Visitation

by kalimecat

Loki has returned to Asgard and is imprisoned for his crimes. While in prison he has the occasional visitor, will the love of others bring back the fallen prince or is he truly too far gone?

25. Valley of Decision

HELLOOOOOO READERS! I hope you all are proud of me, I think this is one of the fastest turnovers I have ever had for writing a chapter. I wanted to get it finished for you. I apologize if there are many grammatical errors Fanfiction has removed the editing feature on the site and I tried my best to self edit, but I admit I can't catch every mistake. Either way I thank you so much for your reads and reviews and favorites and follows. Your support makes this story a joy to write. We are getting to a critical point in this story and drawing closer to the end. Well Happy reads and writes and God Bless!

Cloudy, gray skies loomed angrily over his head and black sand shifted beneath his boots, while the bitter winds whipped behind his back, causing the shredded leather straps on the ends of his tunic to flutter in the listless breeze as he skidded down the slope of the black sand mountains toward the battlefield. His thin, dark form looked like shadow sliding and gliding and skimming the surface of the volcanic soil.

Loki skulked across the valley with purpose. Going back toward the battlefield had taken him slightly off course from Ichabod, but it was a necessary detour. He wanted a souvenir from the battlegrounds. A mere day ago the basin nestled inside the soot-hill mountains had burst with the rage of war. The black sands had been painted red with the blood of Asgardian soldiers. The Dark Elves blood was inky black like their land and soulless eyes. The field had been highlighted with the bright white and brilliant purple from the blaster guns and weapons that had been fired. He could still hear the sound of the Dark Elves' blasters whiz and pop and sizzle as they shot forth devastating bullets. He could still hear the clank and clash of iron and steel colliding in the fury of the fight. He could hear the cries of those cut down. He could still smell the blood, sweat and bile mingled with smoke, exhaust, ash and rust. Sickening.

But now the battlefield was still and silent and there was hardly a sign that such ruckus had ever taken place. The sand storm had covered the bodies of the Aesir and Elfin soldiers who died upon this barren ground. The only trace of the battle blew in the stale wind, Loki could taste foul bile, blood that had been spilled upon the molten sands. In the rotten breeze he could smell the stench of the bodies rotting without graves.

Loki mashed his thin lips together as he thought of the unburied warriors , those poor soldiers. They would have no last rights rendered to them. Their bodies would lay forgotten in the barren wastes of Svartalhiem. Despite himself, Loki felt something for them. Pity? Remorse? Regret? Sorrow? Guilt? Whatever it was it was an uncomfortable feeling. He shook his head, clearing his mind of such uneasy feelings. Why should he care about the fate of those fools? They'd died the way they wanted to hadn't they? Surely that was the way every good Aesir wanted to die in the heat of battle? Giving life and blood in service to the all-father, in service to Asgard? If anything he'd done those Einherjar a favor, he'd led him to the glory they'd always longed for a seat at the banquet table in the illustrious halls of Valhalla.

The once prince of Asgard tried to brush aside the thoughts of the fallen Einherjar as he trekked across the eerie black sands. He tried to focus on his personal quest retrieving an item from the battlefield. Often times soldiers indulged in collecting the spoils of war. Some would take the helmets of their adversaries, others would take the sword of an opponent even if they had let him live. It was a way to proclaim yourself a victor and remind your enemy even if you were merciful enough to spare him that you had conquered him none the less. try as he might Loki couldn't keep his mind on merely retrieving a spoil. Once those warriors had been his people, but that had all been a lie. They were just as much apart of the elaborate fabric of the lie that had formed his whole life as Odin, Thor and Frigga were. Every person in Asgard had been part of that lie, their jeers and whispers and mistrust, their idolization of his arrogant and idiotic brother, his longing for their approval and having to second guess himself, wondering why he was so different; that had been their doing...each and every one of them, why should he feel any sense of guilt for their demise now.

Just as the thought was planted firmly and convincingly in his mind, Loki stumbled across something large and protruding from the onyx colored gravel. Loki stooped down and plucked the piece of armor from the sand, he dusted it off and found that it was a wrist plate engraved with the symbol of two wolf heads. The house of Borg. Lord Borg was one of the chief justices of Asgard and had been one of Thor and Loki's tutor's in the law. He had two wives and had 10 sons. Loki knew a few of his older sons, most of them were even older than he and Thor, but after he retired from the courts he moved away from the hustle and bustle of the Imperial City and took to the coast to raise his three youngest. Had this man been one of Lord Borg's youngest sons? Was he the youngest? He wondered did the warriors father know that his son had ventured to the Dark World to save Asgard? Soon Lord Borg would have to learn his son would never come home.

Loki bit his lip as his dusty, milky fingers clenched tightly around the piece of armor. Lord Borg always talked so of his sons. He was so proud of each and every one of them. A few of them had chosen to follow in his footsteps and become men of the law, one was a barrister, the other a constable in the city. He talked often about how he hoped he could have one of his sons become an Einherjar. One most likely had and now that child was lost to the elderly justice. Loki tucked the piece of gold armor into the folds of his cape. Out of respect for his old professor, the man had given him knowledge, something more valuable than riches, he supposed the least he could do was offer the man the remains of his son. "Why bother?" a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered, "You will soon destroy his whole house, will you not?" it accused. Loki twisted uncomfortably in his skin as the words lingered in his mind.

He continued to walk on slowly, his emerald eyes still surveying the empty battle-field searching for the item he desired. He didn't find it right away though, rather he noted something seemingly out of place in the dark sand. He spotted a silky, white handkerchief fluttering over the piles of soot. Thin lips quirked curiously at the trinket. This was an odd trinket to find on the battle grounds. It was distinctly feminine with lace and frills and pretty pink stitching and embroidery. He knew it didn't belong to Sif, he doubted Sif had ever owned a woman's handkerchief, she never carried a parcel or woman's purse, she surely wouldn't carry anything so dainty and mild into a fight. She would wipe, the spit, blood a sweat of battle off of her self with the tattered sleeve of her battle garments. Loki doubted the mortal scientist had thought to carry a handkerchief, she was not classy enough for such graces. It was obviously a favor from some damsel. Maybe it was from a woman he was betrothed to, maybe a wife. Someone would be without a lover. He knew that terrible pain. It gnawed away at his stomach like an army of hungry moths gnawing away at an old garment. Eating at him from the inside out. The wind picked up just a bit and blew strong enough to lift the cloth from the soot. Loki caught it as it fluttered into the wind. He read the inscription on it. Initials had been stitched into the fabric. A.N. His old laundress had the initials A.N.

The raven haired mage continued to look over the black sands. He knew it still had to be here. He'd left it there specifically for him to come and retrieve at this very moment. If he'd had his lodestone it would have been very easy to locate, but alas he'd given it to Sif to shut her up. Once again the trickster's intelligent emerald eyes landed on something other than what he'd come to find. It was a chain poking through the ash. He pulled it up and noted the chain was connected to a locket. The front piece of the locket had broken off allowing the portrait on the inside to be revealed. The picture was of one of the Einherjar a middle man, with a long beard and a bald head and a plumper, but not unattractive woman with curly strawberry blonde hair and three children. The eldest boy who looked a lot like the man stood to his mother's side imitating his Einherjar's father firm stance, but the lad looked rather silly with such a rigid, masculine posture and such a scrawny frame. The other boy sat on his mother's lap, he was all smiles though most of the teeth in the front of his mouth were missing. The third child, was a daughter no more than two years old by human standards. She was being held in the arms of her Einherjar father, holding a well warn looking stuffed rabbit. All the members of the family were smiling. Loki's heart clenched as he thought that one member of the happy little family was no more...and by his hand. He swallowed a thick lump that was forming in his throat that made him feel as though he couldn't even breath. He closed his eyes to keep liquid from spilling forth like a flood and clenched his hand in a tight fist around the items he had found.

Look how far everything had gone! How had he let it go that far. It had all started out as a bit of fun... A prank to spoil Thor's big day. For a moment he wanted to make amends. He had never really intended to make children fatherless or leave women forlorn without their lovers or deprive parents of their children. His thin hands clutched reflexively around the items he had recovered. He thought to return the items to the family members of the slain. It was the least he could do. He could tell them how bravely their loved ones had fought and how he was sure they had earned a place in the halls of Valhalla. (A place he was sure he would never go, but perhaps he had never been meant to go. How could a murdering Frost Giant enter the halls intended for the valiant and honorable?) Then he chided himself for the foolishness of his notion. The hypocrisy of it. He would not be returning to Asgard bound and chained as some humbled prisoner contrite and repentant of his crimes against the realm, but rather as a victorious, conquering king who'd usher in what all Asgardian's feared, Ragnarok.

'You won't be a conquering king," a voice echoed almost audibly on the wind, "You'll be an overthrowing tyrant!" it scolded. The tiny, meddling voice in the back of his mind was getting more persistent. More irritating and harder to ignore. The raven-coiffed trickster growled against the torturous words of his inner self. The whispering tone was blaring and inescapable in the deafening silence of the Dark-World.

The trickster gritted his teeth as he covered his ears with hands to try to keep the voice from echoing inside his mind. The trinkets that had been left on the battle-field tumbled out of his hands and back toward the midnight dust. "STOP!" Loki roared inwardly. "It doesn't matter!" he panted inside as he shook his head bitterly. "it doesn't matter," he muttered once more. "I will have a throne!" he assured himself pulling his porcelain palms away from his ears and standing up straight and starting to walk on. He left the armor and the handkerchief and the broken locket to once gain be buried in the sands. He wished he could bury his conscience with the same sands.

"And that's all you will have!" the voice shot back. "A gilded chair! But you will have no kingdom, no subjects! None of the power that you so desperately crave," it condemned.

Loki snarled angered by his hearts betrayal. "You're wrong!" he argued. "You're wrong!" he shouted. He actually laughed out loud. "I will have power! I will wield the Gungnir! Mjolnir! The Tesseract! The Aether!" he expressed as his eyes grew large with the thought.

"And who will you rule? Asgard as you know it shall be destroyed," the voice urged.

"Then we shall start a new!" Loki's sharp mind quickly countered.

"What if no one survives?" the struggling conscience questioned fearfully.

The disowned son of Odin scoffed, his raven locks shook from side to side as he gave a lazy wag of his head. "Some one always survives,' he reminded himself darkly. "Malekith survived when Bor thought he destroyed the whole race," he pointed out. He could feel that small, childish part of himself forming an argument. "And I survived when Thor tossed me into that abyss," he stated flatly, bitterly his gemstone eyes narrowing as he continued searching for his prize.

For a moment the little voice was silent, Loki nearly sighed relieved to be rid of pesky lingering feeling,"The people will hate you!" The voice reminded him. "What king is hated by his people?'

The powerful kind,"the raven-coiffed enchanter responded smugly to himself.

This time it was the voice's turn to scoff. It's tone amused and mocking like a parent amused at a child who thinks it knows what is best. "That is no real power," it informed. "Just as power does not come from strength of arms, but from strength of mind and heart. Once you knew that."

"When I was weak and foolish I believed such!" Loki snapped back as he continued to stalk about the battle grounds. His entrancing green pupils still searching for something.

"You were stronger and wiser then than you are now," his mind contradicted him.

The once prince of Asgard growled, "ENOUGH!" he exploded aloud. He was breathless and drained from the argument. He had never realized how completely and utterly infuriating he had been in a debate until he started constantly have to debate with his own self. "This is what must be done, alright!" he protested. "it is what must be done," he repeated after he stubbed his toe on something thick, pointed and hard. Loki smiled a gleeful smile as he felt the item beneath his boot. He dropped to his knees and started digging furiously. He sunk his milky white hands into the dark sands and dug like a dog searching for a bone he had buried.

"Why?" the voice was back again. Unrelenting, stubborn, burdensome thing. "because of Thanos?" it questioned.

The thin prisoner stiffened, stopping mid dig. "It is what I want!" Loki protested. He had always been a good liar, it was one of his most prominent talents, but he was failing miserably at lying to himself.

"You want this!?" The voice sounded aghast and horrified. "You want war and death and Ragnorok?" it paused. Then harshly accused, "You want to be Thanos' pawn?"

"I WANT A THRONE!" Loki yelled back furiously tears pooling in his eyes. 'I want it because it is my birthright and it has been denied me for far to long," he ground as he sank his hands into the black sands and leaned over as if he were physically pained. "Please," he begged like child to his inner voice. He was tired of being so conflicted. "Can't you understand that?' he asked his voice quivering.

"No," the answer came. It was a soft and pitying tone. It was tender and sensitive to his torment, but it did little to comfort him with it's lack of understanding.

Loki started to rebuttal, but there was no need to, the voice had vanished. It had disappeared on the tail coats of the wind. He snorted smugly as he held his head high, thinking that perhaps, this time he had rid himself of the persistent voice for once and for all. He started to dig once more, even more feverishly. But the stillness of the voice did not sooth his soul, actually, quite the contrary, it left him feeling at ill ease and oh so isolated in this barren land. Still, he pressed passed such feelings. It was weakness! The voice was wrong! There was no going back. Even if he wanted to, which he didn't, but even if he did he couldn't break a deal with Thanos. He had failed his end of their accord already. Thanos needed him to some extent so he doubted that the mad titan would outright kill him, but there were fates worse than death he had learned that when in the void in the realm of Thanos.

This was his moment to have all the things that he truly desired, the things that he deserved, what was owed to him! It was within his reach. This was his moment of great triumph over that witless, oaf Thor! Always Thor had been the golden one the entitled one. But he was heir to a throne as well. Every bit as deserving of a throne as that fool. His hour was at hand and no pestering feelings of sentiment, no once upon a time memories of a childhood based on a lie, would keep him from his prize. Not when he had come so far, not when he was this close. The plan was perfectly laid. It was full-proof now and there was no one to stop him. Nothing that could go wrong. The kingdom of Asgard was with in his reach, a mere bauble for taking by his skillful fingers. And he intended to take it! To seize it! And when he did, he'd watch Odin and Thor writhe, he'd watch them wriggle like worms on a hook. They'd cower before him and beg him for mercy. A sickening grin spread across his keen features as the scene played out in his mind. They'd kneel at his feet his feet pleading with him and he suppose he'd show them mercy...after all they were his family. He licked his lips with lustful pleasure as he devised to extend the same grace toward them that they had shown him...500 years in the dungeons manacled and chained, whipped and beat...justice would be sweet. And all of Asgard would be forced to see how powerful he really was.

