Chapter Two

He had forgotten what it felt like to stand.

Dark magic worked its way up from his legs, sealing shut open wounds and driving out infections. It arduously reorganized organs and poured color back into his pale skin. It removed the fog from his sight and he had to lift a hand to shelter his eyes from the assault of light. As his vision adjusted he watched the bruises on his skin begin to fade, harsh purple leaking into yellow before disappearing entirely, leaving the area to look as though untouched. Cuts and sores vanished as if they had never existed at all, and soon, for the first time in thousands of years, Loki could feel no pain.

"It will not last." Thanos' shadow descended upon him like a monstrous beast and he bent beneath it as though it weighed the mountains. The shaking returned to his form and bile crept up his throat with bitter fingers, threatening to spill from his lips if he dared part them. Memories of wounds haunted his mind and brought phantom pain to injuries that had been healed by the Mad Titan's magic, even though his skin was now unmarked.

Thanos stepped before him, gliding across the terrain with strides as long as oceans in Loki's eyes. He motioned for the prince to come along and, motivated by pure fear, Loki followed. He walked with all the grace of a newborn foal. The regenerated muscles strained to recall the routine of simply placing one foot in front of the other as he clumsily advanced across the cold rocks, numb to his body that held no pain. Deep inside him his magic began to thrum, growing like a light in the distance coming near. It was like a memory, a piece of him he had believed gone forever.

"You will be shielded from any eyes as soon as you enter. Do not tarry and do not disappoint me." With a flick of Thanos' wrist the very fabric of space and time tore, leaving a portal gaping in the cold air. " You are the only one capable of slipping past Asgard's gatekeeper completely unnoticed. Retrieve the gauntlet, and you will be set free from your miserable existence in this realm between realms." The Mad Titan spoke, dark magic seeping from every pore in his body to maintain the portal. "I trust you will not repeat your past results" He pulled his lips back across his teeth in a macabre smile, waving a hand towards the opening and faking a humble bow.

"After you, prince."

Over time, every living thing that surrounded Loki's grave began to die, and even Frigga's nurturing touch could not restore the life there. Flowers wilted and the grass turned to dirt as if the very ground were cursed. A tree that stood as an ancient sentinel above the tombstone was drained of its vigor until it stood as a skeleton of what it once was; one that a single gust could topple. Its bark turned rotten and changed into a sickly black color, or as rumors went, the color of Loki's heart. A single, white flower that had been placed upon the grave only hours ago was already bent and dried, petals fallen from a shriveled stem to litter the lifeless ground.

Strangers conjectured that even in death the sorcerer continued to swallow life.

Frigga was the most frequent visitor to the spot. Upon every journey she would bring along a flawless white flower to leave for Loki, claiming that it was to represent the true color of her son's heart. Thor would come when time allowed, but his visits were few and far in between. Whenever he was permitted to the grave he would stand before it with his hands awkwardly clasped, unsure of how to behave in the presence of a dead sibling. He'd speak of recent adventures and share any news regarding Asgard's welfare, but the talking took little time and for the remainder of the visit he was left with little else to do but despairingly stare at the name carved into the tombstone.

It was a cloudy afternoon in mid-summer when Thor and Frigga came to the grave together. They approached with their arms interlocked and their steps slow, neither of them speaking as they walked. Thor carried Mjolnir and Frigga gently clutched a white flower still beaded with dew. Both of them were dressed in their formal attire, having come directly from their day's business. Frigga's honey colored hair was twisted up into a bun and secured by an emerald pin that was enchanted to glint even without the sunlight; a gift given to her by Loki long ago. Thor wore his traditional armor, freshly polished that morning but still smelling of battle (a musty odor). Together they visited to reminisce and grieve.

Once they stopped in front of the grave Frigga gently rested her flower upon the dry earth, whispering a blessing to restore the life. Her fingers traced healing magic into the dirt and her words caused the white flower to become even more vibrant, but the earth remained dead and the tree that stood over them was still black as pitch. Sap leaked from its trunk dark, viscous, and smelling of rot. Frigga ended her blessing and she straightened her knees, wise eyes focused upon the grave with sadness that only a mother could possess.

"A dark power is causing this, a grudge against my boy that is killing the life here." Her voice was thick with grief, tears shining from those weary eyes as she spoke. "It seems that even in death he cannot rest."

"Whoever has placed this curse shall pay." Thor assured, wrapping his arms around Frigga's small frame.

"My dear Thor, every day I visit this grave and every day whoever did this is no closer to consequence. This is a magic I cannot name and a culprit that cannot be found." She hastily wiped the unshed tears from her eyes and placed a small hand on her son's. They remained in silence for a few minutes longer before Frigga withdrew from Thor, leaving him to contemplate the grave and her words.

He remained there until nightfall, a frozen keeper of Loki's grave. When the chill of night drove him into the warm arms of the castle, he carried the sadness of a lost sibling back along with him, a grief that, to even the god of thunder, felt greater than Atlas' burden.

An out-of-body experience. Yes, he'd heard that term before. On Midgard ages ago. The soul leaves. The body stays. It was not as enlightening as mortals made it sound, and in the back of his mind Thanos loomed, keeping him grounded through a fear that chilled him to the bone. He opened his eyes to see starlight filtering through the skeletal branches above him, gently brushing against one another. Wind, gentle and warm, breathed over him. The taste of the air was sweet, familiar. It didn't taste of the decay he had grown so accustomed to.

Asgard.

He curled his fingers into the earth, stomach churning at the thought of the home he could never truly call his. His eyes roamed slowly, taking in the sky he grew up beneath and the lifeless tree that stood above him. A stone protruded from between its great roots, words etched gracefully into its hard exterior.

Loki lay upon his own grave.

AN: It's been a long while, hasn't it? Well, with some motivation from the new Thor movie and quitting my job at Panera Bread, time and my muse came back to me. Thanks for waiting everyone. Drop a review if you feel so inclined. They make me all warm and fuzzy inside.