Visitation

by kalimecat

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

59. Always Darkest Before the Dawn

A/N: HELLOOOOOOO READERS! OMG READERS IT HAS BEEN A LONG TIME! I'm sooooo sorry that it has taken me so long to update. I had not realized that it had been almost 4 months. I think that is the longest I have ever gone without posting and I am so, so, sorry. The last time I posted it was still 2020 (glad to have that year behind us), but now we are making our way into 2021 and I hope that for all of you it is a better one for all of us. That being said it has been an incredibly busy season as we readjust in these times and get back to the new normal. But please know that I haven't forgotten about you or this story. I appreciate each and every one of favorites, follows, and of course reviews. They always brighten my day. I hope that you have all managed to stay safe. This chapter was incredibly difficult to write and even still I'm not overwhelmed by it, but it is what it is and I did my best because this chapter is crunch time! Well, I won't keep you in suspense. Happy reads and writes, God bless you!

Chapter 59

"I SAID KNEEL!" the self-proclaimed king of Asgard exclaimed. He struck the ground with the magnificent weapon of kings. The sound of the blow resounded just as much as Loki's shrill and strained voice. Lights flashed. A big, bright light like a pulse shot forth from the staff. It encircled the crowd of Asgardians who were screaming and rioting and clawing and fighting and literally doing all that they could to break forth from the chains of bondage that they had been pressed in and free themselves and free their prince. The pulse that shot forth from the mighty scepter was practically blinding. The Asgardians shielded their eyes. Before their eyes had time to adjust, before they could bat them twice and look around and gain a sense of composure once more, they felt it too. They all began to feel the same intense magnetizing pressure that had claimed Lady Sif. Against their wills and against their might they felt themselves being pressured down, down, down toward the ground. Some tried to fight it. Loki watch in the groupings. he watched ones that were closest to the front. Naturally, the Einherjar and the guards from the palace, and then he spotted a few more surprising souls. He noticed the soldiers that were dressed in blue and purple capes. He noted the fancy plumage on their heads. Those radiant peacock feathers. The Queen's guard from Kytheria. King Loki momentarily mashed his already thin lips together so that they disappeared completely. He did this to keep from allowing a smile to ripple right across his thin features. He held it momentarily. He became excited. Nearly giddy. This was simply splendid. Everything was going to according to plan. Frigga had gotten the message.

Loki continued to watch the Aesir struggle. They fought relentlessly against the power of the Gungnir. It was nearly amusing. That was the way of Asgardians, they never gave up. In years past it had been one of their most aggravating qualities because they hadn't recanted when he was a lad from teasing him mercilessly that magic and enchantment weren't real forms of warfare. They held true to their petty and narrow-minded and under-educated notions tooth and nail. Perhaps they had their flaws, but now their tenacity was oh so endearing. Loki swallowed hard. He used Gungnir so that Malekith wouldn't use the wrath of the Aether and blast them all to Valhalla.

The compulsion and the urge to sink down to the floor became all too heavy. One by one he watched them crumble and tumble toward the broken cobblestones and bricks that made up the City Square. The bodies of all those poor souls who had been forced into the City Square and squeezed in as tight as sardines well were bent and bowed and broken. They pitifully fell and kowtowed and bowed before their new king. They fell over like dominoes in a mighty rippling effect. It was perfect and beautiful, Loki thought. How long had he imagined and had he dreamed of such a moment when all of Asgard was bowing before him and when he was ruling as king. It was a strange thing how visions could change and contort. He'd wanted to be king, but not necessarily to Lord over his brother, no he'd only wanted to be Thor's equal. He'd wanted them to share the throne, but that was impossible a kingdom couldn't have two kings. He hadn't ever wanted to be a ruthless dictator over the Aesir, he wanted to be their benevolent ruler, respected and admired, he wanted to build an even better realm for them if it was even possible. He hadn't wanted to drive his father to an early grave, no on the contrary, he'd wanted to make his father proud, he wanted to hear his father's praise and see him beam with pride for him in front of all. It had only happened on a few rare occasions. Perhaps it had happened so rarely that Loki thought he had only imagined the few times it did. He hadn't wanted his mother to have to send the guard after him. He loved her so much, he'd never wanted to hurt. Not like this. It was quite funny and strange how a vision could change and morph.