Just then as the delicious and delightful scene rolled across his mind like the grand finale of his favorite opera being displaying before his eyes. His eyes landed on the object he'd been searching for. It was a gnarled and nasty, lumpy and misshapen horn. It was hideous with a hellish coloring of burnt burgundy, rust and putrid brown and black. It was the horn from the Kursed's head which had been severed from the beasts body by Loki. Loki wrapped his hand tightly around the horn and plucked it up from the black sands. The face of the monster was disgusting with horns and spikes popping out the sides of its head, twisted looking tusk winding from its ugly snout. Loki could barely look at the beast. It was horrid monster! And yet he wanted to keep its head and mount it on his wall. Loki had never been particularly fond of the art of taxidermy. Thor loved it. He had a personal taxidermist who stuffed and buffed and mounted all his killings. The crown Prince even had a a room, the hunting room where he displayed many of the animals that he'd bested over the years. Personally, Loki had always found the practice rather distasteful. He couldn't understand why a person would want a chamber furnished with stuffed, dead bodies and lifeless heads. The whole thing seemed barbaric and antiquated. A home should be furnished elegantly, with things of charm that reflected style art and culture. But he'd make an exception for this fine specimen here. He squeezed his hands tightly around the ghastly horns. He would mount the grotesque head right over Odin's throne and it would be a reminded to all of his power. it would remind Odin and Thor that he had slain a creature that even they in all their might and strength and glory had not been able to over come. it would remind the Dark Elves and Malekith that he had bested their greatest champion and that he was their master and not the other way around. It would remind Thanos that he needed him and it would serve as a reminder to Loki that he had fulfilled his promise and avenged Dagmar, at least he would attempt to convince himself of that lie and maybe as centuries past he would even come to accept that as truth. Loki gazed at the gruesome face once more. He remembered when he first laid eyes on the horrendous dark-elf creature.

Their eyes meeting for just a moment. At first they had both looked at each other curiously, but then they found it... the commonality they'd both been searching for. They both had equal amounts of rage, malice, hate and thirst for vengeance burning deep behind their eyes. Loki could recall the Kursed cocking it's hideous and bulbous head to the side as it scrutinized him. It rumbled, "Are you the one?" and Loki remembered the fiendish delight that welled up inside his blackened heart at that moment. All he had thought about was his revenge. How he would pluck Asgard from the all-father's fingers and take the throne and rule! So he conspired with the monster. He'd been so eager, so ready and willing to do whatever it took. Emerald eyes blinked back tears. He'd led the Kursed right to her, he told him to take the back stairs to avoid the fleet of guards that he knew would come pouring down the steps once the prison riot occurred.

Loki's hand started to tremble. His whole being was shaking, he was so overwhelmed by his grief and anger and guilt as he looked at the head of the monster that had slaughtered the Vanir Prime Minister's lovely daughter. He was no longer able to contain his tears, they slid down his narrow cheeks unabashedly, spilling in wavy lines from all his trembling. Part of him wanted to smash the skull of the deceased beast to bits he wanted to pulverize it as it had pulverized and smashed through the hollowed halls of his once home, another part of him wanted to fling the head like a discus over the farthest foothills and never behold the gruesome mug again. He wanted to bury it beneath the black sands and never dig it up again, but he could bury the head as deep as the core of the planet, but that would have proved futile, he could bury the severed head, but he could never bury his guilt.

Finally unable to bear looking into the dead eyes of the monster that murdered his beloved, he dropped the horrendous head allowing it to roll back down into the ditch that he had just dug it out of. His hands were still shaking violently. He looked down at his hands, they were dirty and caked covered with mud and soot from the ashen foothill, but they might as well have been dripping red with blood. Dagmar's warm blood might as well have been oozing from between the crevices in between his fingers. It was his fault. He was responsible for her death. His lust for power and need for vengeance had destroyed her. He might of well have taken one of his daggers and rammed it into her heart. Desperately, the once prince of Asgard plunged his hands into the ebony sands no longer able to bear the sight of them as he kept envisioning holding Dagmar's cold, lifeless body as the blood spilled out of her and poured on to him.

Loki let out a mournful sob, doubling over in pain as the horrible vision played in his head. He managed to pry his hands from the sands only cover his slender face so that he could weep openly into his hands. How had she died? Was it instant without giving her a chance to think or had she suffered and lingered in her death feeling her life drift away and being powerless to stop it? Had she pleaded, begged for her life to be spared? And if she had, had that savage beast even hesitated? Had it for one moment looking into her beautiful, entrancing, wide silver pupils and thought about sparing her life? Of course it hadn't! What did monsters know of mercy? Monsters didn't hesitate to kill, they didn't think they just acted and satisfied their blood lust. He just cut her down mindlessly. Just an attack dog carrying out orders without thought. And was he any better? Or was just the same as that mindless creature? He had just acted out of impulse, he hadn't thought about all the outcomes, he hadn't cared. He had destroyed the very woman he loved.

The once prince couldn't help, but think about what had been Lady Dagmar's last thoughts in those terrible moments just before she died. Had she hated him? Surely he had given her every reason to: She'd come to him asking him to help with removing the Aether. She'd practically begged him to take this chance at redemption and to run away with her. The way she'd kissed him that moment when she was in his cell and pleading with him to help save Asgard before the Convergence came and it was all too late, it had been so passionate, so fiery, so fierce and all at once so loving and tender and understanding; it had moved him to his very soul. He could still feel her fresh, quickening breath staggering against his nose and lips just as their mouths parted from their lustful kissing. The sensation of her fingers on his bare chest still lingered on his skin Loki could still hear her words, soft and sincere ringing in his ear like the chime of a silver-bell voice in his ear, "I want to love you right this time...tell me you want that too,"

"I want my throne," he replied turning his back to her, gritting his teeth and clenching his fist. Loki sobbed harder water cascading down his face so furiously that it started to wash his soot covered hands clean. "I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it Dagmar!" he blubbered helplessly. "I'm so sorry," the green-eyed mage continued to lament to no one. His own words hurt like fist as they replayed mercilessly in his ears. Loki swallowed, his throat was now dry and achy from his uncontrolled crying. All he'd really wanted to do in that moment was take her in his arms and pledge his undying love to her once more. He did love her and he'd always loved her for her indescribable beauty, for her sharp wit, her sense of adventure and humor, he kind and gentle nature. Now all that was lost to him.

He was on the precipice of gaining the throne that he so coveted and craved. Literally now nothing stood between him and the throne, but still his his heart was always left to longed for what was out of reach. That was sheer agony. He'd never again know the joy of her infectious smile beaming at him as they shared jokes and secrets. He'd never hear her melodic voice humming and singing in the halls. He'd never feel the caress of her soft, alabaster hands in his or stroking his face, hair or touching him in ways that sent shivers down his spine and electricity racing through his veins. He'd never look into her intoxicating starlit eyes and get so lost there that he'd lose his train of thought. He'd never know the sweet taste of her delicious pomegranate kisses coming from her plump, wet, red lips. He'd never feel her soft, curvy, flawless, porcelain body, pressed against his in a feverish, frenzy of unbridled passion. And he'd only known her once. And she'd conceived. Now he'd never have the joy of watching the woman he loved carry his child. He'd never experience the deeper intimacy that they'd gain from sharing the joy of watching her stomach swell and grown as the months passed. Dagmar was gone and so was their child.

Loki shook his head trying vigorously to dislodge the tender image of a baby boy with pale pink flesh, chubby, cherub cheeks like his mother, soft tuffs of curly, raven hairs and twinkling silver eyes and, just maybe, an impossible to resist impish grin like his own. He removed such a vision from his mind. That vision must have been the furthest thing from the truth. The child obviously hadn't come out possessing any of its mother's features if it would have than Lord Olaf would have not put the child away. The child bore his blood, blood of a race of monsters and apparent his had all the inherent traits. Loki slammed gleaming jade eyes shut. He didn't even want to picture such a child. No one would spare such a creature. It was a cold, hard fact now, mother and child were lost to him.

Loki grit his teeth, to fight against the pain that welled up in his chest. She was gone and he was the culprit of her untimely demise. The ebony-haired enchanter inhaled sharply, finally composing himself, "I'm sorry, Dagmar," Loki gave one last shuddering gasp as he wiped stinging salt tears from his shining emerald eyes and looked toward the gray heavens. "I killed this monster, to avenge you," he informed with repulsion written clearly across his thin lips as he cast a glance at the nasty head of the Kursed. "I am not worthy of your forgiveness," the once prince mumbled, proud, straight, thin shoulders slumping, "I don't ask for it," he continued with a sigh as he looked down at his hands. He rubbed them slowly as if trying to cleanse his hands. "I have too much blood on my hands," he muttered, his hands felt dry and grimy with the black gravel, sullied. "Your blood is on my hands," he confessed as he sniffled, "I can never atone," stated and swallow. "I hope that you see this deed and know that I did care about you," he whispered as he started to rub his hands on his pants once again attempting to remove the gritty feeling of coarse sand from his skin. "Be at peace, my love...for when I have used Malekith to my own purposes I will cut off his head and destroy his hoard just as I have slain this monster!" he swore as he clenched his hand into a tight fist. "I'm sorry for what I have done and I'm sorry that you will hate me for what I am about to do," Loki stated as he carefully and deliberately rose from the ground, his face wet with tears as he rose to his feet he gripped the Kursed's gnarled horn and dragged the lumpy tusked head across the black sand foothills and made his way to Ichabod.

---

The trickster journeyed on toward the stronghold city of the Dark Elves with the severed head of the Kurse trailing being him, leaving lines in the midnight sands. The head was heavy as if it was made of all iron and stone. It made the e trek arduous, but the trickster was determined to reach Ichabod before the winds picked up and started to blow boisterously, causing the sands to rise up and whip about, hitting Loki in the face. For a moment the once prince simply tried to shield his emerald eyes from spray but it proved futile as he noticed in the distance a massive sand cloud forming in the distance. He soon was forced to put a shield around himself.

It required little effort he spread his hands and instantly produced the gleaming force-field of neon purple light around himself and he was easily able to continue his travel through the storm. Loki sighed as he noted that he would need to travel directly through the path of the foreboding black sand cloud to reach his destination. Loki groaned, annoyed, he was sure that his shield could withstand the onslaught of the sand, but it would surely impede his progress. It was also possible that he could get lost in the storm, still he had to progress on. Convergence drew closer with every second and it was imperative that he reach the stronghold city before then. So, resolutely, the raven-coiffed mage determined to plow through and go forth into the sandstorm.

The sand cloud was nearly a mile high rising off of the ground and was forming into a massive funnel that seemed to fill all space. A wave of endless black overtook a glimmering bubble of electric violet and engulfed it like a tar pit swallowing a mastodon. Once in side the gigantic cloud the winds howled furiously the noise was almost earsplitting, coupled with the continuous pelting of tiny grains of sand against the shield it was nearly deafening. Inside the sandstorm it was pitch black and if it hadn't been for his magic and being able to produce a bright, white light from the center of his palm, Loki would have been forced to walk through the massive sandstorm completely blind. But even with the light he could only see a few steps in front of him and no more.

The dark-haired mage feared he was getting off course. The sandstorm battered against his shield and the fearsome winds inside the funnel had pushed him and his shield back and blown him off his original heading. Even with his piercing, white light he could scarcely see and without his lodestone it was impossible to get his bearings in this terrible storm. The once prince started to panic if the storm didn't die down on its own soon, he could be buried alive in the black sands of Svartalfheim.

In the midst of the fierce howl of the storm and the constant beating of sound against the energy-shield Loki started to hear utterances. The sound started out faint, it was a murmur barely distinguishable from the noisome, cantankerous sandstorm. But slowly the faint whispers became more and more clear and he could make out the whisperings being carried in the winds. His name. "Loki...Loki...Loki," a breathless and chilling voice called through the storm.

Loki's gemstone colored eyes shifted as he looked around his force-field trying to find the direction the voice was coming from. It wasn't merely one direction. The ghostly echoes were all around, but there wasn't a presence to be found. The enchanter bit his lip and shook his head and continued to trudge through the storm,determined to disregard the murmurs that reverberated through the sand cloud as he continued to drag the Kursed's ugly head. The bulbous, spiked cranium had become incredibly have and Loki's lean arms had started to ache abominably from dragging the dead weight for so many hours. Still, he'd dare not drop his prize, he intended to show it before that white face villain when he reached his hideaway.

Loki pressed forward against the twirling and shifting sands beneath his boots and against the impenetrable darkness that kept him walking blindly. The voices were not silenced simply because he chose to ignore them. Instead they grew louder and more persistent, refusing to be ignored any longer. Before long the murmur over took the boisterous winds out the storm and the loud pounding of the sand against the shield. "LOKI...LOKI...LOKI!" it no longer whispered but hollered.

Finally, Loki dropped the head of Kursed and covered his ears with his hands. Surely, it was just a trick of the wind or the echoes of his overwrought mind as plots and schemes turned in his brain. "It's just the wind," the traitor to Asgard muttered to himself convincingly after a deep breath. He then picked up his hideous, horned trophy and took forged one more proud step.

It was simply a trick of the desert. Deserts were notorious for playing tricks on people's mind and the Dark World was mostly a desert realm. It was not necessarily, hot, but it was dry and desolate and provided little shade and a harsh climate. No doubt being exposed to the elements for so long had left him fatigued. He had had little to eat or drink since he'd left the cave where the Einherjar were recuperating and even while there he hadn't eaten much, he had been busy tending the wounded me. He had not even rested properly. With all this even his sharp mind was susceptible to the foul illusions that the a treacherous world like Svartalhiem could play on a person. That was it! That was all he had seen. A mirage! An audible mirage rather than a visible one.

Once he convinced himself of this, the enchanter pulled out his wineskin. He pulled the cork out and brought it to his dry lips, the water was still cool and it felt good on his parched tongue and as it slid down his dry throat. Loki guzzled greedily, nearly draining the completely full wineskin of it's precious contents. He stopped himself leaving only a minimal amount of water left. He hadn't realized how thirsty he actually was until he started drinking.

Satisfied with his drink, Loki tied the wineskin back around his belt, picked up the heavy head and continued to try and press his way through the storm. He hadn't made much progress when he started to hear words flutter into his eardrums once more. They started out small and slow and steady. But it was clear as day. It was a simple question. "How could you?" the tone questioned eerily in the veil of sound. The voices rang out all around him. They were soft, but unrelenting they demanded that he answer them. "Howcouldyouhowcouldyouhowcouldyou?" repeated over and over again in the tempest. "Howcouldyouhowcouldhowcouldyou?" the booming roar of the stormy winds endlessly and provocatively continued to inquire.

"How could I what?" Loki finally snapped unable to resist the temptation of the tormenting voice in the wind. The whispering winds did not respond. So the ex-prince of Asgard decided to respond for them, "How could I betray Thor?" Loki spat freezing in his tracks as the commotion of wildly blown about onyx grains beat about his shield, "With pleasure," he announced in a breathy and lustful chortle was released from his throat. He allowed a sick smile to play across his chiseled features as he produced a cruel cackle. "It is the imbecile's own fault!" he reported still delighting in his own fiendish delight at his dastardly plots. "I warned him," Loki qualified shaking his head still laughing wickedly. "I warned him, that I was coming to avenge Dagmar," he explained his chuckling falling silent as he thought of her once more. "And I have," Loki testified as he defiantly once against lifted the remains of Kursed toward the roof of the energy shield. His voice shook and shuddered with fresh emotion. He steeled himself such mournful feelings. He doubted he would ever completely stop mourning her, but mourning served little purpose here and now. There could be time for mourning once his own ends had been accomplished. Such sorrowful feelings and sentiments only prolonged the inevitable, they only filled him with regret and conflict of mind. He immediately lowered the beastly head and let out an exasperated breath. He licked his lips, they were dry and cracking, it hurt to dampen them. "I have done as I have promised," Loki reminded the wind. "If Thor expected anymore then he is a fool!" he condemned, "And I am no longer responsible for protecting that witless oaf from his folly," he ground out. "I have done as I have promised Thor, now I must do as I have promised Thanos," Loki whispered. "Then I shall have what has been promised to me all my life..." he rubbed his palms together greedily as the vision of glory filled his head. "a throne," he muttered wicked smirk sneaking across his ashy lips.

