"Take my hand!"
Loki hung from the shattered bifrost again, but it was not Thor, but Aaernia grasping the spear. Only her. She hung precariously over the edge, her hand extended.
"Loki, please!"
Loki stared at her for what seemed like hours. He could not leave her. He could not let go. But no matter how hard he tried he could not reach to take her hand. He began to slip.
"Loki, no! Don't let go! Please, give me your hand!"
But there was nothing he could do. As Aaernia's tears dripped onto his face his grip released, sending him tumbling into the abyss: the dark, unknown void. He could hear her desperate scream. But she could not jump. Like something had stopped him from reaching for her hand, something was stopping her from moving. As utter terror and desperation washed over him, Loki opened his mouth and…
Loki's eyes snapped open. He was in his bed in Asgard. He looked at Aaernia, curled up beside him. She stared back at him.
"Take my hand," Nia whispered. Loki obeyed. He clasped her hand tightly. Slowly, his fear drifted away. "I am here, love. You are here."
Loki wrapped his arms around Nia's waist. She was with him. Nothing was tearing them apart. Nia pulled the somewhat knotted blanket over them.
"Ni?" Loki mumbled, staring at the wall.
"Yes, Loki?"
"Were you... Did I wake you?"
Nia shook her head. "I was having that dream again."
"So was I."
"I know."