HEEEEEEEEELLLOOOOOO READERS!

OMG! It has been so long since I updated and I am SOOOOOOOO SORRY! I never forgot about you or this story, but unfortunately life so often gets in the way of fandom! I had a lot of things happen in the past couple of months. I changed jobs, my computer died and so that prevented me from spending a lot of time on writing. None the less I continue to receive your reviews, follows and favorites and I can't thank you enough for them. They always inspire me to keep writing. But in celebration of ENDGAMES I had to get this chapter out here! I can't believe the epic that we have known as the MCU has come to a close. MY HEART IS ABSOLUTELY BROKEN, but no spoilers! This chapter was difficult to write because of everything going on in my life and I don't know if it is the most exciting, but it serves a purpose, I think, but I will let you be the judge of that. Well as always happy reads and writes and most importantly GOD BLESS!

Chapter 51

Loki awoke with a start. His emerald eyes bulged as they popped open. He sat up like a bolt. Jettisoned into an upright position. His chest heaved as if he had just run a marathon. His heart was beating wildly and frantically against his rib cage. A cold sweat drenched his forehead and back. The raven-haired enchanter let out a desperate gasp as if he were drowning. His breathing was so raspy and audible that it was practically like his was yelping.

He was on the defensive. His enchanted ever-green pupils were dilated, reflexes sharp and ready to spring into action on a moment's notice. His muscled and sinews twitched as they were on such high alert. The thin black hairs on the nape of his neck running just above the spine were on edge and standing up on his sweat soaked skin. His ears perked and tuned in to listen to every sound and every frequency. His surroundings were silent and dark. He wanted to relax, but quite frankly couldn't. The dragon could have been anywhere. Loki's thin nostrils flared sharply as he waited in the darkness and silence. He tried to smell the creature out. It was a putrid scent that reeked of blood, fire, brimstone and ash. Yet, his nostrils didn't catch a whiff of that. Still, Loki knew that the dragon was quick and stealthy and cunning, just like him. It possessed all his and worst qualities. The creature could be anywhere become anything. Loki's head swung to and fro, his ebony locks slapped him in the face as he searched for the scaly beast.

Slowly, Loki's heart rate began to come back to a rest, his breathing went back to normal and he was no panting like a dog. His jade orbs blinked and he took notice of his surroundings. Loki blew out a cool cleansing breath and he realized that he was no longer in the smoldering dark courtyard. Though, he was in the dark.

Yes, wherever he was, was very dark. But it was not the darkness he had expected. He had expected to wake up bathed in the dragon's blood and bodily fluids in the ruins of the courtyard. Perhaps, he thought he'd wake up consumed by fire. He'd seen the silhouette of the dragon go up in flames when he cut off the brute's head. It had been so exhausting, he supposed he'd collapsed after the fight. A fight that he wasn't all that convinced he'd actually won. If he woke up gazing up into Hel, he knew he would have deserved it. He was amazed to find that he was not facing any of the scenarios he had imagined. Recognition fell upon the enchanter. He recognized his surroundings. He was in a dark bedchamber.

The darkness of the room soon became more tolerable. His wide eyes took in all the traces of light that they could find. There wasn't much. The only light that could be made out was the faint, dismal glow of the Aether ash that seemed to swirl and hover right outside his balcony window. That little light gave way to the familiar trappings and left a shadow of illumination on his furniture. He saw the glass on the floor scattered everywhere. The broken bits of wood from his bedposts and chests and drawers and shelves. He saw the ripped curtains and the torn and tatter upholstery. He saw the bed sheets, quilts and pillows that were strewn with reckless abandon all across the large bedchamber. He then noted smashed bottles, broken vials, books, scrolls and papers on the floor that had fallen from the shelves. One particular scroll had seemed to roll closer to his fingers. It came back to him. The scroll. The scroll that had a message. A message about a child...his child. "Nyky," the child's name from the horrific hamlet of Bedlam tumbled off his lips without thought. Before he could even comprehend what he had said, his eyes darted over and he saw bits of clothing that had been ripped off and torn from flesh as if some animal had attacked a person. Loki noted a sash of soft pink fabric. A few feet away he saw the green leather of his own tunic. The blood was all over, on the floor, ceiling and walls. He recalled Sigyn attacking him.

Their steamy battle came back to him in spurts and flashes. The beautiful, buxom blond covered from head to toe in every type of gunk and grime imaginable. Her eyes were alight with the fixation to attack. Her teeth with bared, her fist clenched. Her body flying against his in rage. His own vehement behavior. His ruthlessness of taking fists full of her hair. She came at him with such a strength and fury, a fire and passion and a focus like he had never seen in her before. She had never been more beautiful and yet he hated that he saw the beauty in her in that moment because he knew how pained she was to have to fight him like that. Lady Sigyn was a kind and gentle soul. To fight someone tooth and nail as she had done was not in her nature. But she'd done it. She'd done it for the Nine Realms, she'd done it for Asgard, she'd done it for the crown, she'd done it for her family and friends and she'd done it for him...to save him. His Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. All Sigyn had done was try to save him from himself and all he'd done...was. Once more he swallowed. His eyes misted. What had he done? What if he...? No...No... No, he shook his head vigorous. "Sigyn," he whispered her name. No, he couldn't be responsible for the death of another woman that he..."Sigyn!" He called her name more frantically now. His bright green eyes scrambling to see in the midst of darkness. They searched for her body or at least to see her cowering somewhere in the pitch black room. Instead, his eyes fell upon the broken fragments of one of his favorite and most priceless antique vases. The dazzling colors of the ceramics looked like gems scattered across the floor. Loki grimaced as he strained to recall all that had transpired before he awoke to that empty barely field. The Last thing he could remember before his encounter with Lady Dagmar and winding up in Bedlam was the crash and the crack and tinkling sound of broken glass from the rare vase that had been smashed over his head. He winced as felt a sharp pain overtake the back of his head where the vase had made impact. He could feel it throbbing and beating with a pulsating sort of ache. He could practically feel the large knot forming there on the back of his skull. He could feel a warm, wet trickle sliding down his scalp. His pointed nose crinkled. He supposed he should have been furious with her. After all that had been a direct attempt on his life. Hadn't it? Loki couldn't help the slight way that the corners of his mouth turned up at the thought of what she had done. All the spunk and the spirit that she had shown. He didn't know that she could be so strong. He never knew she could be so dangerous. A wicked, nearly sensual grin slipped across his chapped lips. He licked them salaciously. "She could have killed me," Loki muttered to himself. There had been nothing between his heart and her blade. He'd been out cold. Defenseless. Vulnerable. At her mercy. She could have easily ended. The arrows that he had given her...They didn't miss. They weren't meant to. The enchantment was true enough. She could have stood a far off. She could have stood back at the furthest corner of the room. She could have turned around and closed her eyes to have deniability and the arrow still would have shot straight and true and done the job. She wouldn't have had to get up close. She could have killed him. With a flick of the wrist, she wouldn't have even have had to get her hands dirty. Lady Sigyn could have altogether have been single-handedly able to stop Ragnarok. So, why didn't she? She should have. Loki's fist clenched tighter. She should have! He'd destroyed everything. He'd thoughtlessly taken life after life for his own vain glory. He'd killed and massacred and torn lives asunder. He deserved to die for his crimes. There was no one around, no witnesses and no one would have cared if she'd done it. He had no champions, no companions or comrades no defenders. He was everyone's enemy. She why hadn't she killed him and been done with it?

His inky eyebrows knit together. The alabaster skin of his forehead wrinkled and creased. The self-proclaimed king of Asgard was confused. He was bewildered by her decision. His mind reeled, but although his head was spinning Loki's body was able to relax. He flopped back down bonelessly and lied on the cold tile floor. His mind reeled and his body shivered for a bit in the cold and darkness. Loki shook his head and swallowed thickly. There was a profound lump in his throat. His throat was dry, raw from screaming. His body ached with the familiar fatigue that only could be gotten from being in a furious fight. Could it all have simply been a dream? He shook his head. It had seemed so real. Everything he had seen had been so vivid. Every voice he had heard had wrung so true. He had been able to feel and taste and smell. All his senses were sharp and keen in Bedlam, he could taste the rotting garbage and refuse that hung so thick in the air it was palpable to the tongue. He thought that the hairs in his nose were still curled from the faint lingers and trails of the repugnant odor of sewage that flooded the mud-streets of Bedlam. And the touch. Loki swallowed thickly as his thoughts dwelt on the touch. He closed his eyes slowly as he basked in the feeling of baby soft skin taking hold of his chipped ice-fingers. He'd never really felt any sensation quite like that before. In his despised Jotun form the world all around him felt cold and if he didn't feel cold he felt way too hot. He felt as if he was suffocating, sweltering, melting. But when the child had touched him, he just felt...warm. Had all that merely dream.

He had always been plagued by elaborate dreams since he was boy. He could easily be awakened from his sleep from fitful nightmares. His mother had told him it was mark of a true scholar, the signs of a genius. He was gifted with a wild and vivid imagination that could easily conjure thought into reality. His mother had always comforted him from his bad dreams. She understood more than most. Blessed with the gift of foresight she had been riddled with terrible visions of the future in her sleep. But this...this had been different...this had been more real than any dream he had ever experience before.

The enchanter mashed his cracked lips together he tasted the startling, cold tang of his own blood. He'd thought...he'd thought that it had all meant something...that he'd really defeated and vanquished a foe...but perhaps. Just as Loki was beginning to doubt everything that he had just so vividly seen transpire had even actually happened. Surely, it was all ridiculous. He hadn't slain anything. He scolded himself inwardly for even having the brief imagination of something to say otherwise. He had sill done all these despicable things. The seconds were still ticking by way too rapidly leading to the dreadful dawn where Malekith would await to release the Aether and where Thanos was waiting to make his grand entrance from banishment back into the cosmos where he could rule the galaxy with an iron fist. All of this was all still true. Loki's spine quivered. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. His pulse quickened. He hadn't slain anything. He was still an accomplice to this unspeakable plot and he still had a duty to perform come sunrise. He gulped as a feeling of despair washed over him. He'd stopped nothing. Had he?

He felt something against his fingertips. Rather, he noted what was in his hands for the first time. It was funny, in the minutes since he'd regained consciousness, it was the first time that he had taken notice of his hands. They were clutching something. His grimy fingers, that were covered with soot and black mud and covered with cuts and scrapes, reflexively coiled tighter around what was placed in his palms. He felt something cold in his hand. It wasn't metallic. More like glass, fine crystal. Curious and anxious, he looked down at his hand. It held a scepter. Loki sucked in a sharp breath. It was the scepter! His eyes widened ever so slightly as he beheld it in all its fine splendor. "The staff!" he exclaimed. The very same scepter that Odin had bestowed on him in that field, in that valley of bones. His mouth was agape. He raised the scepter toward his face. He studied it and scrutinized it. He looked at all the fine nuances. The way it was crafted. The strength of it. He squeezed it tightly with his hand and though it was pristine and delicate looking it did not dent from the strength of his palm. He banged it on the ground like a toddler. It didn't crack or shatter. It didn't even scratch or scuff. It was unbreakable.

It was made of crystal clear diamonds. It was impeccable and perfect in every way. It was even more dazzling than he remembered it being in the valley. Loki marveled as he beheld the golden sand that lied inside of the diamond staff twisting and twirling and spiraling into the most magnificent shapes that seemed to outline the very history of Asgard. Most of the relics and the heirlooms of the all-father were kept within the safe confines of the weapons vault. Loki could scarcely recall his father saying that there were some relics, so rare so valuable, so essential that even Asgard's weapon's vault was not secure enough to hold them. As a child he couldn't imagine anything quite so priceless. Now he could see. This staff could tell a person any history, anything they had ever wanted to know and the person who held it in their hands they could change the future.

He watched breathlessly as each and every one of the infinity stones went hurling through the cosmos. He watched the formation of Asgard throughout the ages. Each scene played out vividly and wonderfully. Loki gave the scepter a shake. He mixed the sands up so that he could see the most recent of events that had transpired. His heart sank at what he beheld. He saw the second attack that the Dark-Elves had rendered upon Asgard. He saw the part he had played in it. The brutal deaths. The Valkyrie and Einherjar that laid slain all over the rainbow bridge, the body count in the hallways of the palace, the beautiful buildings and monuments that were now all cracked and crumbled like the ancient ruins that he had seen in Bedlam. He saw everything on fire. Burning, burning, burning into ashes. At the very base of the scepter he expected to see the formation of Ragnarok. That was what he had seen the last time when Odin had handed him the scepter. What he saw surprised him. Instead of seeing Ragnarok, where Thanos had taken his seat as the overlord of the universe, ruling with the iron fist of the Infinity Gauntlet, he saw himself. He saw himself engaged in a heated battle with the Dragon. He saw himself standing toe to toe with all the evil that he had ever put out into the world and he saw himself win. Loki was nearly smug about what he saw. He was just like one of those heroes of old from their fables and folklore. He looked like one of those noble warriors from those pageant performances that he and Thor used to watch in the town square as boys. He looked like a hero. His eyes trailed downward to gaze at the next part of the story. But to his surprise their was no set image, no scent played out. At the bottom of the scepter the sands were still shifting.

A sharp breath became stuck in his chest."The sands..." he muttered in disbelief. "They're changing?" He nearly smiled. When he'd last held the scepter the sands had been practically formed. Like a sandcastle everything had been shaped and formed, but the sands of time were twisting and twirling, but they were shapeless, formless. "It's changed," Loki said as he gazed down at the scepter. A smile spread across his face as wide as the day was long. "Its changed! It's changed! IT'S CHANGED!" Loki cried ecstatically as he raised the scepter over his head triumphantly. "It's changed! It's changed!" The king of Asgard couldn't help, but mutter over and over again as he clambered to his feet. Loki was up on his feet. The mighty scepter still raised proudly in the air. His feet felt light as a rationalization dawned upon him. "I did it," He mumbled with a breathy voice. "I did it?" He whispered. He looked around in the darkness. All he could see was broken bits and fragments. Thing that were smashed and torn asunder, blood on the walls and carpets. It didn't look like anything had changed at all. But there in his hand, was the proof. The proof that he had gone back to Bedlam and freed it from the terrible clutches of ravenous, terrible dragon.

His heart pounded. His stomach fluttered with butterflies. He'd never thought that that monster could have been vanquished. Least of all by him. For so long he'd felt the cold breath of that vicious beast breathing down his neck. He'd felt its sharp scales slither through his mind and twist and tangle his thoughts. He'd felt the sharp as steel black nails puncture and cage his heart.

The dragon, the terrible, black shadow that beast of burden that he had carried around for so long. For centuries he'd fled from it as a child. It was monster in the closet, the beast beneath the bed, the foreboding creature that haunted his dreams and all the while it had been himself. The notion was dreadful as most truth was. As a youth he'd thought that he'd defeated it. He'd stood up to it, confronted it and he'd thought that it was destroyed. He'd maimed it. Sure, he'd hurt and he'd beat it back for a time. Put it a bay for a while. He'd chained. But none the less he'd fed, stroked and groomed it with his feelings of bitterness, jealousy and malice. Soon it was strong enough to break free once again. It did. Oh, how it did. When it broke free it was strong and powerful and he stopped trying to fight it. He gave into it. He succumbed to its persuasive powers. He became a creature of destruction as well. At first he hated it then he loved it, Mostly, he was afraid of it. Too afraid to fight...too afraid to stand against so he just gave in. He never thought that he could defeat it anyway. But he had. He had.

Loki gasped. An explosion tore through his chest. It was painful at first like being hit with cannon fire. He started choking as he pounded on his chest. He felt a burning in his breast. It was searing hot and then all at once it warm and toasty and comforting like being in front of a warm hearth on a rainy night. Loki bit his lip. He tried to stifle the cry that was welling up inside of him, but it slipped out. It burst out. It tumble forth as a violent torrent of emotions. A delighted little squeal, accompanied by a laugh that sounded bitter and brittle at first and then became mirthful and jolly. He laughed and laughed and laughed until the tears poured forth from his brilliant green eyes. He couldn't remember the last time that he had cried from laughing. He couldn't the last time he laughed. Really laughed. Not cackled like a fiend, but laughed like a boy who was happy. What a gift it was!

He brought his dirty hand up to his smiling face to wipe the fresh tears from his eyes that he noticed that his left hand was holding something. "My dagger?" he puzzled aloud. "Sigyn?" he muttered to himself with a slight smile. The dagger had been right there. How easily she could have picked it up and ended it all. But she hadn't. The choice was still his. She'd given him that gift to chose. To chose to be Asgard's hero or their destroyer. "Thank you, Sigyn," He muttered quietly as he clutched the hilt of the dagger. His gazed then turned to the gorgeous, mystical scepter that was in his right hand. "Thank you, Dagmar," he whispered as another tear rolled down his cheek. "I won't waste your gift," He promised through gritted to teeth. "I won't waste the gifts of the Norns," he stated as his bright emerald eyes batted and he looked up at the ceiling. "They've given us more time. They've given us a second chance. They've given us hope," he nodded and swallowed deeply. "I won't squander it," he continued shaking his head. "Somehow...someway," he paused and mashed his thin chapped lipped together. "I will make this right," he swore. "I've played the villain for so long," he admitted his voice low. He looked down at his hands. They were grimy and slimy and there was a faint tinge of red to his hand. " I scarcely know who else to be," he shrugged. He brought the staff back up to his face. He studied the magical shifting golden sands that resided at the bottom of the staff they were still twisting and twirling and tumbling over themselves. Their destiny still unknown. Not yet set in stone. But if he didn't act soon then all of the gifts that had been given to him wouldn't matter. No vision of the future, no visitation from the past would be enough if he didn't make any efforts in his present. He ran his hands through his long tangled black locks. He didn't know where to begin. "I'm not looking for redemption," he told no one visible. "The road to redemption is too long for me to walk even if I had an entire lifetime. They may never forgive me. They may never embrace me," Loki's eyes lowered and his long dark locks fell in his face. "I don't deserve it, anyway," his shoulders slumped. "It doesn't matter!" Loki told himself as he slammed his fist into his hand. There was a stern look in his mischievous eyes. "Dagmar, I'm sorry," he began once more. "All of this is my fault," he pounded on his chest. "I wasn't the hero you needed in life," he bowed his head. He wiped the cascade of tears that kept flowing down his cheeks from his face. " But I will be your avenger in death, swear," he took a deep breath. "I will stop this doomsday from befalling Asgard, the Nine Realms, the Cosmos" he nodded resolutely.

He had defeated the evil within, but that wasn't enough. Dawn was still swiftly approaching and if he didn't do something soon Ragnarok would be upon and their would be no fight left. It would be over fate would be sealed. He gulped and a shiver ran up and down his spine. He couldn't let that happen. "Not on my watch," he retorted and snorted through his thin nostrils.

He jumped up like a rocket. Immediately he was on his feet. He looked around then back down at the dagger. He flipped in the air. The gleam of red that caught the shine of the silver on the blade of the dagger was the only illumination in the darkness of his chambers. Loki stretched forth his hand and caused a flame to kindle in the hearth. The warm fire brought light back into the room. Loki walked pass the hearth. As he strolled pass the fireplace he saw a rolled up piece of singed parchment sticking out of the ash heap on the ground just outside the fireplace. "The scroll! "Loki gasped as he froze dead in his tracks and stooped down to pick up the scroll. He dusted off the black soot that had gathered on it. The edges were burnt up. Shame well out inside of him as he recalled Sigyn desperately pleading with him to take the scroll. She was yelling and screaming and sobbing. She'd shoved it into his hands even after he'd outright told her he didn't care what information was housed on the rolled up piece of parchment. Even after she'd forced it in his hands he'd acted like he didn't care. He made up a lie to tell himself that the child wasn't alive because it easier that way. No ties, not emotion, nothing to keep him from the dangerous warpath that he'd already set himself on. He hadn't even read it, really. He just tossed it back in Sigyn's face without care.

