HELLO READERS! WE ARE ONLY 1 MONTH AWAY FROM THOR 2! Readers thank you so much for your support with this story. The reviews, favorites and follows from the last chapter were greatly appreciated. Knowing that you all enjoy what you read always making writing this story even more fun. I have truly put a lot of effort into this chapter and I hope it is one you will enjoy. It is super long. I tried to trim it down, but I felt the details were necessary to make the chapter as emotional as possible. Thank you so much for all your reads once again. God Bless and happy reads and writes!

Dagmar's silver eyes were wide with horror as she took in Sigyn's statement. Extraction. The word echoed in her mind like the resounding ringing of a bell from a tower that could be heard for miles. For a moment she sucked in her breath so sharply that she forgot to release it. She gasped for air until she choked. Her eyes bulged as she came back to reality. Her heart thumped inside her chest. Lady Dagmar felt her left hand stray to gently brush over her pomegranate lips and then allowed it to slide down over her heart while her right hand fumbled trying to find the wall as she took a step back. "So it has been decided?' she qualified her voice was shaky as she forced her eyes to look back at Sigyn.

Sigyn kept her amber eyes staring down at the floor. She nodded unable to really speak. It all seemed so horrific and unspeakable. "I cannot believe..." the young enchantress started to whisper. "The all-father is certain this is the course of action he wants to take?" the silver eyed maiden pressed straining to gaze into Sigyn's golden eyes. Lady Sigyn avoided Dagmar's gaze. It had always been too painful for her. Even during the days of her and Prince Loki's courtship she couldn't look Dagmar in the eye. She was afraid to. She was afraid that when she'd look into her captivating silver cloud eyes that she'd see the reason Loki preferred the Vanir noblewoman to herself and she never wanted to see that.

Lady Sigyn shrugged keeping her head bowed. "Prince Thor announced it to the council," Sigyn stated simply but sorrowfully.

"Prince Thor!" Dagmar shook her head refuting the words. "He...he...he has decided to subject his brother to this?' Dagmar's silvery voice sounded baffled. "To...to...to this torture?" She demanded shaking her head feeling the tears well up behind her already misty eyes. "Does he know that it is irreversible? Does he know that if the extraction runs all the way through Loki would never be able to wield magic again?" the questions were frantic, but they were hardly posed at Sigyn. Dagmar knew good and well that Sigyn didn't know the answers to her questions she was simply a palace page being sent to relay a message. The blonde-haired handmaiden merely stood as a sounding board for Lady Dagmar's earnest inquiries. Sigyn listened to the dark-haired noblewoman's questions with horror wiping over her face. She knew little about magic and knew even less about extraction. She knew that it must be something dreadful because Prince Thor seemed so hesitate before he spoke his decision.

"Could he die?" Sigyn brought herself to ask as she watched the healer pace around her own quarters and tucking her silky sleep robe tighter over her body.

The silver-eyed daughter of the prime minister leaned over on the small night stand and looked into the mirror, she could see Sigyn's already wide-set amber eyes bugging out with fear now that the question hung in the air. She could see Sigyn's eyes so clear and vivid. The woman's eyes didn't hide any secrets. Dagmar could see the love that she housed for Loki swirling around in those deep honey pools. The love was so pure and strong even after Loki had accused her of infidelity, did the love Sigyn have for Loki rival her own? Dagmar blinked, the water that longed to flow from her eyes got caught on her midnight eyelashes, she bit her plump red lips and looked away from the reflection in the mirror, "Yes," the porcelain skinned healer confessed, a single tear running down her ivory cheek. "Yes...he...c-could." Dagmar quickly wiped the tear from dribbling down her milky chin. She turned and looked at Sigyn. The queen's handmaiden's amber eyes trembled. She was warm skin tone, but Dagmar watched color drain from her face as the realization dawned on her.

"Wh-wh-what?" Lady Sigyn stuttered looking back at the raven locked noble woman as if she had seen a ghost. "And you will go through with it?" Sigyn asked her. The platinum blonde woman's voice was soft and scared, but the question had a ferocity behind it. The young healer started to turn away and leave the room, but Lady Sigyn reached out and grabbed Dagmar's dainty alabaster wrist. "And you will go through with it?" she pressed her eyes earnest.

"I...I..." Dagmar stammered. " You don't know what you ask!" the young healer nearly shouted. She was not the type of woman to normally raise her voice and the sharpness of her tone surprised even her. It startled the sunny-haired queen's attendant who stood beside her clasping her hand. Sigyn fidgeted ever so slightly under the scolding tone. Dagmar regretted her tone. She was on edge and overwrought, conflicted in every way imaginable. "You know not what you say," she repeated calmer, quieter. "They will extract from Loki with or without me," she turned her head at a sharp angle causing her long black mane to fly in her face. "Eir believes if I participate...Loki will have a better chance of survival," she expressed breathlessly. "I must go to the healing chamber," Dagmar stated quickly pulling her trembling alabaster skinned hand free from Sigyn's sun-kissed fingertips. Sigyn fumbled. Her hand still trying to clasp Dagmar to come to some form of understanding about the process, but Lady Dagmar shook her hands free as if she had something icky on them that she was trying to loosen. With that Dagmar swung around her arm pulling from Sigyn's firm pleading grasp as she rushed to the halls of healing.


"The extraction will take precisely at dawn," Mistress Eir stated as she walked in front of the team of a dozen healers, the most gifted and learned of medicine men, herbalist and physicians she had ever trained. All their skills, talents and specialties would be needed to successfully pull off this rare and dangerous procedure. Mistress Eir had her misgivings about the surgery, that was for certain, but she dare not express them aloud.

She had been a Master Healer in Asgard since the days of her youth, far to many eons back to count now, but even with all her centuries of experience, even with all her eons of study and her inexhaustible knowledge medicine and the healing arts even she counted herself as a learner when it came to such ancient and perilous practices as extraction. She had witnessed only three extractions in her life time; 2 she had beheld an assisted in as an apprentice and the final one she had as a Master Healer.

Her own master had tried to prepare her. He'd given her volumes of books to read about the process, but even upon knowing the gory details with her head nothing could have truly prepared her for what she encountered that first time. She'd never forget the heinous cry for mercy that erupted the old troll kings throat. She knew how awful the troll king was. For centuries he had pillaged and plundered the realms. His magic was powerful and none could catch him, but he did not scour the realms for loot, no he looked for labor to build his vast kingdom. He'd enchanted and enslaved millions of mortals along with elflings and even Aesir children. Still, for all the evil he had caused young Eir felt pity on him; for never had she wanted to see anyone suffer so. The troll king became an invalid. Without his mystic powers his body was weakened to a point of uselessness, he lived for only a month or so if she could recall correctly after the dreadful surgery.

The second time it had been performed on a Dwarf General. A Dwarf who had unthinkable powers. His evil arts had enabled him to bring back fallen soldiers on the battlefield. With this power it seemed as the the dwarfs would crush the forces of Alfheim and their knees. The Elves had lost serious ground in Alfheim and were forced to come to Asgard for assistance. Even with the Aesir forces aiding the elves it was concluded that there would be no stopping the dwarf armies as long as their general had such capabilities. It was decided that he had to be extracted even to have a chance of killing him. Odin dispatched the Valkyries. With their unbreakable lassoes they were able to catch the general. Eir accompanied her master to the remote Valkyrie prison camp where a team of healers took the general powers. The general of the dwarfs ended up being paralyzed from the waist down. When his armies had heard of his defeat and how he been stripped of all his arts their magic infused weapons crumbled and turned to ash in their hands, the war was ended. The short military leader, bereft of his power or even the strength to stand, went mad and after only spending a few months in the confines of the Asgardian prison took his own life unwilling to live in such a powerless state.

The third time, that time always stood out in Mistress Eir's mind. Perhaps it was because it had been the only time she had led a group of healers and mages in the dreadful procedure, or maybe it had been because it had been an extraction against one of her own people, it was because it was performed on someone she knew maybe it was because it had been so unsuccessful whatever the case that third time was embedded in the elderly healer's brain for the rest of her days. The extraction had been on. Amora was the eldest child of one of King Borg's most trusted councilmen. She was a beautiful Aesir woman; tall, long blonde hair and mysterious dark eyes, she was a prize within the court. She was an apprentice to Mistress Sigrid, one of Eir's closest friends. Amora was a favored female companion of a very young Odin. It was thought that he would choose her for his bride. They were close, often riding companions and fierce competitors in the magical sparring arenas. It came as a surprise to all when a rich noblewoman from the countryside who had only been in court a few years won the heart of the king. It drove Amora mad. Even after Odin made her a member of council, Lady Amora still had not been satisfied and would not be until she dethroned Frigga and took her place as Odin's bride. She had figured she could make Odin put Frigga away if it was proven that his new bride could not conceive a child. Amora remained a close friend of the royal family, winning the queens confidence enable her to work incantations that led to the young queen having several miscarriages. After nearly a decade of infertility Mistress Eir was finally summoned to the palace about the queens condition. It was then that she found remnants of enchantment in Frigga's system. She recognized the strange and foreign matter in the queens blood stream, like Amora's enchanted finger prints. Upon finding out the news the council pressed for Amora's death. The young king hesitated. Amora had been a trusted friend and adviser and Odin didn't want her dead. He chose extraction as her form of punishment. Mistress Eir was tentative about the procedure. Even though she was a woman with gray hairs, she had never performed an extraction without the aid and instruction of her own mentor, but he had long since passed to Valhalla. She asked Sigrid to help her do it, she knew that extraction was a risky surgery to undergo. She had read and studied that it was best if the process was done by someone who knew the individual's mystic signature. It was the safest way, but even then it was far from nonhazardous. Mistress Sigrid had not wanted to be part of it. She couldn't bear to see such a gifted pupil robbed of all her power. The choice was a costly one though. The shields were broken down too forcefully too quickly, it was like an assault, a battering, a rape. Amora did not survive. She was dead before the extraction was over. That is why she had been so adamant that Dagmar take part in the extraction. Perhaps the young enchantress could maneuver her way through Loki's shields without killing him.

"The extraction is a strenuous procedure on all involved," she lectured as if she was general giving instructions to her troops just before the heat of battle. She paced in front of them marching back and forth, her healing stick tapping the pristine alabaster floors of the healing halls as she did so. Mistress Eir talked on as she began to pull a few small talismans from a silky bag she pulled off one of the shelves. Her white brows creased as she looked into the bag. "You will need to guard yourselves," she explained as her wrinkled brown hands dipped ever slowly into the pouch. She then pulled out several gold chains, attached to the end of each chain was a large crystal. Glittering with white luster like a diamond, but they were no mere precious stones to decorate the earth they were healing crystals. There were only a few healing crystals that remained, Eir kept most of them hidden within the medicine room of the hallowed halls of healing. She gingerly placed each of the talisman's around the neck of each one of her carefully chosen healers. "Ah, Lady Dagmar, here is yours" the wizened elder stated as she disconnected one chain from the others.

"Each of your crystals has been saturated in the extraction formula, so they will aid you in the removal process, they will keep the extraction from having adverse effects on you and depleting your own energies. " Eir's voice explained after she finished passing out the powerful gems. "The extraction cannot exceed one hour," she went on. "At that point it becomes too much of a risk," the white-haired elder of the court of Odin explained. She shook her head then dropped it. "It will become a risk for yourselves," she qualified, "if the magic has not been successfully extracted by that time frame then there is a chance of bounding...that your own magical energies could become intertwined with Loki's. Loki's power is strong," Eir said in a warning tone. "If he can bond with you than you will go into sharing which means he will extract from you and the crystals will not be able to help you," Eir admitted shaking her head "This is especially dangerous for you, Lady Dagmar," Mistress Eir turned to the dark-haired Vanir girl and the other healers in the room followed the blue-eyed woman's stare. "Just as you know Loki's magic, Loki knows yours, it will be easy for him to bond with you. "Have you ever bonded before?" the old healer asked her question was very serious she trained her seasoned blue eyes stare into Dagmar's twinkling pupils that up until this point had looked down at the floor, counting the swirling patterns in the marble. "Lady Dagmar," The crackled voice of the elderly master healer called the Vanir noblewoman from her trance. The other healers around stared at the youngest among them. Dagmar simply blinked batting back the tears forming in her misty eyes. "Have you and Prince Loki ever bonded before?" Mistress Eir asked with an exasperated sigh as she leaned heavily on her cane made from the white bark of the tree on which Idunn's apples grew.