With that Loki pressed on. He moved quickly now he needed to get through this dark cloud as quick as possible. He picked up his pace seeking to outrun the sandstorm and the storm with in. As he trudged along quicker and quicker the violently spiraling fog of black sand, he chided himself for the foolishness of giving in to talking to these audible mirages. He could still hear the winds echoing the accusatory question ceaseless. This time he refused to give in to the urge to talk back. Instead he forged a head forcing his silver tongue to stay silent.

The purple bubble continued to plow its way through the cloud of black, their seemed to be no telling when the sand cloud would end and the storm would pass over. The furious winds of the sand storm continued to rip, roar and scream around the raven locked mage contained inside the tiny shield. The sands pounded down on the force-field and sounded as loud as great balls of hail banging and clanking down upon the concrete. And even still in the midst of all the torrential noise he could still hear the voice in the wind, but as he listened to the incriminating inquiry of the storm, the question became more and more compelling. It was becoming necessary to give an answer. It was not merely because of his weariness of being forced to hear the same question over and over. It was something about the way the question was being formed now. The voices soon fade into one voice, one very familiar, soft, albeit powerful female voice. The tone that spoke no longer demanded an answer from him rather it pleading for his silver-tongue to answer in truth. It took him back to his childhood, times when he'd become angry or hurt by the way others had treated him and locked himself in his chambers. That voice was always there speaking softly through the cracks of his gilded door and asking tenderly to be let in. Once he gave permission, the voice was soon followed by assuaging hands that played in his hair and rubbed his back until his sniveling had stopped and he was calm and quieted. Then the beautiful female voice would ask him what was wrong. At first he'd say nothing, a lie to cover up his feelings or that he was just tired. Even as a lad he'd often been able to hide his feeling if he chose to. But there was no lying to the loving tone that spoke, most attempts proved futile, somehow the sweet voice always finagled truth from the notorious trickster. This time proved to be no different.

If the tone had been abrasive, accusatory, condemning and judgmental he would have been easily able to verbally retaliate as he did before with sarcasm and mockery, cynicism and lies, his favorite weapons, but the voiced housed so much concern and love that he couldn't bring himself to ignore it anymore. Besides there was something else behind the tone, love and tenderness, but also disappointment.

"Mother?" the man in the sandstorm mumbled like a lost child wandering through the halls of his home at night. He knew it was foolish, talking to the air, but he was no longer able to pretend he was untouched by the disappoint housed in her voice as it echoed in the monstrous winds. He could never take disappointing her, although he had done little but disappoint her of late. But at least he didn't have to behold the disappointment in her eyes. He'd seen so precious little of her in the past two years and when he did see her she never looked at him with disappointment, but rather with love and longing and hope, honestly, Loki thought disappointment might have been easier to bear.

Loki cast forth a bright light from the center of the palm of his right hand to try to pierce through the veil of dark sands. The penetrating light cut through the heavy fog of soot, but still it did not allow him to see beyond the storm. Jade eyes squinted as they concentrated on where the light shone. He was surely not seeing the muted light of the Svartalfheim sky, but still something was forming in the midst of the storm. As his light shone through the cloud and he watched the shadows of the sand once again gather and come to life. The black ash shifted and twisted forming into familiar surroundings. He saw the silhouette of the Queen of Asgard stagger into a decimated looking throne room. The columns were crumbled into nothing more but piles of rock, the pillars of white limestone had been smashed to bits. The beautiful statues had toppled over; heads severed and limbs lying disconnected from the bodies. The floor was cracked and filled with gaping holes, no doubt formed by the terrible blaster guns that the Dark Elves possessed. It was a ghastly vision and Loki looked on it with horror. This was even worse than the attack that had just befallen Asgard. Nothing of the throne room was left, even the ceiling had caved in.

Loki watched as the only woman he had ever called mother limped from behind a broken column. He could tell by her movements that she was disoriented and shocked. She was trembling fiercely and the look of her queenly vestments was tattered. He heard her let out a terrible shriek as she covered her face. "NO! Nonono," she muttered. "It cannot be," she gasped as she ran toward the demolished looking throne, but she stumbled and fell flat on her face, her royal crown tumbling right off of her golden ringlets and into the rubble on the floor.

"Mother!" Loki cried reaching out his hand in an attempt to help her. He raced forward toward the sand vision trying to assist her. He couldn't recall ever having seen her so frantic or so frightened looking. He watched as she clutched at her side, obviously in a great deal of pain, but she did let her pain deter her from getting where she was going. She crawled on the palace floor, on her hands and knees, it was a pitiful sight to see the wife of Odin scuttling on the ground like a beggar woman. Sometimes even in the midst of her crawling she would stumble and collapse. Loki tried to quicken his steps to get to her and help her to her feet, but he could never seem to reach her.

Finally, he watched as the queen literally pulled herself by one arm toward two bodies scattered at the base of the golden dais. The bodies were face down, both clad in armor. One appeared to be more fit and muscular, the other only slightly rounder with a longer beard. One had a very large horned helmet with great crests on it's head and it held a might staff in it's right hand. The younger looking body held a magnificent mallet and onto of it's twisted looking head was a beautiful headdress with the wings of an eagle. 'Odin! Thor!" the queen cried as she pulled her body toward the two men. She thrust herself upon each of them doing her best to examine their broken bodies. She found their fatal wounds, and desperately she fumbled to try to patch up the hemorrhages from which their blood still spilled from their broken bodies. "Odin! Odin! Odin!" the queen muttered miserably over and over as she shook the now dead all-father's body trying to revive him. She managed to roll the dead king over. His limp body didn't struggle against the movement. "My love please...please" she blubbered. The queen's dainty hands reached out to massage the king's slack face. Loki was able to focus on the scene, her saw his mother's countenance crumble as she started to weep over her dead husband. Soon, she turned her attention to Thor's torn body. She scooted closer toward his head and ever so gingerly removed his helmet. She then cradled her oldest son's head in her lap, "No, no, no" she whispered as salt tears exploded from her bright sapphire eyes they slid down her cheeks and onto Thor's wide open dead eyes that were fixed in horror. "Thor?" the queen's voice was a breathy whisper pleading for the thunderer to respond, but he didn't his body sat still as blood poured from it. "Baby?" he voice cracked as she called to him and her hands gently fluttered through his wet blonde hair and patted his bearded cheeks. Blood was pooled in his mouth and spilled out the side of it. Frigga let out a dreadful moan as she clutched her heart. The scream was one of such pain and torment that Loki could actually feel her heart breaking. He recognized it, her understood it he knew heart break. But her's was coupled with an intense grief, the grief that only comes from a mother losing a child. Such anguish. He wondered if when he let go of the end of Gungnir if he had caused her heart to make such a loathsome sound. The wife of Odin doubled over in agony. Her torturous groan filling the empty cavern of a throne room. She wrapped her arms around both their bodies protectively while laying her head on Odin's chest longing to hear the steady thrum of his heart pounding against his armor. "Oh my loves, my loves!" she cried through heaving gasps. "Who could have done this?" she questioned through torrential tears as her arms squeezed tightly and protectively around the bodies of her deceased loved ones. "Who has done this terrible act?" she wailed over the carcasses of her son and husband.

As the dark scene unfolded through the sandstorm, Loki could feel fury welling up inside of him and coursing through his veins. His heart started to beat rapidly as adrenaline pulsated throughout his entire being. He couldn't take seeing his mother so broken and racked with grief. He had never been able to take his mother tears. Knowing her pain only added to his own. His father and brother lied on the ground amidst crumbled columns and cracked limestone in the floors, dead...lifeless. His father and brother were so noble and so strong. He'd never seen them defeated. Yes, he'd seen Odin slip into the Oversleep, but he'd never seen his father struck down by an enemy. From the way his father talked of the great battles of the past. He had thought the man invincible. He knew Odin was growing old, even by Asgardian standards. He supposed in someways he had always prepared himself for the day when his father would take his permanent rest, but it wasn't supposed to be like this Odin was supposed to die a wise old kind snug in his golden bed surrounded by his family and close friends. They were to have a chance to say goodbye. He was never meant to die at the hands of some ruthless enemy. Loki snarled at the thought of the monster that had slain the all-father.

And Thor, his brother, his blonde, brash, bold, bawdy, brave, boisterous, bothersome, bubbly, big brother, there had never been a time when he'd thought about him not being there. He'd never pictured his brother dead. Not that Thor hadn't done enough to endanger both their lives over the years oh the big fool had done plenty of that. He'd dragged them on deadly quest after deadly quest and risked life and limb countless times, but somehow, the thunder-bearer always managed to pull his way out of ever scrape. Loki shook his head baffled by the sight of the golden prince lying lifeless on the ground, Thor never lost to anyone, how could someone have over come him in battle?

Enraged and broken all at once, Loki rushed toward his mother, wanting to scoop her up protectively, wrap her in a loving embrace and let her know that she was not alone in her sorrow for their family. "Don't worry, Mother," Loki began as he rushed to her side. "They'll pay for what they've done today, I swear," he ground out with rage through gritted teeth. Frigga didn't respond she was too busy sobbing for Asgard's king and crown prince. He didn't know who the culprits were but he knew he would see their blood spilled and their head paraded through the streets of the Imperial City on spikes for their crimes. "Mother," he cooed as heated tears began to leak from his own green eyes as his stepped closer to the dead bodies of his brother and father. He swallowed. He needed to be strong, Mother, she needed him now. He reached forth his trembling, creamy hand to clasp her shaking shoulder shaking from sobs.

Loki was jolted as he found that his eager hand passed right through the sandstorm that had taken the shape of his mother, "What?" he gasped in confusion. It was only in that moment that he realized that he was still inside the protective force-field in a sandstorm on Svartalhiem and not in the palace. "Wake up! Wake up!" Loki admonished himself, shaking his head vigorously so that his ebony locks slapped him in the face. He closed his eyed and opened them again but the scene did not fade. Caught in a powerful trance he was forced to look on the frightful vision a bit longer.

He could hear slow, plodding and carefully calculated footsteps approaching the queen. He watched as the footfalls took shape and black sand formed tall boots and legs."Who could have done this?" the wife of Odin continued to whimper through tears over the bodies of her family. The footsteps stopped just behind Frigga's back. Loki noted a slim hand behind the queen's back clutching to an all too familiar looking dagger that dripped with blood. Loki watched as the form gave shape through the shifting sands. The figure was tall and lanky and stood proudly before the Queen of Asgard. Loki recognized the large, sloping, horned helmet upon the head of the one with the knife. For a moment the trickster held out some hope that maybe in this vision he had already killed the brutal murderers of his father and brother, but that glimmer of hope was extinguished as soon as he heard a sick, chilling cackle came forth. It sent a shiver down Loki's spine and he staggered backward nearly tripping over the large head of the Kursed. "No," the ex prince murmured in fear.

"I did," a clipped, articulate voice reported nearly triumphantly as it meticulously wiped the access blood away from the blade of the dagger. The queen's face was stricken, the beautiful bronze coloring drained from her face and her sapphire eyes were wild and wide as she turned to face the enemy.

"Loki?" She mumbled in disbelief.

"Hello, Mother," he whispered, smugly as he sauntered before her licking his lips like a ravenous animal.

Frigga shook her head in horror, bright, glistening sapphire eyes flickering to look back and forth between him and the fallen bodies next to her. "Y-y-you...you—y-you," her tongue failed her. "You did this?" she finally choked out in horror. He didn't respond but the cruel way that he cocked his head and smiled said it all. Frigga panted, nearly hyperventilating. "NO!" she shouted as she covered her ears. "NO!" she cried once more refusing to accept her son's terrible confession. "Loki! No!" Frigga shrieked as she looked up with horror at the boy she'd raised into a man that had now become a monster. She shook her head miserably, not fulling comprehending all that was transpiring. Baffled, like a little girl looking up at a bully who'd broken her precious china dolls, "Loki, w-w-wh-why?" Queen Frigga inquired through tears.

Loki rolled his eyes, "They kept from me what was mine," he explained coldly, he simply looked down on their dead bodies and curled his straight, pointed nose. He pried Odin's scepter from his cold, dead fingers, once the powerful weapon was in hand, he allowed a pleasured grin to trace across his thin lips. Nonchalantly, he nudged Odin's limp hand off of his boot and walked back toward the queen.

The queen of Asgard coughed and choked with skepticism at how pitiless Loki had become, "And what was yours?' she asked her blue eyes now red from weeping.

"The throne of Asgard," the silver-tongued murderer expressed simply, coolly.

The golden female ruler of Asgard bit her lip to keep from sobbing again. "A throne," she scoffed as she looked at her son and husband, bleeding onto the cracked ground. She looked behind her and saw the dias and the broken gilded throne. A throne. Son had slain father over a throne, brother had killed brother over a throne. She supposed such tales were as old as time, but she, she never thought her house would be divided over such. Thor and Loki had loved each other so as boys, Loki had been such a devoted son to Odin once...how could...how could this be so. A house had fallen apart over a chair. Her hand strayed to trace the brows of Thor and Odin once more, "Your father and brother..." she started.

Angered by the false teachings he knew she was about to spew forth, Loki roughly gripped the queen by the shoulders hoisting her away from the dead bodies and snatched her to her feet. "Loki please!" she begged, pulling against him and fighting to get away and return to Odin's side and weep over him, but she couldn't pull away from Loki's harsh grasp, he was to strong. Eventually the queen stopped struggling, she collapsed into Loki's arms wailing miserably and pounding her fist against the armor of the monster's heartless chest. "Oh you murderer! MURDERER! MURDERER!" she wailed still balling her hands into fist and attempting to clobber him. Finally she gave up her body going limp in Loki's arms, her head lulled back in exhaustion. Her eyes looked into his and she looked at him without recognition with terror and rage on her face.

"Uh-uh-uh," Loki wagged a slender white finger in Frigga's face. "This is no way to address your king," he explained sinister smirk on his lips.

Disgusted, Frigga managed to snatch herself from Loki's cruel, cold grasp. The golden queen stumbled backward tripping over Thor's motionless, muscular arm. "You're no king, Loki" The queen spoke from the ground lying next to her slaughtered son, fresh salt tears filling her eyes. "You're nothing, but a...a...a madman," she muttered bitterly as she shook her head. "A monster," she choked out in another gasp as her hand gingerly rubbed against Thor's cool skin.

Loki growled, and once again snatched Queen Frigga's from the floor by arm, she yelped in pain as she felt her shoulder twist. Loki whipped the queen around to face him. "I'd not say such thing if I were you," He chastised her.