This was that moment of truth. He gulped, his heart pounded, his stomach was twisted in knots and filled with butterflies. His palms were sweaty and his hand shook as he unraveled the scroll. Some of the edges were burnt off. Some of the words were gone but most of the letter's contents were still there:

Dear Lady Dagmar Daughter of Prime Minster Audric of Vanaheim,

I write to you on behalf of the Midwives of Ghenthou. I am Iona. I am the Head of House among the Midwives of Ghenthou. I was delighted and surprised to receive correspondence from you after all this time. One of my ladies who had been a midwife to the house of your lord Olaf Dirkson attended you during your pregnancy and delivery. I am sure I do not need to remind you of the difficulties of your labor. They thought you would not live or that the babe within you would not live. You gave birth to a premature baby girl who was born with skin blue like cornflower. The midwife, who was well trained and astute and very experienced believed that that the baby was born blue due to a lack of oxygen. She attended the baby with proper medicines and remedies. She washed the child and checked the airways, but finding that there was nothing physically wrong with the child, she presented the child to the father as a little blue bundle. In horror and disgust with the frightful looks of the babe Lord Dirkson commanded the faithful midwife to get rid of the child. Now, you must understand, my lady that when a midwife is assigned to a family for as long as our midwife has served then she is generally considered a part of the family. She owes the family all loyalty and obedience. She is the keeper of the family's secrets. You must understand Lady Dagmar that that put your midwife in a terrible predicament. The sacred vow of we the Midwives of Ghenthou is to look after all mothers and children within our care. We take an oath that we will do no harm to any of our patients. We pledge to heal, nurture and protect. We consider ourselves warriors of the womb. That being said we have worked hard to cultivate an excellent reputation throughout Vanaheim which has extended to throughout the Nine Realms. We are employed among the most noble houses. Many of our patrons often praise us and keep us for our discretion. We pride ourselves on it. We once had a family, a very wealthy and noble family whose unwed daughter became pregnant by a man who was no equal to her noble birth. Her family would have been disgraced had the girl been seen in public in such a condition. We took the young woman in and kept her fed, her clothed, taught her the skills of Midwifing while she lived among us. I dare say we spoiled the poor thing the way in which we pampered her, but non the less. We kept her until the time of her delivery, she gave birth to a healthy son and returned home to her family. He cousins took her son and raised him and none of the people of town were the wiser to the scandal because since she returned with the skills of a midwife all just thought she had been away at school.

I suppose in all that I digress, my lady, but I just wanted to elaborate on why this was such a hard call for the midwife to make. Loki mashed his lip together he rolled up the scroll briefly. then he quickly unrolled it and forced himself to keep reading. With her career and reputation on the line. She had no choice but to obey the commands of Lord Olaf Dirkson.

This time Loki simply just closed his eyes. His mouth hung open. His breath came out in quick spurts and ragged huffs. His heart thundered against his rib. The little girl he had seen she was alive. She was alive and she was alive a vital and full of youthful energy. She had a bright smile that hid behind that dirty face. A smile that had immediately started to defrost his icy heart. She had dancing, curious, jade eyes. She was smart as a whip although her life hadn't afforded her any proper schooling. Despite the hardship and horror and cruelty that she'd been dealt in life. Her heart was still good and kind. She was a lovely little girl. The kind of child who would have made any parent proud. Loki felt like his throat was closing up. Water pricked from behind his emerald eyes. He'd said he didn't care. So callously he'd called his own child a monster and hoped that the child was dead. Now he stood their quivering, his hand shaking as he was about to read the child's fate. No, the vision could have lied. It simply couldn't have been a lie. Loki shook his head refuting the notion. If the image of the girl was lie then maybe it all was lie. Maybe nothing he had seen was real. His pulse quickened. His mind raced faster and faster. His heart continued leaping in his chest like a ball being thrown by rambunctious children. He could almost hear the roar of laughter accompanied by a hissing cackle that that seemed to echo from the dragon's throat. It mocked him taunted him. He looked around wide eyed. He spun around on his heal, he expected to see the eerie serpentine shadow looming over him. He twisted to his left and to his right. Nothing was there. Nothing was behind him. But he was convinced that he could feel hot fiery breath breathing down the back of his neck and he knew that could hear the faint hiss in his ear of an evil creature telling him that he could never escape. Loki grabbed his ears. He squeezed his eyes closed the tears ran. He felt like a fool, how could he ever that think that he could defeat that monster. But what was worse was the thought of never really getting to know the charming child that he had met in Bedlam. That couldn't be where she had to stay for all eternity in his mind. "NO!" Loki finally screamed out. He forced his eyes open. He willed them to stare at the page. His emerald eyes darted downward and scanned the page.

She got rid of the baby so that the child's presence would not be to your ladyship. Loki held his breath as he read the words. It couldn't be. It couldn't truly be. Sigyn had told him... told him what the scroll said already. But Sigyn could have been wrong. Loki gulped as he finally exhaled. He had taken Vanir with her for a few years at the Royal Academy, Norns knew she wasn't the best at it. He shook his head. All this speculation was pointless. He read on further.

but she did not kill the babe. And I am pleased to report that your child lives! A subtle smile played on the trickster's lips. He clutched the parchment to his breasts. "It is a baby girl! The child was very weak and sickly when she was first brought to us. Honestly, we did not know if she would survive. For many months we feared that she would die. She was sick and feverish on and off, she didn't gain weight, but the babe proved to be a fighter. She proved strong. Like her mother and grandfather. We call the child Unn. It is a simple name and not befitting for a child of royalty. But it is was the name we chose to give her to conceal her identity for as long as you wanted it.

"Unn," Loki repeated the child's name like it was a bitter taste that lingered on his tongue. He stuck his tongue out. He crinkled his nose. It sounded like it meant nothing. His child wasn't nothing. When he found out that he was adopted, after being left for dead as an infant he felt like nothing. He had always played second fiddle to Thor. He had always been Thor's shadow. It all came crashing down and made sense. He felt so worthless. Why was he so unwanted, so unloved. He wondered if Laufey and his wench had ever even given him a proper name. "Unn," he repeated. It was a lowly graceless name. It was a peasant name. His daughter wasn't a peasant. She was an heir to three royal houses.

Her blue color has started to fade somewhat over the years. She has the most peculiar attributes. She possesses the ability to change form. Loki's eyes widened. He curled his lips. She is able to take on more of the looks of a typical Vanir child, now. She can put on warm colored skin and her eyes can become the prettiest, brightest, deepest green I have ever seen. She can take on this form when she is with us during the day, but when left alone at night she returns to the blue color that she was born as. She transforms every night in this fashion. She also has strange markings all over her little blue body. I have never seen anything like it. It is baffling. It is for this reason that we have not taken her to a local orphanage to be placed up for adoption. We fear what some family may do if they see her blue form. She looks like a Frost Giant! Although I can't imagine why. I have seen many infant illnesses over the years,I have treated both mother and child from many of the nations of the Nine Realms, but nothing in my years of study could explain this, unless the child be cursed. That is what we have concluded actually took the liberty of calling upon Master Timo. I am sure that you have heard of him, perhaps you have even met him. He is a wiseman here in Ghentrou. He came and inspected the child and he could not detect any enchantments that may have been placed upon her. Do you know of any enchantment or curse that might have been placed upon you or the babe during the time of your pregnancy? I know that you are a powerful enchantress, Lady Dagmar. You are learned and well read in the arts of healing and enchantment, perhaps you can think of remedy for what ails your child. I am sure that if anyone can find out what has befallen the child it would be you.

I hope that this letter does not alarm you, Lady Dagmar, on contrary, I hope it kindles your heart. I hope this knews does not cause you distress...rather I truly hope...that you would...Would you at least like to meet your daughter, my lady? I honestly hope you do. The baby can actually be quite beautiful when she is not tainted with the cursed tint of a Frost Giant. I imagine that she gains her beauty from you, my lady. Now that she is no longer fighting off so many fevers and infections and flus she is not nearly as fussy. She is always smiling and laughing and cooing and gooing. She is a good-natured little girl and we truly care greatly for her. She enjoys music. She delights when we sing to and play patty cake. And oh indeed how she loves to have stories read to her. We cannot put her down for a nap without a good story. She is very bright. She is starting to try to talk and she hums along to familiar songs. She is a joy to be around. We midwives often have the pleasure of helping to bring new life into the world, but very rarely do we get to experience the children growing up or get to be apart of their lives. It is something that we all truly feel grateful for.

Naturally, I can understand if you don't want to take the child back. Lord Olaf is a man of great pride and he is traditional and I know that he keeps to many of the old ways. I'm sure he would find it a disgrace to see your daughter's form. I do not wish to complicate matters for you, my lady. I want you to know that we are more than willing to allow Unn to continue to live here among the Midwives of Ghenthou. She will have a simple life here. We are self sustaining and we do much of our won agriculture. It will also be an isolated life. There aren't any other children that live here at the abbey and we live about a days travel from the nearest village where there is a school. But all of our ladies are well educated here and we can see to providing schooling for her ourselves until she is of a certain age of course. We will train her in midwifery when she comes of age and we will make sure that she becomes a true Midwife and that she will always have a home here in Ghenthou. As a Midwife of Ghenthou she will grow up to have a good life and a respectable honorable career.

Or perhaps, if we can free her from whatever curse has entrapped her we could take her to an orphanage. I know of a rather wealthy merchant family who live just a few villages over. They have longed to have a child of their own, but the wife has had several miscarriages. I think perhaps, if the curse is lifted, they would be more than willing to adopt your child. In this way she would have a proper family and access to some of the finer things in life. I know this family very well as I have attended them myself throughout the wife's three failed pregnancies. They are kind and gracious and most eager to be parents. I believe that they would greatly care for your little daughter.

Whatever your decision is, Lady Dagmar I will respect it and honor it and as the governess of this institution I will enforce it. We will keep all these matters private and confidential, of course. Mum is the word if that is what you wish. Naturally, if you do wish for us to raise the babe we would request certain payment. I'm sure it would be merely a trifle for you my lady and all the money would be used to cover for the child's expenses. We can discuss the exact fee later. My first request is that you come and see for yourself that your child is alive and well before you make any decisions. I am so glad that you inquired of me after all these years. I am pleased to write you this letter and send you such glad tidings. I look forward to your correspondence and I eagerly await your response.

Sincerely,

Governess of the Midwives of Ghenthou

Loki batted his eyes it wasn't until he batted them and saw water splash down on the signature parchment and wash away the pretty purple ink in which the note had been scribed in that he knew he was crying. Once more it was that strange combination. Tears flowed hot and wet and unabashed, the floodgates were open and his soul was vulnerable, but he wasn't feeling the feelings of terror and horror and rage and anger and greed instead he felt nothing but joyful and thankful. The tears rolled down his cheeks and splashed down on the page, but all the while there was a smile one his face. He grinned from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat. His handsome thin lips stretched broadly across his narrow face. His hand was shaking. He was like a child himself giddy and tingly with the nervous excitement of anticipating a pleasant surprise. His leg started to twitch as well. He felt like a boy who had been given too much sugar. Like when he and Thor would try to stay up late on birthdays and holidays anticipating their gifts. "She's alive," he muttered. He closed his eyes and bit into his lip and clutched the scroll tightly to his chest. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Loki muttered as he eyes gazed up and the ceiling and he then raised the scroll up toward the ceiling. He was overwhelmed by the shocking revelation. All of a sudden in his excitement he came crashing down to his knees. He was on the floor again. He was hugging and clinging to the scroll like a drunk clinging to a tankard of ale. "Thank you," Loki whispered, his voice haggard and raw and shaken. "Thank you, Norns," he prayed. "Thank you, merciful Yggdrasil," he cried. His green pupils looked at the scroll once more. A small smile still tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Thank you, Dagmar," he said humbly. He flicked the tears away from his eyes. "Thank you for bringing our beautiful daughter into this world," he stated and nodded. "Thank you for doing what you had to do to protect our child's life," he breathed deeply. He took a sharp inhale and let out a shudder. He'd been angry with her. He'd had rage and fury and envy and anger at her for being with Olaf. He'd given her his heart and soul and she'd given herself to another. He hadn't completely believed her when she'd told him that she did it for the baby. How could he have believed her entirely, after all when she'd seen what he really was she was absolutely horrified. Not that he blamed her. He was horrified and disgusted with himself. Perhaps she'd hurried into the bed of another to try to eradicate the fact that she tainted and mingled herself with a Frost Giant. He would have if he was her. "I know that you did it to protect our baby. You did it for the baby," he swallowed. His Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "And you did it for me," he confessed. "I failed you," he said as folded his hand in prayer position. "I failed to protect you in this life," his face stretched into a frown. "And even still you have tried to protect me from Valhalla," his smile changed over and he smiled faintly. "You never got to know the fate of our child, but I want you to know now, Dagmar that our child lives," he declared. "Our baby is a live," he spoke forcefully into the air.

Yes, their child was indeed alive. And he wasn't going to allow her to die and fall by the wayside and become a casualty of the Aether. He wasn't going to allow Convergence to come with Ragnarok riding on its wings and destroy his little girl's hope of living a life that was worthwhile. He wasn't going to allow her to live her life as a servant in the house of the Midwives of Ghenthou or to be raised by strangers. He closed his eyes and he balled up his hand into a tight fist around the scroll. "Dagmar, I promise you, that I will find our child. I will bring her home" the self-proclaimed king of Asgard swore. "And she'll live here in Asgard," he pointed at the floor. "Or Vanaheim," he said with a shrug as he slightly smiled. "She'd going to ave a good life, Dagmar," he nodded. "She's better off without me being a part of that life," he confessed. His shoulders slumped. He knew it was true. It would be impossible for him to raise a child. After all he'd done. After all the vile and evil things that he'd done. He'd make a horrible father. No, he couldn't possibly be a father. Frost Giants obviously weren't know to be loving parents. His own had been willing to sacrifice him to win a war. What did he know of father's his biological father had been a murderer and a monster. And Odin. Loki's palms started to sweat. Something in the back of his mind wriggles slithered into his ear and tried to whisper slimy words into his head. Words likes "You know nothing of Fathers! You have always been rejected by your father. "Laufey thought you were worthless! And Odin," he could heard the venomous creatures dangerous laughter. "What was he to you? A captor? A liar?" Loki slammed his eyes closed. He didn't want to hear anymore. "You were always a disappointment to him you know." the voice insider his head chuckled.

Loki sighed. He resigned himself to the fact that he didn't know how to father and he couldn't possibly be a suitable parent to any child, besides if he didn't die at the hands of Thanos for this betrayal, he'd find himself back in a cell for life. He chuckled. He deserved prison. He deserved death for his crimes. Yes, the coils and tentacles were creeping and crawling up around his soul. They started choke and smother him as the feelings of being a fatherless boy engulfed himself once again. "I can't be a father, Dagmar...I never had one," he moaned.

Then all at once it came to him. Odin had come to him. He'd come to him in the space between. In that world between past and present. In that shifty middle ground between life and death King Odin of Asgard had crossed the chasm and made his way to meet him. The voices that tried to plague his mind instantly told him that he'd done all those things just to save Asgard and the Nine Realms. Loki's face twisted into a frown. Could it have been true? "No," Loki muttered with a sigh of relief. He lifted his green-eyed gaze. He could feel Odin's grizzled gray beard tickling his face as he planted a kiss of his foreheard. He could feel the old king's arms wrap around his quivering body. Those arms that had been mighty in battle and solid foundation for a kingdom had held him ever so tightly and securely and tenderly. They held him like they did when he was a child. He thought of times when he'd sat on Odin's knee. Been hoisted up on his shoulders to put the shining star on top of the Yule Tree during Solstice. The riding lessons and the conversations, the shared jokes and laughs at the dinner table, the games of chess and cards. The priceless gifts on his birthday and holidays and visits when he was in the healing ward. There were moments of encouragement.

He could remember them now. Though scarcely. He saw himself sitting sullenly by the fountains in the garden. He was sitting there mind and heart weighed down. His shoulders slumped and his heart heavy. He listlessly twirled a stick into the pristine pool and watched the ripples forming in the water. He hadn't been out of his room in days prior to that. He had only come out because his mother had begged him and he did mean begged him to come out and have so fresh air. She'd practically dragged him out. He didn't want to come out. He didn't want to be seen by anyone. He hadn't even bathed or shaved. He ran his fingers over his thin and prickly chin. That was the reason why he chose to sit by the fountain. The splashing water would hide his tears and maybe subsequently cleanse him.

"Loki," he heard a grizzly, old voice call from behind him. He practically froze in place. Terror gripped his soul. Father. He wanted to dive under the flow of the fountain. He'd rather have drowned himself than have allowed his father to see him crying so pathetically over heartbreak. He was about to do it. He was about to throw himself into the water's of the fountain, but before he could he felt Odin's strong hand take him by his thin shoulder. "Loki, my boy," the king said gently as he held fast to his son's shoulder.

"Father...I...I...I" he sputtered in a panic. He avoided Odin's gaze. Kept his face facing the pool. He quickly wiped away the tears from his eyes.

"I'm so happy to see you out and bout my son," the great king offered. His voice light and careful and happy. "You've been in your room for several days now," he stated.

"Yes, I know...I know...I know father... I just...I just...become so engrossed in my studies..." he quickly lied.

Odin's only remaining eyebrow raised. His lips pursed. He knew that that wasn't the truth of it. He highly doubted Loki had even cracked open a book the whole time that he'd been cooped up in his room. He questioned in and of himself if he should press the matter much further. Perhaps Loki was recovering and simply didn't want to talk about the incident. "Yes, yes, yes," The all-father nodded as he removed his hand from Loki's shoulder. "Quite," he confirmed. "Our little scholar," he said quite proudly and squared his shoulders.

Maybe Odin had meant it as a compliment. He was almost sure that he had, but still... it stung. Scholar. He claimed to be a scholar, he was supposed to be so learned and so wise, but he'd been fooled, he'd been fooled, fooled and tricked and conned. He'd been doped. Doped like a babe woods. He, Loki, trickster prince of Asgard had been hoodwinked by the treacherous Angraboda. She was a temptress. A harpy! She was a spy sent to infiltrate Asgard and exploit its secrets. She was a double-crossing traitor who'd been paid by Hellbindi, Laufey's son to try and find away to invade Asgard. And he'd been so enthralled by her exotic beauty, her wit and power and the way that all the men at court were drawn to her that he had almost given it all up to her. He didn't feel much like a scholar. No he felt like an idiot. But even worse than that. He felt heartbroken. What was the worst of it all wasn't the fact that he had almost sold the most precious secrets of his kingdom, but was the fact that he had actually fallen in love with Boda. And he'd thought...he'd hoped...he'd wanted to believe that maybe she'd actually loved him too...It was embarrassing to speak of, hence he'd locked himself away. He'd always boasted in the fact that he was so astute. So astute in reading people, but he'd been fooled like any other man in Asgard could have been. An enemy had been planted in their court, a traitor in their midst and it could have been any other unfortunate poor slob who had fallen for her feminine wiles, but it had been him. It could have been Frandal he went for any woman with a pulse...It could have been his brother, Thor for goodness sake, but it was him.