"I..." the pomegranate lipped daughter of the Prime Minister began. She lost her words as her train of thought drifted:

His cool lips trembled ever so slightly as they skimmed the alabaster flesh from her navel to the dent in her collar bone, the whole time he'd been helplessly muttering how much he loved her. She swooned telling him the same as she found the sensitive pleasure points on his skin. She ran feverish fingers through his thick black locks while another hand traced warm patterns over his spine making him shiver. She kissed him lustily before allowing both hands to fall down by his waist where she playfully tugged and pulled on the waistband of his trousers. In the blink of an eye they were removed, she knew not whether she'd completely slipped them off of him or if he'd quickly used his powers to aide in the process, she couldn't be quite sure her head was buzzing and swimming as if she'd had a long night of dancing where she had enjoyed one too many glasses of champagne. Now only their thin layers of undergarments lied between them. They were both breathless and panting. She could feel his crisp breath on her cheek, making her alabaster cheeks blush. His tearful jade eyes looked at her longingly and it was more than just a lust for her body it was a deep yearning in his eyes, a desire to feel a oneness. She pressed her head back and felt her body rise up against his as he sucked on her neck. His fingers interlaced with hers. His cold hands were slick with perspiration as their fingers locked. He was nervous; it was adorable. She pecked at his sharp nose with her silk pomegranate kisses the gesture was as tender and it was seductive. She could feel his pulse down to his fingertips. She could feel his heart beat down to her toes and hers naturally rose so that their hearts beat in time. Slowly, delicately he brushed his sharp nose against the side of her face. He planted a kiss on her flushed cheek. Their tongues played in each others mouths like two snakes twisting and twirling in a seductive dance. Hands tugged roughly on each others bodies free to touch and explore the others person. Their naked bodies were hot and sweaty still hairs standing on edge, spines tingling expectant. He was trembling, she writhed with pleasure that seemed to be unending. Her twinkling eyes rolled back as she gave in. She let him be in control because she knew he needed it, because he felt so out of control. They moved in unison, like notes of a song played in two distinct keys but harmonizing seamlessly so that not difference could be detected their bodies meshed gloriously, they were a symphony. Every gasps, purr, cry and moan a part of song. Then there was release. Sweet release that made her being go wild, mad, sent her frantically grabbing at his porcelain skin melting him deeper inside of her, his magic flowed inside her. It was wonderful. It was so powerful to have such energy coursing through her made her feel alive; alive and vibrant, potent and yet weak. She felt his energy flow into her igniting her being from the fibers of her sable tresses to the soles of her feet. It inundated her and it took lodge, she felt it stir take root in the pit of her belly. He must have felt it too, he bucked pressed deeper into her until he felt her break against him her own strong forces connecting with him. He laughed, he snorted really, she smiled at him stroking his cheek seeing how they were starting to redden. "I give you all of myself," he panted heavily against her earlobe. He made love to her with abandon at that point. Until he was spent, depleted, sleeping in her embrace.

"I..." Dagmar found her tongue and reconnected with the world as the flashback ended. "I...no," she fibbed.

Mistress Eir pursed her pink lips and studied Dagmar for a moment. The Vanir maiden's eyes had slipped back down to staring at the floor. "Very good," she said after a moment's hesitation. "If the extraction exceeds two hours there also becomes a great risk to Loki of permanent crippling, memory loss and death," Eir breathed "It is the all-father's wish that Loki survive the extraction, of course there are no guarantees, but we will do all that is necessary to ensure that he has a chance at coming from the procedure alive," she stated firmly then continued. "Lady Dagmar and myself will be responsible for the most intricate and invasive parts of the procedure. The rest of you will be responsible for keeping Loki sedated once he goes into the solution. Loki's powers exceed my own; if he is awake it be difficult to remove it from him, his shields would be nearly unbreakable that is why your role is essential a strong sedated state is the only chance we have on the extraction being successful. You must be careful even while he is under sedation Loki is a strong magician and his energies will fight and pull against your own to preserve his reservoirs his powers will naturally try to draw from other sources if you feel yourself becoming drained then pull out. Do it slowly any damage done during the process will be most likely irreversible. It is late you must all be well rested for the extraction come dawn," the elderly healer said in closing. "Are there any questions?" Mistress Eir asked addressing the group one last time before they would perform their great task tomorrow. "Very well then," Eir nodded closing her eyes. "Get some rest all of you. You will need every ounce of your strength if we are to successful. If the outcome of this is as expected, ah you shall all be memorialized in song. Epic ballads composed of your brave feats." she nodded still keeping her lids shuts. "Think of how long the glory of vanquishing an enemy has gone to the warriors, ah, but come sunrise such honor will be bestowed upon you. You shall be heralded as saviors of Asgard and of the realms. A heroes welcome will await us all in Valhalla, for this I am sure," She breathed in deeply as if she was already tasting the sweet mead that overflowed from Valhalla's gates. A smile creased one more line in the crinkly face of the elderly healer. "Sleep well, gird yourselves," she warned, "and dream of glory," she told them as if she was praying an old battle blessing over her troops. Masterfully, with the grace of a dancer she waved her hand and dismissed the group of healers. They all exited talking about future glory about their honor in aiding the All-father in ridding this snake of it's venom.

Mistress Eir hobbled over to the extraction pool set in the center of the room, covered by a thick white sheet but the faint purple glow showed through the covering. "Mistress Eir," Lady Dagmar's demure silvery tone came from behind the white-haired healer. "Lady Dagmar, child," she said fondly shaking her head, but still keeping her back turned. "My girl, the hour is very late," she began, "You more than all of us need your rest, you must be strong for the task a head," the blue eyed wise woman reminded the young healer.

"I doubt I shall sleep tonight," Dagmar admitted, despite herself. Her shoulders slumped.

Mistress Eir scowled where Dagmar could not see. "Have you a concern, Lady Dagmar?" the healer arched her eyebrow with the question.

"Yes! Yes, mistress," Dagmar's voice was a murmur. She walked up closely behind the healer. She placed her hand on Mistress Eir shoulders. She clamped down on them so as not to let the elder escape. "Do you think Loki shall survive?" she asked her voice was a timid murmur.

Eir shifted her bony shoulder wriggled beneath Dagmar's fingers. "I have taken the measures I know to take to give him a chance," the white-haired woman responded causally.

"And what are those chances?" The Vanir pressed she squeezed tighter on the old woman's arm feeling as though Eir was trying to walk away. "What are the chances, tell me, please," Dagmar pleaded it took everything with in her to keep her lovely voice from cracking and showing all the emotions welling up inside her.

"Lady Dagmar, there is a chance that this could be fatal, but Odin and Thor are well aware of that fact. Why concern yourself with the matter any more," Eir said her voice was not dismissive or harsh, it seemed to come from a place of some understanding like how one may understand a child crying over the rain on a day when they longed to go outside and play in the bright sunshine.

"Prince Loki was my tutor, my friend, my dearest friend," Dagmar insisted shaking her head as she tried to reason with the elderly healer. "I lov..."

"Was." Mistress Eir stated deliberately, her diction crisp, "is the key term, there, he was once a prince of this realm, but he is no longer called a son of Odin," she declared. "he IS a monster and traitor and a murder," The old healer declared stomping the healing stick on the marble floor.

"He was your patient before, a little boy who you cared for when he was very ill, a warrior of Asgard who fought bravely to defend his homeland, your prince, have you no pity for him now?' Lady Dagmar entreated the master healer. She knew Eir was never a cruel of callous woman.

Eir closed her eyes her brown hands holding fast to the crook of her cane. She nodded. "Extraction is a fate I wish on no creature who wields magic," Mistress stated solemnly.

"Tell me what his chances are Mistress," Dagmar asked once again.

"What will it change?" the brown-skinned healer argued. Her lip twisted as she could feel herself being persuaded to reveal information that was not pertinent.

The healer from Vanaheim released the old Asgardian healer's shoulder. She sank down to her knees. A humbled position. She bowed her head and allowed her flowing black tresses to obscure her features. "I need to know," Dagmar insisted as she placed a tentative hand on touching the hem of the elderly woman's tunic. "Please," she begged

"twenty percent," The great healer confessed with a sigh as she walked away.


Sigyn lingered too long in Lady Dagmar's chambers after the Vanir noblewoman had left to go to the healing chamber. Sigyn knew that as soon as Dagmar had departed should have immediately gone from the room. She should have moved on an attended to her duties to the queen. That is what she had originally been doing before she'd been commanded to go and fetch Lady Dagmar, by Mistress Eir. Yes she should have been tending to the queen, but somehow her dainty, feet had not been able to move her from Dagmar's room.

Dagmar had an exquisite chamber, filled with beautiful paintings and pieces of art, she lovely decorative tapestries and elegant furnishings. Nick-knacks and trinkets, baubles and gems lines her dressers and shelves, but all those rare things weren't what caught her eye. Sigyn big as gold doubloon eyes focused on the chest that was sitting by the blue lounging couch in the sitting salon of Dagmar's room. It was the one thing out-of-place in the neat and tidy chamber. She noticed the scrolls, pieces of parchment and papyrus strewn over the floor directly next to it. It intrigued her all the more. She felt her feet being drawn closer to the chest without her mind really registering it. She crouched down over the blue and silver chest filled with papers. Letters. Private letters that had been written from Loki to Dagmar. She felt her heart thump in her chest with longing. She had always wanted her silver tongued prince to pen one of his loquacious speeches for her. To write her a sonnet and serenade it outside her balcony on a starry night. Then give her the poem as a keepsake a token of his affection. Alas, he had never wooed her so. She sifted through the scrolls and parchments, all written in such beautifully calligraphy by Loki's own hand. The chest must have contained over 1000 letters, letters from centuries of friendship. Sigyn fought back tears. She could scarcely recall Loki ever writing her a true letter, let alone penning a love sonnet in her honor. Maybe once or twice he'd scribbled a note and sent it quickly by carrier pigeon to break off an outing that they had scheduled. Perhaps she'd received an impersonal telegram inviting her to a tea or brunch at the palace, there had been times she'd supposed he'd maybe jotted down a quick card and attached it to a gift that he'd given her for her birth anniversary or for the anniversary of their courtship or on solstice, but never had he actually taken time to scribe his feelings down as intimately and transparently as he had for Dagmar.

She quickly glanced over a few. She'd never been much of a reader. During her schooling she found their reading of epics and poetry, ballads and even the books they had on history and science laborious. Even now reading over Loki's old letters to his long time friend was proving to be a challenge Loki's language was lofty and prolific, he used fancy words even at young ages making the letters almost cryptic. She muddled through them stumbling over some phrases and sentences. Simply reading the words, but comprehending little. Sometimes the writing was even in other languages. Much that was written in the secret archaic dialects of the old mystics. She supposed that Loki was trying to describe how to perform a certain enchantment to Dagmar in these parts. She pushed through the letters skimming over them. A head ache was already forming across her forehead making her sunny eyebrows crease together.

She was almost ready to move on, she needed to attend the queen. This had been foolish, nothing but old jealousies creeping over her once again. What had she truly been hoping to find in those letters? Perhaps she would find a statement of Loki's saying how he regretted breaking off their betrothal, how he missed her, longed for her, loved her. How he wanted to renew their betrothal arrangements but he was too prideful to crawl back to her and how he hated himself for his princely pride that kept him from her arms. Or maybe that it wasn't his pride, maybe that it was Odin, maybe it was Odin who would not allow him to be with her. She cursed herself for even daring to allow herself to dream such foolish dreams. Loki had accused her of infidelity before all, he had disgraced her and her family. He had never loved her. It was painfully obvious, she had just been a simpleton thinking that she could win his love. What would it matter now if he loved her anyway? He was a monster?

She started to roll the scrolls back up and place them back in the chest, but then she came across one scroll rolled up tight. Where as the other scrolls were old the edges of the papyrus tattered and the ink smudged and fading from the pages, but this one was newer, the newest of all the letters the letter was still sealed. A clasp like a bracelet was clamped over the center of the scroll. The clamp was silver with glistening, small sapphire gems that made up the face. The way the gems were arrayed was distinctly a Vanir pattern. Dagmar's seal was all that young Sigyn was left to conclude. She brushed her warm colored hand over the thick piece of parchment. Her nimble sun-kissed hued fingers itched to undo the clasp. She swirled the scroll around, the seal could not simply be opened and one could not so easily slide it off of the scroll; it would have to be broken.