"Or what?" Frigga challenged, defiance and anguish in her beautiful blue orbs. "You'll kill me?" she qualified. Loki didn't respond outright but his sickeningly bemused smirk remained on his face. She jutted forth her chin threateningly, "Then kill me, Loki," she begged as she pointed to herself "Kill me too," she cried in torture grabbing at the straps of her tunic dress. "You've taken ever thing from me!" she wailed. "You've killed my husband, and my eldest son and my youngest son, you have destroyed him. So end it for me, so I can be with them once more," she expressed with a deep sigh that erupted into a sob. She brought her hands up and covered her face as she she wept into her hands.

"Now, now, now," the lie-smith breathed in a way that was so beguiling that it nearly sounded as if he was actually trying to be consoling. "What boy would raise his hand against his own mother?" he cooed as he dared to stroke Queen Frigga's blonde strands.

Frigga wriggled her head from away from Loki's frigid fingers. She looked at him in repulsion. "You are no son of mine!" she spat. "I raised a good, kind, intelligent, loving, beautiful young man," the queen proclaimed. "Not like you!" Frigga actually spat on him. Right into his face. "You're a horrible thing!" she shouted. "YOU'RE A MONSTER! He hollered in his face and then broke into convulsing sobs.

Loki dropped her like a heavy sack of potatoes, allowing her to crumble to the floor in a puddle of tears. He merely snarled down at her as he wiped her saliva from his face. "Well if that is the way you feel..." he started to muttered slowly, precisely as he unsheathed his dagger once more, "Perhaps it is time to tie up loose ends," he grinned as the pointed blade hovered about Frigga's bent back.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" Loki let out a bloodcurdling cry, unable to bear anymore of such a torturous vision. The hair-raising scream sent the trickster crashing to his knees, sinking into the sand. "No! No! No! No!" he panted desperately through tears. He pushed his hands into the black sands as if attempting to bury himself. "It's not real. It's not real...it's not real...it's not real," he chanted as he rocked back and forth in the sand until he finally flipped himself over on his back. His eyes squeezed shut, liquid streaming from the corners of them. His heart pounding as furiously as the sound of war drums. He repeated the mantra over and over, but he was failing miserably to convince himself that what he saw was not true. It had been so real, so vivid, the sand had taken shape and life...and...and his greatest fear was that it was real, not merely some mirage, but an actually representation of life and he would find his mother's body lifeless on cracked palace floor next to his father's and brother's. Worse of all he thought that he would find himself looming over her with the blood on his hands.

One...Two...Three, Loki counted in his mind, as he willed himself to open his eyes. He sat gaping up at the glossy looking force field and a swarm of black ash swirling above the barrier. Loki brought his hand to his heart trying to control it's frantic rapid beating. He muttered to himself trying to calm his furious heart. Tear spilled from his gemstone colored eyes. Loki shook his head as he reminded himself that what he saw wasn't real. It was just an illusion preying upon his fatigued mind and tired hungry body. Nothing more. He forced himself up. He had to get out of this terrible sandstorm and find some refuge. Instantly the black-haired once son of Odin leaped to his feet and whispered a few mystical words that sent his protective bubble speeding through the dark ash cloud.

Loki was a blur, a flash of electric, violet lightening zipping and whizzing through the endless onyx sand storm. He raced and whipped through the cloud as quickly as he could the need to escape was great. This cloud was a curse a plague with it's visions that tried to make him second guess his decisions that were already so firmly planted in his head. He once again shot forth the piercing white light to illuminate his path through the seemingly impenetrable darkness. He thought, although it still appeared to be a far off that he could see the subtle brightness of the muted gray sky. Loki didn't think there had ever been a time that he'd been so grateful to see a cloudy overcast. But doing three spells at once was starting to drain the master magician. He allowed the speeding incantation to fall away and continued on foot although he continued to run.

Loki ran toward the muted gray sky light, but as he sprinted desperate to escape the tricky black cloud. He heard a voice once again calling to him through the storm. "Loki, help me!" a desperate soprano voice shrieked in the trickster's ear as he tried to escape the fog. The plea froze him in his tracks. He looked around wildly searching for the body belonging to the scream, but no one was there. He was still all alone in the swirling black sandstorm. Loki shook himself. He had to get out of this storm. He would surely go mad. It reminded him so much of the Void. Falling and falling endlessly into a cavern of night with no light at the tunnel. It was frightening and maddening. He shook himself and continued to press on through the storm. He could see the light now. It wasn't like the abyss an inescapable vacuum, there was a way out and he needed to get to it so he could stop being ravaged by these desert mirages. "Loki, help me!" the voice echoed desperately over the sounds of wind and sand slamming against his protective shield. The voice was becoming more distinct. He recognized it. Although, he'd never heard it sound so horrified. Normally this voice was all affection and enthusiasm, a cheerful and lighthearted voice.

Loki gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw and hands, "It's just the storm," he talked to himself calmly, "Don't give in," he rationalized and he started to walk on. He did not run any long, like a little boy afraid of his nightmares. He could see the gray sky peeking through at him less than a mile away...surely he could make it through. He would walk through to the other side.

"LOKI PLEASE!" the bloodcurdling holler tore through his thoughts to the point where he could no longer pretend it wasn't there. He looked to his left and there he saw Sigyn, she wasn't in grayscale like in his other visions where the characters had been shaped and formed by the shifting black sands. She was live in living color. He could see her soft and bouncy, golden locks cascading down her slender shoulders. He could see the beautiful pastel pink gown she was inn stained red in the back and thick brown arrows stuck out from her back.

"SIGYN!" Loki yelled out as he watched the lady-in-waiting collapse onto the black sands. Loki took off racing toward her, part of him told himself that Sigyn wasn't real, she was merely a hallucination of a fatigued brain, but she looked so life like, how could he not go and check on her. "Sigyn!" he called once, more breathlessly as he approached. He dropped to his knees, "Oh Sigyn," he murmured pitifully as he looked at her, wavy red lines streaked down her back from the arrows. "No!" he panted as he reached out to touch her. And he was able to. He was able to touch the silk fabric of her bloodied dress and then he went further and actually touched her arm and back he could feel her whole body trembling, he could feel her lungs struggling for air, her heart beating against her ribcage. "Sigyn," the silver-tongued trickster mumbled as he managed to scoop her light body into his arms. He pressed her paling form close to his chest. She still had a little warmth.

He tenderly, pressed her cheek into his bosom stroking her hair as tears pooled in his emerald eyes. "Sigyn," he sniffled.

"L-l-l-Loki," the blonde handmaiden of the queen whispered with a shudder as he golden eyes batted and attempted to open. They were bloodshot and watery, pained in every way imaginable. It sent his own liquid tears running down his cheeks.

"Y-y-yes!" Loki sputtered with a desperate sort of elation. "Yes, Little Sigyn, I am here," he replied to her affectionately, he clutched he hand and stroked her cheek. Her hands normally warm and soft were growing colder and drier by the second. Her cheeks always blushing and painted had lost much of there color, the had terrible cuts and scrapes on them. Her whole face and body were bruised and she looked like she had been in a battle. He remembered Sigyn's proficiency in archery one year at the games. She was a skilled archer, but she never had loved weaponry, she was too kind and soft natured and quiet frankly not focused enough to ever become Valkyrie or shield-maiden. He couldn't imagine Sigyn ever trying to fight anyone. Why would some one do this to her, what could she have possibly done that could have warranted her deserving this?

"L-l-l" she attempted once more, her puckered pink lips trembling. Her lips were not so pink anymore, the were cut up and cracked and starting to turn purple from bruising. Her lips had always been pretty and glossy, normally pink, but not always. Sometimes she would put on darker hued rouges to to be particularly enticing to him. Loki squeezed his eyes shut. Her pretty, perfect, pink lips he'd always noticed them, he was a man and she was a woman after all, but he'd never complimented her enough on them. "He-h-he was here," she rasped. "I...I...I..I" she struggled for breath, "I...I...I...I didn't w-want him to find y-yyou," she choked.

"Shh, don't talk," he instructed bringing his cool finger to cover her quivering dry lips. Sweetly, she pursed her chapped lips to kiss his chilly finger. The ebony-locked mage had to bit his lip to stop it from trembling as emotion welled up in him. Loki stroked her hair to comfort her as he examined the wounds of the arrows in her back. From what he could tell the wounds weren't that deep. He could pull them out and stop the bleeding and she'd be just fine. "I'm going to take the arrows out Sigyn," he explained. "Take a deep breath," he encourage. She gave a weak, droopy-eyed nod to his instructions. "Hold my hand," he stated, giving her one hand while the other clasp firmly around the arrow and yanked it from her flesh. The motion was quick and in one scream from Sigyn the arrow was out. He did this two more times, each time just as rapidly. Sigyn screamed and then the acts were over. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the once prince muttered as he smoothed his pale fingers over her tanned brown. 'It's over, you're a2lright," he informed. He whispered enchanted words to heal the bleeding holes in her back. Sigyn looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with hope. She reached her hand up to lovingly caress his face. He pressed his cheek and chin into her palm. 'You're alright, You're alright," Loki confirmed for her as tears leaked into her hand. 'I'm so glad you're alright," he swore as his face spread into a full grin. Loki dipped his head his needy lips just above hers'. "I never had a chance to thank you properly, Little Sigyn," he gave a water laugh as he leaned in for a kiss.

"Oh Loki," Sigyn swooned just before their lips met. "My hero," she whispered loving, a shaky hand caressing his thin jawline. But then she started to writhe. All of a sudden the amber coiffed handmaiden to the queen of Asgard was having a seizure in the arms of her beloved. Her whole body was so wracked with shaking that she practically tore herself from Loki's strong arms. She was trembling so violently that Loki laid in down on the ground. He pulled off his cloak and placed it under her head to keep her from injuring herself as she thrashed.

"Sigyn! What's happening?" the once prince asked frantically. His green eyes were large as he looked down at her. He examined her body roving his hands over them as they glowed with a florescent yellow light."Poison!" he gasped in horror as he detected the foul substance mixing in with her blood. He grabbed the arrow and noted the interesting cut of the arrowhead. "No!" he mumbled. He knew these arrows. The kind that injected poison as they were being pulled out. They were a cruel and spiteful trick of a weapon. And he had sealed the poison into her body. If he hadn't been so eager to stitch up the wound. He felt along the edge of the arrow, feeling the sticky, green substance the venom of a rare spider. It was a quick moving toxic agent that could poison the system and leave a victim dead in 15 minutes. "No! No! NO!" he cried as he them tried to reverse the healing, but it was too late. The poison worked quickly. Too quickly. Loki continued to try every trick he knew chanting ever spell he could think of, but to no avail. He watched her sunlight golden eyes fade, he felt her warmth leave her body. The hand pressed against his cheek slowly grew rigid.

"L-l-loki," the blonde maiden muttered her voice so low he had to put his lips right to her ear to make out her words.

"Don't talk," he instructed her once more as he stroked her lovely tear stained face.

"I...I...I feel...s-s-so w-w-eakkk," she stuttered as her golden pupils rolled to the back of her head. Loki bit his lip to keep from screaming as he watched all the life and energy seep away from her body. She was always so bright and bubbly, full of life and laughter, like a child. Her eyes were wide and beautiful, loving and energetic, they always lit up when she laughed and she laughed a lot. Now she was fading and fading fast. The jubilant glow of her irises suddenly dimming. And there he sat on his knees, gaping, powerless to save her.

"Don't talk," Loki commanded once more his hands shaking still, "Save your strength!" he explained as he took a firm hold of her shoulder. Her bright amber eyes drooped falling closed. He breathing becoming, raspy and shallow and more and more concentrated and labored. "No, no," he gave verbal protest. "Stay with me!" he pleaded shaking her. He pressed his hands against her back once more mumbling the healing incantation trying to see if he could draw the poison out, but the more he tried to pull and tug on the toxins coursing through her bloodstream the more pain she seemed to be in. She grunted and squeezed on his arm, digging her long nails into his flesh, purely out of reflex. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry," Loki muttered frantically. Her eyes flickered to look at him once more. "Sigyn, please!" Loki gasped, "Just tell me who did this?" he begged her..."I...I...I" his eyes darted about.

Sigyn coughed, her hand sluggishly falling away from his face. She managed to point a shaky finger toward something behind Loki "A monster!" she confessed with her dying breath as her head lulled back against his arm and her body went limp.

Emerald eyes were wide with shock as he beheld the sun-kissed body become as gray as the Svartalhiem sky. "Sigyn? Sigyn?" Loki cried ask he shook her somewhat violently. There was no response. "SIGYN!" Loki screamed, but the desperate wake up call fell upon death ears. He sobbed as he brought her limp little body toward his face so that he could weep into her bosom. "Dear, sweet, little Sigyn, oh!" he moaned. "I'm so sorry!" he wailed harder and harder into her beat-less chest. Loki sobbed loudly, openly for what seemed like hours. "Oh Sigyn," he continued to weep, wiping under his eyes and nose, "I lost Dagmar," the raven-haired magician lamented between hiccups. "But I...I..." the green-eyed man choked as new tears spilled down his cheeks as he pressed his lips together so tightly that they disappeared, "I can't lose you too," he confessed cupping her face. "I'm so sorry," I never even got to tell you..." Loki started, but just then Loki watched helplessly as Sigyn's body faded from his clasp, Vanishing into the swirling black sands. "Sigyn? Sigyn?" Loki asked looking around wildly amongst the shifting, black sands.

"Tut, Tut. There, there boy," a chilling, baritone voice echoed from the same direction from where Lady Sigyn's delicate and gentle and now lifeless finger had been pointing. Loki gasped, his posture growing stiff as a shiver ran its way up his spine, his breath hitching, his heart pounding in his chest from fright. Suddenly a rock hard, cold and calloused hand came and clamped down on Loki's head, possessively. .

Loki sank his teeth into his lip, to keep from yelping. He managed to compose himself enough to keep from falling on his face before the power hungry war lord. It was a pitiful front, Thanos had seem him weak and broken and sobbing at his feet, begging for the torture to stop. But it didn't stop. Thanos was a masochist who took pleasure in extracting pain from other people to their breaking point. "Thanos," the once prince of Asgard murmured back with a slight quiver in his throat.

Loki could sense the mad titan's thick face forming a cold and steal-jawed grin. He heard the booming gravelly voice rumble in a cruel chuckle "Pity that," the monster cocked his head toward where Sigyn's body had once laid as his heavy boots thudded through the sand.

"You did this!" Loki accused, jumping to his feet and hissing in the crazed titan's face. The gesture was meant to be threatening, but Thanos stood unfazed by the thin Asgardian's anger. Instead he merely tossed his bulbous head back and laughed.

"It needed to be done," the purple skinned tyrant muttered nonchalantly.

'she was innocent!" Loki shouted back furiously in the face of the titan bent on world domination.

"Innocent...Guilty..." Thanos tossed the words about nonchalantly. "It is irrelevant," the titan informed callously.

"Irrelevant?" Loki retorted angrily. His fist clenched at his side feeling all his energy and power surge and burn inside him until he felt like he wanted to burst. He knew better than to outright challenge Thanos in a duel. With the Chitari and the Dark-Elves at the titan general's disposal it was a fight that he wouldn't win...a lone. The plum faced tyrant merely chuckled. As he watched Loki's vivid green orbs swirl with hate and rage and fury. The monster took pleasure in what he saw.

