AN: Hey! Huge apology for being so late! I had planned to get this out a lot sooner, but Comic-Con was absolutely crazy. I think I am still recovering from *that* event that happened. Yes, I was there. Yes, I died.

I think I re-wrote this thing ten times, but here it finally is! I want to give a big shout out for everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited! I am so grateful, and your comments really help! I will try my best to integrate some of the suggestions in the final chapters ( I think there will be maybe 4 more?). Really, thank you, thank you, thank you for reviewing and reading! I love you all!

Please enjoy!

Chapter 36: The Most Beautiful Lie

Golden eyes looked towards the cathedral ceilings in the palace, her mind calculating. Blood pressure? Stable, but dropping. Heart rate? Elevated. Blood loss? A liter, at least. The woman tried to keep her mind from focusing on the horrific pain and slow the shock, but to little success. The knowledge that she was alone and lying in a pool of her own blood was disheartening. The thought that she was critically injured without another healer around was horrifying.

"Eir!"

Letting out a hiss of pain, the woman tried her hardest to twist her neck in the direction of the voice. Her vision was already blurring, but she could make out a tall figure running down the hall. All around her, the echoing of frenzied footsteps and the beating of her own heart assaulted her senses. Sights and sounds were mixing together now, the sensations less clear and confusing—an artifact of her failing body.

She didn't want it to be Loki; she didn't want him to see her like this. In the corners of her eyes, she could see her dark locks dipped in a deathly crimson, and against the elegantly etched carvings of the wall she could see her blood dripping down the curves like paint. Watching someone die was the worst experience she had ever had to go through, and she wanted so badly to spare him the misery. He had already dealt with enough.

But seconds later she was joined by a terrified prince. Lying on the hard metal hallway, the goddess could feel a sadness wash over her as she looked into his eyes. His hands had rushed to her throat, the tingle of magic racing down his fingertips, but it wasn't enough. This wasn't a simple cut—this damaged anatomy was complex and severe, and it something that he couldn't fix. Though a master sorcerer, he wasn't a master healer; whatever magic he used would only go to waste. Raising a shaking hand to his, the goddess stopped the prince from using what little power he had left.

"Don't." she insisted, "'T'will only make it worse."

She could feel his hand on hers.

"Eir." He whispered shakily, "Don't do this."

As she looked at him, she couldn't help but smile; the man that was crying over her—the man who was holding her hand tightly—was not the monster she had been tasked to cure. In its place was the vulnerable green eyes of a man she knew much better, a man who had finally rid himself of the haunting mask he once wore. No, the prince with tear-laden eyes was ever the Loki she knew best—a flicker of the boy she had fallen for long ago.

Above her was the man who would send her wicked smiles from across the table at feasts, or purposely injure himself on missions just to see her. He was the same man who would sneak her to the edge of Asgard on horseback to stare at the stars, and he was the one who would weave her words more beautiful than the best Asgardian poetry. Her very best friend, and her best kept secret.

She had missed him.

"Please stop crying." She insisted, her face wincing in pain, "I can't bear it."

Her vision was failing, but she could see a sorrow-filled frown on the prince's face and feel his tears hit her bloodied cheeks. Pulling her close to him, she hissed as the drying blood snagged her long hair. She was surrounded by it—covered in it—and she wanted to scream.

She had been a doctor for most of her wretched life, and she knew well that her fate had been written. In the reflection of his armor, she could clearly see the ripped skin necklace around her throat. She had been lucky, in a sense, to miss the most vital of arteries, but the damage was severe. It would be a matter of minutes before she succumbed to an unconsciousness that she would never wake from.

And she was terrified.

For once in her life, she wished she were not blessed with such extensive medical knowledge. In her calculating mind, she could figure the exact moment she would go into shock. She was aware of her blood pressure plummeting and knew dizziness would set in soon. She knew she would become tired—and that her heart would go into arrhythmia. And as she looked up at the glossy irises, she wished she were ignorant enough to be lied to; she wished she could have someone hold her hand and tell her she wouldn't die today.

"I am so scared." She admitted, her voice breaking, "I wish not to die."

He held her tighter; the dizziness had set in, but the woman just leaned her head against his leather-clad chest. She could hear his heart racing—the unique cadence of his Jotun heart singing in her ears. There had been many nights she had laid like this, just listening to the rhythm and feeling safe in his arms. It was torturous to think that this would be the last time.

"Lie to me." She begged softly, "Tell me I'll be alright."