She felt guilt gnawing at her gut and anxiousness creeping down her tanned spine in the form of a sticky bead of sweat. Her warm colored eyes looked back and forth across the room, thinking that one of Lady Dagmar's servants would come in the door. Or Dagmar herself could come back and see her snooping about in her personal things. She quickly started to pick back up the other letters she carelessly read through. She rolled them with haste and sloppily not even bothering to tie them back up in the silk and velvet ribbons that Loki had draped them in. She balled up the ribbons getting them tangled as she did so and tossing them back in the trunk. Despite the feeling of guilt that weighed in the back of her mind her busy body ways were almost insatiable. She had always been a gossip always picking up the juiciest and most tantalizing of court gossip. Lady Dagmar had always seemed so virtuous, no shame had ever been brought against her name. It wasn't so much that Sigyn wanted to sully the Vanir gentlewoman's reputation, no it would do her no good to do that. No dirt she could dig on the Vanir nobleman's only child would help her escape her own shame; the shame of having a broken betrothal to the house of Odin, of the dishonor that came from being publicly labeled a whore and never even knowing if that statement about her was true or not. Nor could finding a skeleton in Dagmar's closet mend a broken heart. She bit her lip feeling tears bubble around her honeycomb eyes, she felt her face burn with the red-hot embarrassment once more as she felt her father, a great mammoth of a man smack her like a child. She felt so silly, giving her body to Loki time and time again convinced that slowly he was falling in love with her only to have him call out another name and later denounce her as a his bride to be. Her continence broke. Her pretty features crumbling into a pitiful sob. Sigyn felt her heart sink. She'd loved Loki so. All she had wanted to do was please him and have him love her in returned. All the times when they'd made love seemed like such empty gestures in comparison to the way he'd borne his soul the Lady Dagmar in these correspondences. He'd shared secrets with her, shared his fears, his joys, his tears with her. All Loki had ever shared with her was a bed. Perhaps she had been in those years little more than his whore. Tears stinging at her eyes she looked down at the never opened and never seen letter. Quickly, lady Sigyn stood. She slid the sealed scroll slowly and carefully in the folds of her toga before she scampered from Lady Dagmar's chambers.


Dagmar carefully began to fill her porcelain tub with tepid water. Normally, she would have had a servant do such a menial task but tonight she'd do it herself, she wanted the time alone. She poured several bottles of fine oils into the water filling the tub with sweet fragrances to help her relax. She dab the tub with the pleasant scents of chamomile and lavender. She churned the water with her bending causing the tub to sud. The frothy bubbles filled the pool. She couldn't bring herself smile no matter how sweet the fragrances were that wafted into her nostrils. The smell was warm and inviting and soothing. Dagmar swiped her hands over the white bubbles the started to spill over the sides of the pool and on to the seashell colored floor. She sighed then exhaled the calming aroma once again. She removed her night tunic, allowing the light-colored cerulean garment fall to the ground in silk puddle around her petite ankles. She pulled her feet out from the pool of silk and timidly dabbed her dainty toe into the tepid bathtub. Satisfied with the temperature she plunged her whole body into the tub. She sunk deep down into the heated water, allowing the bubbled to envelope her entire being, they came up to the nape of her neck. She took a soft sponge and rubbed it over her alabaster limbs. She saturated her flesh in the sweet-smelling oils until her skin became supple and tender. For a while that calmed her nerves, but only for a while. Eventually the feelings of dread and guilt once again engulfed her. She threw her sponged and it lightly bounced and splashed in the sudsy water. The bubbles splashed in her face covering her eyes. She brought her manicured fingers up to swipe the suds out of her face. A giggle played across her pomegranate lips. She thought of Loki. Times when they were young children and innocently played in the tub. They'd come in from a day playing out in the courtyards in the winter. Their tunics would be damp and muddy from running through the snow. Loki and Thor's nursemaid Helga would always get into an uproar, saying how they looked like filthy, bedraggled urchins and not children of royalty. She'd fuss at them all the way into the tub. Thor hated bath time. He'd put up a fight like an alley cat not wanting to get anywhere near the water. Eventually he'd get up and sprint out of the tub running nude down the corridor doing anything to escape the torment of cleanliness. Old Helga would take off running after the blonde prince. She called to him as she chased him frantically out the bathing salon with a scrub brush. Loki and Dagmar would lean over the edge of the large pool bursting into fitful giggles. Loki and Dagmar would eventually start splashing, kicking and splashing, flinging fists full of suds at each other. They'd use their magic and see who could make the biggest bubble. One time Loki made one so big that Helga got trapped in it. It was so funny, the old woman frantically beating on a bubble yelling at the top of her lung how she was going to get Loki, 'that little imp' as she often called him and twist his ear so far behind his head that she'd twist it off. Loki paid no heed to his nurse's protests. He blew on the bubble and it turned to ice. She wasn't frozen on the inside though. She was still very much active and all the while screeching. Loki turned the bubble back to liquid and blew her right out the large window of the balcony. The bubble popped on one of the bare branches of the tree that scraped at the window and Helga's robes snagged the sharp limb. She dangled out on the limb until morning light.

The festivities had long since ended. It had been a night filled with delectable foods, elegant dresses, dancing and music and great entertainment. At the lavished banquet that the king and queen of Asgard thrown to welcome their Vanir guests was simply amazing. Their were jugglers and fire breathers and magicians. Dagmar had often time been to the palace of the King of Vanaheim and her father was no stranger to entertainment, but never have she been to a function that had shown forth such pageantry. Her little silver eyes twinkled with wonder as she watched every act and display. So breathtaking, she had clapped and laughed and gasped with amazement throughout the evening. When the banquet had ended Dagmar had been politely dismissed and sent to ready for bed, along with the young prince. Their nursemaids escorted the children away from the banquet hall to get them ready to sleep. Her father, the king and queen of Asgard and a few other of Asgard most esteemed generals and noblemen were still talking and sharing drinks in one of the palaces many opulent sitting rooms. That was when little Dagmar decided to sneak from her chamber. She was normally a very obedient girl and her father was always a stickler for bedtime among many other things, but she would take the risk of sneaking from her bedroom on this night. She was much too excited about being in a new place to stay in her appointed quarters all night and sleep. She wanted to see the palace. From what she had seen it was far more illustrious and grand than that of the King of Vanaheim. She was also curious of the princes. Besides seeing them play this afternoon and having them nearly frighten her to death, when the dark-haired boy trapped him in a force field and the yellow-haired boy threatened to send her back to Nilfheim, she hadn't interacted with them that night at the banquet. She did want to be friends. She had several friends in Vanaheim. She was close playmates with the king's youngest sister, Princess Maja. But still, this was different at the end of the day her and Maja parted company often times. She would be living with the princes. She hoped that the whole time she vacationed in Asgard they wouldn't terrorize her.

The castle seemed quiet and desolate even the maids and servants seemed to be getting ready for bed at this hour. Then she saw it. A golden door slightly a jar. Two entwined snakes were the engraved image on the gilded door. Her pudgy fingers traced the outline of the engraved image on the door, she smirked, how mysterious. She brought herself to peer inside the cracked open door, wild sparks of many different colors started to fly toward the opening and out. They flew out frantically, frenzied hot little embers in florescent greens and luminous blues and vibrant magenta, it was dazzling. The pebble sparks flew, hitting against her clothes, hands and feet, she laughed, the sparks didn't singe or burn her, they actually giggled, they were pebbles of energy, filled with a bubbling light and cozy feeling warmth. She decided to take a step in.

Upon entrance she watched in amazement at a magic being worked over a hearth. The fire was being manipulated easily, it was twisted and twirled and spun around in the air until it was formed into the shape of a dragon. It was beautiful. The dragon danced, it's long serpentine body made of flames moved rhythmically over the fire-place. Dagmar was mesmerized as she watched the dragon twist and twirl about. She watched as bony, ivory fingers, wriggled and turned manipulating the element in the intricate pattern. Finally, the dragon stopped in its entrancing dance. It froze midair and the body made of flames morphed into one magnificent head. The creature looked fearsome. So ferocious that the young Vanir child gasped. The mouth opened. It breathed. It breathed the most wondrous display of fire. No it wasn't fire it was fireworks. It was an explosion a burst of color and light. A rainbow of fire spewed from the mouth of a dragon made of pure flame. The figure standing over the fireplace manipulating the element was short, and hunched over, draped in a long green robe and a hood pulled over the head. Dagmar thought surely t was some old woman, perhaps an elderly enchantress who lived in the palace, perhaps an older relative of Queen Frigga's. Instantly, the silver-eyed child was filled with hope. For so long now she had looked for a tutor to help her grow in the ancient arts. Her father was busy, the civil wars that raged throughout the clans of the Vanir preoccupied his time and she hated to have to pester him about finding her an instructor, it was such a small matter in the big scheme of things. In Vanaheim, if she did find a person to apprentice her, she would simply become an apprentice healer, healing was the way that Vanir women were expected to use their talents in the ancient arts in Vanaheim. There were very few enchantresses to rival the power of the female mages she had seen in Odin's court. Perhaps, while she stayed in Asgard she could learn how to use her powers for many things. She admired so seeing the women perform their enchantments alongside the men. There were more female mages than males. By chance, would this wise and learned mystic take her on as an apprentice? Dagmar continued watching as the dragon made of flame fluttered and danced about the large chamber. "Wow!" Dagmar called with excitement.

Instantly the fire bending ceased. The image of the fire-breathing beast dissipated and the flames molded back into the fireplace. They were no longer infused the magic and they returned to their normal state, flickering and leaping inside the hearth. The slender, pale fingers that had made the flames spark with vitality stopped moving, they were drawn back inside the oversized jade and gold stitched sleeves. The slender shoulder's twitched as if slightly annoyed then sharp featured turned to look at her. "I'm sorry," Dagmar said lowering her voice and her gaze. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't mean to interrupt your session. I just...It was so wonderful," the silver eyed girl tried to express as she clasped her hands up toward her cheeks. "Please," she almost begged, "don't stop!" Dagmar egged on by enthusiastically clapping her hands as if wanting an encore from a performer on stage.

"You like it?" a small, articulate voice asked. The voice didn't sound like that of an older woman. It sounded surprisingly young. It also sounded somewhat unsure and surprised to have approval. The back still remained turned to her.

"Liked it?" the young Vanir noble girl shook her head baffled by how this great wizard could think that anybody wouldn't be impressed by such an amazing display, "It was wonderful!" she expressed throwing her pale porcelain arms out about her.

"Really?" the magician asked the voice was still young and pleasantly surprised.

"Really!" Lord Audric's daughter reassured the talented sage."You're spectacular!" she exclaimed the more. Such compliments made the young magicians beam with pride he'd never received such accolades from a peer before. Caped figure spun around on his booted feet to face his fan. He flipped the jade and gold stitched hood back revealing his face.

The young gentlewoman from Vanaheim gasped covering her gaping pink lips with fat alabaster fingers. Her silver eyes batted back in amazement for a long time. Finally, she found her composure and the courtly manners that had been instilled in her since she was a toddler. "P-prince, Prince Loki," she stammered pulling out her nightgown as she dipped into a curtsy. "Forgive me your highness I did not mean to barge into your chambers...I just..." she kept her head bowed, "I can leave if you wish," she stated and started to turn to leave.

Prince Loki's delighted expression fell as he noticed the other child starting to make a hasty exit. "Wait!" he called out stretching out his hand and chasing after her and grabbing her shoulder. "You don't have to go," He held her fast in place. He was a small, he was tall but lanky build, but surprisingly strong. "I'm...I'm sorry, my brother and I scared you before," the green-eyed prince apologized quickly. He dropped his head slightly as she turned around her silver eyes batting back into his green pupils. He offered her a shy, yet sincere smile. He pulled his hand off of her shoulders and started to twiddle with his skinny fingers. They had frightened her, she wasn't expecting the play to become so rough. She hadn't expected prince Thor to be so strong and intimidating and she hadn't thought that prince Loki was such a powerful young enchanter, she thought she'd find the prince to be like herself a bumbling novice. Still despite the jolt they gave her in the afternoon, Dagmar was hopeful that they could all become friends and something about the way the prince before stood, feet turned in, shoulders rounded eyes slightly avoiding her gaze, the shy smile gracing his slender face and the way her nervously twiddled his thumbs in front of her...well he didn't seem as menacing and impish as he had hours before, she started to smile back. "We wouldn't have really hurt you...you know," He offered his emerald eyes still looking at the carpet, "Well Thor might of," he admitted devious little smirk creeping over his face. "He's not cruel, mind you," he started to qualify lest he ruin his brothers reputation. "He's just not very bright," Loki whispered his lips quirked in a smirk as he cupped his pale hands around his mouth to make it seem as if he was telling her a secret. "He just jumps to conclusions without examining the fact," the dark-haired prince continued. "But I...I wouldn't have let him hurt you," He told her as he dragged his foot to make a circle in the green rug. His expression changed from the bashful grin to an eager beam. With that she watched as he folded over into a regal bow. Still bowed as reached into the air with his pointer finger and thumb and acted as if he was pulling something from the air, then out of thin air a beautiful yellow rose appeared between his two fingers. He presented it to her.

"It's lovely," Dagmar said in a whisper as she wrapped her hand around the stem and brought the sunny colored flower to her nostrils to inhale its sweet scent.

She felt her other hand being grabbed and thing cold lips puckered against her soft warm, ivory skinned hands. "Welcome to Asgard, Lady Dagmar," the prince said politely bringing his emerald eyes to look up at her.