When the Other had first presented him with Asgardian enchanter, who called himself a king, he'd not been impress. He'd had many allies over the years all who sought power for various reasons, all thinking they could wield it and all constantly failing, none being as capable as they had claimed. Loki had been a fortunate find after centuries, nearly eons of disappointment. The raven-haired mage was cunning and shrewd, treacherous, dangerously powerful, intelligent (for years Thanos had searched for a wizard who could wield the tesseracts power and open the realms and set him free once more) Loki was such an accomplice. But for all his talk of hating Odin and Thor and Jotunheim, Thanos was discomfited to find that Loki had one prime flaw. He was not a bumbler or an idiot, like so many that The Other had presented to him in the past, he wasn't a loose canon, or overly arrogant, but rather he had a trait even more loathsome than all of those. Loki was burdened by the terrible weight of love. Love was hard to break. You could break a person's will, some required more effort than others, but in time most wills would bend. Idiots could be taught, well at least they could be trained properly enough to over come their idiocy to achieve his ends. And pride...well anyone could be humbled, but Love. There was a thin line between Love and Hate and Loki danced dangerously close to the line, but Thanos was never quite convinced that Loki had crossed it.

Thanos' beady, gleaming, golden eyes scrutinized the Asgardian, he could feel his ire ready to boil over and he longed for it. "I told you that sentiment would be you downfall," Thanos explained. "You have so many fine qualities Loki, you're cunning, ruthless, calculating and driven, but you are far too sentimental," the villain spat quite literally, his spit landing only a centimeter away from Loki's black boots. Loki glared back at the monstrous overlord. The titan tisked and wagged his finger. "That makes you soft, makes you weak, makes you lack conviction,"Thanos schooled. "I there is one thing I cannot abide by Loki, it is someone who is not committed to the cause," he expressed. "But you know that," he said as he began to circle around Loki like a hungry vulture around a carcass. "You know that is why I so severely punish failure," Thanos explained his uncomfortably hot breath tingling on Loki's chilly alabaster flesh enough to make him sweat. "But I like you, Loki," the brutish war lord continued as he grinned with a yellow toothed grin that was most unpleasant. "I didn't wish to have to make you long for something sweet as pain," the malicious titan taunted his thick tongue sliding across his lips and razor sharp teeth as if he was hungry. "In a sense I've spared you Loki," Thanos boasted. Loki cringed with every word and every step that the lumbering Titan took. His eyes closed tight not willing to look into the war lord's terrible face. His jaw clenched so tightly and his teeth gritted together so hard that his mouth was starting to ache. His hands balled tight and with white knuckles, his breathing ragged, he was fuming so furiously that he was sure Thanos must have seen steam coming off of his head. "Now, you have nothing left to be sentimental about," Thanos nonchalantly. "Therefore I don't have to worry about any lapses that your sentiment would caused," the mad titan informed as he laughed heartily and loudly in Loki's face. "Now you will be just like me," Thanos stated as his massive, rock solid hand clamped around Loki's slender, white neck. Loki let out a loud hiccup like gasp as he felt Thanos' strong fingers clench around his throat and cut off the air supply to his windpipe, while the Titan raised him high in the air so he could looki into his trembling eyes. Thanos loved to stare into the faces of those who feared him. He drank it up like a liquor becoming intoxicated from the raw surge of power that it gave. "Thank me, Loki," he ordered as he stared into Loki's bulging jade eyes as he struggled to take a breath. Loki didn't comply right away. Thanos was not a patient being. He demanded instant gratification resistance to his orders were always dealt with harshly, Loki was soft, but he did not bend easily, he had been hard to crack. Thanos intensified his tight grasp around Loki's throat. The black-haired Asgardian scrambled for breath, his lithe legged kicking frantically as his breathing became more and more shallow, his face turning colors from lack of oxygen,"Thank me for sparing your miserable life!" He barked threatening pressing his large, rock solid thumb into Loki's trachea. Finally Loki gave in and said the words to tickle the titan's ears.

Thanos dropped Loki like a sack of potatoes. Loki's body fell limply toward the ground, his body was shaking as he greedily sucked in the air he hand been denied for far to long. His hand massaged his bruised neck. Thanos took a step closer, towering over Loki's quivering, huffing and puffing form relishing the sight of the man who called himself a king bowing before him. Thanos started laughing again, he roared with a ruckus, mocking guffaw.

Soon, the distant call of Thanos' grating voice dissipated. Eventually howling winds fade away into nothingness, until the only sounds that Loki could hear were his own noises. The sound of his furiously pounding heart thrumming in his ear drums, his haggard and staggered breathing wheezing from his throat, his bones rattling and clanking against one another from his shaking and trembling on his hands and knees. All of a sudden Loki felt very alone, the tempest of onyx granules no longer roared around him. All was calm, and silent and he was by himself in the wasteland of the Dark World. It reminded him of being alone falling through the Void. It reminded him of being confined in his isolated cell within the palace that had once been his home. Everything was stark and barren and so empty that it was enough to drive a man insane. Loki started to collect himself. His breathing starting to ease. He looked around once more as he evaluated his surroundings. All was calm in Svartalheim. The mirages and illusions had vanished away it was just him. There was nothing around for miles as far as his clever emerald eyes could see. Nothing, save shifting black sand and muted gray sky and pale colorless sun. There was no Thanos, looming over him, no beautiful Sigyn dead in his arms, no mother sobbing against his chest, no Imperial Palace crumbling around him, no Odin and Thor dead at his feet. There was nothing, not even a bird cawing in the sky or a tree swaying majestically in the distance. Nothing. Nothing, but him, his thoughts and his purpose. He started to stand to his feet and continue to make his way toward Ichabod. But not before he had something to eat. It was obviously the lack of food was causing his mind to be feeble and easily manipulated by the elements.

Loki decided to set up camp right there and take sometime to eat and drink. It was obvious that he was not going to make it very far without nourishing himself. Doubtless he'd only continue to be plagued by the feverish desert mirages without water, food and rest. He reached into his satchel and pulled out the ragged burlap sheet that he had taken from the cave encampment with Thor and his comrade. He then dug into his belt and unsheathed his daggers to use them as spokes to hinge the sack to to make a makeshift tent. He did so quickly and easily. Once the tent was pitched he sat under it and pulled out the few rations that he had taken for his scouting mission. The group had so few provisions now. It seemed wrong for him to take such a share, especially when so many of the warrior of Asgard were so severely injured. He cursed such feelings of guilt. He had nothing to feel guilty about. They were not his men, Lady Sif had made that quite clear. They did not owe him any loyalty. Nor did he owe them any. They were not even his people. His people were brutal savages from a frozen, blue rock. Loki shut the thought down as he took a bite of the apple. He found it to be crisp, fresh and sweet on the tongue. He inhaled the first apple and reached for another one. He hadn't even known how hungry he was until the first bite. Once he finished with the apples he moved to the bread. He'd taken three barely loaves. The thick and flavorful, brow rolls were starting to become stale, but the bread was still fresh enough for consumption. He decided to leave two rolls just in case the Dark-World's harsh sun decided to cause his weary and torn mind any more deception. He took a few sparse sips of water, his wineskin was half way drained and he figured it would be a few more miles before he reached Ichabod. Belly somewhat full and tongue at least half way quenched, Loki's shrewd green eyes slowly started to close, the fatigue from battle, from using his powers to heal so many of the wounded Einherjar and from trying to cross the dry dessert while his mind was plagued with frightful visions was finally catching up to him. Loki unhooked his cape from around his golden shoulder pads and folded it beneath his head as a pillow. He gave into the need to rest his eyes only for a few minutes to be able to continue on in his journey.

The few minutes past all too quickly and the raven-haired trickster awakened with a start and jolt. He sat up like a bolt. Looking around anxiously, inside his makeshift tent. How long had he slept? He didn't know, he was so weary. With a yawn and stretch, he felt the slight invigoration from his power nap. He peered his head outside the tent and noticed the position of the sun. It hadn't changed much in it's arch across the dull gray skies. He suspected only a little more than an hour had passed. Loki sighed in relief. He didn't intend to cross the Dark-World at night. Efficiently, Loki snapped his fingers using his powers to disassemble the tent he had pitched and gather his satchel and belongings as he journeyed on.

He walked a few more miles in silence. His vicious plot tumbled through his mind and it nearly made the ex-prince giddy. With every footstep he was a step closer to obtaining that which was rightfully, his which had always been his, his birthright. He shook his head thinking about how foolhardy it was to have even second guessed his resolve for a moment. The onyx locked mage nearly started to scoff aloud as he thought about it.

"So you are still going to go through with it?" an articulate cool, crisp voice spoke up as Loki pressed his way over the sandy dunes.

Irritated, now beyond all belief, Loki refused to give into the seducing voice that played in his ear. He'd had enough of voices and visions. No more talking to the wind and chasing mirages. He had a task to complete and he'd not be kept at bay any longer nor drawn off course. The once prince of Asgard was able to forge a head for awhile without hearing anything else. He smiled to himself proud of how he had shoved down the pesky, feelings of regret, confusion and guilt. He refused to acknowledge them any longer. Thanos had been right given in to such feeble emotions was simply weakness. Everything was lining up perfectly, things were falling into place, things were falling into the palm of his hand and he had the audacity to question it. To second guess that which had been ordained by the Norns for all time. It was simply foolishness. He should be be overjoyed, giddy not conflicted with these terrible, bothersome sentiments for a family that had simply been a false family; a lie, a sham. No wonder he had grown up to be so devious, deceitful and despicable, he'd been bred to be so.

Loki trudged up a particularly large ashen foothill. He observed that although the foothill was covered with the characteristic black, volcanic sand of the Dark World, there was solid, hard rugged, onyx soil beneath it. He closer to Ichabod. The Dark-Elves built their homes on rock soil. There were ruins and fragments of what seemed to be grotesque buildings. When Loki came to the top of the hill an all too well-known figure was sitting on a dilapidated pile of black bricks. The figure was calm, collected and altogether bored looking as it surveyed the dull landscape of Svartalheim. Finally, it's piercing emerald eyes settled upon Loki.

Loki blinked and rubbed his eyes as he came face to face with a long forgotten image. He'd seen so much already this day he did not know why what he saw now startled him so. But it did. The figure rose and walked toward him, calmly and proudly. A young man, (not so young really, maybe only a year or two young than Loki's age now) slender of build, tall in stature, keen of feature and pale of face stood before him. With slicked back onyx hair, thin smirking lips and bright, dancing, emerald eyes. The man was almost the splitting image of himself and yet somehow starkly different. This man was clean and polished, not scraggly and unkempt looking with hair far too long and dirty for a man who was once the King of Asgard and who would soon take the title again. His eyes though a matching green were far brighter than Loki's presently. They still glowed with a mischievous glint, they still shined with fierce intelligence, but they didn't gleam with the same devious glare that his now possessed. They didn't have the dark smudges that he had now. His mouth though curled in an impish smirk was not twisted into such a wicked grin. He was thin, but not as emaciated as Loki had become from his year in dungeons of Asgard. Still, Loki recognized the man who stood before him. He was altogether a familiar and a stranger. It was a younger him, a happier him, a naiver version of himself. It was a kinder, more decent man than the man he was now. A sniveling, weaker self that kept rearing its ugly head like some type of hydra, every time you thought you cut off the head of the creature the head would return. He'd tried to do away with it so many times, yet it continued to survive. Loki growled, it was this man that was making everything so complicated.

"You're a hard man to catch, Loki," the other image spoke, dusting his hands free of the gritty black sands. "You've been avoiding me," the clean black haired man reported.

"You can't take a hint, I see" Loki snapped back as he squared off his shoulders against this long forgotten man.

"I am only as stubborn, as you are," the other man quipped quickly. Loki rolled his eyes, this innerself though kinder and milder was no less an adversary in combat of wit and words. "So you're still going to go through with it?" the other self finally stated after a long while as they had just scrutinized each other.

Loki turned away on a sharp angle, turning from the image. "Yes!" he ground out his fist tightened as he popped his white knuckles to relieve some of the stress that the presence was causing. "Yes I still intend to go through with it," he mumbled low into his throat.

"Even after all we have just witnessed?" the other self questioned it's voice not demanding just small, baffled and unsure. Loki recognized it now oh yes it was that same tone that he'd heard echoing in the back of his mind time and time again. Conscience.

"A mirage," Loki scoffed keeping his back toward his Conscience.

"A premonition," it countered.

Loki turned around snarling, eyes wide and transfixed with rage. "YOU DON'T KNOW THAT!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, voice reverberating through the high black ash mountain range. The other version of himself took a step back alarmed by the crazed outburst. It shook its head with disappointment. While Loki composed his labored breathing. "You don't know that those things will be," he insisted as he straightened himself up and pushed his scraggly and dirty black locks from his eyes. "You don't know," he repeated with refinement.

"It could happen," his innerself retorted. "It stands every chance of happening if you continue down this path," it expressed to him.

"I won't let it get that far!" Loki automatically responded.

The lighter version of himself started to scoff. "How will you be able to stop it?' his conscience questioned. "You think that Malekith and his horde will stop once you have taken the throne?"

"I will destroy Malekith and that entire race of monsters once I have used him to accomplish my purposes!" green-eyed mage claimed.

Another pair of jade eyes rolled at the lofty claim. "Let's say, for arguments sake that you actually were able to kill Malekith," his old self played along shrewdly. His inner self was a cunning adversary in debate. It was just as silver tongued as he was and clearly more level headed. Loki watched as the image of himself from a just a few years ago dusted it's already shiny and manicured nails over his finely tailored, velvet green tunics. "What will you do when Thanos comes?" it countered stoically as it looked him square in the eye. His conscience's eyes didn't flicker, but Loki's eyes flashed with a trace of fear. "Will you be able to kill him as well?"

"No one could kill him," Loki confessed with a sigh. "He's too powerful. I can't break this deal with him...even if I wanted to," he continued to ramble. "And I'm not saying I do," he quickly qualified, "But there is no defeating him and...I...I...I can't go back..." He muttered miserably grabbing his head. "I can't...not the tree...not the machine," he croaked out as the painful memories of that contraption strapped to his head making him lose control of his own powers for days and days at time until he was nothing, but a sobbing mass on the cold iron table. "I can't...I can't...you don't know," he panted desperately, starting to hyperventilate as his psyche was flooded with the awful recollections.

"Of course, I do," the voice said with compassion. Loki sank to his knees in gasping sobs, he could feel the pain of the electric currents coursing through his veins, he could feel the unending sting of the snakes venom of his exposed flesh, a constant drip of torment. Loki felt a tender hand nudge his wet chin, looking into his tearful, trembling, jade eyes. "I was there," his Conscience reminded him sweetly. Loki, instantly, dried his tears. He pushed against the broken and fragmented stones forcing himself to his feet. His other self imitated his movements exactly, scrambling to his feet as well. Loki once again turned away from the image of a long forgotten person. "Loki," the alternative self called out behind the despondent enchanter before him. Slowly, it crept up on him, reaching it's thin fingers out to grasp his quivering shoulders. "I was there," it confirmed in a regal and dignified voice, "Through the beatings, the fever serum, through the machine...I...I"

"The you should know...you should understand," Loki grumbled in a low and seething tone as his nimble, porcelain finger slithered into his pocket, tracing around something sharp. "You should be trying to help me! Rather than being a thorn in my side. You know how much I have suffered!" he shouted once more.

