Her crumpled body lies in his arms as he cradles her unconscious form. Pleading, he sobs over her weakening body. He can hear her heart beat slowing, slowing to an eventual stop as each fragile organ fails. There is nothing he can do. His magic is bound and he is lost. So he pleads; pleads to Odin or Thor or any god that will hear his cry to please save her. He would do anything. He would rot in hell for eternity just to earn her a few more years in her fleeting mortal life. But there is no response; no sympathy for the God of Mischief or the one he holds dear. In this damp, dark alley he embraces her dying body. He finds it sadistically ironic that her heart continues to pump in an attempt to keep her body alive, yet it only pumps more blood out of her grievous wounds, killing her faster. Loose, dark curls now matted from her own blood fall across his slender arms. A sense of hopelessness washes over him like a tidal wave for he cannot save her. And he sobs. His whole body shakes as he feels her heart flutter one last time in a feeble attempt to keep her broken body alive. He presses every fiber of his body to will his own life force into hers. She didn't deserve this. She merely got in the way. It was all his fault. He watches her life force fade. Her once bubbly personality is gone. Her uncanny ability to render any man speechless is forever lost. She had captivated him and held his heart in her palm. Now, her precious soul is gone forever out of his reach. She will never brighten another day. He loved her. He always will. Tears stream across his face onto hers, leaving sparkling trails where they fall. He sits there with her for hours rocking her now cold body in his arms. The pool of blood around him has congealed and filled the air with a coppery stench. His complete and utter sorrow begins to fade as he grows numb. A new kind of resentment fills the hole her death has left in his heart, and a wall of ice surrounds his soul. Fury that they let her die envelopes his being. They will pay. No, this new wall of ice will prevent him from loss, from ever having to feel again. So he rises. He strokes her disheveled hair one last time and kisses her forehead. Brushing off his once green shirt, he walks away into the night. Never again will he love, and never again will he forgive. They will pay.