"Thank you, Prince Loki," she replied with a giggle. "You know so much magic," she observed."You must be taught by a great master to learn such at your age," the little storm cloud colored eyed girl went on. "I haven't found a proper tutor yet," Dagmar confessed almost shamefacedly.

The emerald eyed child shook his head laughing. "I taught myself," he confessed, the confession wasn't boastful, he didn't thump his chest, he snickered dropped his head and rubbed his foot over the rug while he pulled his hands to be gathered and clasped behind his back. "I have a lot of books," he mumbled daring to look the chubby freckle-faced girl in the eyes.

Little Dagmar marveled. "You taught yourself!" the chubby faced Vanir girl gasped. "I...How did you learn...You're spectacular!" she exclaimed

Young Prince Loki's gem colored pupils swelled. "S-s-so are you!" he sputtered with energy, he rushed over to her so that only a few inches were between them.

"No," Dagmar instantly flagged off the notion of her being spectacular. "No I'm not," Dagmar continued as she looked down. "I'm not nearly as talented as you," she pointed out.

"Yes, you are! Yes, you are!" Loki protested. "The invisibility trick you did, back in the training room with me and Thor...that was good," he nodded emphatically. "You saw how it spooked Thor," Loki quipped.

"I...I...it's one of few tricks I know," Lord Audric's daughter confessed. "And besides, you saw...I...I can't disappear completely," the Vanir child stated dropping her head.

The younger prince of the golden realm scratched his head. "No, you were completely invisible," he told her confidently,

"But the club you could still see the club couldn't you?" Dagmar asked.

"Well yes," Loki shrugged nonchalantly, "but that made the trick all the better, really," he encouraged. "I think it made it seem like you were even more like a phantom," he pointed out to her nodding his head enthusiastically. He pulled out his fingers and starting counting on them. "I bet if a real ghost touched something it wouldn't disappear," Loki told her his face formed a full smile. He was so excited. He'd never had any other young person to discuss such things with. It didn't take long for Prince Loki to notice that despite his infectious grin, Dagmar still looked slightly disappointed. Loki pursed his thin lips, then he snapped his finger. "I can show you," the black-haired boy chimed.

"Really? You would?" the silver eyed girl replied with glee.

"Of course, it's is not so hard. I mastered that act myself a while ago," he flagged at he. "It did take me some time though," the young royal added so as not to make his guest feel bad. "I have books, lots and lots of books, that can help you," he expressed turning around and pointing toward his vast collection of literature. The wall was filled with books old and new, their binds and covers the color of a rainbow. "Do you like to read?" Loki inquired thinking about his enthusiasm, perhaps it was misplaced. He felt nervousness creep up his spine. All his other friends made fun of his love of books and fondness of reading, calling him a bookworm and weak. His lips twisted downward, maybe Dagmar felt the same. Dagmar responded in the affirmative and Loki's jade eyes lit up as if the sun was bursting forth from inside of him. He eagerly scampered to his vast book shelf. His spindly legs kicking behind him. In his ecstatic trot, he tripped, fell over the rug and went sliding into the bookshelf. He bumped his head and several shelves of book came tumbling down on his black cranium. Before long he was buried beneath the immense stack of multicolored. Young Dagmar gasped placing her hands to her thick cheeks before she picked up her skirt and ran to help dig the skinny royal lad from out the avalanche of knowledge.

"Prince Loki! Prince Loki! Are you alright? Are you alright?" she called as she began pulling books from the pile trying to dig Loki out. Instantly, a porcelain hand popped up from the pile of books forming a mountain on the floor. Dagmar fell on the floor shocked.

"I got it!" he declared triumphantly, his small hand clutching at a thick book. Soon his head followed suit peeking its way from out of the stack of books. "I got it," he panted breathlessly, weaseling his way out of the mountain of literature. He crawled on his knees over to her with a big encyclopedia of simple tricks. "Here, right here," he expressed flipping to the page, "Invisibility," he continued pointing. The two read long into the night. Then Loki showed her. He helped her encouraged her to concentrate and showed her the right words to make everything she touched completely disappear, when she turned herself invisible.

"You got it! You did it, Dagmar!" Loki cheered clapping excitedly as he watched her and the object she was holding come back into view out of the spell.

Her eyes were still squeezed shut as the magic from the trick faded, she cracked one open slightly seeing the green-eyed prince smiling back at her. "I did it?" she questioned opening her silver eyes fully. The confused expression peeled off of her face and her features erupted into an overjoyed glee. "I did it!" she proclaimed laughing, squealing and stomping her feet in excitement. Before long both of them were jumping up and down holding each others hand spinning in a circle. "I did it!" little Dagmar continued to chime. They were whirling and twirling about until they both toppled over their feet flying up in the air as their backs hit the ground. "I did it," Dagmar breathed once they had stopped their fitful giggles, "Thanks to you," she turned to the royal lad clad in green pajamas who was sitting next to her. "Thanks to you, Prince Loki," Dagmar said more formally.

Loki waved his hands in front of his stopping the young maiden from curtsying to him," I didn't do anything," Loki insisted shaking his head. "You did it Dagmar, your good," he told her still reaching out and touching her warm hand. "I've got an idea," the emerald eyed prince stated raising his finger high in the air before leaning over and whispering in her ear.

A few minutes later the two dark-haired children came running down the hall in belly busting fits of laughter. The ducked into Prince Loki's chamber once again collapsing on the floor grabbing their stomachs to keep them from exploding with the butterflies of their giggles. "Oh my goodness that was great!" Loki declared as the to children made themselves reappear as they crawled on top of Loki's plush green draped bed. "We scared the living daylights out of Helga and the cook,"

"They went running from the kitchen screaming!" Dagmar elaborated.

"They thought the pots were haunted!" Loki went on not able to control his guffaws. Before he could stop it he let out an irreverent snort. It was loud and harsh, making his head jerk back and making Dagmar laugh harder. His face flushed crimson as he clamped his hands over his nose and mouth. Dagmar let out a laugh like a trumpet blast and Loki's face still burned bright red as his narrow shoulders rounded.

"You snort," Dagmar pointed out.

"Yes I know...sorry," Loki apologized head still down.

"Don't," the chubby silver eyed girl said gently to the skinny green-eyed lad. "It's...uh...cute," she shrugged and let out a little squeak.

"Cute?" Loki questioned scratching his head. His brother and friends always made him feel ashamed every time he laughed like that.

"Yes," Dagmar smiled her adorable missing toothed smile before grunting back at him. The two laughed together for a little while longer before finally sitting up on the bed propped up by black silk pillows. "Can I ask you a question, Prince Loki?" the plump maid from Vanaheim began once they had quieted themselves. The prince nodded, his jade eyes were becoming half-lidded, he was tired, after all the hour was very late. "What made you want to learn magic?" she inquired sleepily rubbing her eyes.

Prince Loki yawned and stretched out a little."Cause..." he started, "It makes me feel like I'm valuable, like I have something to offer people that my brother doesn't, I feel strong when I do it," he confessed to his new friend, "besides it's fun to play tricks," he giggled whispering in her ear before curling up on his side and falling asleep.

She smiled as she lathered her body with the sweet-smelling bubbles. Loki's magic had been so innocent in his youth. He was talented even as a boy he was astoundingly gifted. She had been in awe of his power and she had praised him so highly for it. He'd been so eager to show her new tricks, advanced moves. So anxious to share his findings and discoveries, so willing to let her glean of his knowledge. All Loki had wanted was to feel strong and to bring honor to his people, but now he would lose it all and by her hand. How could she have ever called herself his friend or anything more. "Oh Loki!" she cried, "I'm so sorry," she blubbered gripping her face and sobbing openly into her hands. The starlit eyed Vanir woman sobbed long and hard. She cried until her voice was sore until all she could do was sniffle and hiccup with exhaustion. She rested her head on the silk pillow behind her head as gentle tears spilled from closed eyes.


The grand library, that resided in the East Wing of the palace had been a vacant place much of the time since Loki's accident on the Bifrost. it was a shame once it had been one of the most frequented rooms in the palace. The lanterns always burned brightly within the room and a cozy fire was always kindled in the hearth to keep the airy library toasty feeling. Maps and charts were always drawn open on the table, books scattered across the long tables and scrolls and parchments were always unraveled and handing off the sides of the desks. The quills and inks were kept fresh, the door was always slightly ajar.

But tonight, when Thor came the door was shut tight as if it hadn't been opened in ages. He had to pull and tug hard on the rusted door. Perhaps it was his frustration, but he ended up yanking it from the library was cold, if anyone had entered the library they hadn't lingered their long enough to think to light the fireplace. It was dark. So bleak that Thor squinted. The candles had not been lit in quite some time. The mallet wielder's sturdy hands patted across the wallpapered walls trying to find on of the lanterns. His hands ran into cobwebs. The East Wing Library had merely been left to collect dust. He shook his head. How Loki would have hated to see how the place had fallen into disrepair. Loki had several libraries where he'd liked to study. He had his own library in his chambers along with the library in the southern tower for his laboratory, but this had always been his favorite. It was a room of endless knowledge. Books and scrolls, documents and records lined the four walls and the stretched boundlessly upward toward the flying buttresses that made the ceilings. He always made sure the servants kept it in tiptop shape, having them dust and clean it, making it shine and gleam. He'd have them stand on ladders and dust off the 5 golden chandeliers that were in the room. The maids had grumbled against Loki for his fastidiousness. He was such a tidy young man he'd been hard to please. He supposed the attendants did not miss cleaning the enormous library, but Thor scowled, it was a sorry sight to see the bookshelves caked with inch deep dust.

It wasn't often that Prince Thor came to this room in his home. He had never been overly found of study. If he studied at all during his centuries of schooling the only subject area that much sparked his interest was battle strategy, but he had never much like to read the notes on battle strategy, battle wasn't something that one read about. It was to be lived. Though Thor had never been one to occupy the palace library, he had surely not set foot in since Loki's supposed death. It had been too painful. So often he'd come into the library only to sneak up on his younger brother who'd be seated at one of the writing desk, tediously engrossed in his study. He'd attempt to sneak up on his younger brother and frighten him, a juvenile habit he hadn't quite out grown. Loki always blew the wind out of his sails though. The scholar would be sitting in one of the high-backed lounging chairs, his feet crossed at he ankles, propped up on a desk, while his long, pointy nose was buried in some book. There were times in the wee hours of the morning when Thor had been convinced his brother had fallen asleep in his pursuit of knowledge, his head would be cocked back, his posture eased and slumped, his features in repose, his milky white eyelids shut, a book in his lap and another dangling limply in his hand that fell off of the arm rest. Thor would snicker as he geared himself up to let out a thunderous roar and give the younger prince a start, but somehow just as Thor would set his mouth and lungs to let out a mighty blast Loki would greet him with a simple and smug sounding. "Hello Brother," Thor would immediately blow the breath out his mouth like balloon being deflated. He'd pout like a child and scratch his golden-haired head wondering how every time Loki knew.

The Crown Prince, smirked slightly he supposed the answer had really been no secret...magic. Thor had sharp reflexes, heightened from years of training and even more years of battle, but Loki's senses were enhanced and heightened through his powers. It was such thoughts that had brought the blonde to the library this night. He had just agreed to no declared, that Loki should face extraction. Something that would rob Loki of his very powers. His Father had said that extraction was not a merciful act, that it could end up being a fate worse than death for Loki. Thor had never seen an extraction. None had been done in his lifetime, although there were a few criminals who had been threatened with the gruesome fate. He needed to know needed to know to the full extent of what extraction could do to his younger brother. If he wanted to take the full responsibility of weight of his actions. He'd not be spared the guilt of his decision for ignorance. Father said the decision was wise, that it was the best that in the end it would protect Loki. Odin said it would keep Thanos from seeking to exploit Loki's powers and from using those powers to unleash ancient evil that could awaken Ragnarok. Still, Thor felt at ill ease about the procedure. What was he truly taking from Loki? It was hard to picture a time before Loki had his powers.

"Thor! Thor! Thor!" Loki came bounding into the elder prince's bedroom. He was still sopping wet from just popping out of the tub. His green eyes darted around the older child's chamber as his bony body lingered in the door way. He spotted his brother energetically pouncing upon his plush bed covered with a thick royal red quilt. Thor was practicing his act for the annual talent show, held for the children during the Harvest Moon Festival. The Harvest Moon Festival was a great holiday filled with more food than anyone could ever imagine. It was a time for eating the bounty of the field a time of honor for those who elsewise were considered to have the lowliest position in society. The day always started with great parades and festivities among the populace. The royal family always had prime box seats to over look the parade full of floats, flumes and people festooned in elaborate and silly costumes, musicians and dancers, fools and acrobats all marching through the gilded streets of the city. Afterward there were contest of sports, then there would be a great tournament at the arena. Lastly, just before everyone went home, to enjoy the night of feasting and gratitude, the children would perform in a talent show. It was actually quite a big to do. Prizes were awards to boys and girls and showcasing early talent was an excellent way for young children to gain apprenticeships and for the sons and daughters of the poorer classes to work their way into allowing their children to enter into Asgard's schools and get proper education.