Odin thought to move on. He thought to just let the matter lie. Loki was good at hiding his emotions. The young man was as secretive as he was sensitive. He didn't want to push the young man, lest he drive his already naturally private son to becoming even more reclusive, but as he saw him sitting there, vacantly staring into the pools of the fountain, his heart broke for his youngest son. The king opened and closed his mouth a few times. He needed to think of just the right words to say to be a boon and not another dagger. Finally, he cleared his throat, "Loki," he stated once more. The young prince seemed barely able to incline his head to meet the king's gaze. He paused and then approached cautious as if coming toward a beautiful roe in the woods. He feared any sudden movement would frighten the delicate creature and sending sprinting back into its own confines. "Son," the king breathed as tip toed across the cobblestone until he was right behind the raven-haired enchanter. The king of Asgrd exhaled, "I'm sorry about Angraboda,"king utter. He spoke slowly, but in his mind the words had been said hurriedly and in one quick breath. Odin immediately snapped his mouth closed. He half-way winced. Almost immediately regretting having even broached the sensitive subject matter. His sole blue-gray eyes scrutinized the ivory skinned prince before him. He watched as Loki's posture instantly grew rigid. His pale hands clenched into white knuckled fists. As king, Odin had very little reason to be careful with what he said. His word was law and over the centuries he'd become very skilled at saying exactly what he meant and getting the results that he wanted. It was a shame that with his younger son who was wise and scholarly and glib that he felt so feeble of tongue.

Loki tried to immediately relax his posture, tried to clear the stricken expression from his face. "F-f-father," he stammered helplessly as tears just spilled from his eyes unabashedly. He quickly tried to swipe the tears away. He spun around. Flushed and flustered, he sputtered and fumbled over his words. "No...no...no..no...I...I...I"m so sorry the fault is mine. I'm so sorry," he apologized over and over. "I can't believe I was so foolish...I...I...I'm so ashamed of how I almost revealed all our government secrets to that harpy," he growled. "I've disgraced you," he confessed. "I've disgraced our entire family line," he went on pointing at himself. "i didn't mean to...I would have never...Had I known...I would never in a million years have willing put Asgard in that kind of jeopardy," he insisted desperately. "Oh father, please believe me," he looked up at Odin with pleading emerald eyes.

"Oh, no, Loki that wasn't what I meant..." the king began to explain. He reached out to place his hand on the young man's shoulder. The all-father's great sturdy hands could feel the prince trembling beneath his palm. Odin gulped as he tried to think of what else to say.

Before Odin could even formulate a sentence he felt Loki's bony shoulder rip from underneath his fingertips. Loki slid his body off of sides of the fountain. He fell onto the ground, knees in the dirt. Odin was alarmed, Loki, the prim and proper boy would have never willingly gotten his trousers dirty. He watched in horror as Loki's alabaster hand raked through his messy black locks. He dragged his fingers back and forth through his head several times. Until finally he just sat cradling his head. Odin thought he heard a sob. "it was a mistake...I...I...I...I don't know what to say," Loki admitted as his hands slipped from being wrapped around his head. Loki stared down at his hands he waved the aimlessly about. "There's no excuse, sir...I have no excuse..." his shoulders fell. His severe lips twisted into a self loathing scowl, "there's no excuse for me being that gullible, that naive..." he spat the words like they were curses.

"Loki, no...that wasn't what I meant..." Odin countered again.

'But...I...I" Loki's voice grew distant. he continued staring at his hands. "I trusted her..." he confessed his voice barely a whisper. That was when he finally looked up at his father. Those dark green eyes were so lost and tossed about in a sea of confusion and betrayal. They were tear-filled. "I trusted her, Father...I shouldn't have but I did," he mumbled. "I'm a fool," he spat.

"No, Loki you are not a fool," Odin admonished him

The second prince of Asgard broke his gaze with his king and father. He bobbed his head and tears rolled down his cheeks and dripped down his angular chin. "Oh yes I am...yes I am. Yes I am! Yes I am! YES I AM!" he started to yell furiously and vehemently started pounding his fist against the gravel and dirt. Odin gasped. He feared that Loki would break his hands with his violent outburst.

"Loki!" he shouted with a kingly declaration. "Enough of this!" he said in a way that was enough to jar the young man.

Loki stopped. He froze, looked at his hands. They were scratched up, banged up, beat up and bloodied all of a sudden. There was dirt and mud and grave coating them. He looked up at his father, ashamed. Odin's face didn't house the anger or disgust that he expected to find, though. His eye was tender and his expression rather mild. The only thing that Loki could read on his father's face was...pity. He reached out with those same trembling, dirty fingers and grabbed the hem of the king's robe. He tugged on it desperately. "I'm sorry," he blurted out once more. "Forgive me! Forgive me! Forgive me!" he cried and he begged repeatedly.

Maybe it had been an hour, maybe it had taken only a few minutes, maybe it happened instantaneously, but suddenly Loki felt Odin's steady hands on his shoulders again. They held him fast and even though he tried to wriggle free they would not let him go. "Loki, enough of this now," Odin spoke to him once more. It wasn't a command any longer. It was spoken gently and softly and Loki felt the king's thick finger nudging his chin upward so that their eyes met Loki's tried to avert his eyes once more, but for every time he turned his head, Odin's hands were there to catch him and turn his head back.

"I..." Loki started again.

"There's nothing to forgive Loki,you didn't do anything wrong..." the king explained.

"How can you say that...I could have..."

"But you didn't," Odin cut him off. "She is the traitor Loki, not you. She has committed treason and she will be punished to the full extent of the law," the king of Asgard confirmed.

Loki licked his lips, swallowed and nodded. "I shouldn't have trusted her, but I did..." he stated.

"Oh Loki, you are young, you are not the first man to be beguiled by a beautiful woman," Odin expressed. He shrugged and then smiled at his son.

Loki did not return the expression. In fact, much to Odin's chagrin the young man's tortured expression merely deeply. A scowl stretched across the young man's pale face as deep as the ridges in a hollowed oak tree. "Perhaps," he rumbled his voice low and throaty and raw. He plunged his hands into the deep, rich soil around the fountain. It was dark brown and healthy from being constantly watered. Loki sank his pale fingers into it. The king could have cringed as he watched Loki muddy his own hand. The young man was always neat as a pin. "But I shouldn't have been," He declared as he slammed his fist on the ground once more. "I should have known..." he grumbled.

"How could you have known, my son?" Odin questioned tenderly.

Loki looked up, his eyes glaring daggers, but not toward his father necessarily, "I just should have known," he stated once more.

"But why, Loki?' Odin urged. His proud shadow loomed over the younger man.

"Because!" Loki shot back. His hands clenched into fist. He looked up at Odin. He tried to hold a stiff-upper lip. His chin was jutted forth in defiance, but that same chin trembled, his long white neck quivered with his pulse. His fisted hands shook. "Because," his green eyes fell, his voice softened. "Because I'm a prince of Asgard," he muttered. "Because I'm your son?" He breathed question. His eyes were still slick with unshed tears as he looked up at his father.

Odin's lone, grizzled, gray eyebrow raised. His lips pursed. "You think a prince cannot know heart break?' the all-father questioned.

"He shouldn't," Loki mumbled miserably.

Odin's brow remained raised, but a small, grin tugged on his lips beneath his whiskers. His feet padded softly across the lawn as he made his way to the fountain. He sat down on the side of the fountain and he chuckled. "You think I have never known heartbreak?" he asked.

The raven-haired prince sputtered. His mind reeled. He looked up at the great-king of Asgard baffled. His jade eyes blinking. He shook his head and scoffed. "Of course you haven't," he nearly spat. He didn't need anyone mocking him.

The ruler of Asgard continued to chuckled. "Not true, not true at all, my son," he explained. "Come, come, come," he beckoned him. He patted the area next to him by the fountain. Loki's emerald gems darted back and forth. His father hadn't beckoned him in such a way since he was a very small boy. Despite himself, he felt a yearning an inclination to take his father up on the offer. They so rarely sat and talked one on one. His father was the ruler of Asgard, the protector of the 9 realms. He had many affairs to handle, important matters of state. If they did talk it was when father was lecturing he and Thor about their duties and obligations as future kings. They would talk at dinner, but again that was with Thor and mother present and often times it consisted of other dignitaries and nobles. Thor spent much more private time with Odin than he did and he could not help the twinge of jealousy that he felt when he saw the pair coming from a lengthy sparring session or from a review of the troops. Loki wiped his finger under his nose. He swiped his hands beneath his eyes, he dropped the fistfuls of dirt that he possessed and managed to clamber to his feet to take a seat next to Odin. And they talked. Odin told him of a woman that he had known before Mother. He shared how enthralled he had been, how enamored he was by her exotic beauty. They laughed as the king reminisced with his son about all the daring antics that he had performed to get the young maiden's attention. And Odin confessed his heartbreak. He took Loki by the hand. "You are not alone, my son," Odin said as his weathered hand held Loki's smooth palm. "I know how you feel," he stated. He did not look at Loki. "I'm sorry that she hurt you," he said as he continued to tap his hand. "You do not deserve it," he took a deep breath. "You are too good for her anyway," Odin nudged up his son's chin and winked his one eye. Loki's alabaster cheeks flushed a shade of crimson. "You are noble, smart, wise, brave and strong...not to mention handsome" he added. "She is a fool to have done what she did. She will pay, I promise," Odin swore and there was a steely look in his eye that would have made any man (or woman) afraid for their life. "And you will survive...love is hard when you are young," Odin said he kept a steady hand on Loki's shoulder.

The younger prince of Asgard sighed, "Maybe I will never love again," he confessed.

"Nonsense," the king guffawed. 'You are too good of a person for that," he encouraged. Odin stood up his old bones creaked as he did so. "Come to think of it I think we'll host a ball," he added with a playful smile.

"A ball?" Loki inquired as he too stood up

"Why, yes, a ball." Odin declared he started to take brisk steps back toward the palace.

"Father, I couldn't possibly...I...I'd feel to ashamed," he expressed.

"Ashamed? Ashamed of what? Of revealing a plot devised against our kingdom by the Frost Giant?" Odin asked as he spun around on his heels. His face was jovial. "This is a cause for celebration," the great king declared.

He remembered it all so well now. The father that he had in Odin. He'd had a father, he'd had a good father. Maybe Odin had favored Thor, but he'd loved him none the less. He'd learned from Odin the things that a father should and shouldn't do. He would be a father to his child as well. Loki squared his shoulders and he pumped out his chest. He clutched the scroll tightly in his fist. "I failed you once Dagmar," he nodded. "I won't fail you again," he told her. "I will fight and if I can fight and win I will find our child and I will make sure that she lives a life of peace with integrity and hope and future and if the Norns see fit I will make sure our child isn't fatherless," he vowed. "I promise."

With that, Loki tucked the scroll into his tunic for safe keeping snug against his heart. He looked at the grandfather flock in the far corner of his room. Dawn was fast approaching. He didn't have a lot of time. The minutes were ticking by and if he didn't stop the Aether from being released upon Convergence then Ragnarok would befall them all and even if the young child did survive she wouldn't have a life worth living.

Loki snapped his fingers as an idea came to him. "I should go and free Thor," Loki stated boldly. He'd wasted too much time while his brother lay in anguish. Giddily, he started to race toward the door. He threw his arms out and his dark room was instantly illuminated. He rushed for one of his closets. The door was broken and hanging off the hinges and he could feel a slight ache in his shoulder from being pushed into the door by Sigyn. He rubbed the offended area and then reached for one of his cloaks. He quickly draped the long black shawl around his shoulders. He was just about to open the wall and walk through catacombs and get to Thor's cell quickly. Then, he quickly recalled that Thor was still out of commission. The potion he had given him was potent. 48 hours precisely, even if he freed Thor, he wouldn't have the ability to wield Mjolnir until much later in the day. Also Thor's injuries were so severe. Injuries that he'd inflicted. The potion also diminished Thor's ability to heal. Asgardians were strong they could feel hurt and be wounded but their body had faster regenerative powers than most races this had naturally given them extra strength and stamina in battle. The potion that he had concocted for his brother had not only taken away Thor's ability to connect to the mighty hammer, Mjolnir, but it also left his body weak and defenseless and vulnerable. Thor wouldn't be strong enough to be much use in a fight. Not yet at least. And even if Thor could wield the mighty hammer it would take more than just to two of them to defeat Malekith, his horde the power of the Aether and...Thanos. A shudder ran down Loki's back as he thought of the Mad Titan stepping foot on to Asgard, taking the Aether and the Tesseract, he'd have two of the Infinity Stones then. He'd only need 4 more to accomplish his ultimate mission. He and Thor alone wouldn't be strong enough to stop Thanos' plans. They'd need the people. Every citizen of Asgard needed to stand and fight. Even with every citizen that still might not be enough. But as long as they kept Thanos at bay, as long as he didn't have two stones, there was a chance that they could defeat him. He had to get to the people.


"Do you have any news to report to us," Prime Minister Algrim asked frantically. He turned around and whipped his head about as he saw a young man approaching. A young man with olive skin, curly sandy hair and a slight mustache. His clothing was wet a grimy and the sleeves were ripped, the knees of his blue pants no longer existed. The soles of his boots flapped about so much that they looked like they were talking. Despite his disheveled appearance it could be noted that he was wearing a uniform. A palace uniform. He had on a gold tunic with blue stripes. He was a palace worker. Most likely a technician or engineer who worked in the palace communication tower.

Keeping with traditional formality, the young Viking bowed before the prime minister. "I'm afraid I don't have any good news to report, Lord Algrim," he expressed on his knees. His eyes darted around.

Another one of Asgard's a officials, a man by the name of Duke Bronmar, who was a distant relative of Odin's came up behind Asgard's Prime Minister and put his hand on his shoulders. Duke Bronmar was known for his opulence. He was dressed in many radiant jewels despite their dire situation. "Out with it man! Out with it!" he demanded.

The young technician looked up at the duke quite startled. "Well. Sir," he began, "the long and short of it is that even though we have managed to get the communication system up and running we still haven't been able to establish any contact with the Southern Palace," he took a deep sigh.

"What!" Duke Bronmar shouted as he looked back at the Prime Minister.

"Have you sent out the emergency codes and the distress signals?" Algrim asked. His face remained austere.

"Yes, sir," the technician expressed. "We were able to send out the distress signals and use the emergency frequencies. We'd hoped that our signal would be picked up by someone even if not the Southern Palace, but we've had absolutely no responses. Not from the Dale outpost or the communication towers in the other major cities and provinces."

"Do you suppose that the Aether has spread there too? Maybe there were Dark-Elves stationed there," suggested another delegate.

"That is doubtful," expressed the sage, Einsmyth. "It is seems as though Loki and Malekith wanted to focus on keeping the fight here in the Imperial City. Loki knows well enough that Asgard's military might is stationed here, I doubt he would concern himself with dispatching the Dark-Elves elsewhere."

"Master Einsmyth is most likely correct," state Prime Minister Algrim as he turned to face many of Asgard's worried leaders.

The young engineer cleared his throat, he was still on his knees, "That being said your excellency, it is the position of the tech team that the powers of the Aether could very well be interfering with the success of our transmissions," he explained.

"How so?" asked Captain Frell. He stepped forth into the conversation with his massive scarred arms crossed over his bronze breastplate.

"Its the ash that the Aether produced after it was unleashed. It gets everywhere," he stated as he shook his hands. "It's probably gotten into some of the transmission boxes and has caused the servers to become faulty," he shrugged.

"Not only that," Mistress Chamira chimed in. "But it is the very nature of the Aether to convert natural properties into dark matter. The Aether simply coming in contact with our technology could easily cause interference and disruptions to the systems. Those Aether clouds that have started to form in the atmosphere could also be hindering the signals that this machine is trying to send out. This technology is much older than most of the current communication systems being used throughout the realm," the alchemist expounded.

"Either way it bodes ill for us," Captain Frell grumbled as he looked up at the wise-woman. He rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth as he stalked back to the background where he slumped down on one of the stone seats and poured himself another cup of mead.

Lord Algrim's eyes followed the soldier. The fear and despair the resonated in the air amongst the crowd of generals and nobles was palpable. He couldn't deny his own fear. He was trying to be strong. He was the leader of Asgard in this moment, but truly he desired to give in to panic all signs pointed to the fact that their demise was imminent. He was running out of answers. He was running out of solutions. He desperately wanted to contact Odin or Frigga. To get direction on what to do. To see if they could send reinforcements. The Light-Elf chided himself. His desire to pass the responsibility off to another was childish. He no longer could bear the burden of so many lives and so many souls' fates being in his hand. But honestly what more could be done? Even if Odin had miraculously awakened from the Oversleep, it would not be as if he could return to them... not in time.

Algrim swallowed deeply. His Adam's apple bobbed within the thin column of his throat. "I appreciate the information," he stated to the young technician. "Please do not relent in your efforts to establish contact with our king," Lord Algrim warned as he pointed at the engineer.

"Yes," the young Aesir bobbed his head emphatically. "Right away sir." he stated. He put his fist to his heart and he rose to his feet and then scampered away to make haste to the communication room.

"No contact has been established yet?" asked Lord Audric as he slowly approached his dear friend Prime Minister Algrim. Algrim could not bring himself to speak the words again, but his grave expression and the somber shaking of his head revealed much to his fellow politician. Audric sucked in a sharp breath. His purple eyes darted toward a sundial in the center of the council chamber. "I thought they'd be back by now," He expressed as he looked up at Algrim.

Lord Algrim nodded his head. He started to drum his fingers together, "I had hoped," Algrim started his voice was quiet. Nearly silent. "It was a risk...it was a gamble allowing Sigyn to return to the palace alone... anything could have happened.

"Where are they?" demanded Lord Audric. The Prime Minister of Vanaheim worried his hands as he paced a hole in the floor of the castle chambers with in the sanctum. "Do think Lady Sigyn even made her way to Prince Thor? Do you think she found him? What if she was captured before she could even reach him? What if they were captured together? What if Prince Thor was too seriously injured and could not be moved?" Prime Minister Audric wondered out loud as he nervously started to bite as his fingernails.

"Patience, patience, my friend," Lord Algrim admonished. His bony fingers patted his friend on the shoulders.

"Patience!" Another one of Asgard's delegates balked. "Lord Algrim, how can you speak of patience at a time like this! Asgard is out of time to be patient!" he through his muscular arms in the air. "Look at where we are!" he roared.

"Don't we have any explosives and ammunitions down here?" asked one of Asgard's leading Generals of the navy. "We should use whatever ammunitions we have left to blow the palace up!" he declared as he slammed his hand into his fist. "We can destroy them that way!" he recommended hopefully.

"That is crazy talk!" another official shouted back. "Prince Thor is in there? We have already decided that such an attack is too risky!"

"The hour grows late. Lady Sigyn and Prince Thor have yet to return. Who knows they could both already be dead!" the naval officer retorted. "We must do something to protect ourselves. We've got to do something to kill those bastards!" he roared.

"Ragnarok has already befallen us," Brunhilda, leader of the Valkyrie lamented. Her shoulders fell as she held a small packet of ice on her wounded shoulder. "It is over," she sighed.