"Lady Sif!" Volstagg cried out. He was trying to press his way forward in the throws and throngs of the mob. He was rushing, running at full speed with his ax raised to aid his friend. Sif let out several cries as the ground enveloped each of her limbs. Her double-bladed sword was just inches away from her and yet she couldn't reach it. She couldn't take it. "Hang on Sif!" the rotund Einherjar bellowed as he came racing forward. Volstagg was rather light on his feet and he managed to leap over most of the crowd of soldiers who were pressed toward the front of the line. But what goes up always comes down. Volstagg's jump didn't quite make it across the line of soldiers. Gravity pulled him down and not just to the ground, but through the ground. All the while his blubbery body was forced to sink to the ground as well. "Release her, Loki!" Volstagg shouted from the side. Volstagg sank lower to the ground. "You'll pay for this! You'll pay for this treachery Loki!" Volstagg continued to shout. His eyes were welling up with tears as he felt his hands sinking into the ground. The ground turned to mud and his hands and legs sank deep into them. Soon he was up to his chin in mud.

The cries of the Asgardians rang out as they fell to the ground. Some of the soldiers tried to fight hard against the energy and the magnetic pull toward the floor. With valiant effort before their hands were magnetically pulled to the ground, they thrust their javelins and spears and swords toward Malekith and Loki. They had laser focus. They set their sights and they held deadly aim. Lord Malekith could have easily been skewered by about a dozen spears, about 5 swords came twirling out of the thick sea of people like tornadoes, and could have decapitated the self-proclaimed king. The Einherjar wouldn't quit they kept throwing whatever they could before their arms were glued to the ground. They managed to hit a few of the Dark-Elf soldiers. They took them down like paper cards. They would have gotten the two leaders as well Malekith not shielded them both with a protective blast of the Aether. The powerful crimson shards blasted the spears and swords right back at the crowd. It splintered some of the weapons. Other weapons re-entered into the crowd and injured some of the Asgardians. Loki heard their agonized wails. The mage cut the warlord a side-eye.

Malekith began to mutter to Loki in the language of the Dark-Elves. It was crude rough speech, "You handled that nicely," the leader of the Dark-Elves admitted as he looked at the Aesir people with their backs bent and head bows. Humbled and helpless. That was how he liked his victims. How he always liked his victims. He'd subdued many worlds. Many had fallen to his blade and to his army and to the might of the Aether before and he had left their spirits broken, but those others they were weak-willed people anyway after a century or so in the darkness most of the people and kingdoms he had conquered had died out. The Aesir were a strong people and they could be slaves to the Dark-Elves for at least 1000 years. And they would be just like this, broken and humble and powerless to do anything against him. He smiled and snickered at the sight of them with their heads facing the ground.

King Loki of Asgard kept his lips tight and nearly pursed. He raised his horned head higher. He wrapped his fingers tighter around the handle of Gungnir. "You expected less," he squared his shoulders. His high golden shoulder pads stood pointed and firm like mountains rolling off of his back. "I know how to deal with the Aesir miscreants," Loki remarked.

"Your approach is effective, but mild for my taste," Malekith stated in the language of Svartalfheim. Malekith turned his head to look back at Prince Thor. Asgard's rightful king was bound in chains floating overhead, helpless and unable to even move a muscle. His body was still frozen in a rigid and uncomfortable position. He was still frozen like an animal in mid-pounce. Thor had fallen unconscious from trying to break free of the spell. He had fought and struggled with every fiber of his being. His muscles and mind were performing a task that his body was unable to perform. Slowly, Thor's eyes started to blink open. He heard the frantic cries of his people.

"MERCIFUL YGGDRASIL!"

"SAVE US!