Thor was working on his act for the show. He was planning on wrestling. He was practicing his forms with a large stuffed Bilgeschnipe toy that he had in his room. It was a repulsive looking stuffed animal. He was in the midst of attempting to twist the creatures front leg behind its hideous horn when Loki came charging into his older brother's bedroom breathlessly, his long skinny limbs flailing about as he tried to bring himself to a halt. "Thor!" he called once again excitedly as he watched his brother grunt and groan wrestling the fake bilgeschnipe as if it were a real beast.

"Loki!" the blue-eyed son of Odin exclaimed looking up from his furry opponent and tossing the toy with abandon over his oversized red quilted bed. "Just the brother I wanted see," the bigger boy admitted eagerly hopping from his knees and darting over to the frail looking little boy who had on a large evergreen sleep shirt. The shirt seemed to drown slender Loki's bony physique. His hair and face were still damp from undoubtedly just getting out of the tub. Loki always stayed in his bathing chambers for what seemed like hours Thor hadn't the foggiest idea why his brother loved to be so clean. He personally couldn't stand to get in the bath. It seemed such a bother to stop playing and romping around the palace only to have Helga scold him to wash behind his ears, and complain how he was a son of Odin and he should look like a shining sun not a little dust bunny.

"I...I...I have something to tell...show you!" Loki blurted out as if he was about to burst, "I...I..." he bubbled and held in a giggle and he bobbed in place his whole body trembling with joy. "You know how father took us to the mages trial a few months ago and it was so wonderful and I've been working on something..."Loki began to explain excitedly.

"I want to show you a new wrestling move," Thor declared quickly snatching his brother by his bony arm.

"Huh, whaaa?' Loki asked as he all of sudden felt the powerfully built blonde prince kick his feet out from under him and Loki felt his narrow chin slam against the marble tile floor. The pale child winced as his teeth clamped shut and forced Loki to bite down on his tongue. "OW!" the dark-haired prince chimed. "Thor get off of me," the younger child protested pitifully. Loki was about the Midgardian age of 5. He squirmed pitifully beneath the bulky, blonde boy's weight. Thor was roughly a human equivalent of 8 years old. He kept going despite Loki's painful yowls and yelps. Thor kept trying to press Loki's back leg over his shoulder. "STOP! STOP! Brother," Loki whimpered.

'Come on, Loki you got to say it," Thor taunted twisting his brother's legs and arms further behind his back.

"Ugh," the younger prince of Asgard panted tired of his older brother bending his limbs to the point where he thought he'd snap his shoulder-blade right outside its socket. "Fine," Loki conceded bitterly, his green-eyes water from the pressure on his muscles being forced to stretch in unnatural ways. "Thor, you're the biggest, strongest, mightiest warrior, there is," little Loki ground out trying to keep from screaming. Prince Thor allowed a wide and deep grin to ripple over his tanned face. "I know!" the blonde chirped perkily, he gave his brother two playful, but still hard pats on the cheek before he quickly released Loki's right leg and left on. The two limbs were red from soreness, the slapped down on the ground like two dead fish on the deck of a ship. The muscular child thunderer leaped off of his ivory skinned brother's back and quickly pulled Loki to his feet. Thor panted still a bit breathless from the wrestling. He squared his shoulders and puffed out his bare chest. He placed his hands on his hips raising his sturdy chin high in the air. "So what did you think?" Odin's oldest boy asked triumphantly.

Loki squeezed his eyes shut, and balled up his fist his whole body shaking with rage, "I think I'd like to punch you in the face! "Loki hollered his creamy face turning red as a ripe tomato from the gardens. His tiny fist started flying toward Thor's short nose. The Thunder let out a hardy laugh. He tossed his head back so that his blonde tresses met his shoulder. He caught Loki's persistent, but sloppily aimed fist in one hand. "Ha-ha-ha" he roared the guffaw at Loki's futile efforts at a fist fight. Not that Loki couldn't pack a punch when he wanted to, their hand been times when his bony little brother could get a smooth shot at the nose. "Come on," Thor said smiling perkily in his brother's face, 'What did you think?" he pressed eagerly. "You think it's a good enough move for the Harvest Moon Festival talent show?"

At first the darker locked prince lips were still pursed tight in annoyance, but when he looked at Thor's innocent, puppy-dog expression that so eagerly sought praise for learning a new trick. Loki exhaled sharply the his puckered thin lips, allowing his frustration at the way his older brother always used him as a practice dummy for his moves, "Yeah, Thor" the green-eyed lad looked back up at his brother pulling his small hand from being engulfed by the future mallet wielder's might mitt, so that he could rub his still sore shoulder. "I don't think anyone you would go against would see that move coming," 5-year-old looking Loki confessed, a tired smile gracing his narrow face.

"Yes! Knew it!" Thor declared with a mighty fist pump. "Ha! I'm going to challenge Leif, Sif brother," Thor went on to explain rubbing his hands greedily as he thought about. "I can't wait to put him in a headlock," he gritted his teeth and growled as he listened to his brother's bravado, while his rubbed his hand over his sore shoulder. "Anyway," Thor began perkily, "what did you want to tell me?' Thor shrugged as he walked back over to his bed.

Loki's green eyes lit up, "I wanted to show you what I'm gonna do for the talent competition," the younger prince explained eagerly.

"Oh," Thor said with little interest as he leaned back on his bed and started to toss a ball into the air. "You gonna juggle?" the blonde prince asked.

"No," Loki shook his head as if his brother thoughts were so preposterous, "i did that last year," he flagged off the suggestion.

"Loki don't tell me you're gonna sing?" Thor mocked starting to laugh.

The raven-haired son of Odin knitted his dark eyebrow together and he pursed his thin lips and her glared at his older brother. "Mother says I have a nice voice," Loki protested.

"Mother also says you're growing tall and strong and we both know that's not true," the elder child quipped.

"I am strong" Loki shouted back stomping his foot.

"Bahahaha!" Thor blasted, "yeah right," the 8-year-old teased. "Loki girls can knock you down," he reminded him.

"Sif hardly counts as a girl," the little prince grumbled poking his lip out and folding his arms over his chest. "Besides she can knock you down too," Loki pointed out turning back around and licking his tongue out at his brother.

"So you are planning to sing, then?' Thor asked nearly wincing.

"What no!" Loki roared. "I...I'm gonna do magic," Loki proclaimed and stood up tall squaring his scrawny shoulders.

"Magic?" Thor set up off the bed and quirked his bright sunny eyebrow at his younger brother. "Loki no, not one of your card tricks! Those things take forever,"

"They only take forever because you forget what card you picked in a split second," Loki scolded and Thor shrunk back slightly. "Anyway, this isn't a card trick," the younger prince told his brother. "It's...this is real magic," Loki nodded enthusiastically. "just...just...just watch!" the excited 5-year-old equivalent looking prince instructed rushing over to his brother and pushing his shoulders down to keep him seated. "Alright," Loki began scampering back to his spot center stage in front of Thor expansive bed. "Now, prepare to be amazed," Loki cautioned as he gestured his pale hands flamboyantly about and rolled up his long green sleeved displaying bony little wrists am arms. He then went on waving his hands about in a circular motion and mumbling some strange magic words. He concentrated real hard. Scrunching up his petite features as figure started to appear. They started out very faint at first Thor could hardly see them. It just looked like smoke. Loki's face was so contorted, the tip of his pink tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth, his brother thought that he was going to blow a gasket. But slowly the smoke started to take form, a shimmer came to it like it was covered in fairies dust and then Thor saw it; the image became to form of a cat. A lovely, sleek gray tabby with glowing green eyes. Thor's mouth gaped as he saw the life-like image forming before him, then a butterfly appeared and the cat rose up on its haunches and pawed at the fluttering blue and yellow butterfly. Carefully the butterfly transformed into a bird. The cat sitting on its haunches became a tree. A tree Thor recognized, it became the tall a sturdy willow tree that was in the front courtyard of the palace. The beautiful red bird landed on one of the branches and began flapping and chirping vigorously. The picture swayed, the colors blurring and swirling around and around the pattern was dizzying and Thor's bright blues tumbled along with the color. Finally, the colors became a shape, the shape of a serpent. A Long, coiled snake. It was so lifelike that Prince Thor felt goosebumps at looking into the blazing yellow eyes of the cold-blooded creature. Loki moved his arm in a snake-like motion and the serpent illusion slithered through the air. It slithered its way to Thor. Thor put up his hand. Look at the hissing python, its forked tongue darting out between the clamped jaws. It seemed so real thought he could touch it. Then just as Thor's copper toned little hand was about to make contact the snake vanished.

When the show was over, Thor's sapphire eyes were wide as the ocean in amazement at his brother's display. Loki's features were finally relaxed. He composed himself smoothing down his sleeves back over his pale white arms. The elder prince was still gaping like a codfish. Thor almost looked blank. "Thor?" Loki started to ask. As he waved a hand in front of his big brother wide, blinking cerulean pupils. "Thor?" Loki continued, now poking at the blonde to break him from the trance. "Did you see it? Did you like it?" he urged pleadingly.

The older child shook his head breaking himself from staring at the space where Loki's magic had just been weaved. Thor looked up at his brother a broad smile taking over his rounded face. He instantly started clapping frantically. His 5-year-old equivalent little brother , beamed back and trembled with excitement hearing the thunderous applause from his sibling. That's all he had really wanted to impress Thor. "Wow, Loki that's incredible!" Thor hollered still patting his hands together at his brother's feats. "How'd...How'd you...where'd you learn all that?" The boy shook his blonde haired head.

Prince Loki startled chuckling a little, "Wait, wait!"the onyx locked prince waved his trembling hands in front of him. He jumped up and down so excited and eager. "You haven't seen the best part, brother," he expressed. "The big finale!" he exclaimed throwing out his arms. Loki seemed frozen in place, standing in the same position with the wide goofy grin plastered on his face. Thor quirked his features as he scrutinized the small child standing with arms out stretched like a statue.

"Loki?" Thor asked in a whisper thinking that maybe Loki was concentrating on his incantation, "Loki, is something supposed to be happening?' the blonde-locked prince inquired. Still there was no response from his normally talkative younger brother. Thor scratched his head. He pursed his lips worriedly. Maybe something was wrong. Was that the trick? Was Loki's big finale turning himself into a statue. The bulky boy pushed himself from off the edge of his bed and went over to his brother. He waved his arms in Loki's face. "Brother are you alright?" Thor asked frantically Loki had a blank look on his face and for his normally inquisitive brother that was unnerving. He panicked. "Loki! Loki! Snap out of it!" he demanded he reached out strong bronzed fingers to grasps at his brother's shoulders thinking to shake him from the spell. Thor's fingers grasped at thin air, he lost his balance and fell into a heap of toys scattered across his floor. "Ugh?" Thor groaned holding his head as he pulled his body up from the piles of figurines, games and block sets. He looked around blearily only to notice Loki's tiny, skinny frame staggering over to him laughing hard.

"Ha-ha-ha!" he pointed with mockery as he walked over to his big brother, whose body was sprawled out across the marble floor. "Gotcha," the little dark-haired prince taunted as he leaned over into his brother's ear. His sharp features curled into an ecstatic smile.

"What? But you were...standing...I where'd you go?" Thor asked desperately taking his brother's tiny extended hand and using it to pull himself up off the floor. "How'd you do that?" Thor questioned his blue eyes wide with wonder as he looked down at Loki.

"Ah-Ah-Ah a real wizard never reveals his secrets," 5-year-old looking Asgardian prince protested, shaking his head and lifting his pointed nose high into the air as he turned his face away from the blonde boy.

"A real wizard doesn't reveal his secrets huh?' Thor asked arching his thick blonde eyebrow up high over his forehead. Before Prince Loki had a chance to respond Thor had tackled him on to the bed. Loki let out a yelp. Before he broke into fitful hysterical giggles. He kicked and bucked, screamed and nearly cried. "Does a real wizard get tickled to death by his brother? Huh? Huh? Huh?" the bigger prince teased as his thick, frisky fingers raced across Loki's stomach making him squirm like a little wriggling worm. Thor tickle, tortured Loki until he snorted. "Eeeww Loki!" the blonde prince squealed. "Don't snort!" he corrected giving his brother a t slap on the back of his head as he rolled over.