"Good Brunhilda, I have never heard you speak thus?" Lord Algrim gasped. Indeed their situation was dire. More dire than any he had ever faced and he was a man who had live through the Dark-Elf attacks from years and years ago. Still, Brunhilda was a strong and stalwart woman. She completely embodied the motto of the Valkyrie never send a man to do what a woman should. Her lack of faith at this dreadful hour sent a chill down his spine. The general thought to answer, but she couldn't bring herself too. She had always loved a good bout. She had always wanted to test the mettle of her women. She had always been willing to throw her armies and troops into warfare. Now she slunk back like a coward and had simply given into despair. The worst of it was that so many of her own sisters in arms had been lost. The Valkyrie were supposed to have trained for this day. They were an elite fighting team. They were supposed to be Asgard's last line of defense. It had always been foretold that in that terrible day that was Ragnarok that the Valkyrie would be summoned by the king to find any men still left on the battlefield and they would fight side by side on the frontlines. To defend their home, their king and their sisters. To fight in Ragnarok was a great honor, it was a way to insure ones entrance into Valhalla, but it was supposed to be a valiant fight. What she had experienced, the power that flowed from the Aether, well it was no battle, it was no fight. It was simply a massacre. Her eyes had simply beheld men and women brave and strong and skilled beyond compare in the art of war struck down, blown to bits and smashed into smithereens by the destructive blasts of the Aether. It made her skin tingle. She couldn't watch anymore of that. She couldn't see anymore people fall without even the chance to fight. It was a dreadful thought that seemed to linger and dance in the back of her mind. A thought she'd dare not let escape her lips, but maybe being slaves to the Dark-Elves was better than having to watch everyone die.

"We cannot give up hope," a low baritone voice rumbled as it came up from the background. All the heads of the 50 delegates of Asgard's High Council swung around to face the intruding voice.

"Master Heimdal!" there was a collective sigh of relief from the crowd of high-ranking officials and noblemen as they swung around and saw the revered gatekeeper.

"Master Heimdal, you are supposed to be in the halls of healing," reported one of the generals.

Heimdal's lips were busted. His arms were bloodied and cut-up terribly. He had a few whip marks on his brown back that were forming huge, ugly, red, welts. They were puffing up and looked like they were filling with pus and bacteria. His eyes were blackened. The right one could hardly open. One of the healers had seen fit to make him a makeshift crutch out of some plywood that they must have found inside the sanctum. He was walking with a limp and his face couldn't help but quirk and his features couldn't help, but curl and wince from the profound pain and discomfort that came with every step. Despite the battery that Asgard's great guardian had endured he managed to raise his hand. His fingers were bandaged and two of them were broken, still he waved off the comment. "I don't believe that place can qualify as Halls of healing, my lord," Heimdal let out a soft chuckle that broke into a hacking cough as his dislocated ribs seemed to ram right into his diaphragm.

The healers had done a fine job utilizing the provisions and space that had been left to them by the ancients. It had been furnished with beds and a small laboratory, there was a dug out for where a healing pool might have once been, but whatever mystic waters had once been there had long dried up. There were hundreds of barrels that were full of gauze, needles, splints, plaster to make casts, dried out herbs, roots, leaves and mineral materials to manufacture healing ointments, salves and medicines. There were old scanners and a few isolated incubators, but the infirmary that they had set up was a far cry from the illustrious halls of healing that resided in the palace or even from the hospitals that littered Asgard. These places flowed with pools of cool, clean water that had been infused with the powers of the healing crystals themselves. The labs were state of the art and everything was clean and sterile.

Here in the catacombs, the healers were having a hard time keeping the patience quarters clean. Heimdal overheard one of the healers saying that they feared many would not recover due to the fact that the area was so unsanitary. This ancient underground citadel had not been used in more than a millennia. It had gathered more than dust. It was a breeding ground for all manner of varmint who now called it a home. There was no fresh water, poor dim torch light, and their food supply was low. They hadn't the ingredient necessary to manufacture most of the modern remedies. They didn't even have a decent soul forge to see how quickly the Aether infections were spreading. They didn't have enough tools to perform all the surgeries and amputations that needed to be performed. Blood and vomit and bile had spilled all over the old stone floors quicker than they could clean it up. The healers and nurses were rushing back and forth frantically trying to attended to as many of the wounded as they could, but it was a mad house and the healers were exhausted. They were stretched beyond themselves fumbling over limited resources and left only with outdated remedies. Hiemdal was sure that there were several would could have been healed or at least stabilized if only they had the modern advancements that they needed. They had already decided that they couldn't save everyone. Heimdal shook his head. "Besides," he muttered, "there are many more of our people who need the healers help more than I," he expressed as he dropped his head. He thought of the little girl he had seen carried in on a stretch the poor child had been burned by an Aether blast. She was screaming in pain and needed a sedative. Heimdal could not in good conscience receive a drop of pain medication knowing how much pain the child was in.

"Master Heimdal, please," protested Lord Algrim. He shook his head and took hurried steps toward the gatekeeper. Hiemdal was holding his side and rocking on his feet. "Quick, a chair," the Light-Elf ordered. He snapped his fingers. A few of the delegates in the council chamber scrambled to find a chair or a stool for the gatekeeper to sit upon. Alas, they came up with nothing. They ushered him to sit down on one of the step-like stadium seats that made up the back wall of the chamber. Heimdal's large brown hands waved off their efforts but all the while his legs shook and he was grateful to take a seat. "Lady Taskis, please go and get one of the healers," Lord Agrim instructed.

"No," the golden guardian protested. His strong hand gripped Algrim tightly around his bony shoulder. Algrim's body was so narrow and frail that he nearly cried out when he felt the strong hold. The grizzled and gray elf raised his hand halting the noblewoman. "Don't take the healers away from those who truly need their help," he insisted through labored breaths.

"But Lord Heimdal," Brunhilda began. "You are badly injured and...and...and Asgard needs you. We need your strength and skills and the powers you possess if there is to be any chance of us surviving until Convergence."

"She'd right Heimdal," another prominent warrior spoke up.

Heimdal looked up at the Valkyrie. "I appreciate your kind words, cousin," he chuckled. "But my powers have been of no use to Asgard." he shook his head. "Twice I have failed us," he bowed his head. "I did not see when the Frost Giants entered into the city the first time and that is where this all began," he recalled as he raised his gold rimmed eyes to meet her gaze.

"Nonsense, Heimdal, that was not your fault," Algrim chimed in. "The treachery of that still belongs to Loki," he stated.

"Loki is the one who is behind all this!" cried Lord Audric. His statement caused several more of Asgard's politicians and leaders to raise their fists and shout with hearty 'here-here's.' "Loki is a serpent and a cowered!" the Prime Minister of Vanaheim insisted and he clenched his fist. "He's the reason for my daughter's death and he'll be the reason for the deaths of all our sons and our daughters and us," he insisted.

"Loki is a scoundrel," Heimdal agreed. "But Loki didn't let the Dark-Elves in. I did," Heimdal stated. "I didn't see them coming. I failed to protect us and it is because of me so many our dead," Heimdal's gifted eyes looked around the room of nobles who clothes were soot covered like peasants, their faces distressed and dirty. "And I am sorry," he apologized. "I am sorry about, Lady Dagmar," he expressed as he reached out his hand to cup the Vanir Prime Minister's. Lord Audric's purple eyes sparkled with unshed tears. He bit his lip as he took it all in. He merely nodded as he accepted his friend's words.

"Can you see anything, Master Heimdal? Anything at all?" asked Bardok, the young master mage of the Realm.

Heimdal stared vacantly for a moment. His intense hazel and gold eyes concentrated and focused. They searched and scanned. They shifted to and fro, but everything was shadowy and murky. He couldn't make out faces or figures. Asgard was completely blackened in his sight. The Ash for the Aether clouded and polluted everything. It distorted images. He could see that the Aether ash was spreading it was riding on dark clouds and forming in great, heaping gaggles and being carried on the wind from the Imperial City and to the surrounding towns. If a strong enough wind blew it would spread to the Dales and to Asgard's other major cities. It would make its way to the hill country and mountain hamlets and coasts. It would consume Asgard. Then the Nine Realms would follow.

Finally, his bright gold eyes blinked. He gasped and squeezed them shut hard. He rubbed at them vigorously. "What was it, Master Heimdal? What did you see?" inquired young Bardok.

"Did you see the all-father?" asked Lord Algrim.

Heimdal, slowly started shake his head. "No, no, no," he mumbled. His voice was cut off as if he was hardly able to speak.

"Quickly, now make haste and get him some water," one of Asgard's distinguished general's said to a nobleman.

"No, no, no," please the gargantuan gatekeeper called as he saw the young man about to rush from the chamber.

"You need water, Heimdal, and rest," stated General Brunhilda.

He waved his large hands in the air. "It's not that," he expressed as he took deep breaths.

"Then what is it, old friend?" the elfin Prime Minister of Asgard inquired further. His pointed ears twitched. He put his spindly, sweaty fingers that were ghostly white on the guardians heaving, thick, brown shoulders. "Come," he pressed. "What is it? Tell us. There is no news that could possibly been worse than all we have gone through now," he stated, his attempt at humor did not even reach his eyes though he managed to allow a weak as water smile to play across his lip. He gestured to all the delegates that were gathered around. Their hands all clasped and their eyes all glistening, their faces were all dirty and dour. "Tell us," the prime minister encouraged once more.

"That's just it, Prime Minister," Heimdal's massive shoulders fell as he let out a pent up sigh. "I can see nothing," he confessed. He looked up at the faces of the nobles and the military elite, Asgard's governors and leaders and their great minds and thinkers. Each one of them had been at their wits end. They'd all been pushed further than they'd ever imagined they'd have to go. They'd all been counting on him. They'd been waiting and hoping that he would have something to say, that he saw a distant calvary, that he saw that their king was alive, that he saw that Prince Thor had escaped prison, but he couldn't tell them those things because he couldn't see those things. He could see nothing. He was in the dark completely as they were. It was a funny feeling, this blindness. He had so long been Asgard's gatekeeper. He had so long been gifted with eyes 100 times sharper than an eagle's that he'd forgotten what it was like not to know what was transpiring around you. He hadn't had that feeling since he was child. Vulnerable and uncertain, left in a fog and daze just like everyone else. It was dreadfully uncomfortable to live this way. To only see what one saw right in front of their face and know no more than that. To have to operate in faith. Although his powers were hindered by the power of the Aether, he was not so blind that he couldn't see the crestfallen expressions of those around him. "I'm sorry," he apologized as he looked around the room before bowing his head.

Lord Algrim patted him on the shoulder several times. They were slow methodical pats. Each one getting lighter and lighter and more distant. "it's not your fault, Master Heimdal," he repeated as he walked away.

"So that's it then?" called out Commander Frell.

"No," the voice of Lady Leoma entered the conversation, "We still have the reactors," she reported.

Commander Frell rolled his eyes. "How can we rust the wisdom of a mortal?" He waved his hands. "She did not even know what the Aether was mere days ago, now we are suppose to trust her invention? Have we forgotten that their race only mastered the art of flight less than a century ago."

"Scoff if you will, Commander Frell, but the physics and science behind he theories are completely within probable limits. Besides we have more technology here than what would be available to her on Midgard. Everyone is working hard and I believe we have amplified her technology and the reactors should work," Lady Leoma explained.

"It's still a risk, we are gambling our lives, the lives of our families and our children...the lives of all of Asgard, the lives of everyone in the Nine Realms by having our healthy and strong building these contraptions. We should be training and getting ready for battle," Commander Frell demanded. He slammed his big, burly hand into his palm.

"With all do respect Commander Frell, we have already tried that method," began Bardok. "We've already sent out our strongest soldiers and our mightiest armies. Both the Einherjar and the Valkyrie have fallen. Look around," the young enchanter insisted. "We can't beat them with sheer force alone. "Besides the Dark-Elves expect us to use warfare. Loki expects it."

"He knows too many of our military secrets," Brunhilda whispered in Captain Frell's ear. "Who knows, he could be telling our maneuvers and flanks and ranks to the Malekith right now."
"This does at least have the element of surprise," stated Lord Audric as he rubbed his hands through his long beard.

"Fine," the burly Viking finally conceded. He folded his arms over his large chest and pouted like a child. "But it's still just theoretical. We could still get out there and plant these things and find that they do not work," the commander of the Einherjar pointed out.

"It's like Heimdal said Captain, we cannot lose hope," Lord Alvis interjected. "All we have is hope. Nothing is a guarantee, nothing is certain now, but the people believe and they are working hard. They still have a fight left in them and it is that determination. That will and drive to fight til the last breath, to fight til the last man that has always made us an unstoppable force to our enemies," the wizened sage explained.

"How many reactors have you managed to make, Lady Leoma?" asked Prime Minster Algrim? His face was worried. Depending on the mortal's technology did not sit well with him either. Although he wasn't as quick to scoff at the invention as his friend Captain Frell, he still had his misgivings.

"Everyone is working very hard, Prime Minister, but the people our exhausted. We have many of the tinkers and inventors and blacksmiths working on making the parts we need, but it's a long process. I'm afraid we don't have nearly half as many as I would have hoped we'd have by now," the alchemist confessed as she hung her head. Her silver curls had fallen from the neat wimple that they were normally tucked in and they were plastered to her face. Sweat and grime covered her face and her hands were newly bandaged with the hem of her own skirt trying to protect the fresh blisters that had formed on her fingers.

"And exactly, how many do you have, Lady Leoma," repeated Brunhilda.

Lady Leoma took a deep breath, she pushed her gray hair out of her eyes, "We've made about 32 reactors," she finally stated.

Some of the delegates looked around happily at one another. Lord Algrim almost smiled, that seemed like a good number, but then he noticed the faces of the mages and scholars. Their faces did not seem impressed on pleased with the progress. The Light-Elf cleared his throat. "And how many do we need?" he asked.

Alvis, was the one to speak up. "Well you have to remember, Prime Minister, technically speaking we don't know exactly how many we need," he stated trying his best to be optimistic. "it's not as if this has ever been done before," his shoulders shrugged. He offered a pallor of a chuckle, but the elderly wise-man had never had a sense of humor that seemed to match others. His joke fell flat. He sucked a sharp breath back in and looked askance. His eyes darted toward his fellow enchanters. Lord Drek stepped forward. He put a steadying hand upon his fellow enchanter's trembling shoulders

"What Master Alvis means to say is that we really don't know how many we need. But because of the magnitude of what we were originally proposing we projected we'd need about 250 of these reactors to harness enough gravitational shifts to put the Aether in stasis," Drek stated. He was by far the most practical of all of Asgard's leading mystics. Perhaps it was because he had worked outside of being a scholar.

Captain Frell had been steadily drinking pints of 5000 year old mead that had been stored in this underground bunker. He spat out his last sip and spewed it all over young Bardok. Bardok jumped back and let out a shriek. As his fine purple tunics soon dripped with the alcoholic substance. He wiped his face free of the military man's spit. "Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!" Captain Frell apologized profusely as he reached his hand in Bardok's direction. "So sorry, friend," he stated once more. Bardok merely nodded and waved his hand as he tried to wash his face free of mead. "250! Did you say 250?" he demanded.

"Yes, sir," Lord Drek confirmed.

The captain of the Einherjar turned around, his burly arms flailing. "You mean to tell me that we need 250 of these...little...little...little sticks!" he shouted. "And we only have 32!"

"Honestly, 250 was a hopefully low estimate," confessed Lady Leoma as she hung her head.

"Are you serious?" Captain Frell demanded as his shoulder heaved. He tossed his small pint tin cup at the wall. Master Alvis ducked as the cup seemed to be headed right for his head. It hit the cement wall with a loud clatter. The brown contents splattered against the stone.

"Captain, please try to remain calm," instructed Lord Heimdal.

Frell spun around furiously. His eyes wide as he faced the massive and strong gatekeeper. "Be calm! Be calm!" Captain Frell shook his head. His red hair flopped about. "I'm sorry Lord Heimdal, but calm, cool and collected heads are a luxury we can no longer afford," he was practically growling. "This mortal instrument will surely prov useless especially with such a small number," he explained.

"Our world does hang in the balance," whispered one delegate to another.

"This is beyond our world hanging in the balance," Captain Frell snapped back furiously. "Our world is nearly destroyed. It is 3 hour til daybreak. These reactors can't save us! We need to be working on healing every able bodied man and woman and preparing them to fight!" he raised his fist to the air.

"I concur," stated Brunhilda. "These science projects won't save us. Not at this rate," The shield-maiden put her hand on the hilt of her sword. "We won't stand a chance this way," she expressed. Her pretty lip was curled as she gestured toward the man-made contraption that Alvis was holding. "I will go and alert the Valkyrie who are still able to face battle," she stated. She nodded respectfully to the delegates and started to head out of the small chamber within the underground sanctum.

"Cousin!" Heimdal called to the leader of the shield-maidens. Brunhilda halted at the sound of his commanding yet smooth voice. "You don't have enough soldiers to overcome the Dark-Elves defenses. Not by sheer force. And you know it," he reminded her.

General Brunhilda shook her head. Her messy hair flopped about her like a lion's mane. "Have you forgotten the great stories of our ancestors?" the female general inquired. "Have you forgotten the great story of how Surtur's sword was taken from him?" her blue eyes looked around shocked at all the defeated and cowering souls that stood in a huddled mass. "Surtur, grew as tall as a mountain," she began to explain. "His flaming sword had been ravaging the Nine Realms and decimating city after city. None of the forces of the NIne Realms could hold him back. The Norns sent envoys begging and pleading for Asgard to send aid. Our wise and compassionate king at the time King Moah had few troops to spare, but he sent a troop of only 15 to defeat that monster. And they did it," the warrior woman proclaimed with fire in her eyes.

"Lady Brunhilda, you forget the part of the story where they used the Berserker Staff," the elderly mage Lord Einsmyth added on. His wrinkled hand shook as he raised it in the air to add on to the tale.

"I forget nothing!" Brunhilda declared. "I know the tale well," she warned the tired old wizard. "They were the first of the brotherhood of the Berserkers, the strongest and most fearsome warriors that Asgard or the Nine Realms have ever known," she proclaimed

"But the power of the Berserker Staff has been lost to Asgard for centuries, General Brunhilda, you know that," expressed Asgard's Prime Minister.

She waved her hand dismissively at the Light Elf's counsel. "Belay that!" she bellowed immediately. "The power of a Berserker is the power that every Aesir possesses on the inside," she thumped her fist against the silver armor of her breast plate. "it's in our blood and in our veins. It flows through us, it is us," she continued to proclaim. She looked Lord Algrim dead in the long pointed ears twitched, his shoulders fell and he twisted his head turning away from her penetrating gaze. He'd lived in Asgard so long, since he was a youth. He'd been educated among them, he'd trained among them, he'd dined and slept and danced among them since he was a boy. Asgard was his home. It was truly the only home that he had ever known. He'd always been accepted and always been embraced by the people of Asgard, so much so that even when the fighting in Alfheim had ended he'd chosen to stay and live among the Aesir. It had been so many centuries, it had been a couple of thousands of years he supposed. And in that time, he supposed that he'd forgotten...that is he'd always felt that he was one of them. But the way Brunhilda talked, the intensity in her tone. They way she looked at him. He felt as out of place as if he were a mortal living amongst them. As if he was not the same as they.

"Brunhilda, even if all the people were able to fight, with the Aether on their side...one of the Infinity Stones...we can't destroy it...we can only hope to contain it and it won't be the power of an army to do that," Explained Lord Drek.

"If we send all of our people out to battle then we would simply be surrendering them to death," shrugged Lady Leoma.

"Either way, at this rate it seems as though death is upon us Lady Leoma," began Captain Frell. "Personally, I would rather die in the tradition that honors my ancestors than sitting around waiting like a sitting duck for the inevitable," he retorted.