She could feel him shudder as a gasp left his lips. Forcing herself to look up to him again, her heart broke when she saw the devastation in his green eyes.

"Of course you are, Eir." He whispered sadly, his lips failing to twist into a smile, "I promise, I shall get you better."

The Goddess tried hard to fight against her fluttering eyelids.

"And when you wake…" he added quietly, "We shall be together."

Taking one last look towards Loki, the goddess finally gave into her tired eyes. Not willing them to, she could feel heavy tears leave her as he spoke. He spoke of such beautiful things—about everything they had yet to do after this war passed. He told a tale the festival they would hold after winning Asgard back, and how they would dance until their toes went numb and laugh until their faces hurt. He spoke of how things would be different…how he was sorry.

Though her body was failing, she tried to convince herself that her heart was skipping because of his words. She wanted so hard to believe that her heart was racing because he spoke of how much he loved her—and how happy she made him. Though it was weak, a smile found its way to her bloodied lips when he told her everything she so desperately wanted to hear.

For a moment, she was happy he was the God of Lies.

But as she felt her mind losing its grip on certainty, she was reminded that all of these words were said through a broken voice. He was crying because his words were nothing but untruths—they were nothing but poetic words woven to cushion the reality of an end. She could feel hot tears roll down her face as she thought about how much she wanted all of it, too. The notion that she would never see him again, that she would never do all the beautiful things he spoke of was anguishing-and that knowledge hurt the most.

Frigga had been right: dying was not the worst part of death.

"This is my fault." He whispered with his voice filled with self-hatred, "You deserved better than me."

But as he held her closer to him, the goddess couldn't find the strength to tell him how wrong that was. She couldn't open her eyes anymore, and the words she most wanted to say were locked on her dying lips. She couldn't tell him that he was wrong—that despite the trouble he had caused, he had made her happy. That despite the pain his want for the throne had bore her, he was a good man; that he had redeemed himself, if only in her eyes.

And as her world finally faded to black, she wished so much that she had the strength to tell him that she loved him. She wished that she had the strength to say her goodbyes.

But she had never been good at them, anyway.

Tony removed the front of his mask and let out an exhausted breath. Stepping out on the fragmented Bifrost, the man couldn't help but notice what a beautiful sight it was. Despite the bodies that littered the multicolored bridge, the surroundings were truly fantastic. There was a certain enchanting iridescence about the bridge that struck him-the colors so bright against the dark background of space.

Flying above the war below, Tony found it almost impossible to ignore the sights he was flying over. There were floating buildings and majestic gardens, there were forests that spanned thousand of acres and mountains that seemed to kiss the sky and slice against clouds. Everything was more impressive, with the palaces grandiose and the wildlife even wilder. While Asgard had an undeniable otherworldly quality about it, it still reminded him very much of Earth.

Far more beautiful and extravagant, but Earth nonetheless.

He was sure Pepper would have loved it.

"Please help me."

Breaking from his thoughts, brown eyes narrowed in the darkness. Eyeing the jagged end of the bridge, he could barely see a crawling figure maneuvering through the carnage. When the starlight finally caught the infamous golden armor, Tony knew exactly who was in need of help.

"Hey, House!" he said, putting his hand to his earpiece, "We could really use your help on the bridge."

Hearing nothing but static on the other end, Tony ran up to the injured Asgardian, the metal of his Iron Man suit banging loudly against the glittering platform. But as the mortal finally approached the groaning gatekeeper, he started to notice what had really gone wrong—and it made him want to vomit.

Heimdall was looking up to him with empty eyes, blood streaking down his face like tears and his hands shaking at what they had done. His face was twisted in pain, the whites of his teeth clenching tightly and his brows twisted in misery. Where there had once been remarkable, powerful eyes was now nothing—the flesh torn away by his own hand.

"House?" Tony repeated shakily, "We really need you on the bridge, Heimdall—"

Once again, he was met with static.

"Is everything alright?" Heimdall asked desperately, "Is Eir coming?"

Looking down at the man who could once see everything, Tony's heart broke. Whoever did this to him was out for blood. Whoever was collecting the stones—this Thanos—was out to make everyone suffer. He was not just looking for a way to collect the stones, but he was looking to bring nightmares to life. And what could be more terrifying for the gatekeeper than eternal blindness? A shiver ran down his spine as he thought what the alien had in store for him.

And as another swarm of intruders started to race down the lonely bridge, Tony didn't have the strength in him to tell the Asgardian the truth.

"Yeah, Goldie." he lied, "Help is on the way."