Loki pursed his lips rubbing his skull where Thor had dealt the blow. He doubted that his big brother actually intended the hit to be as hard as it was. Thor was still smiling and bouncing on the bed next to him. "Brother, what did you think?" Loki asked shyly once he caught his breath from laughing until he guffawed like a hog. He looked down pale, hands clasped in his lap, "What did you think of my magic?" The green-eyed lad voice was barely a whisper. "did you like it?'

"What did I think?" Thor shook his head a smile on his face as bright as the sun, "What did I think? Loki, that was unbelievable. You must have practiced for ages. It was just like the mages who perform at court!" the blue-eyed future king of Asgard encouraged as he draped a thick arm around slender shoulders. "It; s better!" Thor went on.

"Better?" Loki questioned eagerly raising his tiny black eyebrows.

"Yes! I still don't know how you turned invisible like that!" Thor exclaimed wagging his head.

The raven haired child snickered between his fingers, "I wasn't invisible," he started. "What I did was I projected this image of myself,"

"Projected?' Thor took his finger and scratched at his head. His younger brother often used words that he didn't understand.

"Made," Loki qualified in layman's terms. "I made an image of myself and diverted,"

"Diverted?" the blue-eyed child wondered aloud.

"distracted," Loki went on. "I distracted your attention so I was actually just hiding in the closet, hehehe," Loki explained.

"We'll have to use that trick of Helga," Thor encouraged clapping his hands. "It'll drive her batty!"

Loki's emerald eyes twinkled, "Do you think the others will like it? Do you think they'll be impressed?" Loki urged his brother for more details.

"Impressed! They'll be blown out of the water Loki! You were troopendous!" Thor exclaimed enthusiastically as he waved his arms about. He was also quite pleased with himself for the big word he had found to use to describe his brother's magic tricks. He'd heard one of the lead generals shout that out after his father had inspected the military battalion.

"It's stupendous Thor," Loki pronounced slowly for his older brother.

"Oh,Yeah, well you're that too," the prince gave a wink of his sapphire eye. "You're a shoe in for second place," Thor declared.

"Thank you, Thor," Loki said looking down cheeks slightly reddening at the bit of praise. It wasn't often that he was afforded much. Their nursemaid, Helga often scolded him for being sneaky and manipulative. He was finding that he was feeling more and more isolated from his peers. He wasn't the best at the competitive athletic games that the boys and girls of court seemed to be fond of playing. When he did when he was quickly accused of cheating. Even though he was doing well in school, much more advanced than his brother had been at his age, but still even sometimes his intelligence seemed to be met with scorn. His tutors would grumble about his constant inquiries or that he was impertinent, often time correcting his elders even in his lessons and tutoring sessions. "Hey, wait!" Loki barked after a second. "What do you mean second place?" he questioned.

"Well of course I'll come in first place, little brother," Thor reminded him jovially, wide grin spread on his round 8-year-old looking face as he gave the jade eyed lad a playful punch to the shoulder.

Thor let out a pent-up sigh as he leaned heavily on the bookshelf. He took a strong hand and rested it on his forehead. All Loki had ever wanted to do was be impressive with his magic, show all what he could do. His simple incantations started out so harmless, happy childish illusions meant to dazzle and inspire awe and earn him a few claps on the back and hearty laughs. His tricks were so mild, little pranks only to make Loki win. He'd been so innocent and wide-eyed as a boy. The way his little emerald eyes glistened with excitement. Had he changed so much so that now Loki needed to lose the very thing that had once filled the realm with such pride and had filled Loki's person with such vitality?


The king of Asgard lied awake in his golden chamber. The shutter's from the balcony were flung open to keep the room cool. The night air was pleasant, fragrant and crisp, but none the less the white bearded sovereign felt as if he would suffocate. He tossed and turned. Finally, in frustration he flounced lying down on his back facing the ceiling. He stared at the opulent painting of the old family crest that was carved there. His sleep not at peace. He tried to keep his body still. It was the first night he and his lovely wife, Queen Frigga had occupied their gilded bed together since Loki's attempt on her life. She had resided in the healing rooms and then was moved to her own private chambers where she could rest undisturbed. Tonight they had lied side by side. They had sat in each others company in nearly deafening silence both avoiding the mention of the Bilgeschnipe in the room. Normally, he could ease his troubles on to his devout wife, but this time she left him to bear his burdens on his own old shoulders.

Slowly, the great king shifted from the satin, sheets colored of ivory and gold. He moved from the bed, draping a warm night robe around himself, he moved to stand on the balcony. He came and leaned over on the balcony railing and gazed up at the moon. There were no stars that night simply the bright moon. The moon was round and full that night. Odin's old gray eye could not stare up at the celestial body for long. Moonlight, it was always, so peaceful and comforting, placing and romantic, gentle and mild, but now it was an orb of mockery. It was a clock. A terrible time-keeper. It's beams that shined on him were terrible hands on the face of a time piece. The beams would eventually fade and then the sun would take its place in the sky marking the time for the extraction. Odin felt a chill slip through his garments and run up his back. He tried to pretend it was merely the brisk night air. He bit down on his lip, then twisted away, before returning back inside. He looked over at Frigga's sleeping form her silhouette beneath the covers still pleasing to the eye after all these centuries. He smiled at her, then scowled somewhat more deeply, he'd not come and lie by her side. Not just yet. He doubted he'd get much sleep this night.

Asgard's ruler made his way to the weapons vault. The guards who stood attention guarding the massive doors made of granite and steel moved to the sides immediately. Odin had arrayed himself in his formal tunics, his gold and black and ivory drapes. He moved swiftly down the main corridor of the weapons vault. He moved passed the cube of 1000 winters and passed the Destroyer. He walked by many old and ancient relics. He made his way beyond the private chamber which now contained the Tesseract, newly restored to Asgard since Thor returned with his wayward brother after Loki's savage attack on Midgard. The proud ruler twisted his head sharply away from the glowing cube. He scowled out it. It was curse a weapon that drove men mad with its enticing allure. It had been the source of Loki's madness. Odin cast a harsh one-eyed glare at the relic. He sighed, shoulders slumping; the Tesseract alone hadn't driven Loki mad.

The king went to the back of the vault. There was a wall at the back of the chamber. Odin pointed his great gold staff, Gungnir toward the wall and began carving a pattern with his scepter. He had not used the pattern since the day he'd sealed the item in the weapon's vault. That had been more centuries ago than the king cared to count. Still, he maneuvered his scepter over the few brick squares with ease the pattern engraved in his mind despite the centuries that had passed. The pattern glowed, and illuminating white light coming from design. Then the wall opened up. The stones that made it up, the jetted forth like an opening drawer. Inside the drawer lied a black metal glow with a ring on each finger. Each ring a brightly colored luminous gemstone. They were lovely and entrancing, brilliant in shine, they were hideous and garish. The Infinity Gauntlet. This power, was meant to be preserved for all time protected by the Norns, but Thanos, that beast had killed the innocent lives of the Nornish people. He killed the Nornish king to get the weapon. Then he ravished the worlds seeking the gems. His armies teared through towns and cities of the realms collecting and harvesting the crystals to make him invincible. He brought war to Asgard's gates. Odin's sole eye dilated as he replayed the horror. He'd never forget the smell of carnage in the street as blood ran and bodies burned and. He'd never be able to block the image from his mind's eye of his father going to face that most foul and unnatural monster on the battlefield. His father with the troops of Asgard released the Tesseracts unprecedented power and Thanos with a growl released the power of the infinity gauntlet. The Tesseract was lost, the explosion from the blast had lost both weapons and cost Odin's father his life. He remembered rushing out onto the battlefield to find his father's body, bloodied and broken covered with blood. His father had fallen into the ancient sleep of kings, for the final time. He never woke. That awful tool had stolen from the King of Asgard his life. Odin was a young man, younger than his own sons had been with he fell into the Oversleep the last time. He held his father's hand feeling him slip away. He swore to the man he loved so dearly that he would never again allow that evil instrument to be unleashed on the worlds. After the battle when the weapons had been lost falling through space he sent the Valkyries to seek out the gems. He'd not let Brunhilde and her guards rest until it had been found. It took them many years to harvest each of the 5 rings of great power once more, but once they did, Odin sealed the weapon deep with in the weapon's vault, never for it to see the light of day.

He'd vowed to his father, that he would keep the weapon away from the wrong hands. He'd taken an oath before the dying king that he would do all with in his power to keep it out of Thanos' reach. Only destruction could come from such power. As a young man when he'd sworn by such strong words so lightly he would never have guessed that could mean stripping his son of everything to keep his word. He never would have dreamed that it would require him to probably sacrifice his youngest son's life. It was such a horrible twist of fate. Having to choose between father and son. Having to choose between family and kingdom. Having to choose between the good of many and the good of one. A heavy choice to make and yet the decision had already been made.

He could not allow Thanos to have access to such power ever again. Thanos was a monster who would wreak havoc on the realms enslaving societies for sheer joy and then killing any who would oppose him. If he head both relics; the Tesseract and the Infinity Gauntlet nothing could stop him from his conquests. Thanos needed the Infinity Gauntlet to control the Tesseract and he needed Loki's powers to get access to it. He'd already used Loki's powers with the Tesseract. Thanos was a warrior by nature not a scholar or enchanter like Loki, he needed an enchanter of great ability to work the Tesseract for him with without the Infinity Gems, but he would use Loki's magic if he could to get to the weapons.

They'd finally breached the walls of the sacred stronghold city of the Jotuns. Much of Jotunheim was merely a wasteland of ice and snow, many of the Frost Giants dwelt in crude ice dwellings. Few of the buildings were little more than igloos and most of those in the outlining villages were destroyed, pillaged and plunder and left in rubble during the bloody war. But this great ice city was quiet a sight to behold. The brilliant blue ice palaces that glistened in the snow. The gorgeous temple, sparkled like a newly plucked sapphire appointed to a position of honor in an empress' necklace made of pearls. Indeed the great warrior king of the Aesir marveled as he looked over at the sparkling stronghold city from the snow bank where his forces laid wait. Odin almost regretted that he had to gaze upon it with merely one eye. He'd recently lost his left eye. The battles had hence been heated and bloody, finally it seemed as though Laufey wanted peace. He had one of his commanders wave a white flag in the midst of the fighting. Odin called for his troops to cease fighting as he and a small band of trusted officers went to meet with Laufey and his war party in secluded tent on the battlefield. Those ruthless monsters attacked. They slaughtered the men Odin took with him and they would have killed the king of the Aesir had he not been able to defend himself mightily with Gungnir in hand. He didn't leave unscathed, the Frost Giants robbed him of his very eye. He arrived back in his own encampment for all his troops to see their king stripped over his left eye. It was a devastating blow for morale. It seemed as if the Frost Giants with their wicked pleasure for destroying life would triumph over Asgard's forces, for Eir, the great healer had urged him to return to the safety of Asgard, but Odin refused. He'd not abandon his men and women. The mightiest of all warriors. He was their king, he'd lead them in to victory or he would die alongside the soldiers fighting to protect the freedom of the realms.

Laufey had moved his army into the Sacred City thinking that the ice spirits, whom the city was dedicated to, would grant the Frost Giant forces favor. This was the distinguishing battle, it would determine the outcome of this ceaseless war. For 4 days and 4 nights the Einherjar laid siege to the city. They rained down fiery catapults upon the snowy walls. The warriors of Asgard fought tooth and nail breaching the gates and over running the city. Laufey had withdrawn his troops to the sacred city thinking that Odin would not attack a place where so many civilians lived. But Odin had to do it. He had to smoke Laufey out of hiding. Eventually the few Frost Giant civilians that lingered in the city saying prayers and making supplications to the ice spirits abandoned all hope and fled to the icicle caverns on the outskirts of the mountain which cradled the city. Laufey was captured and forced to yield. He pleaded for his life before King Odin. Many of the generals demanded that Odin execute the Frost Giant king, but Odin spared him, to kill Laufey would do no good, it would leave the Jotuns bitter and even though the war may have ended with the death of their leader, the Jotun's would carry a blood vendetta against Asgard for all time. They would rise again and this time instead of striking out at defenseless Midgard they would ransack Asgard. No, he'd leave Laufey alive, a simple truce. His life for the Casket.

Their power was stripped from them. The loss of the Casket of 1000 Winters was a much more impacting blow the death of their evil king. Without the Casket, the Frost Giants a race that had terrorized and plagued the realms for nearly 500 years would be put to rest. They'd be impotent and bound to their icy realm without it. Odin sent his soldiers to retrieve the Casket from the Ice Temple, the men were allowed to gather spoils from the temples and Laufey's palace that had already been reduced to little more than chipped ice.