"We must have hope," Heimdal continued to encourage.

"Hope in what Master Heimdal?" questioned Lord Audric. His tone was biting. "With every passing second the reports grow grimmer and grimmer. Convergence is practically here, dawn swiftly approaches, the city is destroyed, Prince Thor is imprisoned within the castle, we don't have nearly enough of these reactors and our warriors are mostly out of commission. We cannot even contact the king and queen of Asgard let alone warn any of the other realms. Tell me where is our hope?" he questioned with tears in his eyes.

"There's still Prince Thor," the chestnut skinned gatekeeper stated proudly.

"But Prince Thor is a prisoner," explained one of the female members of Asgard's High Council. "He can't help us," she confessed with a sigh.

"We can only hope that Lady Sigyn has completed her mission and was able to rescue him," Heimdal explained.

"Ha!" commander Frell scoffed. "Putting our hope in that woman was a fool's hope!" he mocked.

Heimdal scowled. "You doubt her so, yet she rescued me, she rescued Lord Algrim and an entire battalion." he explained as he closed his eyes.

"We should never have let her return! She is no warrior. She is a simple-minded maiden and little more than that," Captain Frell stated haughtily as he raised his head high. "It should have been one of us to go and return and rescue Prince Thor," Captain Frell gestured between himself and the other military personnel present in the chamber.

"Captain Frell," Lord Algrim spoke up. "Now that is enough," he stated firmly as he clapped his hands like school teacher who was trying to gain control of a particularly unruly student. "Should have...would have...could have is futil now," he expressed. He quickly stepped toward the military leader. His long, flowing hem of his royal purple robes dragged across the dirty stones. The elegant attire was ripped and fraying at the edges. His curly-curly toed shoes were soaked with mud. He winced slightly with the steps that he took. The soles of his shoes had been practically blown off and he had a bloodied foot that needed tending to, but he dare not mention such a minor injury when so many innocents had lost limbs in the bloody battle. "This is what we all agreed to. We have had to make some hasty decisions as of late, but we agreed tp do so. We allowed Sigyn to return to give us more time. She went back and risked her life so that we wouldn't have to spare any more of our already decimated forces. She had proven herself capable and she was brave to do it," Lord Algrim stated proudly. "Braver than most," he echoed in a whisper. "We should be hoping to the Norns that he mission is successful and that she returns to us with Prince Thor in one piece, not putting her down because of her valiant efforts," the elfing Prime Minster of Asgard professed. The other delegates and members of Asgard's High Council applauded and broke out in a rousing chorus of of heart here-here's and huzzahs.

Captain Frell slowly fumed inwardly. He was a high ranking member of the Einherjar. He was from a noble family. He couldn't recall the last time he had been scolded like that in of a group of people. It was quite the contrary he was the one barking out orders, correcting people and putting people in line. He had always been a harsh disciplinarian for his troops. Being the Captain of 500 men was a daunting ask and he had always proven that he was up for the challenge. he whipped his men into shape ruthlessly. he did not tolerate back talk and he did not accept excuses nor would he deal with imperfections in combat. His massive shoulders heaved under the weight of the chastisement from his superior. He felt like a child. He felt worse than a child he felt like some uppity, young private. He felt like one of the wet-earred young boys from the country provinces of Asgard's far flung territories. Young men who had excelled in battle-training in their local school houses, but who had n't truly had proper challengers. Those privates had talent, but they knew nothing truly of the art of war. They hadn't yet honed their skills or been tested properly. They could not truly call themselves Einherjar yet. Lord Algrim had made him feel as if he wasn't an Einherjar at all. As if his experience and knowledge of war was inconsequential at best. Captain Frell's dark-eyes narrowed as he gazed upon the face of the wizened old elf. Algrim's features were narrow, his skin fair, his body with out scar or blemish, skin soft and nails long. The Light-Elf scholar had never truly tasted battle. What did he really know? Captain Frell wanted to shout back at him. He wanted to hall out and punch him. Challenge him to a duel and humble him. Still, years of military training got the better of him. Insubordination was not tolerated amongst the ranks of the Einherjar. Respect for superior officers meant everything. Prime Minister Algrim was his superior. He was second in command in their realm. He represented the king and since they could not contact King Odin or Queen Frigga they had to take the prime minister's word as law. Besides, Algrim had always been a friend. It was his own fears and frustrations getting the better of him. He had lost. He had never lost in battle before. He had seen so many men and women of great strength and power and renown fall. He'd been in so many wars, but he'd never seen carnage and desolation like that. He'd never seen it on Asgard's streets. The sight of it made his blood run cold. He'd never seen the homes and places that he'd loved decimated and destroyed like they were little toy towns for little girls to play with. Little girls. He bit his lip. His dark eyes misted with tears. His own wife and children, he hadn't seen them in months. He didn't know if they were alive or dead. He didn't know if he would ever see them again.

Captain Frell took a deep breath. He then managed to bow toward the Prime Minister. "Forgive Prime Minister Algrim," he apologized quickly. "My only desire is to prevent Ragnarok from wiping us all out. I am prepared to do whatever it takes to keep these Nine Realms from perishing and too keep the darkness of the Aether from consuming us all. My greatest wish is that Lady Sigyn is successful in her mission and that Prince Thor is returned to us alive and well. As a member of the Einherjar it is my belief that this can be best accomplished through preparing to make a last stand. I wish to go and be with my men and prepare them for the daunting task of defending our realm to the last even though we know that the odds are overwhelmingly unfavorable. Naturally, I defer to your collective wisdoms in this matter," he expressed humbly. He gave one more apologetic bow. He then straightened himself back up and faced Lord Algrim, Lord Audric, Master Heimdal in the eye. His head turned slight so that he stared at Brunhilda. The warrior woman stared back at him. Her eyes were unblinking, but her lip slightly trembled as if she was about to stay something. Captain Frell inclined his head as he waited a moment for his female comrade in arms to join him.
"Captain Frell, Asgard owes a great deal of debt to you and your troop for your strength, your steal and service. You are dismissed from the Council at this time," stated the Prime Minister of Asgard.

Captain Frell took his right fist a placed it upon his breast plate the smudged with the filth of the Aether's ash and the blood of the many citizens of Asgard that he had dragged off the streets in the aftermath of the battle. "I thank you, my lord," Captain Frell replied quietly and with that he turned on his heels and proceeded to leave.

The crowd fell silent as the watched the proud and strong warrior of Asgard make his way out of the provided privacy of the council chamber. They watched him with heavy concentration until he was a speck disappearing through the doorway.

"His heart is in the right place," Lady Brunhilda spoke up. She addressed the two prime minister's and Heimdal. "He cares for Asgard," she defended her fellow warrior. "Same as all of us," she stated. "He fears for our lives and our survival," she expressed.

"As do we all, General Brunhilda," State the master mage Drek

"Lord Heimdal is right," began Lord Algrim again as he cleared his throat. He tried to fix his disheveled tunics but the tattered, straggles of a royal robe hung on his lean body. "We cannot give up hope. We cannot give into despair. The people of the Imperial City are looking to us and all of Asgard is looking to the Imperial City to lead them in this matter and the Nine Realms will look to Asgard for leadership ]," he iterated. "So you see my friends all are looking to us for leadership and guidance," he conveyed to the 50 or so delegates. "We must be strong," he proclaimed as he raised his finger into the air. "We must be resolute. We must not allow ourselves to give into despair no matter how hopeless things may appear. We must present confidence until the last possible moment," he instructed them, but his voice started to tremble. "Does everyone understand?" he asked to the membered of a the council. The leaders of Asgard, the governors and generals merely nodded and muttered their compliance. "Very good then," the pointy-eared elf confirmed. "Now with the help of our astute scholars I would like every member of this council working on helping to build reactors," Prime Minister Algrim instructed. "We have no more time for this petty squabbling and debating," he shook his hand furiously. "We must try to make as many of these as possible before first light. Perhaps we will be able to make enough to spare our lives and our world," the Prime Minister confessed with worry in his tone. With that the members of Asgard's High Council seemed to rush out the chamber each going to different areas of the sanctum and helping to work on making the reactors.


The underground sanctum was a strange buzz of haphazard, frantic energy and a tepid pool of wearied worried silence. All around people were rushing back and forth doing their best to work on the only thing they could to have a chance at saving their own skins.

Jane Foster had taken great care to draw up several renditions of the schematics for gravitational reactors. She took quill and parchment and drew out the design as best she could and labeled the parts that they would need for the piece of equipment. She made about 15 copies of the reactor herself and then she passed the off to the scribes. The scribes worked quickly. They instantly started multiplying copies. She doubted that many of them even knew what they were drawing, but they were able to draw what they saw verbatim and with such accuracy that jane was astonished. Jane checked and approved each and every one of the copies before they were dispersed to the citizens of Asgard. Every citizen trying to take on a different role to help and recreate the machines.

Engineers and architects, blacksmiths and craftsmen and artisans of ever sort made great haste. The frantically raced from room to room chamber to chamber trying to gather everything that they needed. The underground bunker was equipped with many of basics that the people of Asgard would need to survive. Their ancestors, the ancients had worked hard to ensure the survival of their people. They had furnished the bunker with forgeries and armories and weapons rooms. Many of the blacksmiths had taken to melting down any piece of usable metal that they could find. The ripped the coats of arms off the statues of the warriors of the past. The broke the swords and shields and the breastplates and helmets and poured them into a boiling kettle and melted them down into a hot, steamy, orange liquid. The artisans had to make molds to create the gears and sockets and screws that Lady Jane Foster had prescribed for the device. Jane worked right along with them. She came over and explained to them how everything had to be just so. The calculations had to be perfect and precise in order to get the reactors to work just right and just so. The blacksmiths forged on without hesitancy. Men and women rushed about carrying big heavy sheets of met and armor back and forth. It took a lot to get the old, rusted out-of-date equipment in the forgery to work. They had to crank it by hand and to stoke the fires themselves. Men carried heavy loads of hot molten liquid from one container or mold to the next never ceasing. Their backs bent worse than cattle. Women rushed about carrying large buckets, jugs and vases full of water to cool the fresh hot molds. Likewise, other blacksmiths continued to do back breaking work. The halls echoed with the sound of steal and iron smashing steal and iron as hammers and gavels repeated clanked against anvils and they tried to craft and wedge and wield and forge the parts together.

More work was being done by every single Aesir, the very young and very old did their parts too. They took apart armor as well. They worked hard to find copper in the coats of arms. Now Asgard's coats of arms were of very fine stock and of the highest quality. Most were made of steal, some were made of brass others with made of sterling silver and sparkling gold. There was little copper. So the were forced to take coins and turn them into copper wire. They had to take them to the blacksmiths and well to get melted down and thinned and pressed into the tiniest slivers and strips imaginable. Then the children and the old women would take to twisting those copper pieces around the various iron molds. Many of the elderly women were basket weavers by trade, some had worked as potters as well. There hands were old and wrinkled, they may have shook a bit but the hands of the old women were careful and capable and they twisted as furiously and as speedily as they could. Jane Foster worked with them as well. When the first parts for the first reactor had been made Jane showed them exactly how the wires needed to be wrapped. She thought that she would have to show them more than once. But one time was all it took. The elderly women gathered around and studied her movements and immediately their hands set to work. Jane marveled at the skillful way their old hands weaved in and out and looped about worked. The old women were quick to teach the young children who watched with interest. Sometimes a child would hold the parts while one of the old weavers guided the wired, sometimes the opposite, but they all worked. Tirelessly, and relentlessly. They literally were working their fingers to the bone. The copper wires were raw and hard and some came out of the molds piping hot. They didn't even have time to cool them as desperate as they were to make them. The women and children scalded their fingers. The children would yelp from the burns. The elderly women would coo and soothe them. They kept buckets of cool water next to their working stations just in case of injury. Lady Jane over heard one old woman talking to her grandson "Grandma, my fingers hurt," he sobbed and sniffled as he held up red fingers.

"Hush child!" she said her tone was nearly scolding. She didn't even look up. She immediately to the hot live wire from the child's hands and continued from where he had left off.

"It burned me! My fingers hurt!" the little boy protested. He stuck out a trembling lip and looked like he was set to cry any minute. He was absolutely filthy, his cheeks were bloodied with cuts and the poor child's eyes flapped terribly from how tired he was.

"Come on, boy, hush up!" the old woman stated harshly. "Get back to twisting we got to get this done and then get to the next one. We have another one waiting right beside you," she inclined her head toward the parts that were just placed by the boy's feet. "We need to wrap this wire around it so that it can move on down the line and be put together. Hurry now, move quick," she told him. She had a few the wired in between her lips as she spoke.

"I can't do it anymore grandma, " he expressed as he started to pout. He crossed his arms to protect his burned fingers. "My fingers hurt," he continued to whine. He plopped down on his bottom in defeat.

Finally, the elderly woman looked. Her skin was like tanned leather, it was creased and full of wrinkles. She stopped mid-stitch, mid-wrap. Her strong hands reached out and dropped the wire and grabbed the boy by the arms. "You gotta do this, my boy! You got to do this!" she declared as she shook.

"I can't grandma! I can't!" the child blubbered.

"Why are you crying?" she asked. "Aren't you a big strong warrior of Asgard?' she asked him. The child sucked up a sharp breath and tried to put on a brave face and bobbed his head to say yes. "A warrior of Asgard never says that they can't! Don't you know that?"

"Yes, grandma...but...but...but' the little boy stammered.

"There's no buts, child," she pointed out. "Look at what's happening. Brave men and women are dead! They didn't say that they couldn't go out there and fight. They did! Now we have to do our part to fight to save Asgard! To save the whole Nine Realms!" she expressed. Her hands moved down from gripping the child by his shoulders so roughly and they moved down to holding his tender little fingers. He winced as her hands touched the blistered. "Boy, you could be a hero," she told him and there was a smile on her face.

"Me a hero?" the child asked in astonishment.

"Yes, my boy, yes," she nodded emphatically. Tears were starting to glisten in her old eyes. "You'll be grandma's little hero, baby... this is a chance to save our kingdom don't you understand. This might be the only chance that we have and everyone of us has to play our part...if not...if not...if not..." Her voice trailed off and the fresh tears ran from her eyes and splashed on to her wrinkled cheeks.

"Then we all die?" the child asked. He sounded so scared.

"Not if we do this," she old woman snapped from her tears and picked up a wire and held it up before her grandson. The little boy nodded. The old woman pulled the child into a tight embrace. The hugged for a long time. She kissed his forehead and cheeks. ""Not if we do...not if we do this," she muttered repeatedly into the soft mop of curls on top the child's head. Tears were rolling down the old woman's cheeks. The water cutting paths and getting stuck in her wrinkles. In time the child slowly slipped his arm down and from around his grandmother's neck. He looked up at her, and managed to muster a small grin filled with hope. The much older woman quickly wiped the moisture away from her face and smiled back at her grandson and helped him get back to work.

Jane rushed out the room away from the scene. She pressed her back against the great stone pillar. She leaned her head against the column. She closed her eyes and rested her head for the first time in what felt like ages. She had never been so tired in all her life. That was truly saying something. She was no stranger to pulling all-nighters. She'd often stayed up all night writing papers, working on projects conducting experiments and desperate to meet deadlines to get the necessary funding for her research. It had always seemed so important. It always had seemed like life and death. It felt like the end of the world to get a bad grade or to lose the support of a sponsor. That seemed so stupid and petty now. Now, she truly knew what it meant for something to be the end of the world. She was rushing around like a chicken with her head cut off chasing down the technicians and mages and scientist and the blacksmiths and trying to make sure they had just the right equipment. Asgard had many resources. They had materials that she had never heard of. The people of Asgard were doing their best to accommodate her design, but in comparison to some of the technology the possessed her ideas were somewhat hard to translate. Everyone was working tirelessly. They were doing all they cold. Lady Sif, Volstagg, Hogun and Frandal were all helping to piece together the remote controls for the reactors and they had taken to breaking apart some of the old switchboards from the communication rooms to use them for her machines. They were using their own blood and sweat and spit and the shirts off their backs to tie things together. Everyone was twisting and hammering and nailing and fastening and grinding and welding and pouring. Rushing and racing. They were working at dizzying paces. Soldiers were learning the skills of tinkers and children laboring like adults. Their stamina was unprecedented. She knew if this situation had occurred at some base on earth, that the humans wouldn't have been able to do what the Aesir had done. The were soldiers who hopped up off their sick beds and went around asking how they could be of assistance. They came to her humbly and took directions. Some hammered and sawed one hands. Others hobbled forth on crutches carrying bits of scrap metal for her to use. There was a scribe who had both of his hands crushed while trying to run and escape out the smoldering palace. He put the quill between his toes and wrote up directions for others to follow with his feet. The Aesir were relentless their spirits and drive to survive, to win and to fight was indomitable.

It was inspirational. It made her want to do everything possible as well. She worked with them. She rushed back and forth between the different groups. She put her had to the plow in every way she could. From drawing out the schematics to working with Asgard's mages and enchanters to trying to explain the conversions and figure out what materials could be used. She wrapped copper and platinum wires. She assisted children in gathering firewood to stoke the furnaces and help melt down the metal. She sat down and hammered and ripped apart circuit boards and reconstructed them. She'd worked in a dizzying flurry. She'd made more reactors in the past few hours than she'd made in the past two years. She'd been working without thinking, without second guessing, or reconfiguring. Honestly, they didn't have the time for her to run numbers and do experiments. Time was of the essence and it wasn't on their side. She had to trust her instinct and trust that the scientists of Asgard knew what they were talking about. She didn't know why she felt so nervous. Surely, they knew what they were doing. These were learned men and women. They'd been studying for centuries.

They were doing all that was possible. They were fighting for their lives, the lives of universe. They wouldn't have risked it. They wouldn't have trusted her unless they were absolutely sure and convinced and yet Jane feared. They were depending on her. It was a feeling that made her heart pound in her chest and her knees knock together and her stomach do flip-flops. Sweat poured down her cheeks and it wasn't merely from the intense heat that radiated off of the kilns and furnaces. They were all depending on her, her and her invention. and although she wanted to believe that it could work she wasn't really sure. She kept telling herself that her calculations were correct, that the math was sound, that surely if there was some err that one of them would have caught it by now. But science had to quantified, tested and retested to be proven. They didn't have the time or even the means to run any tests. All that they had was a sound premise and a theory. But none of them knew for sure if the reactors would be able to fight against the power of the Aether.

It was completely preposterous for her to have even proposed such a plan. A week ago she had never even heard of such a thing as an Aether. She wanted to believe that the Aether was simply a gemstone, an element that had properties that could be explained logically with scientific principles and studies. She recalled Thor telling her that in Asgard science and magic were nearly synonymous. So there had to be practical, rational explanations for substances like the Aether. Surely it just had unique chemical properties. No different that helium, hydrogen or oxygen. Helium when put in the body could make a grown man with a heavy baritone voice talk like a chipmunk. It could make a balloon float all the way to space and become lighter than air. Had the element been discovered in a more primitive time, in a less scientifically inclined age it could have been explained away as mere "magic." The Aether could be the same. But In the time she had spent amongst the Aesir she had learned that they were anything but primitive and their scholarly pursuits had far exceeded her own. Also, she was starting to think that there were certain things that maybe...just maybe couldn't be explained with science at least here...on Asgard.