Sif hissed as a fist came in contact with her face, the alien owner wild and looking for blood. There were hordes of them, their eyes filled with a craze she had never seen before, and they were all trying to swarm the palace. Pulling her sword out of one of the bodies, the warrior glanced to the man on her left.

Thor looked exhausted, his hammer continuously hailing lightening from above, and sweat dripping down his hardened expression. They had been fighting for what felt like days, and her whole body hurt. Each step felt like knives and each breath was painful to take. All around them screams of warriors fighting and dying muddled her senses-her body dizzy from exhaustion and her head throbbing from the noise. Looking off to the distance, her heart sunk as another wave entered her field of vision.

"Are you alright, Sif?" Thor asked, his voice breathy, "Ready for another bought?"

Her lips twisted into a small smile, but her heart ached. She had been on many battles with him, but none like this. Never before had she felt so overwhelmingly outnumbered and alone. Her earpiece had gone silent over the course of the night, and she had a sickening feeling that those on the other end had met their ends. It wasn't something she wanted to think about—but it was in the back of her mind. When she looked at Thor, she tried her hardest to hold back tears.

"Of course, Milord." She smiled, "I shall fight by your side until the end."

Before he could answer, however, Sif felt a chill run through the air. While not a master of magic, she knew what it felt like. Magic had an unmistakable tingling feeling, an unsettling sensation that made hair stand up and the air cool down. Thor had felt it, too—his blue eyes wide and his hammer at the ready.

What was once a battlefield filled with warriors had now gone quiet—an eerie mist rolling over the horizon and littering of bodies in its path. The screams and wailing had gone quiet, the sounds of lasers silenced, and time was seemingly in a standstill. Though her body wanted to run, the goddess found that she couldn't—her body locked in place like a scared animal up for slaughter. Though she wanted to call out to Thor, she found that her voice was silenced.

"I had been looking for the last two." A voice remarked, "A complete collection."

Twisting around, Sif felt her breath hitch in her throat when she saw their opponent. He was tall, only slightly shorter than Thor, but twice as robust. His yellow eyes were glowing in satisfaction, their attention focused to the golden gauntlet on his arm. Examining the gilded glove, Sif felt her heart begin to race; embedded against the metal were four stones: their facets stained with blood and dirtied with earth.

"Oh, you noticed that did you?" Thanos smirked towards her, "What could have become of your friends?"

Watching he Titan run his large fingers against the facets, Sif felt unwilling tears run down her face. The stones belonged to people she had fought with her whole life—belonged to people she had laughed with at festivals and respected with all her being. The stones the monster was lusting over had belonged to Asgard's finest—people she had just today been smiling with and wishing luck.

"Your famed gatekeeper blinded by his own hand." Thanos recited, his finger dancing over the gems, "Your Warriors Three fallen upon their own swords."

Sif could see the devastation run across Thor's features.

"Asgard's greatest healer drowned in her own blood." He smirked, "Oh I do hope your brother found her."

Though the warrior goddess loathed Loki, her heart broke for him.

"How shall I kill you?" he asked seriously, his yellow eyes glancing towards her, "I could make him kill you?"

Still unable to move, Sif gasped as she watched Thor move against his will. Though his body moved towards her, Mjolnir swinging frantically, his eyes were filled with a defiance. She could see his body trying to break whatever spell was being cast over him, his brow furrowed and his teeth clenched in concentration. Still, despite his efforts, his hammer struck her hard against the arm.

Screeching in pain, Sif moved a shaking hand to her broken appendage. Her whole arm felt fluid, the bones no longer keeping their form.

"Or would it be more torturous for you to kill him?" he questioned, satisfaction dripping from his words, "Death enjoys particularly poetic endings."

Closing her eyes in pain, the woman tried her hardest to fight against whatever magic was making her move. Her free hand had left her arm and started towards her belt, gripping her sword tightly, she pointing it in the direction of an exhausted God of Thunder. Feeling hot tears run down her face, the goddess screamed as the blade slashed across his face—her will unable to shake the power.

"No." Thanos decided, his lips curling into a smile at the scene, "Sometimes death is not the most torturous end. I know exactly how to make two of the most powerful warriors suffer."

The glitter of the stones sparkled brightly in the twilight.

"Make them truly powerless."

Thank you all for reading! Reviews are very much appreciated! :)

If any of you have suggestions for what the topic the one-shots should encompass, I would be grateful for your suggestions! I would like to get the first chapter of that out when the last chapter of this posts. :)