Odin lingered in the temple after the aftermath of the battle. The Sacred City was broken, the bodies of Jotun and Aesir soldiers were scattered across snowy streets. Blood of black and red ran together like a sickening paint and stained the city. The Frost Giant stronghold was a pile rubble. He moved through the beautiful building, ready to take with him any other relic of value from the Jotnar so that they would never rise again. It was then that he heard crying. Not the crying of weeping women, wailing over the body of fallen husbands, nor was it the sounds of men broken from their defeat. It was the pitiful holler of a babe. The golden ruler followed the sound. It was so wretched. Poor child frightened to death the babe must have been the only soul left in the city. Odin made his way to the inner sanctum of the Temple. There the walls were elaborately painted and carved with breathtaking designs and spiraling patterns. He wished he had one of the artisans with him so that they could copy the architecture. His good now only eye was peeled from admiring the handcrafted walls and back to looking for the crying infant. He finally saw it...there. A bundle swaddled in animal skins, left on an icy altar. It howled the more, desperately crying calling out for some comfort.

Odin approached cautiously. A scowled etched its way over his bearded face. The Jotun's had a barbaric custom of sacrificing children. Those who were born sick or weak, were considered unfit to live. Jotunheim was an unforgiving land, where only the strong could survive. In times of distress the Frost Giants believed sacrificing a child would bring them favor from their deities. Odin felt a shudder run u his spine. It was a hideous thought to think. The Aesir prized children. Births were celebrated tremendously. The king had always been fond of children. Now that he had his own boy, his heart was even more tender toward them. His pride and joy, dear Thor. He was a strong and hardy little tyke. Odin's blood-smeared, one-eyed face turned up into a smile as he thought of his sweet, rambunctious blonde-haired boy. Frigga had been pregnant once again since the birth of his heir, but she had not carried to full term. His beloved wife, Frigga had struggled to give him their only son, it was doubtful that she would be able to bear him another son. He thought of the way his wife doted and fawned over their darling boy, he could not imagine how this mother could have placed her son on this altar, found him so worthless to leave for dead. For a moment he thought that perhaps, the mother was still here. Perhaps the pair had taken refuge in the hallowed structure hoping to find sanctuary. Odin's only eye scanned the perimeter searching for a feminine figure coming to attend to the child, but moments passed and no one came. The baby continued squalling.

Finally, Odin stepped to the altar, the poor newborn Jotun kicked and squirmed pathetically trying to reach out for contact from the person in the room. Odin cast Gungnir down to the side leaned it on the ice block. His hands dyed red with Jotun blood reached into the white fur covers that the baby had not even been wrapped in a swaddling cloth. The jotun infant was male and had been left naked on the altar to be exposed to the harsh nature of Jotunheim to die. Its features were scrunched and contorted with discomfort from yelling and crying. Indeed he was small for a Frost Giants offspring. Even by Aesir standards the boy would have been considered diminutive. He nearly fit in the king's two palms. He whimpered on his puny fist balled tight. His eyes squeezed shut squeezing out tears from vermilion eyes that would instantly freeze upon contact with his chilly ice blue skin. The babe trembled in his hands, so frightened was this pitiful little creature, so alone and hungry, obviously sickly, he was not a chunky infant, he was thin and malnourished looking. The babe could not have been of an age where it could be weaned from the breast, he was no doubt expected to starve to death. "Shh...shh...shh. There, there," the great king tried to soothe the tiny baby, lightly bouncing him. Odin studied the child of Frost Giants and noted the fine markings on the cobalt skin. The markings were distinct, the carvings that marked those of the royal line. "Laufey's son," Odin mouthed and he looked down and the fussy babe that he held in his hands. There had been rumors since they reach Jotunheim that Laufey's favored wife, his queen Fartaubi, was with child. Laufey had other sons, one of whom was old enough to fight along side his father in battle, he was a general fighting alongside his father, Helbindi his name. Helbindi was a powerful built Frost Giant, but Odin had seen that he was not a leader of men. He did not command the forces effectively and there was often division and confusion when he led a charge. It was rumored that Laufey had planned to make Fartaubi's child his heir because he loved her more greatly than any of the other women in his harem.

The baby finally started to settle, its immense crying dissipating as its bright red eyes looked into the bloody socket that was left of Odin's eye. Odin smiled at the innocent babe. He traced a rugged thumb over a bald blue head. The baby scrutinized the king's face. As if it had never seen the expression before. Since it had been brought into this icy world it had scarcely beheld a smile in its direction. He was so tiny and frail Odin wondered if he had even been suckled for a week upon its mother's milk before they'd decided to abandon him here. Carefully the newborn attempted to copy the facial expression, and did so with success and that was not all it copied. Before his eye Odin watched as the child of Laufey morphed. It scaly, ice hardened, blue skin transformed into the pale, pink flesh. The blazing fiery eyes lost their hellish hue and faded away to reveal wide, open, emerald eyes. The cries and whimpers transformed into merry little gurgles as the babe felt safe and comfortable in the large hands that cradled it. Odin was an astonished so much so that he nearly dropped the babe. Magic was present in this being. Oh it's powers much have been so strong for even as in the mindless state of infancy he could shape-shift and adapt. This child could adapt. Could look like an Aesir. This child could be raised an Aesir and perhaps one day this adaptable child could be instated to rule Jotunheim in time when Laufey was no more.

"You were thought to be worthless, for your size he saw you as weak" Odin whispered to the sweet face baby boy in his arms, "You were left to die, thinking that you were only fit to be a sacrifice. Thinking that your life was only meant to extinguished to preserve others," Odin shut his gray blue eye, before smiling still stroking the chilly bald head. "But that it not true about you, is it little one," He cooed at the babe, "No, you are strong, you have survived in your abandonment, you will have a great purpose won't you?" He said as a declaration looking into the green eyes that were growing sleepy. "I have plans for you," he confessed to the innocent green eyes that slowly started to droop. He smiled fondly at the baby boy. "You need a name don't you Laufeyson," the king asked watching the infant give a cute yawn. For a moment the Aesir monarchs mind tumbled through some of the names that he and his wife had considered for possible children. There was one that seemed to suit this boy. "You are lucky," He stated, "and that is what we shall call you, Loki...Odinson," he confessed just as the baby shut its eyes. He folded him on his chest feeling tiny fingers clutch at his robe kissing the tiny bald head.

Odin felt moisture on his right cheek. Loki's mystical inclinations had been the very thing that brought him into their lives. It had been what had made Odin decided to spare the boy's life. It had been a part of Loki from the beginning. It had been what had made Loki marvel at the child and see him not as a monster, but as a treasure to be preserved. Now it was the very thing that he was willing to strip Loki of. The wizened ruler of Asgard bit down hard on his lip. He was no different from Laufey, so willing to sacrifice Loki, for the sake of a realm. Loki was no longer that innocent little babe, no he was indeed the monster that parents told their children about at night. But he was still his son. "I'm so sorry, Loki," Odin whispered as he looked back at the Infinity Gauntlet. He closed the wall up and left the weapons vault.

Rough hands cloaked in coarse leather and brass gripped at gaunt shoulders; snatching them and yanking along the prisoner attached to them harshly and jarring him from his much desired, but nonetheless uneasy slumber. Green eyes jutted open looking around with confusion. The confusion only lasted a moment as the emerald pupils easily placed the dressed in crimson and shiny brass and bronze armor over their cloaks. The prison guards.


The shackled and bound waif blink allowing the blurry figures to come into focus. Besides the unwanted visit from the Crown Prince of the Golden Realm no one had come to see him since his attack on Queen Frigga. He hadn't even been served a crust of bread, but perhaps now that the queen was well again some one had come to offer him a morsel. His stomach gnawed at him from the inside out he was famished that much was true. His magic was weak and he couldn't stave off the pangs of hunger or the completely drained feeling that consumed him being from the lack of nourishment he'd received over the months since his return to Asgard.

He looked around his eyes scanning and shrewdly observing the guards, they didn't have food with them and they wouldn't have sent a handful of palace sentries to present him with a bucket of gruel. Thor had said mother wished to see him, perhaps the soldiers were here to escort him to the queen's bedchamber. How could he face her? How could he look her in the eye after what he had done to her? What could she possibly have to say to him? She had merely been tending to him, caring for him as she did throughout all his life and he lashed out at her like her was no more than a mindless savage and perhaps that all he was now. Traitor. Savage. Heartless. Monster. These were the words he knew the people of Asgard used to describe him. They were right. Maybe she wanted to see him only to disown him. Announce to the whole kingdom that he was not her son and had never been. He'd be orphaned. As he was it seemed when he was born. Left for dead, unloved and belonging to no one. Somehow he wanted it. He craved her disdain because it gave his venom purpose. He wanted her to hate him to take her mild hand and smite him, to lash out with her honey draped tongue and call him every foul name in the book. He wanted her to spit upon him like the disgusting Jotun runt that he was. He longed to see her gorgeous sapphire blue eyes gaze upon him face with abject horror. If only she'd call him to her presence only to tell him that he was merely a monster unworthy of love then when he made Ragnarök rain down upon her head maybe he'd be able to have not even the slightest inkling of remorse.

As his thoughts swirled through his head the forceful hands continued pulling and tugging at him, yanking at his fetters and chains and freeing him from being strapped to the wall like some taxidermy in the great hall. His limbs were limp and as he was unhinged from his slime slick wall he fell to the mud floor face first. He heard the guards chuckle as his nose and cheek that were already begrimed and sullied landed into the sludge and goo that he had to claim as the floor of his cell. The muzzle was still strapped over his lips and hands were still bound in front of him. He tried to move push himself from wallowing in the dirt, but his arms trembled from being sore and stiff from being chained and forced to remain in such an uncomfortable position for so long. He could scarcely lift his head from sinking into the mud as the metallic bridle and the heavy collar weighed him down. He continued to hear the distorted guffaws of the servants who stood above him, watching as he floundered pathetically like a fish out of water flopping on the deck of a fishing boat.

"Get up!" one of the guards ordered his tone pitiless as he watched the prison who was once his prince struggle and squirm trying like a worm trying to maneuver through the mud. He'd manage to get his hands beneath him and start to push his upper body out of the sludge and straw beneath him only to lose his and slip landing his pale chest and narrow chin back in the mud.

"Get up!" another barked. His voice even more demanding than the first that spoke to him. At this second command Loki stopped moving all together, refusing to give the insolent subjects the pleasure and privilege of seeing him struggle and scurry to meet their demands.

"GET UP!" a third finally bellowed landing a boot to swiftly kick at the once prince's abdomen. Loki gasped and groaned beneath the muzzle that held his silver tongue captive as the chains and fetters held his body. Without a moment's pause a second kick followed so brutal and heavy that it managed to make the manacled mage arch his back up and curl into a kneeling position before the feet of the prison guards. Jade eyes rolled up and narrowed as they glared daggers at each one of the watchmen. Loki's look was so piercing and sinister that it made two the guards jump back thinking that the powerful mage would do to them as he had done to Ingvar. The head guard took a step forward his heavy booted feet sloshing through the mud as he stomped to closer to the kneeling prisoner and causing more mud to splash and cover Loki's face. "I said, 'GET UP!'" he hollered once more reaching out his thick fingers and clutching a fistful of Loki's tangled and bedraggled onyx mane and yanking it so as though he could rip it from Loki's skull. "I wait not on your leisure, Your Majesty!" he spat twisting the hair and craning Loki's neck along with it. He nearly hauled Loki from his knees to his feet. Once the disheveled ex-prince was standing the guards sneered. Once a prince of the realm dressed in such finery tailored garbs, gleaming armor, cloaks and robes made of the best materials in all the realms. Once always a neat and polished member of the royal family; now he looked more unseemly than the basest of beggars on the street. He was bare-backed, hair long and wild, tangled and matted clotted with mud and straw, his body was filthy mud and grime covering every inch of his frail form. He was nearly naked save for the ill-fitting pair of trousers that had been provided as his prison wear. The mesh pants were ripped and tattered to the point where one could scarcely call them britches. Once rings of pure gold, beset with glittering emeralds graced his fingers now he didn't even have shoes for feet. He looked as lowly as the varmint that scuttled across the dungeon floor. And the rats and roaches were better fed than he.

"Filthy pig!" the guard continued to jeer as he released the nasty prisoner's hair and grabbed at the chains about his wrist forcing Loki to stumble behind as they made their way to exit from behind the shield.

The prison wardens surrounded him on all sides as they marched him from his confinement chamber. Loki's steps were slow and painstaking. Perhaps it was because of the ball and chain connected to his thin ankles that he was made to drag with every step. Perhaps it was because of the frailty of his limbs, they were trembling like those of a recently born colt who no sooner had he plopped from his mother's womb and hit the earth was expected to walk. Then still the simple reason could have been that Loki would not be hurried by servants. "Move a long!" the soldier behind him insisted. The short and stocky built guards voice was a growl as his booted foot planted a merciless kick to Loki's tailbone. The raven lock magic wielder arched his back as he gasped best he could from behind the muzzle. The pain caused him to trip falling behind the sentry who tried to lead him by his chains as one would lead cattle. Loki squeezed his green eyes shut as his chin collided with the stone step he fell upon causing his teeth to bite down hard on the metal bit that stilled his silver tongue inside his mouth cage. The powerful mage could taste his own warm salty blood pooling in his mouth on the inside of the bridle. Best he could he tried to spit it out. Course, that did little due to the muzzle the horrible liquid had no choice but to flow around the silk-hair narrow space between his thin lips and iron mouth piece.