That was what scared her the most. Maybe she had been all wrong. Maybe her reactors would do nothing against the power of the Aether. The Aesir had believed her and had readily worked to help her, but she could be wrong. She could be dead wrong. Maybe they should have been doing what they were better equipped for and been preparing for battle. If she had led them astray then she could be responsible for allowing devastation to overtake the universe.

Jane looked around. Her eyes wide. Tears started to spill out. She looked down at her hands. They were filled with blistered and Sif had helped her bind them so that she could better work. Her hands were covered with grime and mud and oil and blisters and burns, but she couldn't have them covered in blood as well. She slid down to the floor. Her back was still pressed to the pillar. Her one had gripped the parts for the reactor's remote. She let out a shudder and a sob and her light brown eyes gazed up at the crumbling ceiling. "Oh God, please let this work," she prayed.

She wanted to cry. To scream out and to give way to the despair and the horror that gripped her soul. Just as she felt the tears bubbling up and read to race down her dirty face. She heard her name being called. "Lady Jane! Lady Jane! Lady Jane Foster!" Bardok came rushing up to her. He was carrying a few parts in his hands. Jane looked up startled and bewildered at the young enchanter. His expression was puzzled and concerned. "My dear lady are you alright?" the young scholar asked. "Need you a healer?" he asked.

"Yes. No." Jane answered. "I mean...yes...then no," she explained. She tried to push herself up off of the ground. "We've been tearing through so of the old supplies and found many magnetic chargers. They should work nicely as conductors for the reactors, no?" he asked hopefully as he showed her the old pieces.

Jane reached out with her hand studied the pieces. They were rusted, but they seemed like they could work. "yes, yes, they aren't that different," Jane surmised. She wiped the tears from her eyes and rubbed her chin. "from what I've been using in my lab," she expressed and put on a brave smile. "If we give them electrical chargers they should function as batteries," she expressed. "This might be just what we need to power the remote controls," she snapped her fingers.

"Perfect," Bardok stated, 'I'll get a team ready to start working on it," he then tucked the magnet under his arm. The shrewd young enchanter looked Jane Foster up and down. She looked quite a sight. Her Asgardian clothing was practically falling off of her petite frame and her hair was sticking about all over her head and covered in mud. She had a severe burns on her left arm. The skin looked charred and the material of her Aesir dress seemed to have been burned into her skin. The was a trail of dried blood that was trickling from her brow. Her face was dirty as if she'd spent her days cleaning out a chimney. Her lips were chapped and as he looked down at her hands he saw that they had been bandaged. She didn't even have on shoes. "I..." he paused as if his eye roved over her once more. Her stance was unsteady, she was rocking on her feet back and forth. Her eyelids were flapping. "Perhaps you should get some rest, Lady Jane," the mage suggested.

Jane couldn't help the yawn that had just escaped her lip. She was so tired. Physically she didn't think she could go on, but she was too scared and too frazzled to lay down. "No," she waved her hand. "I...I...I have to be there! I have to help!" she insisted. "I have to help!" she said more firmly. " These are my plans after all...and...you all need help!" she reached out her hand and touched Bardok on the shoulder. She slightly lost her balance as she did so and she crashed into him.

"Lady Jane, please you can hardly stand," Bardok insisted. He immediately swooped his arms under her knees and scooped her up bridal style. "Look at those injuries ," he pointed out while carrying her. "You need a healer immediately. "I'm taking you to the healers," he confirmed. "Healer! Healer! We need a healer here," the young magician called.

"No, no, no, no! Stop, put me down!" Jane cried. Her protests were feeble and weak. It felt good to be off her feet. Her feet that were bloodied and crusted with mud. Bardok was a tall young man. He was thin in comparison to some of the other Aesir men, no doubt because he spent most of his time with scholarly pursuits, but he was still strong. It felt good to rest her head against his chest. Jane said no a few more times. But her no was becoming softer and softer until it was nothing more than a whisper on her tongue and soon just a shaking head. She did want to rest. She wanted to lay her head down and fall asleep and then wake up to bright beautiful sunny morning or a cloudy morning. It could be a cool morning in London where the rain was falling on her window. She wanted to wake up to the sound of Darcy snoring or maybe the sound of Darcy blasting her ipod. She wanted to wake up and find out that this was all a dream. It would just be another day and she'd have no contact with Thor. She'd have no knowledge of where he was or if he was ever coming back and even though that was heartbreaking it would be for the best. And she knew that. She wished that she would have never have been looking for Thor. Then she would have never discovered the Aether. She only discovered it because she had been looking for him. Like some lovesick pyscho-ex-girlfriend. She supposed nobody could fault her. Thor was flawless, perfection. His long blonde locks, his deep blue eyes that made her seasick, his rippling pectorals and bulging biceps that got her tongue tied. How could any woman be expected to resist such charms, to just accept that that type of dream man had once held her in his arms and was now gone for good. Not to mention that he was a wealthy, charming prince, not to mention that he was a superhero who had saved the world. She wondered if Pepper Potts could have so easily let Tony Stark go. She shook her head. It didn't matter how gorgeous Thor war, how kind and brave and strong and perfect he was. Her pining after him and her desperation to find him had caused all this to happen. She wanted to go back to sleep and return to the day before and make the choice to just stay focused on her date. Yes, she had had a date that day. She didn't even remember his name. But it didn't matter. She wanted to go to sleep, wake up and do the day over so that this never happened.

Jane's hazel eyes immediately flung open. She felt awful and ashamed for her cowardly thoughts. There was no going back. There were no do-overs in life. She was a scientist. She knew that. She couldn't just dream all these terrible happenings away. This was real and it was her fault. She didn't deserve to sleep. Besides what about Thor. He was still out there. He was trapped alone in the palace. Who knows what tortures Loki had concocted for him He was so horrible! He was willing to kill his own brother, destroy his own people destroy the Nine Realms. She couldn't give up. She couldn't just go to sleep. She gritted her teeth and started to slap Bardok on the shoulder. "NO! NO! Put me down!" she declared. She kicked her legs about and hit him until he was forced to put her down.

"Lady Jane, are you quite alright?' he asked confused by the human woman's behavior.

"Yes! Yes, yes,' Jane snapped at first and tried to gain some composure. She eased her breathing ever so slightly. She placed she hand on her heart and then slipped her head backward so that her muddy tendrils weren't plastered to her face. "yes, I'm fine, Mage Bardok," she expressed. "I'm not just some helpless human, you know," she practically barked as she balled her hands into tight fists by her side.

"Of course not, I never said that you were,"

"Good, because I'm not,"

"No, you're a very capable scientist," he complimented.

"Exactly!" she confirmed as she gulped for breath. "I'm a scientist and this is my experiment, my invention. These are my schematics and its my plan," the auburn haired mortal pointed to her chest. Bardok nodded, but his eyes remained quizzical. "It's my idea. I came up with these plans and I have to see them through," she reminded him. "I'm fighting for my life too you know!" she ranted. "And I'm fighting for my world too, aren't I? It's not just Asgard that is in danger, you know?'

"All of the worlds are in danger," Bardok confirmed

"Precisely!" Jane snapped. "I have friends and family and people that I want to save too. I have a home and cities that I love on Earth!"

"I'm sure..."

"And Thor may be your Prince, but...but...but...But I love him!" she protested. "I love him! You hear!" she yelled at Bardok. "Maybe you don't believe I'm good enough for him..."

Bardok put up his hands. "Lady Jane, I can assure you that that is the furthest thing from my mind."

"I LOVE HIM!" Jane shouted with tears pouring down her face. "And if you think that I'm not going to do everything in my power, if you think that I'm just going to let him die," she choked out a sob. "Then you are dead wrong!" Jane stabbed her finger into his chest.

"Lady Jane," Bardok, "I think that the team would truly benefit from your help," Bardok said with a bow.


Rana Arndottir had been assigned the task of serving hot drinks and refreshment to many of the citizens of Asgard who were working on making the contraptions made by Lady Jane. Everybody was working so hard and she wanted to do her part to help, but she didn't have a head for machinery, besides with everybody needing to build the reactors people needed to keep up their strength.

Rana walked around carrying a large tray with about 40 cups of steaming hot tea and few flask filled with fresh clean water. She distributed them to men, women and children. "Milady! Milady! Milady," a younger woman flagged Rana over. Rana turned to her dutifully and came bearing her cups.

"Tea or water?' Rana Arndottir asked. The thick red curls in her head had been flattened from sweat. Her face paint was smeared wand running down her face.

"Water! Water! Please," the woman cried. She was parched and her tongue was dangling out her mouth. Rana immediately tossed her a flask and she watched as the woman guzzled the cooling beverage down. The water ran down the other Aesir woman's chin as she tried to drink as speedily and as heartily as possible. She was a plumper woman, with dark hair, tan-skin and almond-shaped eyes. "Thank you, that you," She panted as a shaky hand returned the flask.

"You can keep it," Rana insisted as she pushed the drink back toward her. Rana offered a weak version of a smile to the other maiden although under the circumstances it was hard to even fake a smile.

She nodded and dropped the rods that she had been working with and continued to vigorously guzzle down every last drop. "I haven't had anything to eat or drink since I woke up this morning...its been more than a day I think since I slept..." she rambled. "it started out as a good day..." she mumbled. "I mean...I mean...not that any of this is good...its horrible! I...I...I don't even live in the Imperial City," the young woman expressed.

"You don't?" Rana asked.

"No," the young woman started to blubber. She tossed the flask aside and started sob into her hands. She wept long and hard and loudly. Rana looked around. She thought that maybe the people that knew this woman would come over to comfort her. She waited for a minute, but everyone was so frantic and frazzled frenzied working like bees never stopping and never ceasing and busily doing everything possible to make enough reactors to stop this impending apocalypse that they didn't see anything around them. Rana nervously started to sit her plat down on the table where the young woman had been working.

"Alright," the oldest daughter of Admiral Arn said. She reached out her hand and she touched the younger maiden on the shoulder. She started to massage and rub her shoulder. "It's ok...it's ok," she began to coo.

The woman looked up at her. There was true horror on her face. "How can you say that?" she asked shaking her head. "How can you say that? How can you say that?" she rattled off in a panic.

Rana threw her hands up in the air. "Alright! Alright, alright," Rana nodded. "You're right...you're right... you're right... this is bad...this is really bad," she expressed with a sigh as she kept rubbing the other woman's shoulders.

"Bad?' The woman snorted in disgust. The redhead woman wince. "It's worst than bad!" she snapped. "It's terrible! It's catastrophe...it's...it's...it's..." she hiccupped and gasped and even started to hyperventilate.

'Oh, my goodness! Oh, my goodness! Merciful Yggdrasil Take it easy! You're ok, you're ok," she expressed in the most soothing tone she could muster. "Here, have some tea," Rana began as she picked up a cup of hot liquid and passed it to the woman. The woman slowly nodded as she calmed herself down. She slowly staggered and slid down against the table until she came to a sitting position with her legs sprawled out in front of her. Rana stayed by her side she lowered herself down next to the woman and she kept the tea in her hand as she did so to have it there in case her new friend needed some.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the maiden muttered quietly as her head lulled back to rest against the ledge of the table.

"It's fine," Rana said as she bobbed her head slowly. "We're all scared. We're fighting for our lives," Lady Rana tried to explain.

The younger maiden nodded as well. She reached her hand out for the cup of tea. She took a few slow sips. The brew was fairly weak, but the warmth felt good. "I...I...I was accepted to the Imperial University here in the city," the young woman started to explain.

Rana's blue eyes lit up. A wide smile spread across her round face. She immediately started to clap her hands. "Oh! That's wonderful! Congratulations to you," Rana expressed as she rubbed the young woman's shoulders.

The tan skinned woman gave her a curious expression back, but respectfully managed to say thank you. "I live in Burk," she went on.

"Oh yes, yes," Rana nodded along as she brushed her hair out of her face. "Burk. Burk? The Village of the floating mountains?" she snapped her fingers.

"Why, yes," the younger maiden beamed. "Have you been?"

"Been?" Rana let out a hearty laugh. She tossed her head back. "Ha!" she blasted in the younger woman's face. "hardly!" she continued to guffaw. "Why would I waste my time in a small town like that?" she asked. "It's bad enough that I've been confined to the Dales," she rolled her eyes. "I mean...I mean...no, my dear, I haven't had the chance to visit your respectable, wee little hamlet," Rana restated quickly and with charm, putting on the classic smiles and airs of a courtier.

Perhaps it was the way she could switch her tone so easily and effortlessly that amused the young maiden so. Despite herself the girl let out a giggle. "I know...I didn't like it much either. I couldn't wait to leave and start my life here in the Imperial City," the girl looked around and chuckled. "That was stupid," she spit. "Now, I wish I was back in Berk," she expressed. "When the Dark-Elves attacked my family and I got separated...I don't even know if their alive," She said shaking her head and covering up her face.

Rana put her grimy finger to her lips. She didn't know what to say to this young woman. She wrapped her arm around her shoulder and squeezed her tight. "Shh," she cooed as she wrapped her other arm around the younger woman. "Don't cry I'm sure they're ok," she assured her. The young woman still shook her head. "This place is huge," Rana told her. "There are thousands maybe even millions taking refuge," she explained. "And everyone is so panicked and frantic that they really haven't had the time to record the names of everyone. "I'm sure they'll turn up, you'll see," she said as she nudged the other woman's face up.

The young woman looked up. She wiped her tanned face free from tears. Despite the sweat and grime and the obvious cuts and gashes that we on her face and her disheveled appearance it was obvious that she was a beautiful woman. There may have even been a time when Rana would have felt jealous. She didn't feel jealous today. She felt nothing but empathy. She gave the young woman a warm smile. The maid from Berk tried to smile. Her lips quivered as she did so, but the facial expression quickly faltered. "Even if they are...what chance is there for us to survive?" she asked.

"There's still a chance!" Rana stated boldly.

"Slim to none," the girl retorted back.

"Don't say that! We aren't dead yet. Everyone is working hard building the reactors and we still have soldiers. It's not over til it's over. You just have to believe!" she decreed. "Prince Thor still lives..." she went on more enthusiastically seeing the other young woman's despondency. "My sister is out there..." Rana reported. Her voice very hushed and her eyes starting to mist. "My baby sister..." she murmured.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm Rana, Rana Arndottir," the red-haired noble-woman expressed.

"I'm Walla," the younger woman stated.

"It's good to have met you...Walla," Rana expressed as she stuck her hand out to shake her hand.

"You too," Walla," muttered. "But what did you mean?" she pressed.

"My sister...she went back to free Prince Thor," Rana whispered.

"Went back!" the mountain dweller gasped loudly.

"Shhh! Shhh! Shhh!" Rana cooed as she patted the air trying to quiet her new friend.

Walla quickly put her own finger over her mouth and quieted herself. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whispered back, "But...but... but is your sister a Valkyrie or something? How could she go back...alone...alone like that... she went back to the palace?" Rana nodded her head in response. "But how? I mean... that place is crawling with Dark-Elf soldiers..."

"I know...but she has something...something valuable," Rana whispered in the tan-skinned woman's ear. "Something that could save us all...I just know it...I just know it's gonna work..." Rana expressed as she crossed her fingers.

"But...but how...how'd she get it? What is it? Is it a secret weapon?"

"I really don't know...I really can't say a lot," Rana stated. "Maybe I've said too much..." she looked around. "I don't think most people know...don't say anything," she cautioned the other woman quickly.

"I won't...I won't," Walla responded as she placed her hand on her heart and shook her head. "But please... tell me what it is," the young maiden was practically begging.

Rana started to stand up and push away. "I can't..." Rana stated as she scooted to her knees. "I don't even really know what it is myself," she shrugged.

Walla's big brown eyes batted rapidly. Her mouth dangled open like a codfish and she did a double take. "Then how do you know it'll work?" she demanded as she grabbed Rana's hand.

"Because," Rana began, "I'm not from the Imperial City either..." she gave her new friend a wink. "Well I used to be," she went on, "But that was centuries ago. "I've been living in the Dales. But I came here with my sister against our father's wishes and we carried this special something all the way here and I...I just can't believe that's all for nothing," Rana resolved. She squeezed her pretty blue eyes closed and she allowed the tears to fall fresh and hard down her dirty, smudged cheeks. She mashed her lips together and she put her hands on top of Walla's and she gave them a strong squeeze as well. "It's not for nothing," she kept repeating. "I just don't think that the Norns would have let it end up in Sigyn's hands or let me help her and bring her all the way here. I don't think that they would have let her go back to the palace for it to just mean nothing..." Rana elaborated. "Do you? Do you believe that Walla?"
Walla sat dumbfounded, but managed to bob her head. "So you can't give up," Rana warned. "I have to get back to my duties. We all have something to do to make sure we keep going and survive and I've got to get back to serving this drinks to help everyone keep up their strength," Rana said as she gathered her tray off of the table.

"And I've got to help gather as many scraps as I can we need every bit for the reactor," Walla made herself rise to her feet. Rana nodded in response. Walla didn't know why she felt thus inclined, but she reached her hand up toward her head and gave a salute. Rana returned the gesture.

Rana reached out her hands and opened her arms to give Walla one last hug. Walla ran into her arms and hugged her tight like a little girl. The oldest daughter of Admiral Arn held her tight... "If I don't find my family..." Walla stammered.

"You will find them," Rana insisted.

"But If I don't" she cut the noblewoman off abruptly. "Would...would...would... it be ok...If...If sometimes...while I'm in school if I came to call upon you?" she asked with sparkling eyes.

"You will find your family, Walla," The fiery-haired daughter of Admiral Arn replied as she wiped the tears from Walla's eyes. "But I'd love to go to lunch sometimes and show you my favorite sights in the city!" She quickly pushed away from Walla so that she could look the younger maiden in the face. They linked hands and the pair smiled at each other the way two good friends would. They swung hands and giggled like little girls.

"Well, I better get back to work," Walla finally sighed as she released Rana's hand.

"You and me both," Rana stated perkily. her bright blue eyes watched as the younger woman gathered up the bits of scrap and tin and rubber that she had been working with. Rana saw how she carefully worked with the pieces. She could only say a silent prayer of hope that she would actually have a chance to keep her promise to her new friend. Fear clutched Rana's hear t so tightly that she felt like crying. She bit her lip. The red lip-paint that she was famous for wearing was plainly washed off her face. She steadied herself and did her best to carry her drinks. "Water! Water! Hot tea!" she continued to call out to the workers.

She was quickly got rid of her drinks. All of the Asgardians were exhausted and thirst. Men and women young and own were all becoming wearied and fatigued. Even the legendary strength and stamina of the Aesir people was nothing compared in the face of the daunting task before. As she walked from room to room chamber to chamber, for forgery to lab she saw many of her own people passed out by the wayside. They'd simply collapsed no strength or power to go on. She had tried to rally a few. She'd stooped down and shook them, tapped them on the shoulders and even splashed some of the precious water on their faces nothing worked. Rana panicked at seeing the slumped over bodies. She gasped and nearly dropped her tray. She thought to go and start calling for the healers. What if all these people were...she gulped not wanting to even think such horrible thoughts. Even still she knew that the healers were already overwhelmed. The injury tole was like nothing she had ever seen. There weren't enough healers to treat the injured as of now. Horrifically, Rana had been privy to hearing one of the leading healers say, that they wouldn't be able to save everybody. It was monstrous to say. She was sure that other's in the healing wing had heard the same statement and because of this many had pressed and thrashed and hobbled their way out of bed. If they weren't in immediate danger they made way for women and children and the elderly to be taken care of first.

