to love her, she never could get him to open up enough to let his own adopted family in. It was just life. It was just him. His trust didn't reach all that far to begin with, and in the end, he still shut everyone out.

Now he knew why.

The people he actually got close to seemed to hurt the most. He remembered a young boy named Abok whom he befriended when he was still a child, and he remembered the day he stepped outside to play with Abok and a spear meant for his own breast shot clean through Abok's chest. That had been Asta's brother.. and he remembered staring at Abok in horror. He thought Asta would blame him, turn and run to Thor and Sif and the other children training to be warriors, but she didn't. Instead, she took his tiny hands in her own and squeezed them reassuringly before her own brother's funeral. "Sometimes, things happen, and we don't know why," he remembered her saying. "But this isn't your fault, Loki.. You didn't know. You couldn't've known. Just... Just promise you'll stay... for me." He still couldn't believe it. He couldn't understand her forgiving nature. Had the roles been reversed, he was sure he'd curse her name just as much as he cursed Thor's and Odin's.

Loki stopped walking and closed his eyes. He didn't even remember walking this way... or walking at all to be quite honest. Last time he'd actually bothered to pay attention to his surroundings, he'd still been locked away in his room listening to idle chatter from the guards outside. How he got passed them without being interrogated he'd never know. It was all... it was all such a blur.

"You know, for someone who claims to be such a keen observer of character, Loki, I'd like for you to tell me what you see when you first gaze upon me."

Loki took a moment to think. He tilted his head back and then grinned wryly at Asta. "I think you to be silly, unusual and strange, and rather... rather charming."

"You think me charming, Loki?"

"I do," he replied as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

She smiled as her own face flushed bright red. "I think you to be charming as well."

He took a deep breath. An inhale. An exhale. But he wasn't quite sure what he was trying to accomplish. 'Breathing properly,' as his private tutors had said, never really helped him calm down. When he was upset or stressed, there'd been one person, only one, who could settle his nerves. And now she was gone, and once again he was to blame. This time he knew it to be true because she'd been wound up in the middle of one his schemes to take Asgard as his own kingdom. She didn't know it, but he most certainly did. When it went sideways and the trolls that had slipped through Asgard's defenses captured her, it was over in an instant. Heimdall had tried to save her. But his eyes saw her far too late. Thor tried to reach her, but he could only reach out so far. Even the All-Father could not save her.

A hand was placed atop Asta's head, another beneath her chin. The trolls smiled. The one doing the majority of the work stared into Loki's eyes and then...

"You know, I don't expect to live long, not like most Asgardians, anyways. I quite expect myself to fall into a slumber long before my due time," Asta said. She knelt down and picked up a flower, and then she turned and placed it on Loki's breast. They weren't children anymore. No, quite the opposite. They were all grown up, big and strong, handsome and beautiful, and ready to begin life as more than pretend soldiers for the garrison.

"Pray tell, why would you think such a thing?" Loki asked as he took another step towards her with all the grace and elegance of a snake.

She smiled sadly and let her hand linger on his chest plate. "Because, Loki, I've done one of the most awful things any of us could possibly think to do."

He quirked a curious brow at her. What could be so awful she deserved to die?

"I fell in love..."

Loki's face dropped and his skin turned white. Well, whiter than it already was. "Wh-"

"I fell in love with you, Loki."

For the longest time, Loki stood before Asta with his mouth hanging open. He felt incredibly stupid, but could no longer find it in himself to change his outward appearance, not after a confession such as that one. His heart was pounding."I, Asta..."

"It's quite alright if you don't fee-"

But he shushed her in a way that shocked him to his core, and no doubt knocked her off kilter as well. He found what he'd been looking for in life. And her soft lips against his own only reinforced what he already knew. No verbal response was needed. His actions were more than enough. For him and for her.

Asta dropped to her knees. Her eyes had lost their color. Her neck was swollen and red, and in some areas, it popped out in unnatural ways. Loki raced towards her, cried her name, allowed everyone to see his pain and his anger in that instance because he'd lost what little he cared about, and he quickly wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling to the ground. Her body was limp against his. He smiled sadly and the tears began to show. He knew he was going to cry and he didn't try to stop it, not even in front of his brother or Odin or Sif or Heimdall, because he just couldn't find it in himself to care anymore. She'd been all he wanted in life. She'd been what balanced him out and now that she was gone, well, Loki had no true sanity left. Only crazy thoughts and ideas, only evil schemes and dark plans.

The troll who'd killed Asta took a step forward.

Bad move.

Thor himself didn't have time to react as Loki lifted Asta's fallen spear into his hand and shoved it through the beast's eye. It let out a wail of pain as it stumbled back and grasped at the bloody socket, but it wouldn't be in pain too much longer. Loki wrenched the spear from the beast's head and then shoved it through the troll's heart. "On this day, I died," he said bitterly. "I want you to feel the same pain that has befallen me, foul beast."

Whatever happened next was a blur. Loki was too lost in the feeling of Asta's cool skin to really remember what took place that day outside of his grief. He remembered cupping the back of her head in his hand and resting her head on his chest, and he remembered burying his face in her matted hair. She didn't speak to him as she once did, nor did she comfort him like he wished she would. Instead, she remained still in his arms, a reminder that her loss was permanent and in no way could she be saved, not this time.

Tears streamed down Loki's cheeks. He didn't cry. Ever. But this time, he'd make an exception. "Asta," he breathed as he gripped her tighter in his arms. He rocked slightly, a subconscious reaction to the situation to keep himself from totally breaking down. "Asta, please.."

But she did not respond.

And he pressed her corpse no longer.

That had been only two days prior. Her funeral had been just hours ago and it'd left Loki so numb, so mindless, that he didn't even remember if his own mother had comforted him.

"In case I don't ever get the chance to tell you goodbye, Loki, I want you to know that I care for you a great deal. I truly love you," Asta breathed. She gently kissed his cheek, and then pressed her lips to his.

"I know you care for me, and I for you. But I do not expect to lose you, so why do you expect to lose yourself?"

"Because life can do many a thing, Loki, and of those things, there are far too many terrors to truly be counted. If I'm to die and I can't say it, Loki, just feel it..." She pressed her hand over his beating heart. "Feel it here..."

Loki shook his head dismissively and wrapped his fingers around her hand. "Asta, I don't expect to lose you. Ever. But should something happen and I am unable to save you, do one thing for me, for if there is one thing I want to remember you by, it's your voice..."

Asta smiled. "Anything for you, Loki."

"Sing to me."

And she did. It'd been soft and sweet, the same melodious song, and delicate and poetic composition of notes that he'd heard countless times before, but never grew tired of.

"I knew a man, he was long and tall
He moved his body like a cannon ball, oh
Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well

Remember one night in the drizzling rain
Around my heart, I felt an aching pain
Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well

One of these days, it won't be long
You'll call my name, and I'll be gone
Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well..."

"Fare thee well," he said quietly as he opened his darkened eyes. "To Asta... and to myself."