-We found a body.
Odin stilled and turned around towards the guard.
-Loki, he whispered and the guard only nodded. He froze. Didn't know what to say, to think. Loki. The traitor. Escaped prisoner…. His son. First Frigga, his beloved wife, and now Loki. He didn't want to believe it. Loki didn't die the last time he assumed him dead, why should he be dead this time. After all it was the perfect escape. No one searched for a dead person. But deep down he knew he was in denial. He'd just lost his wife and now a few days later his youngest. If Loki was faking his dead, why should there be a body. He needed to see for himself.
He travelled alone. When the dry black sands of Svartalfheim settled after the Bifrost's impact he let his eye roam about. Rocks. Black sand. Darkness. Svartalfheim, the home of the dark elves. A truly godforsaken place. It was dead silent except for the sound of rocks rolling down the hills.
He walked on, no clear direction in mind, searching for any sign of a war sight, a struggle, a body.
After a few hours of hiking and walking, he finally saw the gigantic war ship. He was out of breath and tired. The fights and the last day had taken his toll, he needed to sleep and he knew that this time he might not wake up.
When he came close to the ship he saw the signs of the struggle. A dark elf lay on the ground with a knife embedded in his chest. The All-father pulled it out and looked at it. It was small, thin and very sharp. Carved with runes. It was one of Loki's. Thor must have given it to him, when he broke him out of jail.
He walked further. A bit afar from the dead elves he saw another body and as he came closer he inhaled sharply. It was Loki. His last hope for it to be only a trick was gone. As he walked closer he looked over the dead body. His face looked ashen grey with a hint of blue. It seemed sunken in and dried as if the dry sands had drained the water out of his body. The eyes were closed and he looked almost peaceful and innocent in his expression. All the hatred and anger was gone from his features. Odin fell on his knees beside the still form. There was a stain of red on his upper abdomen. A gruesome wound like done with a blunt, but pointed weapon. Loki lay on his back, his hands folded on his chest holding a dagger. A warrior's pose. Loki had died a hero so it seemed.
He knew Thor's anger towards his brother for his actions in New York and he knew that like him, Thor had given up on his brother. He wouldn't have positioned him like that if Loki had turned on him. Also if he'd betrayed him, Thor would have killed him himself, he knew his older sons aggressions. If so, Thor would have bashed in Loki's head with Mjolnir, not stabbed him. Odin felt a pang of guilt. For the first time he asked himself what he'd done wrong. Where did it all go wrong? The realisation way late. And he knew that. Too late.
He removed his golden cloak, carefully wrapped his younger son's body in it, and lifted him up. Cradling his youngest to his chest. It had been a long time since he'd done this. Despite his weakness and age he had no problem holding the slight frame. Looking at the dark sky he called for Heimdall and within seconds they were surrounded by the light and carried up towards Asgard. When he arrived at the Observatory there were already soldiers waiting and Heimdall stepped towards him, his eyes fixed on the golden cape and the body it protected. He didn't say anything, but only bowed his head. Not to Odin, but to Loki.
Odin suddenly felt very weak and had to hand Loki over to one of the guards. He knew he'd overexerted himself, but he needed to bury Loki before he fell into the Odinsleep.
That night he had his guards set up the funeral pyre on a boat, already too weak to do it himself. They dressed Loki in his best ceremonial wear. Emerald and gold. The helmet at his feet. His daggers in his hand. Around him his most treasured possessions were placed: his books, his magical artefacts.
Not many people came to the funeral. Thor was still on earth, but he couldn't wait for his return. Only the warriors three and the Lady Sif, who all looked somewhat guilty and kept together. Otherwise only the guards and some members of the council and the court attended. Even though he suspected many where actually there for the sake of it, because it was a duty and not because of Loki.
The boat was pushed out onto the water and quickly got caught in the current of the waterfall. Odin shot the burning arrow at the boat himself and the pyre lit up almost immediately. He quietly watched as the burning boat sailed towards the edge and then fell.
It seemed like an eternity that he stood there and looked at the edge until he turned around and left, not looking back. Hoping that the Valkyries would accept his wayward son to Valhalla, sparing him from Helheim or even the horrors of Niffleheim.
That evening he felt the tugs of the Odinsleep lulling him in and while he collapsed he instinctively knew he wouldn't wake up again. He didn't even realize anymore that someone caught his fall.
The man softly caught his fall and lay the sleeping All-father on the floor. He stood up and smiled, with a slight shimmer of green he turned into the man lying in front of him.