Rana started to shake, she rushed herself past many of the passed out Aesir. She felt so helpless and powerless in this entire situation. She wished that she could do something more to help than just passing out cups of water. She felt so stupid. For the first time in her life she'd wished that she'd invested herself in her studies. That she'd planned a head and tried to have done more with her life than just be a lady of the court. She wished she would have become a shield maiden or a mage or healer or alchemist or politician or... or something. Then at least she could have done something use to help her people and help the Nine Realms. She felt like nothing more than a tavern wench. But still, even if she was only a tavern wench, she had a job to do and she intended to do it.

Lady Rana Arndottir picked up her pace. She quickly headed to the galley and kitchen area to gather more water and tea to serve to everyone. The kitchen area was busy and bustling, There were many people who were chefs and some who weren't who had been busy rushing and rationing the reserves of food that that ancients had left behind for them. No one was in the kitchen long. No one was even talking. A person would just grab whatever foods or products that they need and then they would go rushing and whizzing by to deliver the goods to the place where it was needed. The larger kitchen had several stoves and ovens and, blenders and microwave like devices that were already going. The kitchen was hot, but when Rana arrived she found that she was alone in her small corner with the drinks. The rest of the other women had already gone back out. Rana welcomed the moment to simply wipe her brow and simply exhale. She was thirsty herself from rushing back and forth hither. She turned on one of the water pumps and watched as a fresh cool flow bubbled forth from the spicket. She should have been washing the dishes and gathering more clean cups to pour tea into but despite herself she found that she was only able to desperately lap up the water.

The red-haired maiden stood at the sink scooping cup after cup into her own mouth. "Lady Rana! Lady Rana!" Some one in the kitchen called, "Are you washing the dishes? Quickly girl! Quickly!" the urged her. "They need more to drink!" they demanded.

"Yes, yes, I know," Rana responded nervously. "I'm coming," she said nodding her head.

"Don't dally, milady, don't dally!" the gruff voice admonished. "They need these drinks to keep up their strength!" the elderly man who was the own of a very popular restaurant in the Imperial City shouted out her from behind.

Rana immediately dropped the cup that she had been drinking from and plopped it right back into the sudsy water. 'Yes, I know...I'm coming," the noblewoman responded as she plunged her hands into the gross dishwater.

"Get me 500 cups and distribute them to the rest of the servers," he snapped like he was giving commands at his restaurant, Idunn's Apple.

Lady Rana, looked around in near panic. "Wash 500 cups," she muttered allowed. "But sir," she called back. "I...I'm a server," she insisted.

"You're standing there." he pointed out. "Now, snap to," he ordered as she snapped his fingers. He didn't say anymore. He dashed away. Maybe he went to stir a pot of stew for the weary soldiers or for the infirmed.

Rana felt heat rise up in her. Her eyes brimmed with tears. It was foolish and juvenile, but she couldn't help the fact that she felt like crying at the task presented to her. She wanted to help, but washing 500 cups all by herself was simply too much. She'd never done such a task. That was a job for servants. Her family were little better than peasants now, but still her mother and father had done their best to keep up the pretense of a life style of nobility. They had maintained a handful of the family servants and they did most of work. Elke washed the dishes. Rana chastised herself for her foolish pride. She'd do whatever it took to help save their lives. Even scrub pots and pans until her knuckles bled. Full fists plunged elbow deep into the water. She started to vigorously wash.

She was lost in her work, busy scrubbing no one was with her and that was when she heard the wall open. She spun around nearly a fright as she saw a slim, bloodied, blonde figure emerge from behind a way, "Rana!" the figure cried with arms wide open.

Rana dropped the cup that she had been holding. Her mouth dangled open. The cup fell on the ground with a loud clang, the kitchen was too much of a bustle all around for anyone to notice the noise. She gasped and cover her mouth with her trembling hands. Her gentle blue eyes grew moist. Her started to quiver. "Sweet forefathers," she whispered. "Merciful Yddrasil!" she practically exclaimed. "Sigyn!" Rana shouted back her arms also flying open. She beckoned her sister forward and the blonde-haired daughter of Admiral Arn ran into her sisters tight embrace. "Sigyn! Sigyn! Sigyn!" she cried as tears washed down her face as she hugged her tight. "Oh my heavens and stars above," he announced breathlessly. "is it really you? Is it really you?" she asked. Sigyn was too choked up to make even a peep, but she nodded vigorously as her cheeked rubbed against her sister's. They had been hugging for a good few minutes when Rana finally broke the embrace. She pushed away from her sister only to inspect her up and down. "Sigyn," she squeaked and she grabbed her younger sibling by the face. "Oh my goodness, I thought...I thought...I thought...I'd never see you again," she blurted out.

Tears ran down Sigyn's face mixing with the blood and soot and dirt and sweat and washing a clean streak on her face. "Oh Rana," Sigyn gasped after she finally found her tongue. She cupped her sister's hands and held them fast down by her side. "I...I...I... I" she hiccupped. "I thought the same thing. I...I...I thought that you had returned to the Dales," Sigyn expressed as she shook her head.

"No, no... I never made it," Rana stated.

"But I thought you left right away..."

"Well," Rana began a cheeky little grin on her beautiful face. I was planning on it. I was planning on making great haste and returning right back to the countryside. But then I thought why am I doing that?" She bubbled forth with a loud laugh as she slapped herself in the head. "I mean I haven't had a the proper chance to be in the Imperial City in months, hello!" she bellowed. "So I thought well maybe I'd go to the Market Place Galleria or take up with some old friends see the newest bistro in town," Rana explained.

The blonde sister couldn't help, but listen to her sister with fondness and total understanding. It was so funny. All the things that she said were such Rana things to say. Actually, had she been in Rana's shoes she would have probably done the same exact thing. That was the thing that she dreaded most about living a life with Theoric in the Dales being away from all the excitement in the city. Sigyn felt a twinge of guilt. It was her fault that her dear sister was not able to indulge in her favorite pastimes of gossiping with her friends and spending every last sheckle she had at the market place. "So I rented a room at one of the local inns," Rana shrugged. "I was going to leave in the morning...but..." Rana's voice trailed off, her eyes dropped in their glance.

Immediately, all the fun and giddy and girlish energy from the conversation dissipated. As if it dawned on them for the first time in the 10 minutes since they'd been reunited that they were not just two sisters catching up. They were two refugees, prisoners of war in their own kingdom and this could still very well be the last time they'd see each other. Sigyn started to gasp, she wanted to cry, but instead it came out as hyperventilation and desperate attempted to suck in air. Finally, her breath registered in her chest and tears once more spilled out from her large as dubloon golden eyes. She covered her face and shook her head. "I wish you would have gone to the Dales! Tis not safe here! Tis not safe!"

Rana shook her head. She grabbed Sigyn's dirty hands and she pulled them away from her face. "Sigyn, Tis not safe anywhere," she expressed.

"Still," Sigyn immediately countered. She snatched her hands out of Rana's. She spun around on her heels unwilling to face her sister any longer. "Mother and Father are probably so worried about you. They don't even know if your alive."

"No I supposed they don't," Rana sighed. She'd been so fearful for her own life. So scared and panicked and busy trying to do what she could here in the sanctum that she had completely forgotten about what her parents might be feeling. They were luckier than her is all she had thought. "They probably think I'm alright," she shrugged. "They thought that I was in the Dales far away from all this fighting and death and peril."

"I'm sure they're still worried..." Sigyn stated as she hugged herself.

"They might not even know what's going on in all entirety," Rana continued. "News reaches the Dales so slowly," the red-head explained.

"They know enough I'm sure," Sigyn reported.

"Well then they are worried about the both of us," Rana insisted as she went behind her sister and put her hands on her shoulder.

Sigyn reached her right hand back to her left shoulder where she gave her sister's fingers a tight squeeze. "Mother and Father don't care about me anymore," Sigyn said with a sniffle.

"Sigyn, that's not true!" Rana nearly screamed.

Lady Sigyn raised her shoulders. "Alrght, perhaps mother does to some extent," she sighed. She supposed that there was a part of a mother that would always lover child no matter what. 'But father..." her voice broke. "Oh Rana, I'm so sorry, if it wasn't for me you could be back in the Dales you wouldn't be stuck in these underground ruins and you could enjoy your bed and a good meal and be with Mother and Father and your betrothed one last time...it's all my fault," she blubbered.

"Sigyn! No!" Rana yelled and yanked her by both shoulders and spun her around. "I'd be no safer in the Dales, this would have still all happened, Ragnarok is coming. There is no place where we can escape such a fate! And although, I do wish to see mother and father and my fiance again... I...I...I am happy to be here," Rana expressed as she swallowed a newly formed thick lump in her throat. She bobbed her head to herself as in proving the truth of her statement even in her own ears.

"Oh Rana!" Sigyn sighed. "How can you say that? Why would you rather be here where we are hiding like frightened rats held up in this hole and the city is burning...and...and...and,,," she sputtered nervously.

"Sigyn!" The elder sister held up her hand to quiet the younger. "I'm happy to be here because of you! If it is to be the end," Rana sighed and shuddered. She hunger her head and her red mane fell in her eyes. She was so hot and sweaty and dirty and wet and tired that even her naturally curl red-hair had lost its bounce and her hair hung limp and flat in her face. Her blue eyes finally looked back up into Sigyn's honeycomb colored irises. "I'm glad to spend it with you," she breathed again and let out a smile.

"Me too, my sister, me too!" Sigyn exclaimed she once again folded her older sister into a tight hug. She was shaking and trembling something first.

"I'm so glad you've returned!" Rana stated as she tangled her fingers in Sigyn's muddy blonde locks. "I can't believe you went back to the palace. All alone," Rana shook her head, "You could have been killed. "Thank the Norns you are alright," she said as she continued to stroke her younger sister's pretty face. It was then that she noticed her sister's face. Sigyn had bruises and scratches all over her face. There were deep gashes across her forehead and chin and purplish markings around the eye. She then took time to look at the rest of Sigyn's body. Her Frosck was ripped to shreds. The sleeves had been completely torn off. Her arms had contusions of them and even more cuts and scratched than her face had. "Sigyn! Oh my goodness," she squealed. "Look at your face! Your eye!" she pointed out. She reached out her dirty hands to try and cup her sister's face, but she was too scared to touch fearing that the spots may be tender. "Are you alright?" she questioned. "Oh never mind that!" Lady Rana flagged off her own statement. "We must get you to a healer!" she expressed. She immediately took Sigyn by the hand and started to drag her toward the healing chambers.

Sigyn did budge at first. "It's nothing Rana," she stated but all the while she was clutching.

'It's not nothing!" Rana protested. She noted the way Sigyn was clutching at her side. There was a distinct red liquid that slightly seemed to be gathering around her fingertips. "You're bleeding!" Rana exclaimed at the top of her lungs. Sigyn gasped and patted the air. A wince was on her face as she tried to quell her sisters obvious distress at her apparent injuries. Rana kept right on fussing and Lady Sigyn felt a wave of dizziness come over her. All at once she grabbed her head and her side. She rocked back and forth on her heels and toes and seemed as if she would keel over. Rana was all at once at her side gathering her in her arms and holding her steady. "Sigyn! Sigyn!" the red-haired maiden continued to shriek. She fanned her sister to try to keep her awake. "Oh that is it!" she said forcefully. "You must go to the healers! I'm taking you! No if, ands or buts about it," she insisted as she draped her younger sister's left arm around her shoulder and started to lead her out of the kitchen.

"No, Rana...p-p-please," Sigyn protested weakly as she shook her head. She tried to resist, but somehow her feet stumbled behind and followed in the direction that her sister was leading.

"No, you need help! You're hurt!" Rana shot back.

'It's just a couple of scratches," Lady Sigyn insisted as she even tried to look up and give her sibling a smile to ensure her that she was alright.

"Well then the healers can be the ones to determine that," Rana huffed. "Come on," she insisted as she slowed her gate a little so that Sigyn's limping legs could keep up.

"I have to go to the council! Please, sister if you must take me somewhere, take me to Asgard's High Council so that I can tell them what happened," she pleaded. "Then I'll go to the healers, I promise," Sigyn swore as she crossed her heart. Her bleary eyes looked up desperately at the older maiden.

Rana felt her own stomach starting to twist and twirl into knots. Her heart raced. Sigyn was in bad shape, but she knew that the it was imperative that the High Council of Asgard be privy to the news. "Sigyn, what happened?" the redhead asked. "Where's Prince Thor?"

" I couldn't get to him," Sigyn explained. "I...I...I...The Dark-Elves took him to the lowest part of the dungeon. The cells that are only accessible through the steps. They don't have the catacombs connected to them..."

"That's the part of the dungeon that is reserved for the most dangerous criminals in all the Nine Realms. So, they can never escape," Rana quoted the things that their father had told them. "How dare those despicable monster's hold our prince there!" the fiery redheaded Aesir maiden practically growled.

"It was the same place where Loki was held," Sigyn expressed.

"He's the monster the traitor! He's so desperately wicked! He's like no foul beast that I've ever seen or ever heard of! He deserved to be locked away in the deepest recesses of the dungeon," Rana insisted as she clenched her fists.

"I used to be able to get down there...I...Queen Frigga had me attending Loki...the guards would let me pass. They were too scared to go in anyway...but without a key...those doors are so heavy and thick...they are impossible to open!" Sigy muttered. "I couldn't do it...I failed." Sigyn started to sob. She started to cry long and hard. She was crying so loudly and fiercely that Rana could no longer carry her.

"Oh no, no, no," Rana began to soothe. She stopped in her walking for a moment a propped Sigyn up against the wall. She allowed Sigyn to rest her head on the cobblestone of the wall. Sigyn closed her eyes. She was gasping and panting. She mouthed for water and rana rushed back to retrieve her a cup. She sat down next to her as she gave her a drink. "Oh no, no, no, Sigyn you know that's not true. You did everything you could! You've been so brave and so strong this entire time! Why, why, you've been just as brave as any shield-maiden..." Rana encouraged. "You risked everything to bring that letter to that scum Loki in an effort to save us all," she explained as she patted her younger sister's head and looked down at her lovingly while she drank. "What...what happened there Sigyn... were you able to deliver the scroll?" Rana asked nervously. She bit her lip. Her heart raced as she waited for the golden-locked maiden's answer. She didn't know why for after all it was very foolish, but she had started to have faith in her sister's cockamamie scheme. She too had started to believe and hope in the power of what may have been contained in that parchment. It was an absolutely ridiculous hope. But she had to hope in something. The cosmos were on the brink of being destroyed. Odin lied in the Oversleep or worse, the all-mother was miles and miles away, their armies had fallen and the enemy had taken over the city. Prince Thor was locked in a subterranean cell, a prisoner of war and ancient prophecies of doom and despair loomed in the background. All in all their situation was pretty hopeless and so perhaps that is why she put her hope in the smallest of things.

Slowly, Sigyn managed to bob her head as she finished drinking the last drop of water from the rusted tin mug. She let the broken, banged up piece of tin fall from her hands. It rolled across the stone floor, but neither she nor Rana bothered to pick it up. Sigyn wiped her lips. "Yes, "She finally answered. "Yes, I gave it to him," she stated.

"And?"

"It didn't work," Sigyn whispered and dropped her head.

"What?" the elder daughter of Admiral Arn gasped.

"He didn't care what it said...he didn't even care about the fate of his own child," she shrugged.

"Monster!" Rana spat. "Monster! MONSTER! He's a monster, Sigyn, he is nothing more than that! it's not your fault," she held her sister's hand. She rubbed soothing circles on the back of her cut up dirty palm. She noted where Sigyn had rent her garments and tried to bandage her wounds, but the pieces of cloth that she had used were so dirty that she was scared the wound would fester. She patted her hand. "Look at all he's done!" she pointed out everything. "He tried to kill his own mother, brother...all his people...it was a high hope, but how could he care about whatever was on that scroll," she shrugged. "You have to have a heart to care or for something to change you and that's...that's what he doesn't have. He doesn't have one, Sigyn," she explained breathlessly, "He doesn't have one," she squeezed the younger woman's hand. "So you see... this isn't you fault...not at all. It's his fault, Loki's and Malekith's...they are the ones," she nodded slowly.

Sigyn bobbed her head in agreement, she licked her dry lips and sniffled a bit as she rubbed under her nose. "Maybe you are right, Rana," she said tiredly as she allowed her head once again to rest on the stones of the wall.

"Of course, I'm right, I'm your older sister," Rana put a her signature smirk. The kind made all the men forget their names. Sigyn couldn't help, but chuckle a bit at her sister. They chuckled wearily at each other. Their gentle laughter was the only thin to keep the pair from bursting into tears. "Come let's get those wounds treated," Rana offered her younger sister her hand as she staggered to a crouching position before pulling herself up fully,

"I have to tell the Council what happened first, Rana," The golden-locked maiden explained.

"I can tell them everything you just told me, while you go to the healers,"

"It needs to come from me...I was the one who went there...I have to tell them what I saw. Prince Thor was in pretty bad shape."

"But all that can wait, Sigyn, it can wait. It doesn't make a difference now. See...see...see Lady Jane...she has this idea...this project...these inventions and everyone... everyone...just everyone is working to build these things. I don't really know what exactly it is or what it does, but she and the mages seem to really think that it will work," Rana expressed hopefully. Her bright blue eyes were all alight with desperate hopeful sort of glee.

"Rana there's more," Lady Sigyn announced quietly as she looked up from her position against the wall.

"Oh Sigyn...it doesn't matter...it can wait...you need to rest, you need to get cleaned up and I need to get back to my task at hand," Rana stated as she dusted her hands.

"Task at hand?" Sigyn questioned.

"Yes, Sigyn, it's just like I told you everybody is working to make these things. These...these...these," Rana snapped her fingers as she searched for the words. "These reactors," she stated with relief. "I've been serving tea and water to all the workers."

"Oh that's just wonderful Rana, I want to help too...I've got to help too...we all have to do our part," Sigyn for the first time tried to push herself off the wall. She managed to rise slightly off of her bottom, but immediately slumped right back down.

"Sigyn!" Rana shrieked as she saw her sister's labored attempts to move. She was breathing hard and her face was contorted from pain as well. All along she was clutching her side. "Sigyn you have done everything! You rescued Lord Algrim and the rest of the delegates and soldiers you single handedly led them to the safety of the sanctuary. You! You alone were brave enough to go back to elf infested place and try to free Prince Thor and you even had the courage to face that scoundrel Loki," she exclaimed. "You've done everything! You need to rest," she explained as she held her sister firmly by the arm and pulled her to her feet. Sigyn breathed out hard through her nose trying to control the stabbing pain that was cutting through her side. She allowed her older sister once more to drape her arm across her shoulder. She wanted to tell the High Council, but maybe Rana was right maybe she did need to get her wounds tended to first.

"Rana," she whispered into her sister's ear.

"Shhh, just take it easy," Rana cooed back. "You'll be to the healers in no time, I promise," she wrapped her other arm tighter around Sigyn's waist.

"Rana, when I went back to deliver the scroll to Loki..." she paused as she tried to catch her breath. Her golden eyes darted about as she debated whether or not she could tell Rana the truth. She wanted to. Growing up they had always been so close. They always shared secrets. In all this Rana had been her constant companion and accomplice. She supposed she deserved to know the truth. If Asgard was to fall then it would be because of her and she didn't want to have her self painted as some saint...she had her part to play in the downfall of her beloved realm. "I...I...I fought him," she muttered.

"Fought him?" Rana asked in astonishment. "How...how...how did you escape? He could have killed you!" she reported.

"I had...I had the arrows," She elaborated.

