It was Loki's Day and Asgard had draped itself in greens and golds to celebrate their fallen prince, the tragic hero who gave his life to save the crown prince and protect the realms. Misunderstood and spurned in life, he was respected at last in death. All of Asgard mourned him, and ambassadors had arrived from all the realms (with the exception of Jotunheim, but who needs them?) to pay their respects. They laid gifts to his monument in the plaza of valor in the morning, praised him before the Allfather in the midday feast and would shed tears for him at the ceremony after nightfall. But for now, they gathered around the Allfather, trying their best to seem properly devastated as each vied to outdo the others in catching his ear.

Loki ignored them all, focusing on the play unfolding before him. He had written it himself, and if the actors were somewhat lacking, that couldn't be helped. It was a beautiful rendition of the Second War of Light, specifically the sacrifice of Prince Loki to save his well-meaning, if slow-witted brother Thor from the monstrous Kurse, unleashed by the villainous Malekith of Svartalfheim. It had become a favorite of the people since it premiered on the first Loki's Day celebration and always drew a large crowd. Loki hadn't dared to visit the performances openly the last two times, but this year, with the palace guard, he'd felt safe to make an appearance. If Heimdall wanted to ambush him, he'd have to get through the Executioner's handpicked men first.

"NOOO!" the straw-haired brute who was an unexpectedly adequate stand-in for Thor certainly knew how to be hammy. Loki leaned forward as "Thor" rushed to the fallen "Loki" (an all-too-generic interpretation of the brilliant screenplay) and mumbled foolish platitudes. "I shall tell father what you did here," "Thor" spoke with more emotion than the real Thor could ever muster.

"I didn't do it for him," Loki whispered. The audience gasped and 'aww'ed. There were screams, even. Loki managed a sad smile. That's what Odin would have done. Smiled at his death. But there was something in his eyes. He didn't even notice the big blonde in blue-gray armor and a red cape until he was standing right in front of him.

"Father!" Thor's familiar voice boomed above the crowd's muttering, "It is truly good to see you out and about. I'd never have thought it possible."

Loki composed himself quickly. This was an unexpected turn of events. Thor was not to return so soon, and on this day, of all days. "Yes," he managed to maintain Odin's wheezy growl, "I thought I owed him that much."

Thor followed his eyes to the statue of Loki behind the stage, beside the statue of Frigga. "Four years now," Thor's manner was somber as he turned back, "He died a hero." Then he stepped closer, with an odd twinkle in his eyes. "I am glad to see you've kept his memory alive, father. This is exactly what Loki would've wanted. Indeed," he locked those electric blue eyes straight into Loki's, "It's as if he's right here with me, his eyes alive with some new mischief."

Loki decided to move the conversation to a more comfortable location. He stood up and clapped his hands on Thor's broad shoulders. "It brings true joy to this old heart to see you again after so long, my son. Let us retire to the palace. There is much to discuss." With that, he turned with a swish of his robes and headed toward the palace.

"You were not forewarned of my arrival, then?" Thor quickly stepped to his side, "Where is Heimdall?"

"Heimdall... resigned."

"Resigned?"

"He... wanted a break. To travel. See the universe, as it were."

"There seem to be quite a few more guards about you these days, father. Should I be concerned?"

"It never hurts to be cautious. There are dark forces afoot, son. Enemies at all hands."

"Indeed," Thor stepped in front of him, blocking his path. They were halfway up the steps to the plaza of victory. The palace guard fanned out around them, ten Asgardians in gleaming black plate, their helms adorned with curved horns at the crest. The crowd had gathered at the bottom of the stairs to watch the two of them.

"End this game now, Loki," Thor's voice had grown grim and stern, like the calm before a storm, with a hint of Odin's growl.

"Loki? You are mistaken, Thor. I have changed, but I am still myself," Loki never averted his gaze.

"So be it."

Thor grasped him by the neck and turned him around, twirling and throwing his hammer out over the courtyard, all in one fluid motion. The crowd's heads snapped to follow the silver blur. Within seconds it was over two miles out. And then it stopped.

"Nothing can stop Mjolnir from returning to my hand, father. You would know that, of course; you were its first wielder. You can simply catch it, can't you?"

Loki struggled to get free, but he was no match for Thor's strength. His guards were worse than useless. Unsure what to do, they simply stood there, gawking as the hammer picked up speed, now little over a mile away. It would go clean through him, Loki knew, and even if Thor meant not to kill him, it would still hurt like hell. With each passing moment, his disguise grew weaker. The real Odin would simply have blown Thor away by now.

"ENOUGH!" Loki yelled, dropping the glamour. Thor released him as his form shimmered and twisted, his long black hair growing out, his body thinning and growing taller. He twisted aside just as the hammer blurred past his ears, ruffling his hair. Loki tripped and fell onto his knees.

The crowd gasped. The diplomats looked like they wanted nothing more than to melt away. Loki could not blame them. Looking up, he cast his brother the most scathing look he could muster.

"Hello, brother," Thor actually smirked, "You're looking much better than the last time I saw you."