"Yes," the softer side confessed, its head head hanging. "And I have seen what it has turned you into...I don't even recognize you anymore," Loki's conscience reported regretfully to himself. Chilly fingers up to try to feel Loki's smudged and darkened face. With lightening fast reflexes Loki swatted the fingers away from his face. It was a scolding slap. His other self looked at him with determined eyes. Loki recognized the look. He used to get like that when he found a new skill in his magic practice particularly difficult to master. But he refused to be defeated by it. "Loki listen!" his Conscience commanded him. "Listen to me! Listen to reason!" It called gripping him by the shoulders in a desperate attempt to shake some sense into him. "I know you are scared...I'm scared too," it acknowledged nodding as liquid started to pool in both emerald eyes. "We can't defeat him alone, but if we tell Thor...Thor will help us," it nodded encouraging, smiling brightly with rekindled hope despite the tears.

"Thor!" Loki tossed his head back in mocking cackle. "Where was he? Where was he when I was chained to that tree and that monstrous snake dripped it's venom into me every day? Where was he when I was tied to that wicked contraption and I was begging for him, screaming for him to come save me?" he questioned ruthlessly. He didn't even allow his other self to rebuttal. "HE NEVER CAME!" Loki hollered in his face.

"He couldn't find you Loki...You know...you know if he could have... he would have..." Loki's inner-self urged him to understand.

"But he didn't!" Loki shot back his quick tongue laced with venom. He pushed the steadying hands off of him as his nostrils flared with ragged breath and he paced like a caged beast.

"He couldn't find you!" a more composed Loki entreated his angrier half.

"He didn't look," Loki spat bitterly.

"He said he thought you were dead," the Conscience tried to explain with another heavy, but patient sigh. "There was no way he could have found you in the void," it recanted with a shiver. "It wasn't his fault," He began again as he placed his hand on Loki once more. "He would have come. He promised," the other self reminded him in a small child-like voice. "He promised us...remember," It pointed out, hopefully. "We have to believe..." it prompted once more.

"You can go a head and believe if you want," Loki tisked. "Fool." he spat, wriggling his skinny shoulder blade free of his Conscience's confining clasp. "I know better, now," he mumbled bitterly. Loki started to cackle low within his throat. "Now it shall be Thor's turn to beg and plead for my help," Loki rubbed his soot covered palms together fiendishly, "And I shall be sure to show my dear brother the same kindness he showed me," A cruel smile slid across cracked, dry lip. Loki's silver tongue darted out to moisten his chaffing mouth.

"Loki this is madness!" the once still small voice, now manifest in the flesh groaned. "Why? Why did you even help Thor if this was your plan all along?" the conscience asked in earnest, throwing up his hands in frustration.

"I helped to avenge Dagmar!" Loki yelled back viciously his hand straying to fiddle with something in his pocket.

"Avenge her! How have you avenged her?"

"I killed this monstrous beast, didn't I?" Loki interjected raising the horned head of the Kursed before his inner self.

"You killed her murderer only to become apart of the cause that she gave her dying breath to prevent," it pointed out convincingly. "Think about it Loki, that makes absolute sense," the other-self continued as his pointed to his head and gestured of the lunacy of it all.

Loki growled like a rabid dog. "I DON'T CARE! It doesn't matter now! She'd dead she'd gone!" he shot, "Nothing can bring her back!" He expounded.

"Perhaps, it is for the best," Loki's Scruples uttered nonchalantly. The jade-eyed enchanter turned around with eyes wide with horror hearing those words. "Seeing what you are...what you are about to do...it would surely have killed her anyway," he shrugged. This time he turned his back on Loki. "She would despise you," it spat provokingly.

Loki's shoulders slumped, "she already did," he admitted. "It doesn't matter now," Loki shook his head straightening his shoulders. "It's what has to be done,"

"Has to be done?" raven-locks shook and emerald eyes batted. "Loki think of mother? Thor? The innocent men and women of Asgard..."

"Not so innocent," the once prince countered, "They were all apart of the charade which was my life," he replied stiffly as he gripped the horned head once more and started to press forward.

Swift feet chased behind him. "The innocent people of the Nine Realms, then... are they too to blame for the lies you were fed? What about Sigyn? All she ever did was love you... she never tricked you...I know you loved Dagmar, but perhaps with Sigyn, we could find..."

"ENOUGH!" Loki screamed tired of incessantly bickering with himself. "This is what must be done! There is no other option," He barked. "Now leave me be!" he ordered as he marched away from his inner-self seeking to leave it behind in the foothills of the Dark-World.

Relentlessly, his conscience chased after him, "Loki! NO! NO! PLEASE!" it begged finally taking hold of his arm and trying to yank him back. Loki tried to snatch his arm out of the grip of the forgotten self, but his Conscience never planned on letting go of him without a fight. It pulled him down into the sands. Loki raised his foot kicking his alternative self in the foot the gut. The Conscience groaned but still maintained a hold on Loki's tunic, sending him tumbling down the black soot mound. The pair of them tousling and rolling about in the dirt like a pair of children, scrapping and pulling at one another as if they were fighting over a toy. Finally, they landed with a loud thud at the base of one of the hill. Some how the inner-self managed to land on top. He pinned a dark-eyed Loki beneath him, to the ground, while Loki bulked struggled and kicked like a wriggling little sow. It reminded him of many times when he and Thor had fought as lads. Physically, he had never been able to overcome the blonde son of Odin. Thor would always sit on him, painfully and then to add insult to injury, the bulky child would threaten to spit on him. He'd lean over and let his saliva drip from his tongue dangling just above Loki's forehead or nose. It was torturous. There had been a few times when Thor had actually allowed his spit to touch Loki's porcelain skin, just to watch him writhe and squirm in horror. But never would Thor allow him to escape without a wet-willy. Loki would cringe a wet spit covered fingers were jammed into his ears. "YOU WILL JUST BE THANOS' PAWN!" it urged Loki to see reason a water spilled from those more rational emerald eyes. "Please don't do this!" his old heart begged him further.

Loki spat at the image of his physical conscience sitting on top of him. He spat right in his eye. His inner self reared back. Loki began cackling madly, "Wasn't I just a pawn for Laufey when he left me on that slab of ice to try and sacrifice me to win a war? Wasn't I just Odin's pawn for peace, he sought to use me to form an alliance? The thought to raise me loyal like a dog then turn me loose to fetch him a rabbit. And wasn't I Thor's pawn? He used me on his vanity quests so he could take all the glory and I could bask in his shadow," he howled with crazed, manic laughter.

Loki's moral self raised it's hand to wipe the saliva from it's face still gaping in horror at that the cackling man below him. "No, no, no, no, that's not true," he tried to insist.

"Oh?" Loki arched and inky eyebrow.

"For Laufey perhaps, but Odin... you know he loved you as a son and Thor, no brother could have love you more...you know,' Loki's heart begged of him to recall the good times that he'd so tried to bury.

While his inner self went on to lecture, Loki thrust his fist forward hitting his conscience upside of its princely looking head and knocking him off of himself. Loki leaped on top of him, now straddling and straggling his conscience all at once. His bony hands wrapped tight around the familiar neck. "I have always been someones pawn!" he reminded himself.

"No...No" his other self stuttered struggling not to be choked out of Loki's life.

"Oh yes," Loki whispered his green eyes wild and frenzied as he nodded hard. "But At least this time around I will get something out of it," he informed himself. "Laufey offered me death...Odin offered me nothing and Thor only ever offered me a life in his shadow.

"And...what...has...Thanos offered you?" his heart inquired back through gasps.

"Power! A throne!" Loki elaborated. "Not to just become a sniveling, little shadow like you!" he stated as he brought once hand up holding one of his fabled daggers.

Loki's inner self looked up in terror at the gleaming knife. "Loki, no...no...no...please," he whimpered. Ruthlessly, Loki ignored the cry from the inner recesses of his heart and slashed at his inner-self right through the stomach. Loki's inner-self screamed a tortured scream. "Loki," It panted. "What have you done?" it asked fixed terror and bewilderment glistening in watery, fading emerald eyes. With that the image of his own conscience, disappeared into the wind.

Loki stood, dusting off his tunics and trousers, "Goodbye, Sentiment," he muttered miserably. In the distance Loki saw Malekith's hideous, black ship looming over a small spread of ruins. "Ichabod," he muttered as he headed toward it.

---

Sigyn sat weeping on the steps in her father's house. Her eyes were red and puffy from her intense crying. Blood trickled down her face from her nostrils and busted lip. Her face felt like it had been hit by sledgehammer. Her father's hands were hairy, hard as stone and strong as the sea its self. His body was solid it was that of a man who had been carved from wind and tide. His hand across her face had felt like being beaten by a wave. She hadn't expected him to hit her so hard. She had seen her father's temper rising throughout the conversation, but she hadn't actually thought that he would hit her.

The ache of her bruised and bloodied face was nothing compared to the devastating pain in her soul. She felt hurt and betrayed and frightened. She supposed she deserved it, she deserved to be hit like that. Her father had no doubt just been trying to slap some sense into her. What had she been thinking? Running away from the only man who would be willing to marry a woman like herself, sullied goods, the sloppy seconds of a traitor prince, she was no catch.

She cried deeper and harder, curling in on herself as she huddled at the bottom corner of the steps. There was a warm fire glowing in the hearth down stairs, but she felt so cold. Sigyn felt cold and alone, tired, scared, unsure and so terribly unloved. Sigyn wrapped her bronzed arms around herself, hugging herself tightly as she tried to keep herself from trembling. She had known that running from Kelby would anger her father at first, but she thought that when she explained about the scroll that he would understand. Her father had been an Admiral in Odin's Royal Fleet she thought that his loyalty to Asgard would be greater than his pride.

Large, salt tears cascaded down Sigyn's sunkissed face. What was she to do? She had no home to return to. Mayhap Theoic would take her back when her father carted her back at morning light, but that was a long shot. What man would claim a run away bride? Even if he did take her back no doubt her life would be hard. He would punish her for her disobedience and disrespect, she was finding that he was a man of immense pride and all though he was a good man he had a quick temper. Even if Theoic did still treat her with some kindness, his wife, Lady Tyra never would. Theoic saw it. He saw how the older woman had made her labor like a field hand and he did nothing about it. He did not even chastise her. She supposed she would try to be grateful, if Theoic took her back out of pity or lust or honor for the arrangement he had made with her father then that was a blessing, but she wondered if it would be a happy life as his wife.

If he didn't take her back she'd be sure to find no mercy from her father. He had turned so cold against her. She supposed she couldn't blame him. Her father served time in a debtors prison. He was an Imperial Admiral, well decorated and respected as the pride of the seas. He'd fought brigands throughout the Nine Realms and trained sailors across the Asgard. He'd brought treasures back for Odin's weapon room. He and the all-father had been boys together and had trained o the seas their friendship was strong, he had been one of the members of Odin's council and she'd cost him everything. But still her father had loved her so once. There was laughter between them, hugs and kisses, gifts and stories, love of father and daughter, but it was no more. She missed it, but she doubted she could ever regain her father's love. No. Sigyn brought her shaky fingers up toward her bleeding nose and felt the thick liquid. She looked at it, goopy and red and vile no she didn't think that her father would ever love her again. If she could not find her keep as a wife he'd send her to a brothel for sure. Oh the horror! She couldn't live like that a play thing for drunken sailors. Her body used and exploited for money. She had only ever wanted to surrender her body to a man out of love.

Lady Sigyn she couldn't keep herself from sobbing. The blood and tears mingling quickly as they rushed down her face. And what of Asgard? Her home. Was it to be destroyed? How did her father not see? This could be Asgard's only hope! She knew that he hated Loki. But was his hate for Loki greater than his love for Asgard? It seemed to her that he would rather let the Dark-Elves come and unleash the Aether than take a chance that there was any goodness in Loki. Now all the realms would suffer and she was powerless to do anything to ever attempt to stop it if she couldn't reach the Imperial City. Sigyn wailed as she clung to the banister by the steps, feeling completely hopeless.

"Oh Sigyn!" Rana muttered once more as her swift, tanned bare feet tore down the steps to lead her to her sister's side. "Dear girl," she whispered tenderly as stooped down next to Sigyn, her hands starting to stroke at Sigyn's disheveled hair.

"Oh Rana," The amber eyed Arndottir mumbled pathetically, she broke into a gasping sob once more she tried to cover her face and mouth and stifle the loud sobs, but instantly she felt Rana's warm tanned hands pull her own hands down away from his face. "Oh Rana...I...I...I'm so...so...so-s-sorry," Lady Sigyn hiccuped.

"Shh...shh...shh," Rana comforted soothingly as she immediately engulfed her sister in a warm embrace. Sigyn gave into it, leaning her head against Rana's buxom chest and weeping like a child. Rana stroked her hair, face and cheeks compassionately. Rana had never necessarily been a motherly sort to Sigyn. But still they had always had sisterly affection. They had always shared gossip with one another, sharing secrets. Rana had styled her hair on occasions when her mother or Elke were away or busy, Rana had always been there to give her advice about boys. It felt good to feel her affection again.

Sigyn's weeping eventually quieted to a soft whimpering as she continued to lay her head upon her older sisters shoulder. "Come, come dear it is very late," Rana explained still stroking her distraught younger sister's face. "lets get you cleaned up and to bed," the red-head insisted giving an encouraging nod.

"Here, you go, dear," Rana whispered as they neared the door to her chamber for the evening. She no longer had a permanent room in her parents home. It was not as if she had been invited to stay with them in the country often. They had made it clear that they wanted to keep seperate from her so as to not appear to support her harlotry. She had only stayed with the 2 or 3 times. And they hadn't kept any of her things. Most of her belongings, which had all been things of high quality and very expensive had been sold at auction and to local pawn shops to help pay double the bride price, which was what her family owed for bringing shame to the house of Odin and to pay to help release her father from debtors prison. (And even after selling nearly all her things and several other bits of collateral from the family estate, her father still spent about 6 months in debtors prison)

Still, she could tell that Elke had tried to do her best to tidy up the room in a way that she liked. She had flowers placed on the nightstand, a rare cut of midnight blooming jasmine, she had the covers turned back, Sigyn always liked to come to bed on covers that were already been turned back. The room had been spritzed with the sweet aroma of butterscotch and caramel. There was an embroidery pad left on top of the satin sheets and Sigyn noted that the powder room to her chamber had a few small candlesticks glowing on the shelf over top the wash basin.