"Arrows?" Rana was confused. "What arrows?"
Sigyn didn't have the strength or energy to explain. She waved her had and flagged off the question. "It was a weapon, a magic weapon, Loki gave me long ago...I found them in the palace," she gave as much detail as she could. "The arrows are enchanted they can't miss...they made the fight fairer, but that's not the point..."

"I know...I know...I know the point...he attacked you! He did this to you! He hurt you like this?"

"Yes. I mean...no...no...that's not the point!" Sigyn said as she looked up. "What I'm trying to say is...Rana...is there was a moment...a moment in which I had the upper hand you see. Loki was unconscious and I...I had the opportunity to kill him..."

"Sigyn," Rana gasped. "Did you?"

"No." Sigyn whispered. She dropped her eyes and bowed her head and looked down at her dirty scratched up fingers and started to fiddle with them.

Rana shook her head. "What?" the red-haired daughter of Admiral Arn questioned. "I...I...I...I what are you saying?" she practically shouted. Her face started to match the color her hair. Her lips were quivering swiftly. She was sputtering and stuttering. Her eyes practically bulging out of her head. "I...I...I..." he breath came quickly. "I don't understand," she continued to shake her hand. "Are you telling me..." she started to shout.

"Shhh, shh, shh" she cooed up at her older sister from her crouched position on the floor.

Rana's eyes were wide with anger still she managed to squat down next to Sigyn. She gripped her tightly by the shoulder. The sharp edges of her broken nails dug swiftly into Sigyn's shoulder. They seemed to slice the warn fabric of her shawl and cloak and burrow into her skin. Sigyn wimpered slightly. She could only hope that her sister wasn't trying to hurt her. Rana leaned over into the younger Aesir female's face. "You mean to tell me that you had the opportunity to finish him? To end all this?" Rana demanded as she leaned her lips against her sister's ear and ground out every syllable. Sigyn's breath hitched and she couldn't bring words to her chapped lips but she nodded her head yes. "And you didn't do it? You didn't take a shot?" She pushed away from Sigyn and glared daggers at her.

"Sister, please!" Sigyn yelped as she finally found her tongue.

The redhead couldn't stop shaking her tangled web of curls. She also couldn't control the salty liquid that cascaded from her eyes as they washed away the smudges and dirt on her cheeks. "Why?" Rana demanded as she stood to her full height.

"I couldn't," Sigyn confessed.

"That's not could enough!" Rana protested. "You are willing to let all of us die. To let all these terrible things and prophecies come upon us... to let Ragnarok destroy this world, but you weren't willing to kill him! Why? He's the one who has done all this!" she did all she could to keep from screaming.

"I've never killed before," Sigyn tried to explain.

"You've stepped on a bug before haven't you?" Sigyn avoided her older sister's gaze. "Haven't you!" Rana didn't lighten up and Sigyn could only respond with a mournful sigh and nod of the head. "Then I see no difference! He is the lowliest creature there ever was!" Rana hissed.

"Rana...I love him!" Sigyn blurted out as she climbed to her feet. She and Rana were standing face to face eye to eye. Rana's hand balled into a fist reflexively and then she relaxed it only to launch it as a cold, hard back slap against Sigyn's already bloodied cheek. Sigyn stumbled backward crashing against the wall clutching her offended cheek.

Rana's shoulders heaved. "I love you, Sigyn, but you are an idiot! You're an idiot! YOU'RE AN ABSOLUTE FOOL!" she roared. "And you have doomed us all," she shook her head taking steps backward.

"Rana, please! Just wait...please...try to understand..." Sigyn begged as her hands and arms reached toward her sister.

Rana snatched her arms from Sigyn's reach. "Don't tell them what you did," she cautioned.

"Why?"

"Because they'll execute you...and if Ragnarok is to befall us then you might as well live to see your handiwork," Rana snarled before she turned around as dashed away.


n elderly man made his way to one of the rooms where Asgard's leading engineers were desperately trying to compose Jane's schematics for the reactors. There had originally been 100 or so men and women eagerly working, but slowly exhaustion had set in and they'd passed out one by one. They'd simply collapsed on the ground, some still clutching parts and pieces for the reactors. Others were slumped against the wall trying to work but in their frenzied state of fatigue the were slowing down the process with their numerous mistakes. There weren't many coherent workers left, but in the midst of them there stood a mortal woman. She was wearing goggles and holding a blow torch in one hand and hammer in another and she was barking out orders and asking for assistance. A few Asgardians tried to follow her commands, but even she was running on fumes. "I need the poly-fiber plank panels!" She called as she tried to fasten the parts on the reactors.

The older man hobbled his way toward her. He leaned heavily on an old, gnarled wooden cane. "is this what you are looking for?" he asked. His voice was cracked and shaky.

Jane looked up from her toils. She flipped her auburn hair out of her face and wiped the back on her head across her sweaty brow. Her vision was blurred and hazy, the lighting wasn't good and she was beyond exhausted. She looked at the old man's face. He looked practically ancient. His face wrinkled and creased and his hair was long and white. His back hunched. He had age spots. His hand shook slightly as he passed the young human the parts that she needed. He was so old, but his eyes. His eye were bright and wide and a vivid shade of green.

Jane nodded, "Thanks," she said as she took it in hand.

"Looks like you can use some help," he laughed. He slightly cackled as he learned on his cane.

Jane looked around. Many of the laborers were gone, either they had just given up or fallen asleep or went to the infirmary. But either way the numbers were dwindling. "Yeah," she admitted. Her own mine was becoming hazy and slightly incoherent at this point. She'd never gone so long without sleep.

"What do you need?" the old man asked with a smile and Jane was sure she'd seen that smile before.

"I...I...I" the scientist started. She looked around. There was so much she needed. "More hands," she whispered.

"You have my hands," he replied. He showed her his palms. His hands were thin and veiny and wrinkly as prunes and they were shaking. They didn't seem so capable.

Lady Jane Foster sighed. She needed all the help she could get. "Do you know mechanics?" she asked wearily.

"Indeed I do milady," he replied. "I'm a tinker now, but I used to make solar skiffs," he reported and stuck out his chest and then started to cough as he took in a deep breath. He coughed for a long while.

"Are you alright?" Lady Jane asked. She left the reactor and went to fetch the old man a cup of water. He took the cup and drank.

"Many thanks milady," he said as he wiped his mouth.

"It's kind of you to offer sit, but this is hard work and you seem quite...well...well"

"Old," he said with a grin. "I bet I do seem old to a mere mortal," he stated.

"Hey!" Jane Bulked.

"Oh don't like people judging you by what you seem like on the outside," he joked and quirked his eyebrow.

Jane was about to say something, point out that she had enough help, but just as she was about to say so...she noticed another one of the capable Asgardian inventors who she'd been working with hit the ground with a large thump. "OK," she looked up at the older man and smiled. 'I need..." she started,

"Let me see your schematic," he stated. Jane blinked for amount. She was so weary words becoming harder to process. Finally, some understanding dawned upo her and she slowly handed over the blue prints. The old man quickly looked them over. His sharp eyes tracing and memorizing the details. He quickly rolled up the paper. A smirk written on his lips. "You came up with these all by your lonesome, did ye?" he asked. "No help from the learned scholars we have in Asgard?" he inquired.

Jane huffed. "Yes, I did," she snatched the schematic out of his shaky hands. "I've been studying physics for years. I've always had a fascination with gravity. Stars..." she started to explain. The old man wore a patronizing, but bemused grin. Like when adults listen to a child's excitement over discovering the basic facts in life like the face that red and blue make purple or that plants grow when you water them. Jane set her lips firm. "Look, we humans aren't just ignorant cavemen," she barked. "Now are you going to help?" she asked in exasperation, "because there are other's who are working who need my assistance. "I'm trying to build remotes here," she proclaimed.

"My hands are at your service, Lady Jane," he insisted as he showed his wrinkled palms once more.

"Ok, well fine, you can start by looking for these thin wires you need to connect them to the hard drives..." she explained.

"Might I make a suggestion, my lady?' he asked.

The female astrophysicist chuckled to herself, "shoot," she retorted

"You're using copper –wiring," he pointed out. "it works, it's provincial, but it works," he shrugged. "It won't make your reactors as powerful as it could be though, this is an infinity stone you are competing with..."

"I don't know anything about these blasted stones... but the math works and I don't have time for a debate we only a few hours left," Jane shook her head and bit her lip and she kept screwing and twisting and twirling and twinning the pieces of wiring. "We don't have time! We don't have time! We don't have time!" she muttered frantically. Her lip quivered a sob escaped. "Come on! Come on! Work!" She shouted at the elderly Aesir cobbler. Se shot up to her feet and spun around on her heels and her palm was open and she was ready to strike him in the face. He caught her hand with quick reflexes. His face was firm, but tenderness and pity graced those creases in his skin. Jane started to shake! Her whole body was trembling/ She looked around at all the Aesir who were working, working tirelessly at building these machines. "Work! Work! Work!" she shouted at the old man. He was surprisingly strong for how feeble seeming his body was. "I have to get these things to work! Everyone is counting on me! And..I...I...I...I don't know what to do!" she cried. The auburn haired scientist simply started to blubber into the cloak of the old man.

His withered old hands rubbed soothing circles on her back. He pressed her tighter into his bosom and tried to muffle the sound of her sobs so as not to alert the few dedicated men and women who were still standing and doing their best to work. "What I'm trying to tell you Lady Jane is that if you use unrefined mineral quartz and platinum wiring you will be able to magnify the application of your reactors," he explained.

"How do you know?" Jane asked pushing herself off of him and wiping her eyes.

"Do the math," he stated with a smile. "Mineral Quartz is the same raw substance that was used in the building blocks for Yggdrasil. The greatest transporter of gravitation there is," he explained.

Jane thought about it, "Yeah, but where are we going to access to these materials. The engineers are pressed to find the resources that we need as is. We aren't going to have enough reactors as it is" she shrugged.

"You'd only need a few particles of quartz to be connect it to the reactors and the remotes," the old man went on.

"Alright," Jane said slowly. She rubbed her eyes. "But we don't have these things," Jane stated.

The elderly man with sparkling eyes let out another twisted wry grin. "Oh yes we do," he expressed. He opened the folds of his cloak and revealed a small amulet that contained quartz particles.

"Where did you get that?" Jane asked

"It's mine. I didn't steal it if that's what you want to know. I've had it for years. It's been in my family for thousands of years. My great-grandfather was one of the first to develop plans for the Bifrost...this was a piece of the original Bifrost," he explained

"But that's not enough..."
"It will be. You won't need much. It's an excellent conductor. We can use a tiny fragment it will do the trick," he expressed.

"I'd have to get one of the other scientists who I've been working with to verify this. I...I...I don't know...I can't risk all our lives..." Jane muttered. She was too tired to think of every element and chemical compound necessary. "besides, that''s only part of the equation isn't it. You still need the platinum, don't we?" Jane asked

"You don't need much, milady I can assure you," the old man insisted and he passed her the amulet made of priceless quartz.

"Master Bardok!" Jane called to the mage who was working hard to instruct some of the less skilled and knowledgeable laborers. They had taken to using young people and apprentices who seemed to have more strength and energy to carry out the tasks, but even the youngest seemed to lacking the strength and stamina to stay awake or keep working much longer. Bardok upon hearing the call of young female scientist dismissed himself from his charges and and walked over to Lady Jane.

"Lady Jane, is everything alright?" He asked in a weary voice. The feeble looking old man glanced up with admiration at the master mage of the realm. He was handsome and stately and he held himself in confidence in power as a man with his giftings should. "Who is this?" Bardok asked as he did a double take of the wrinkled, old bag of bones who stood before him. He studied him, his skin was dusty and dirty his face scarred and warn and marred with age, his bent over posture and frail, shaky frame didn't seem to house one of the ancient nobles of the realm. Everybody in their underground fortress looked tattered and disheveled, but the man's clothing was simple and he was sure he was a peasant. Still something in the peculiar coloring of his eyes made him look familiar. "Do I know you?' Bardok asked as he turned his head and scratched his chin as he studied his elder.

The older man leaned heavily on his cane, his rickety bones set to trembling something fiercely, "No, my lord...I'm sure we haven't met," he said with his head Bowed and he clutched his cloak tighter toward him to conceal more of his face. "I don't much fraternize with your ilk, sir," he stated.

"He has a proposal," Jane stated. She yawned. "I don't know it seems reasonable, but we can't afford any mistakes," she expressed. The old man began to explain to the young, master enchanter things about quarts and its property to harness energy and how platinum would be able to transfer the electric charges much more rapidly.

Bard snapped his fingers. "By Yggdrasil," the young mage whispered.

"Foolishness?' Jane questioned.

"No, brilliance," Bardok gasped. The old man gave a sly smirk. "I wish I would have though of this. Or Master Drek or after all he's an alchemist," He shook his head and blinked blearily astonished by the accuracy of the proposal. "We should redo all the already made reactors, Lady Jane," Bardok explained excitedly.

"Break them down and start over?" The auburn-haired astrophysicist muttered. "But we can't their won't be enough time..." she grabbed hold of Bardok's arm.

"You must build from what you have using these materials," The old tinker explained.

"It won't be enough for a lot," Bardok reacted.

"We'll have to make do," Lady Jane stated. "Everyone is exhausted. I don't know how much longer any of us can go on..." she muttered.

"If we don't press there won't be any of us left to go on by morning light." Bardok reasoned.

"Can you build one prototype, with Lady Jane and I can get some workers to break down these materials into the tiny particles that we need?" Bardok asked

"Aye, sir," the old tinker responded. With that Bardok rushed off he ran over to the different groups telling them to stop their work that their was going to be a change of plans. Meanwhile the elderly tinker showed lady Jane where to place a small sample of quartz and how to twine and twirl the platinum wiring around the piece of quartz so as to conduct just the right amounts of electricity.

"How did you learn this," Jane asked once they had made the first quartz reactor.

The old man chuckled. "I once worked for a great enchanter," he explained. "I would sneak into his library and read as much as I could. I applied what I learned to mechanics later on," the old man expressed.

"I believe your ideas will work," Jane stated. "If they do...if we survive. I will make sure to mention your name to the royal family. I'll make sure you receive the honors you are due... you'll have saved the entire Nine Realms," Jane stated with yawn. She had stopped working, her bloodied and blistered fingers were unable to go on.

"If we survive, milady that will be reward enough," the elderly gentleman chuckled.

Jane nodded, he legs gave out from under her. She had to take a seat, she plopped down on her bottom, her head rocked from side to side. Her eyes were unable to stay open any longer. "Perhaps you are right... perhaps you are right," she muttered deliriously with her eyes closed.

She nearly collapsed, but the old man caught her as she was slumping to her side. "Sleep, Lady Jane. You have done impressively, but you must rest," he whispered tenderly to her as he lowered her to her side.

"No, no," Jane protested weakly. "We have to build them...I...Ihavetosee," she slurred. She struggled, she shook her head and did her best to try to sit up, but his wrinkled hands ever so comfortably cradled her head and she felt compelled to sleep. Her body and mind unable to fight it off anymore. She was sound asleep in his hands instantly. The old man gingerly lowered her to the floor and then walked away.

He walked around the chamber. He took note of how the few individuals that still remained were on their last leg. Most of the people of Asgard had no more to give. Slowly, the hammers had started to fall still and silent, the gears and stopped turning and twirling and grinding. Fingers that had once been working diligently and nonstop were slowly becoming unable to to twist or build any more. The Asgardian people were strong, but they were pushed to the brink in everyway. Jane's reactors had the potential to work. They were well calculated and thought out and the science and technology was sound, but even still the old man knew that it would take more than the machines that had been built to stop Malekith and the Aether. The people of Asgard on some level would have to stand and fight. At this rate none would have the strength to do so if they didn't rest.

"Lady Jane! Lady Jane! How's it going?" asked Bardok as he walked back over to the elder and the human. "Lady Jane!" He gasped upon seeing her snuggled on her side on the cold, damp floor. "What's happened here?' the enchanter questioned the old man.

The elder bowed his head. "Poor child fell asleep sir, she is but a mortal after all," he shrugged.

"Yes, quite," Bardok rationed, "but did you at least build the new reactors? Show me how? We have to get this done! Time is of the essence," he looked around frantically.

"You need sleep too, young Bardok," the old man stated. He had a tender tone to his voice.

"Nonsense!" Bardok protested. "We'll sleep when we are dead and at this rate if we don't finish with these gravitational reactors that will be might soon ! Show me what you did old man!" Bardok demanded roughly. The old man sighed and placed the platinum wires in enchanter's hand. Their hands touched momentarily and he latched on and help Bardok's hand. "What are you doing?" Bardok asked quite frantically, "Let go," he said as he tried to pull free of the hand that was clasping his.

"Sleep," the elderly tinker muttered quietly. With that the young mage felt of wave of inescapable drowsiness wash over him. His eyes blinked slowly, he yawned and then he fell face forward toward the ground. The old tinkers old arms catch him and he is placed on his side next to Lady Jane.

With that the poor, old mechanic begins to walk around the room. Most of the Aesir are too, weak, too injured, too traumatized to continue working. All around the small chamber, he finds people slumped and stooped in sleep. The few who have managed to stay awake are up on simple will power and adrenaline. The old man walked around, mild mannered and unassuming, looking more like a curious bystander and the people are too distraught, too engrossed in their labors and efforts and some are simply too delirious to take much note of the hobbling cobbler who tapped them on the shoulder.

He touched the shoulders of those who still fought sleep with all the tenacity that an Aesir should possess. There were very few of them, but as he gently tapped them on the shoulder they too slumped forward in sound slumber. Some fell asleep on their feet like horses. And in a minute the only sound that could be heard from the work station was a cacophony of snores.

Once everyone was asleep in the chamber the old man stood in the center. He was leaning on his cane and he had a small, barely visible smile ghosting across his old cracked lips. He released the cane and straightened his back and rose to a proper height. He stretched his hands forth and cracked his knuckles. Then he started to move his weathered hands in languid, liquid movements like he was performing ancient martial arts. As he whipped his hands about a bright green glow escaped from the old man's fingers. The light seemed to ooze out of his finger tips. it swirled around and about the chamber it picked up the tools and the gears and the particles and the parts and pieces that were needed to make the reactors and their respective remotes. Platinum wires and pieces of the raw mineral of quartz and metal panels and electric rods floated through the air and fused themselves together forming the needed machines. In less than 20 minutes the machines which would have take hours to build, hours that they didn't have, were formed.

The old man's haggard appearance seemed to melt away. Instantly his wrinkles evaporated and revealed smooth, supple young skin. His gray hair transformed into midnight tresses. His disgusting, dirty garments faded and pristine, leathers and fine linen tunics were revealed. From the folds of his cloak he pulled out an old pocket watch.

A/N: READERS! YOU MADE IT! That chapter was long. Give yourself around applause now get a drink of water or a bowl of ice cream and treat yourself. This chapter is what I call the calm before the storm because the next chapter is the BATTLE! I can't promise it will be as epic as Infinity War or Endgames, but I will try. Now if you've been reading this whole time and you've never before left a review don't be shy this is your chance. ENDGAMES is out people the MCU as we know it is over so its time to share all your feels. Message me if you just want to rant about Endgames. I'll listen, we can cry, laugh, vent and brain storm together.

P.S. For those of you who have seen Infinity War and Endgame it must be noted that these epic stories have some distinct parallels with the Biblical predictions of the end times. Namely the Rapture. I would love to share with anyone who is interested about this topic. Hit me up with a message.

GOD BLESS YOU!