Loki shook his head doing what he could to ignore the pain as he tried to stand, before he could manage to push up though another leather-bound foot came and struck him hard on the side of his jaw. The hideous contraption strapped on his face had been all keeping his jaw from being dislocated. Loki's hair snapped sharply to the left side his straggly black locks whipping him the same direction. "That's for Asgard you worthless traitor!" the lead guard yelled after he placed his foot back to the ground. He laughed loudly along with the rest of the cruel escorts as they watched Loki's jade eyes roll about in his head from the blow. The two strapping soldiers who guarded each of his sides hoisted him brutally to a standing position. The grimy criminals knees buckled, hardly able to stand of his own volition now. "That's for our queen, you soulless wretch!" the lead guard declared as his strong fist punched Loki repeatedly in his slim torso. The once son of Odin's whole body lurched and heaved with each upper cut fist to his gut. The heavy-handed punches left the pale man panting for air as his whole being started to go limp. His head lulled forward slumping against his chest his

"Ah- Ah" The stout prison guard taunted gripping Loki's matted black mane in a tight fistful and pulling his head back so that his thin neck was exposed and every wiry vein there was stretched and beating in time with his quickening pulse. "No time for sleeping," the short and pudgy guard continued, his thick brown beard curling up with his smiling lips as he glared into Loki's watering green eyes. "Your mummy wants you all cleaned up for your pressing engagement," he mocked a tender tone releasing Loki's scraggly dark hair and pushing his head forward making Loki almost fall forward and nearly trip again.

The Extraction Chamber was set. The room was stark and barren. The walls were made of sparkling crystal. The Halls of Healing were meant to be a life giving center, now they seemed as a crystal tomb. It was silent. Those present did not talk, they barely stirred. The healers stood at attention like sentries guarding the extraction pool. The pool was filled with a strange solution of a purple so dark that it was almost black. The liquid bubbled and gurgled as if it was a chained beast ready to sink its fangs into live prey. The solution was strong-smelling, like a pungent astringent that made one dizzy with a headache as soon as it hit the nostrils. Luckily, for the healers, the crystals served to ward off even such a mild symptom. The healers wore the customary tunics. Long white robes, with flowing sleeves that dragged to the length of the marble floor. They wore turquoise blue sashes around their middle or draped across their shoulders according to their rank and degree of skill mastery as a healer. The only thing that was different about the standard healing garb was that their faces were covered. Each of their faces was covered with a white mesh net that gave them room to breathe but obscured their features.

Above the healing chamber, there was a room where onlookers gathered to watch the procedure that was about to take place. The room was small, it could only house about 25 or 30 although all 50 members of the all-father's council had been invited to observe this most rare event. They piled in like sardines. The nobles and elders of Asgard buzzed like a hive of bees as they held their loft position over the Extraction Chamber. There was a thick, opaque glass that served as a window around the room. It enabled those inside to look out but as meant to conceal one outside from being able to see through it.

The sterling silver door swung open. It clanged loudly against the crystal walls. The eyes in the chamber above and the eyes on the floor of the extraction room darted to the corner to see what seemed like an army of fine Aesir soldiers led in a skeletal form. The emaciated body was chained chained and fettered like a newly captured slave. The manacles were still around his wrist and ankles, his neck was still weighed down heavy by the shackle wrapped there. His mouth still bound in the wicked muzzle that took away any dignity that could have possibly ever been had by such a pathetic creature. Loki was clean. The guards had obeyed the queen's orders and gotten the ex prince tidied up but it had been a humiliating process, the stripped him in a tiny barrack and splattered his naked body with frigid water. It was a jolt to the dark-haired mages system. He shivered like a sheep after shearing. They proceeded to cleanse him. They then beat his bare body with wet rags. They left horrible red welts on his porcelain skin. To end this torturous bath they dumped a scalding hot bucket of water upon his head.

Now those same ruthless guards paraded him into the extraction chamber like he was cattle to be sold at market. He was only afforded the meanest of garments to cover his body, a thin sheaf, a loin cloth. The guards yanked hard on his chains and the skinny prisoner set to face extraction tumbled forward, practically crawling on his hands and knees as the brace on neck was pulled a tugged like he was unruly dog that they would bridle and force to learn to sit and stand, beg and roll over when given the command. He was mere inches always from the extracting pool and although Odin's guards did not slacken their pace, Loki forced himself on up on his weak legs. He stood up proudly, tilting his nose into the air high, the way he had walked when he was an heir to this realm. His jade eyes glanced up at the observers box. To anyone else it would have simply been an impenetrable fortress that could not be seen through, but Loki used his powers. They thought that they could rob him his powers, but they'd not do it without him knowing that he'd seen the faces of those who conspired against him. His emerald eyes gazed straight through. He saw them Algrim, Brunhilde, Lord Audric, his cousin Jascha and the rest of the council. He looked up and saw The Warrior Three and Sif. Those who he had once called his friends. He looked at them staunchly. They knew Loki was staring at them his emerald eyes were aimed right at theirs and it unnerved them. Frandal fidgeted, Volstagg avoided the emerald eyed traitors eyes, but even though he made his eyes look elsewhere he could feel the icy chill from Loki's cold hearted stare. Hogun stood proud and tall, but he swallowed a hard thick knot in his throat. Loki watched with arrogant pleasure as the stoic, silent, slant-eyed soldier became uncomfortable. His gem pupils darted over to Sif. The proud shield maiden didn't falter under his glare. She stood proud and tall a warrior, through and through who couldn't be broken by thoughts of pain and torture. She made her eyes look as though she couldn't perceive that he could see her nonchalant attitude about his possible demise, but she could. He gave a playful smirk, The smirk was on his lips, but his lips were covered by the metallic muzzle, but the sick little smile shone through to her in his hard jade eyes. She stiffened ever so slightly she took a step back.

Loki's eyes skimmed over the remaining courtiers who loomed in the room above the extraction chamber, until they landed on Thor. The golden prince looked as if he hadn't slept a wink: Hair a mess tunics, rumpled, heavy gray bags dangling from beneath sapphire blue eyes. He looked to Thor's right and there was Odin. The great king of Asgard looked worn and almost ill. His one eye house a tear. Loki squinted looking deep into the old man's gray-blue eye...what was it there... ahh pity. He wished his mouth was at liberty, else he would use it to hurl spit at the window high over his head. He didn't want Odin's pity. His mouth was a shackled member, but his eyes were free. Those deep emerald orbs glared daggers through the hearts of his once supposed family. He watched Odin and his son flinch under his cruel gaze and he shook his head taunting them the more.

The extraction pool was set. The ooze bubbled letting off its noxious fumes and Loki felt woozy just getting near it. They slapped his body down on the cold, steel slab of a table. Loki's thin back arched up as a reflex when thick brass magic inhibiting straps folded around his wrists, ankles and stomach to hold him in place.

The guards backed up from the table, feeling sick getting too close from the powerful solution and the white hooded healers approached. Loki reared. They looked like horrible phantoms from childhood nightmare. His heart beat double time within his chest. "Begin!" was uttered from one of the hooded figures. He knew the voice, it was aged. Eir. The healers touched him. Their hands were gloved. They began chanting, slow mystic words. It went on for a minute, two, three, four. Loki's magic was strong and his lack of trust over the situation made it hard for them to even sedate him. He thrashed and bucked twisted and pushed back wildly against their energy. "Keep it steady!" the great healer commanded. Loki's immediate resistance was overwhelming, Loki's magic had been weakened since his return to Asgard, but still his magic was more powerful than any of theirs. One healer fainted only a few moments into the process feeling Loki's barriers and reserves press hard against her powers resisting hers and weakening them. The rest of the group pressed on continuing with their sleep inducing enchantments. After ten minutes or more though Loki could feel himself becoming drowsy. His body and mind now aching for sleep. His physical protest became weaker and more lethargic. He soon only able to offer jerks of his knees and twitches of his shoulders. His head shook sluggishly from side to side as he tried to fight against the sedation that threatened to overtake him.

A white mesh-net visage appeared in front of Loki's heavy eyes. The fingers were exposed, ivory in color and warm, they swiped across the side of his face before the gingerly unhinged the contraption over his lips. When the muzzle was removed his chafed, slitted, slivers of ashy lips were exposed. The person behind the mask gulped. She didn't know why she bothered to where the mask. Loki's powers were advanced enough that he'd know and even if he chose not to use them to see who she was when she touched his barriers he'd know. Loki panted softly as the muzzle was torn from his mouth. His emerald eyes rolled back as he struggled to stay alert. "Go to sleep, Loki," she whispered her voice shaking as she brought her unsteady porcelain hands up.

"D-d-daaahhgmmaaarr," he slurred trying to make his dilated green pupils focus, his tongue flopped to one side of his mouth lazily dangling, "Paaahhleezzzz," he begged.

Dagmar shut her eyes behind the mask, "Go to sleep, Loki," she instructed breathlessly once more bringing two fingers to rest atop the center of his forehead. "This will hurt," she promised slipping through a barrier in his mind and watching him collapse into unconsciousness.

The table sunk down into the toxic ooze. The the dark plum goo saturating over and into Loki creamy skin, sliding into his nose and mouth as if to drown him. It bubbled and foamed creating a frothy turquoise film at the top. Inside the pool Loki shook like a leaf. He rattled hitting his head and body against the glass container uncontrollably. Dagmar plunged her white hand deep into the purple liquid up into her elbows, whispering forbidden words as she did and it sent Loki writhing madly. His body convulsing violently as he felt his energy being sucked from him.

Loki screamed a bloodcurdling howl, that bubbled up and resounded even when he was submerged. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"" He cried the sound so excruciatingly loud that it echoed out into the courtyards that surrounded the palace. It was a powerful yell that sent the ooze overflowing from the pool and on to the floor and splattering onto the healers. One healer could not take it. When the ooze touched his skin it burned him from the inside out and he ran from the healing chamber screaming, but his scream was drowned out by Loki's anguished tortured hollered. "AHHHHHHHHHH!" The magic wielding prince continued to wail as he felt his powers being stripped from his being.

Every fibers and cell of his being being ravaged. His cells seemed as if they were being split in two. His skin was on fire and he felt pain, so much endless, ceaseless pain coursing through his body. He twisted and thrashed, bucked his head and bared his teeth, trying to hold on to the fragments of magic that possibly remained in his system.

The Vanir healer screamed as well. As she felt Loki's powers flow out of him and into her. Yes she had felt this before. Felt this the night many moons ago when they had made love. She'd felt the strength of his enchantments but that had been different. That had been blissful and rapturous like standing in the waves by the seashore. Feeling the power of the currents but not being afraid, knowing that they would not harm but rather take you on a wonderful journey, but this was a tsunami and unending flood. It was not the warm glow of a fire, but rather a lightening bolt that burned and sizzled. She couldn't control it, it was to great. She let go.

Her whole body jolted and then collapsed. Energy surged from the pool pushing all the healers from the extraction table and flinging them to the wall. The liquid splashed up to the ceiling and over the box above the held the courtiers.

'What's happening?" One of the council members asked as their vision was now obscured by purple ooze. Another blast of magic shot forth this time breaking the thick, opaque glass, cracking the crystal walls and blowing out the torches in the room. The screams of the panicking nobles and healers rang out. The room was black besides now the dark-colored liquid that gave an eery glow still inside the pool.

"Get everyone out!" Prince Thor instructed his friends as the healers and people started to run frantically with in the room. The warriors nodded and obeyed the prince's orders helping to collect and gather the council members and maimed healers.

"Lady Dagmar," Sif cried slowly helping to prop the Vanir noblewoman to a sitting position. "You must get out, the extraction...something's wrong," she urged wrapping her arm around one of her few female friend's shoulder and hoisting her to her feet.

Dagmar's face was now expose, the white mesh mask singed off from the blast. She shook her head disoriented. "Loki," she cried pulling away from the brunette warrior woman. She rushed back to the extraction pool where a limp blue body floated on top blood pouring into the open mouth from his nose

Thick hands reached into the pool and pluck a thin cobalt body from the noxious goo. "Loki! Loki!" the thunder shouted as he laid the prone blue body on the floor. He noted the blood pouring from his nostrils and ears. "Nononono," the blonde prince muttered helplessly. "LOKI BREATHE!"

A/N You read alot, don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think ;)