HELP! HELP US!"

"All-FATHERS HELP US!"

Finally, Prince Thor awoke. He was unable to even shake his head, but he blinked his eyes and looked around and he beheld the terrible sight. He saw so many Aesir. So many of his people crouched down like animals in the mud the dirt. He saw all the blood and carnage. The bodies that were torn asunder discarded and left to rot. The City Square which was supposed to be a place of beauty and festivity for the Aesir people was been destroyed. Looking down one could not tell that the cobblestone street was truly made of gold and silver. Now it was just soot and ash, nothing but rubble. The monuments. The beautiful monuments of the great kings and queens of Asgard's past were toppled over and cracked. Their heads had rolled away from their bodies. Thor's blue eyes rolled over as he looked at the figurines of his ancestors. Decapitated. He soon would share their fate. He managed to bring his eyes upward just enough to catch a glimpse of the lovely Fountain of Futures. It had been such a prized landmark in Asgard. It had 5 enormous spouts, they flowed like waterfalls, its pool was so deep and so pleasant that many of the poorer citizens in Asgard would come out and swim in it and cool themselves in the cool sparkling waters. They play around the sculpted depictions of the great whales and the 3rd Queen of Asgard who was actually of partial Nornish descent. She had the gift of foresight. She was the first to tell the Aesir about the Pool of Sight within their own realm. Oft Aesir would come to the fountain and toss coins in for good luck and blessed futures. Young lovers would get engaged there. Many couples had wedding portraits painted there. In the New Year, his mother always commanded that the fountains be filled with fine wine and champagne so that all the citizens of Asgard could come and drink and make merry. Now that fountain was running red with the Aether's ash. It was like poison leaking into the lifeblood of the city. Hearing their bloodcurdling screams broke his heart. It sent his heart pounding and thundering in his chest like nothing else ever had. Men, women, and children all losing their lives for nothing. Families being destroyed, lives ruined, and for what? So that Loki could call himself a king? A king of what? A king of a broken shell of a people? A king of a kingdom of darkness. He'd be no king. He may be a tyrant, but he would never truly a king.

Thor heard them calling for his help. They were begging and pleading and desperately crying hoping that he could do something. There he sat frozen. Suspended and imprisoned by some invisible means and helpless to defend his people. He couldn't even open his mouth to scream. His jaw was forced shut. Held in a tight trap against his will. He kept trying. He kept trying to force his mouth open. He kept trying to scream. He was trying so hard inwardly that he made his vocal cords sore from the urgent strain that yielded no results. Once again Thor felt the immediate surge of hopeless fatigue engulf him once more. His bloodshot, sapphire blue eyes, the only part of his at any liberty to move at will, were starting to close, but not before they managed to be able to cast a glance a Sif.

"Sif!" he screamed inwardly as he saw his brave friend on the ground on her knees. She was just like him stuck and shamefully held against her will. Sif was yelling out as well. She sounded like she was in terrible pain as her body was sinking into the stones of the ground. It seemed like Loki had opened up a hole and had tried to bury her. The brave, warrior woman was sunk deep, pass her waist. She was reaching furiously with her hands. Thor couldn't tell exactly what it was that she was trying to do. Maybe she was trying to claw her way out the pit or if she was reaching for her double-bladed staff. Thor realized that he was talking about Lady Sif. She would only have one goal and that would be to grab her double-bladed javelin and get it so that she could use it to take out her enemy until her last breath. That was the way Lady Sif was. That was what she was. She was Valkyries Valkyrie. She was an Einherjar's Einherjar. She was an Aesir until her dying breath.