"Come, come," Rana urged as she pushed the door open to the yellow and gold bed chamber. "Let's get you cleaned up," she expressed, her tone was pleasant, but her eyes couldn't manage to smile as she beheld her sister's bloodied face. Rana gently led Sigyn by her still, trembling hands to the bathing room. She instructed her to sit down on the edge of the bathtub. "Lift your chin," Rana instructed as she tilted the blonde woman's head up, "Pinch your nose," she continued to order as she darted toward the wash basin and moistened a cloth. She brought the damp cloth back and started gingerly wiping burgundy smudges on Sigyn's lips and chin. "There, there," the red head spoke slowly as she wiped the blood away. "Better?' she asked. Sigyn merely bobbed her head as she sniffled. She didn't mean to keep blubbering, but some how the compassion of her sister's ministrations was more than she had expected at this point, she was overwhelmed. "Good," Rana smiled as she stroked Sigyn's now clean cheek. "Ahh, you look much better," she said perkily as she surveyed her sister's face. "Your nose is still swollen," she noted. "Eww," the older woman winced. "And so is your lip," she announced her face curled most unpleasantly. Self-consciously, Sigyn raised her hand to feel her battered lip, she could feel how one side was dreadfully larger than the other. Lady Sigyn bit her lip, new salt tears falling fresh. "Oh come, come, now dear, nothing to fuss about," Rana expressed with a shrug. "All you need is some ice," she stated. "Mmmm," more the shapely, ruby-haired maiden contorted her face, "And maybe a steak for that eye," she announced. "Why don't you wash up," she suggested as she tapped Sigyn on the cheek. The tap wasn't hard, but it still caused the golden-haired maiden to wince. "I will be back shortly, with some things for your face" Rana explained her soft hands giving Sigyn's slender shoulder a squeeze before quickly moving from the room.

Sigyn nodded and as soon as Rana disappeared from behind the white door she started to do what was proposed. She disrobed and started to fill her tub with warm water. Luckily, Elke had started a fire in the hearth of the bed chamber. She had placed a few large buckets of water on an iron rod and the buckets dangled and boiled over the open flame. The kettles were warm enough for her to make a hot bath. In the Imperial City most of the homes had running water, but in the Dales many people lived simpler. For many of the richer plantation families the master bedroom man have had indoor plumbing. But the rest of the household used the antiquated method of pumping water and heating it over a flame. It was a feature her family had hated, they had lived in the most state of the art conditions in their manor in the Imperial City, now they were forced to live as her mother put it, "Below their means"

Sigyn carried the buckets from her bedchamber to her bathing salon and filled her small white tub with warm water. She looked around the bathroom for oils, ointments and bath salts that she could dress her bathwater with. Normally, there were cabinets connected to the basin on the of the tub, but since this tub was a stand up tub there were no cabinets. After looking around for a moment, Lady Sigyn thought to check behind the mirror on the wall. Sigyn walked toward the mirror and caught sight of herself. She nearly gasped. She was a sight not even fit for sore eyes. She looked like a street urchin who had just gotten into a cat fight. Her make-up was dreadfully smudged and streaked all across her face that was all pink and puffy from spending the last hour crying like a baby. Her normally, curly golden tendrils had gone limp and the strands were straight and stringy and plastered to her forehead. Her lips and nose were plump and blistered looking and her eye. Her eye looked awful as if a child had just decided to take paints and paint a large black, blue and purple circles along the side of her right eye. Amazingly, the eye wasn't swollen shut so she could get a good look at herself.

Lady Sigyn Arndottir managed to pull herself from staring at her banged up reflection and remember her task. She opened the mirror and there she managed to find the concealed cabinet full of soaps, salts ointments and oils, all filed in neat little bottles and bags. Sigyn sifted through them, opening the vials and unfolding the bags and bundles sniffing about for the right ones. She smiled as she found all the ointments that she needed. It didn't surprise her that they were there. It would have surprised her had they not been there. Her mother had studied herbs during her schooling and had actually been an apprentice to a very renown herbalist in the Imperial City at the time an elderly man who was proficient in the best healing herbs from across the Nine Realms. Sigyn's mother never pursued her apprenticeship to the point of actually becoming an herbalist. She said the reason she had even started studying the field was to meet soldiers and sailors who often came to the herbalist looking for remedies for injuries. Still, despite the fact that her mother never became an herbalist her mother still new how to work many herbs and spices and plants into all manner or ointment, tonic and brew to keep on hand for her family in case they had any malady.

Sigyn sniffed around in the vials until she found the medicines that she needed. Excitedly, she poured the crushed petals and seed extract ointments into her tepid pool. Lastly, she added in some sweet smelling lavender and chamomile bath-salts to the tub to calm her nerves. Though she was doing her best to take deep breaths she was still quivering. With a few drops the mixture of herbs and ointments and soaps started to bubble and fizz into a delightfully aromatic foam. Sigyn smiled tiredly despite herself and carefully began to slip off her garments.

Tentatively, Lady Sigyn dipped a delicate toe into the bubbly tub to test the water. It was perfect. She sighed in relief as she stuck her whole foot in, her dainty feet were swolled from being confined in hard boots for so much of the day. She stepped deeper into the tub, allowed her knee to get wet, her thigh as well, until finally her whole tanned body was submerged beneath the suds. The scented, sudsy water spilled out from the sides as the blonde-haired maiden plopped down and got comfortable. Immediately, all the tension started to dissipate from her being as she melted into the bubble bath and allowed the herbs to take effect. They almost instantly drew away, the pain, soreness and stiffness from her weary body. The warm water soothed swollen, achy feet, Sigyn giggled like a little girl as she felt the tingle of the herbs and the tickle of scented bubbles against her flesh, happily she scooped up handfuls of suds and blew them about, for a moment she was able to forget her troubles and indulge in the simple pleasures of a luxurious bath. She poked her toes through the top layers soap suds and laughed as she kicked them about watched as some floated about the bathroom while others simply sloshed onto the floor. For a moment it felt like being home again admist a loving, supportive, happy family. A warm smile spread across Sigyn's busted lip as happy memories played in her blonde-haired head. One bubble burst on her swollen nose and her mental bubble burst as well as she replayed the way her father growled and foamed and yelled at her like some raging beast and the way he backhanded her to the floor. It was a far cry from the happy times of days before.

Amber eyes started to fill with salt water once more. She tried to sniffle and stifle her emotions, but she couldn't. Once again she started to feel the anxiety, hurt and fear well up inside her again, silent tears once again trickled from one bruised amber eye and down her puffy cheek. She would have cried harder but she was far too fatigued now to muster up anything more than a mew as she slowly sank her body deeper into the tub, so that she could rest her head on the back on the tub. She blinked to to keep her eyes from closing as she slugglishly ran her soapy hands over her arms and legs to cleanse them. Even the few movements left her more and more fatigued. The warm water and soothing bath ointments working like a charm to lull her to sleep, slowly her bright amber eyes started to close.

"Sigyn!" Rana called as she poked her head back into the powder room door. "Are you dressed?' she asked as she quickly slammed her big, blue eyes shut and stepped into the room, holding several small bottles in one hand and a large cut steak in the other. "Sigyn! Sigyn!" she called once again, "Sigyn I hope you are dressed and not kidding around!" Rana began to fuss as she slowly started to allow her eyelids to squint open. "Oh Sigyn," the eldest Arndottir sighed as she saw Sigyn's head cocked to the side and her mouth slightly a jar, sound a sleep in the bathtub.

Lady Rana walked over to the tub and pushed a few wet blonde strands from Sigyn's face. Sigyn looked like a child fast asleep in the bathtub. An innocent child, guileless and peaceful in her slumber. The red welts and black and blue bruising on Sigyn's tanned face looked so pitiful. Rana's luscious crimson painted lips arched into a frown. She was well aware of how infuriating Sigyn's simple-mindedness could be. Rana didn't consider herself a particularly bright woman, but Sigyn's naivete was downright incomprehensible. She had been tempted to slap some sense into her foolhardy sister many times. And most of the time she had agreed with her father's treatment of Sigyn, but as she looked down on Sigyn she wondered what could have said to incur their father's wrath so.

Rana pulled a stool closer to the tub and took to washing her sister's golden mane. She looked down at her sister lovingly. She tried to wash the hair gently as she could. She noted Sigyn would stir ever so slightly when the she scrubbed too hard. But Sigyn's blonde curls were dirty with the dust, twigs and leaves from er ride. She managed to wash the gunk and grime from the long night's ride out of Sigyn's hair. She also washed out the few bright red stains from the blood off the ends of her hair, returning the sunlit locks to their natural healthy looking luster and curl. Carefully, Rana folded a towel and stuck it under the back of Sigyn's head for comfort to use as a cushion. Gratefully, she heard Sigyn sigh as her head an neck were able to rest in a more comfortable position. Rana tenderly combed out the knots and kinks in Sigyn's wet blonde hair, she did it with such gentleness that Sigyn hardly even stirred or rustled as she did so.

The red-head gathered the ointments and salves she had quickly gathered from her mother's medicine drawers and dabbed them on Sigyn's battered, tanned face. She smoothed the cream over Sigyn's cheek to help decrease the swelling and she dabbed a swab of oil on the cut on Sigyn's lip to keep it from becoming infected. She continued her ministrations and she rubbed a brown salve over Sigyn's swollen, black and blue nostril to help with the discoloration and ease the pain. She started to do the same over Sigyn's eye, but she watched as Sigyn's swollen pink lips pulled into a tiny frown and her brow furrow as she winced. Sigyn's eyes slow fluttered open to stare into Rana's worried looking pupils. Rana pulled her hands away from the younger woman's face apologetically, "Sorry," she whispered her own face putting on a pained expression. "Is that tender?" she questioned as the balls of her fingers ever so delicately traced the raised purple circle that had formed around the edge of Sigyn's right eye. "Sorry," Rana responded again immediately as she watched Sigyn flinch once more. "I just need to put this on there," she explained. "It'll ease the pain," the fiery woman explained. "As well as get rid of the bruising, you don't want to return to Kelby like that," she expressed nose curled. "Ugh, if you go back like this...ugh Lord Theoic will never take you back," she reported.

Sigyn nodded for a minute obediently, then as if the words donned on her a new she sat up shaking her head. "But I can't! I can't go back just yet," Sigyn protested nearly deliriously as she wagged her head side to side and looked to her blue eyes sister for help.

Rana's eyes grew hard, her fiery brows knitting together with anger. "Well you are going to go back!" Rana announced as she slammed the lid shut to the salve and quickly rose to her feet, "Father will make you go back!" Rana reminded her harshly, turning around a wagging a scolding finger at her black and blue pudgy nose. "You better get that through your head right now," she declared. "Father is going to make you go back and marry Lord Theoic! And you better hope and pray that Lord Theoic is still willing to take you back!" red curls danced as she shook her head and paced in circles. "Because if he doesn't there will be hell to pay!" raising an angry manicured, red painted finger in the air. "For all of us!" she shrieked and turned back toward Sigyn. "Oh you've got a lot of nerve, Sigyn," Rana rumbled her pacing getting more and more furious. "Thinking that you can disavow what father has already set in place," The elder daughter muttered to herself as she rubbed her hands together anxiously. "You show him no honor!"

"I wasn't trying to dishonor, father," Sigyn protested she pulled the towel out from behind her head and started to get out of the tub and wrap it around her chest and waist.

"Well what do you call what you have done? Father gave you a dowry, it was generous after the pain and disgrace you caused this family. You didn't even deserve one!" Rana went on ranting furiously, "Lord Theoic actually offered a bride price for you!" Rana pointed out once more, "Father was actually able to collect a paltry sum for you, more than what any man would normally pay for a woman he already deflowered!" Lady Rana stated with disgust. Her nose crinkled and curled like she was smelling something foul. "You have disrespected your betrothed! What if he doesn't want to take you back? Did you think about that?" Rana questioned indignantly as she twisted her face and pointed to her head condemningly. "You...you...you are just so selfish!" she hollered.

"Please! Please, sister!" Sigyn begged. "I wasn't trying to be selfish...I...I...I left because...because..." Sigyn started shaking her head determined to keep from crying.

"Because of his other wife!" blue eyes flickered with fury, "you knew what you were walking into," Rana reported mercilessly, "What did you expect for the woman to roll over and play dead whilst you slept with her husband in her own home?" Once again tanned hands flew up in the air in a huff. Rana let out an exasperated breath as she grabbed the handle on the door. "You're just a fool, Sigyn," she muttered. "You should have been grateful for the life you had there, instead of running away like a scared little girl" Rana fussed. "You didn't even consider the effect that your foolishness could have on us!" the ruby-locked maiden explained as pointed to the center of her well-endowed chest. "If you end up in a brothel it's your own fault!" Rana condemned. "Take that steak and put it on your eye, it looks hideous!" she remarked cruelly as she opened the door.

"Rana! Wait!" Sigyn called dashing behind her sister just in time to grab her by the shoulder and keep her from leaving the bathroom. Sigyn was breathless just catching her sister's shoulder,"I didn't leave because of Lady Tyra...I mean...I didn't stay because of her either..." Sigyn contradicted herself. "I mean," Sigyn started to worry her lip as golden eyes darted back and forth, "what would you have done...would you have stayed with a man you didn't love and be with a cruel mistress?" Sigyn posed hopefully. Surely, her sister would understand.

Ohhhh!" Rana fumed as her manicured fingers grabbed at her curl ruby locks. "I mean I'm no scholar, Sigyn" she explained as she pointed to herself. Indeed Rana wasn't. Neither of them had ever received praise for being quick witted or sharp of intellect. "But you, Sigyn are simply an idiot!" she shouted. Sigyn gasped at the harsh words of her sister. She stumbled backward and tripped over the stool that Rana had placed near the tub. "If I was a woman like you, considered a slut through all of Asgard and the man who sullied my reputation after 100 yrs decided to marry me, yes I would have stayed!" she hollered as she leaned over into Sigyn's face.

"But Rana," she muttered quietly as she clung to the linen towel she had wrapped around her bodice but I didn't leave just because of her," the flustered blonde explained her reddened gold eyes cast downward.

Once again blue eyes rolled, "Then why did you leave?" Rana asked unimpressed as she cocked her head and hip to the side and cross her arms under her bosom, her eyes glistening with tears.

"because of this," Sigyn explained as she scuttled and crawled across the floor toward her dirty riding gown, undergarments and cape. Sigyn quickly shifted through the pile of gowns and undergarments and gathered a piece of parchment out of the folds of her cloak. She passed it to her sister.

"A parchment scroll?" Rana's full mouth curled in disgust.

Sigyn shook her head, blonde tendrils bobbing as she did so. "Not just a scroll," Sigyn informed, "A letter."

"A letter," Rana scoffed just as her parents had a few moments before, she tossed the parchment bound in red ribbon to the ground. "Sigyn you risk your future for a letter?"

"Rana please, listen...listen!" Sigyn entreated as she clambered off of the wet tile floor and back on to her feet. She gripped her sister once more. "The contents of this letter could be the thing to save Asgard now in this most dire hour!" she expressed. Sigyn's eyes were wild and earnest, begging her sister to believe and understand as her parents had not.

The older Asgardian woman pushed her younger sibling off of her. "Oh Sigyn this is all nonsense!" Rana squealed once again tossing up her hands. "Father had every right to hit you the way he did if you were spouting out such foolishness and folly!" Rana spat. Lady Sigyn drew back cowering as her hand reflexively trailed across her battered face. She felt the bumps and swelling that her father's angered fist had caused, but perhaps Rana was right perhaps she did deserve it. If she was smarter she would know better what to do so as to not incur the wrath of others. Sigyn's head bowed her head trying to hide the water that was once again starting to trail down her still red cheeks. "Oh Sigyn," Rana started as she noticed Sigyn's sniveling expression. "Look," she started with a sigh, her proud shoulders falling, "It's very late. "You should really get some sleep," she nodded. "Before you know it, it will be first light and father will be ready to take you back to Kelby," she expressed as she gave Sigyn's soft cheeks a pat before walking out of the powder room and into the bedchamber. "You should take that steak and keep it on your eye as you sleep. By the time you wake up all the swelling should have gone back," she stated with a smile and shrug. "Perhaps your pretty face will be enough to convince Lord Theoic to take you back," Rana teased with a wink as she motioned for Sigyn to follow her into the bedchamber.

"Rana the scroll..." Sigyn breathed as she trailed behind her older sister who started to fluff the pillows on her bed.

'Here put this on," Rana said as she pulled out a cozy, flannel nightgown colored a soft baby yellow. She tossed it on the bed and Sigyn slipped it on quickly before sitting down on the bed.

"the scroll...the scroll...it really does have information on it that could change the fate of all Asgard!" Sigyn interjected continuing with her original thoughts.

"Sigyn, hush," Rana instructed as she placed the slab of cool meat upon her sister's still bruised face and pulled the covers back for her to lay down. "Daylight swiftly approaches and you know father is a man of his word, he will expected you to be up at the crack of dawn. Get some sleep," the red-haired maiden admonished.

For a moment Sigyn allowed herself to fall on the plush down pillows. She was so warn from the day, but immediately she started and sat back up pushing against Rana's sturdy and steadying hands, "Please sister, Convergence is only a few days away! And...And...And" Sigyn hiccuped. "I must get this scroll to Prince Loki by then," she explained breathlessly.

"Sigyn, what in the name of Yddrasil are you talking about?" Rana demanded with irritation.

"When I...I was tending to Loki...one day...one day...I came I came down to visit him and I heard voices," Sigyn explained the best she could her memory was such a fog. It hurt to push her mind to think of the events that had transpired.

Rana watched the pained expression form across her younger sister's face as she touched her fingers to her forehead as I trying to force the memory out of her braid. 'Voices?' Rana mouthed as she rolled vivid blue eyes.

"Yes, yes...I heard voices," Sigyn nodded as she gathered her thoughts. "I came to his cell and I heard him talking with some one," she explained.

"Someone who?" Rana questioned. "Loki was condemned to 500 yrs of solitude no one but you would be foolish enough to disobey Odin's command and see him,"

"I was obeying the queen and even Prince Thor knew I was tending to him!" Sigyn retorted, "Anyway," she said as she shook her head. "I don't know who he was talking to but...I didn't really see or at least I can't really remember what I saw, but I remember teeth!"

"Teeth?"

"Yes," Sigyn nodded breaking from her trance, "horrible, bloody teeth!" she elaborated. "They were smiling, but it wasn't a kind smile...it was scary!" Sigyn went on shaking her head

"Well I would imagine that horrible, bloody teeth would be scary," Rana pointed out.

Lady Sigyn vigorously nodded her head. "Mmmhmm! And then...then...there was a face," Sigyn continued her hand reaching in the air as if she was feeling the face of the creature. "Oh I can't remember!" Sigyn squealed as she covered her face with her hands frustrated with her foggy mind. "But anyway," Sigyn expressed as she threw her hands off of her face and slapped them on to Rana's strong shoulders. "The face... the face of that horrible creature with the blood teeth vanished and...and...Loki...Loki was lying on the ground...and he wasn't blue," she burst.

"Blue? Why would he be blue?' The red head questioned.

"Well he was blue...after the extraction," Sigyn said for a moment her voice calming.

"Well why would extraction have turned him blue?" Rana pressed.

Sigyn patted big, gold eyes, she shook her head. She couldn't tell Rana the truth about Loki. "I...I don't know," Sigyn fumbled. "But anyway...he got up...and he was wild and crazed," Sigyn continued to express as she gestured frantically with frenzied hands. "And I know...I know...I know that has something to do with the Dark-Elves attacking Asgard," she confessed as she took a much needed exhale.

"Sigyn are you serious! The wild and crazed one is you!" she accused. "That sounds like a dream! You ran away from Kelby over a dream! Oh Sigyn that is just..."

"No Rana it wasn't a dream! It wasn't a dream!" Sigyn persisted. "I know what I saw!" the golden locked once hand-maiden to the queen protested. Rana merely cocked a fiery eyebrow, "Ok...Ok so I don't know all that I saw...but I know that those teeth did something to Loki...they change him from being blue for starters," Sigyn began to reason. "And I I just know that the talk that the teeth had with him had something to do with the attack on Asgard," Sigyn said as her golden brows furrowed. "I know...I know... I just betcha!" she muttered to herself snapping her fingers.

Rana shook her head. "Sigyn this is foolishness!" she yelled. "What does any of this have to do with the scroll?" she shouted.

Lady Sigyn bit her plumped, busted lip, her breath-hitched and her mind raced. What to do? What to do? He finger immediately strayed to her mouth and she nibbled on her fingernail like a frightened rabbit nibbling on a carrot. She didn't know how to tell Rana about the scroll without telling her about Lady Dagmar. She didn't want to betray Dagmar's trust, but at the same time she knew that it was the only way to make anyone see the significance of the scroll. She didn't want to sully Lady Dagmar's reputation, she was considered a virtuous noblewoman throughout the Nine Realms, she'd hate to put a blemish on the lady's good name. Her older sister was a gossip queen and a huge blabber mouth. Court gossip had always been what they lived for during their hayday at court. Digging up the scoop on their fellow courtiers and trying to out do one another with the latest tidbit of scandal. She knew what it was like, to live with your name being dragged through the dirt. She swallowed hard, but Lady Dagmar was dead. And if they all didn't hope to soon share the same fate something had be said. And Rana had few contacts now that she lived out in the Dales. Maybe the new would not spread very quickly, maybe not at all she could only hope, she gulped, "Rana what I am about to tell you...you cannot tell anyone," Sigyn whispered with a beckoning gesture. Like she had always done when they shared secrets. The red-head Arndottir leaned in closer already tantalized by the prospect of a taste of juicy gossip. There was so little news that reached the Dales. And there Sigyn began to divulge everything. She swiftly told her sister of everything she knew of how Dagmar had been pregnant with Loki's child, about how she tried to pass the child off as Sir Olaf Dirkson's, about how Olaf Dirkson told her that the baby had been still born, but the baby wasn't stillborn and Dagmar found out that truth after how Sir Dirkson attacked her after he found out that the baby was never his to begin with. "So you see," Sigyn started to insist as she reached her hands out to cup Rana's, "This is a letter from the Vanir midwives," Sigyn continued as she bobbed her head. 'I...I gave it to lady Dagmar when she went back to get Lady Jane...she never got to read it...she wanted Prince Loki to have it. It is about his child...their child..." Sigyn stressed. "If...if I can give this to him and he can find out the truth about the babe then maybe...maybe he will fight with Asgard to defeat the Dark-Elves!" Sigyn panted in earnest.

Rana gaped in horror. "Sigyn you can't be serious!" she shrieked.

'Yes! Yes! Rana...I am," Sigyn nodded wide grin spreading across her bronzed face and lighting up her golden eyes. Finally, someone understood.

The fiery haired maiden instantly rose to her feet yanking her hands out of Sigyn's, "Why that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!" she continued to squeal. "Has, has Loki bewitched you that you cannot see through his lies and manipulations?" she countered.

"There are no lies, Rana, everything I have told you was truth," Sigyn insisted.

"Everything you have told me is lunacy!" Rana spat. "Bloody teeth and blue bodies and the thought of Lady Dagmar being pregnant with that monster's child," she shook her head. "She was a virtuous woman! Unlike you," Rana condemned. "She wouldn't go around sleeping with a man..." she started.

"It's the truth!" Sigyn shouted back tears pooling in her eyes as she watched Rana start to walk away. "Rana, why would I lie about all this?" Sigyn asked her voice breaking as she caught her sister by her hands and tugged on them gently pulling her to stop marching out the door.

Rana turned back toward her younger sister in a huff, her big blue eyes fiery, "Well!" she started and pointed a dark red polished finger into Sigyn's chest, "Because!" she began to point out. "Because! She rallied once more. "Because you were jealous of Lady Dagmar!" she declared with a snap of her fingers. "You always were! I know! I know you were so jealous of the maiden that you were willing to sleep with Loki!

"You and Liv encouraged me to," Sigyn countered.

"Well yes! At the time he was prince and it would have been of great advantage for me," Rana remarked with ease.

"Rana, I admit I was jealous of Lady Dagmar,"

"Aha! You admit it! You just want to ruin her reputation as your own has been ruined!" the ruby haired noblewoman accused.

"No, I haven't told anyone of this, but you and even if that were the case why would I run away from Kelby just to ruin Dagmar's reputation," Sigyn argued.

"Oh come Sigyn,"Rana waved her manicured hand's dismissively, "You would look for any excuse to get away from Kelby and escape having to be Theoic's second wife," Rana pointed out. "You don't care what shame you bring on this family!"

"Sister that is not true...if that were the case I would not have agreed to go back," the blonde countered once more. "I intend to go back to Kelby once I deliver the letter to Loki...all I want is for Loki to get the scroll and know the truth of his child so that he can turn from his wicked ways and be at peace and Asgard can be spared," Sigyn pleased for her sister to understand.

"Please!" Rana rolled her eyes. "Wake up! Loki is just tricking you as he tricks everyone. I be he put a spell on you to get him to come back there no matter what! I bet that scroll is filled information on how to unleash the Aether!" Rana accused.

"No Rana! No Rana that's not true...the letter is from Vanaheim, look it has the seal on it," she pointed out holding up the parchment wrapped in red ribbon and clasped with a bronze seal marked with the symbol of the midwives.

Rana scoffed, tossing her hands up and marching away, "A trick! That Loki is treacherous! He's just trying to lure you in to helping him bring ruin to Asgard!" she yelled. "Give me that scroll!" Lord Arn's eldest daughter demanded.

"No Rana it is for Prince Loki's eyes only!" the younger Arndottir informed as she clutched the scroll to her chest. "It was Lady Dagmar's dying wish that Loki know the truth about their child. You cannot dishonor a person's dying wish!"

"How could you even think that this would change his mind? Why would he care?"

He loved Dagmar, Rana I know..." Sigyn confessed quietly as she dropped her head.

How do you know?" Rana challenged. "You know so little Sigyn?"

I know," Sigyn breathed. "I know because I have seen him weep over her grave like a child," she stated. "I know because one night when we made love...the best and most fulfilling time...he called her name instead of my own," Sigyn admitted as she looked into her sister's face liquid pouring from her amber pupils like rain.

"Oh Sigyn," Rana mumbled back as she watched the blonde-locked woman fall to her knees.

"I am not smart, Rana, I know, but I know what love is," the youngest daughter of Admiral Arn admitted.

Rana sighed, she walked back to the bed and set on it resting her redhead in her hands. She thought long and hard over all her sister had divulged. It was all a bunch hogwash and lunacy. The whole tale was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. And yet she knew Sigyn, although Sigyn had always been a girl prone to fantasy, she had never been a liar. "Sigyn even if all that you have said is true...what if the scroll says the child didn't survive...what if Loki reacts awfully and just works with the Dark-Elves all the more," she posed.

"I don't know," the younger sister stated shaking her head. "I only know it is a chance, Rana a chance I have to take for all of Asgard...for all of the realms, isn't that worth it?"

"You need to know...there is no point in you going all the way to the Imperial City just to find out that the scroll says the child is dead,"

Sigyn shook her head. "It is for Loki's eyes alone," Sigyn stated as she looked away from the scroll. "I have pried into Prince Loki's and Lady Dagmar's business one time too many and it has been costly," she confessed. "Please sister, won't you help me?' Sigyn begged from her knees. "All I need to do is get to the Imperial City and give the scroll to Prince Loki and then and then no matter what I have given my word that I will return to Lord Theoic and submit to him as his wife," Sigyn nodded.

"You are willing to disobey father? Willing to lose the only chance you have to have a decent life? You are willing to risk going to a brothel if Lord Theoic does not take you back?" Rana questioned.

"Aye, Sister," Sigyn whispered. "If Convergence comes and the Dark Elves have the Aether and unleash the darkness than I supposed living out my years in a brothel, shall be the least of my worries," Sigyn admitted with a laugh.

Rana bobbed her head in agreement. "You are right," she confessed as she swallowed hard. "If the Dark-Elves come then there will be no family honor to preserve, Ragnorok will come and we will all end up as slaves or worse dead," the fiery haired daughter of Admiral Arn confessed.

"So you see," Sigyn asked as she sat down on the bed next to Rana, "You see why the letter must be delivered," gold eyes looked to her sister trustingly and in earnest.

Rana blew an exasperated breath from her ruby lips, "Not really," she uttered her eyes welling up with tears as the fear of the impending apocalypse dawned on her. "What makes you think Loki can ever make a difference?' she questioned her eyes glistening. "He is not so strong? Not so brave? He is not so mighty? If Prince Thor and the Great Einherjar cannot save us from Malekith and his minions than what could Loki possibly do?"

"He is powerful, sister," Sigyn assured the crying blue-eyed gentle woman as she squeezed her hand. "He is a great enchanter," she pressed, "The Aether isn't a weapon of arms, but of magic. It cannot be fought by brute strength alone, Asgard needs an enchanter on their side to truly over come it," Sigyn stated.

Rana looked at her younger sister, and for the the first time she didn't see the normally bubbly and enegetic, pretty, but dull-witted blonde haired maiden she'd always seen her as. Sigyn seemed some how more serious minded, wiser and more mature than she'd ever been. Ad despite the fact that her face was banged up and bruised and her eyes were red from tears, she seemed strong and brave. She thought once more about the story Sigyn had conveyed to her, indeed it seemed far-fetched t best. But she'd never known her younger sibling to be a liar. Sigyn had been a gossip and a busybody and she'd certainly been a woman prone to fantasy, but she wasn't a liar, Sigyn wasn't smart enough to be a liar. She wasn't the type to just sit and concoct make believe stories just because. Somehow she felt confident in her sisters words.

"Why Sigyn?" She inquired, deep puzzlement on her face. "Why are you doing this? You are no warrior?"

"For Asgard! For the Realms! If not we all perish!" she stressed. "And for Loki,"

"Why Sigyn? He betrayed you,"

"I love him," the blonde-haired lady-in-waiting to Queen Frigga stated.

"I will ask father to allow me to take you back to Lord Theoic's. I will tell him if you come with me it will seem less like you were forced and perhaps Lord Theoic will be more willing to take you back. But I will take you to the Imperial City," Rana agreed.