The crown Prince wanted to help her. He wanted to aid her more than anything. He wanted to be by her side and have the honor of death in combat not just tied calf waiting for the slaughter. Sif was far too far away from her weapon, but still, a booted foot managed to kick the weapon further away from Lady Sif's reach. Soon she could not reach at all. Her hands just sank right into the bricks and if they were nothing but mortar. It was the wicked machinations of the evil gem called the Aether. Thor couldn't even clench his teeth as with horror he gazed upon the booted foot drawing ever slowly nearer and nearer to the Einherjar general. The boots walked without hurry and they were plated with gold. Thor immediately knew that it was Loki. He growled and seethed and raged, but he still stayed motionless and silent hovering over Loki's head as unnoticed as a cloud. He watched as nonchalantly; Loki's boot simply kicked Sif's double-bladed staff from out of her reach.

Loki reached down and gripped Lady Sif, by her long, dark ponytail. He stopped her head from shaking so violently in her struggle to break free from the trap of the ground. "Ahh, ahh, ah," he gave a mild chiding."You won't be needing that anymore, dear Lady Sif," he admonished her.

Lady Sif's face was dirty and cut up and full of bruises and contusions. That was nothing new for Lady Sif. Sometimes Thor thought she looked better with a busted chin and a fattened lip if only because he was so used to seeing her like that, but nonetheless this was one of the worst he had seen Lady Sif look. She looks as if she could keel over and die on the spot right there. Thor's heart thundered in his chest at the terrible thought. "Loki you coward! You terrible coward!" she raged as he held fast to her long, brunette ponytail. "You coward! You coward! YOU SNAKE! YOU MONSTER! YOU TRAITOR!" she hollered with a raw voice. It sounded so shrill and hoarse.,

Lok still managed to hold a patronizing expression. Thor watched his hand dip down as if he meant to stroke Lady Sif's furrowed brow. "Calm yourself, Sif" he mouthed.

"NEVER!" the shield-maiden yelled once more. She spat at his hand."FIGHT ME! FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN!" the warrior woman went on. Hot, tear streamed from her chestnut eyes. "YOU NEVER HAD ANY HONOR TO FIGHT LIKE A REAL MAN!" she continued. Loki had let her hair go. It fell out of its ponytail hold and fell in a long tendril of brown, cascading toward her shoulders.

The smug king bent down, he continued to rub his fingers through Sif's dark tresses. "Well, I'm certainly not going to start now," he admitted. He winked at her. His brilliant emerald eye had the nerve to form a wink in the warrior woman's direction. Sif's bleary, water-filled eyes looked at him with indignation. If she had her liberty, she would slit his throat. She would claw his eyes outs. She couldn't do any of that, but she'd not let him get away with that wink. She looked him straight in his emerald eyes and reared her head back and hocked up a loogie. The saliva walloped him right in the face. She gritted her teeth and growled at him.

Loki wanted to rear back in horror at the spit that had touched his skin. Fastidious man that he was an insult like that once would have sent him running for a washroom. Now he stood there and allowed her spittle to fall from his nose and dribble down his lips and to his chin. He deserved no better. He deserved much worse. And he was expectant to receive it at some point. He nodded and allowed a smile to grace his lips as he rose to his full height. In his golden horned helmet, he seemed to tower. Especially since all the people had their bodies bent like groveling slaves.

King Loki of Asgard once more walked toward the people. He saw that Lord Malekith was starting to rage once more. His whole face was starting to turn black. The power of the Aether was starting to well up inside of him and he would surely send a blast that would either kill or completely mutilate all the people of Asgard. Loki stepped in and stepped up. He stood in front of the frightful Dark-Elf. He stretched forth his hand. "SILENCE!" He yelled out. He swung Gungnir over the people then he twisted it and twirled and slammed it to the ground. It placed some kind of muffler over the people. All at once, their voices seemed to be cut off. All at once the furious roar and the mighty wails of anguish were no longer heard. There was simply an impenetrable eerie silence that took over the City Square. Hearts raced and mouths moved, but a pin could have fallen and it would have been heard. The people were prostrate and silent before their new overlords.

"How dare you!" Malekith rumbled low in his throat in the tongue of the Dark-Elves. "I was going to destroy them!" he announced. "Aesir so prized for their beauty," he spat to the ground. "I was going to turn them into Rockos," Malekith fumed. His red eyes burned that his justice had been interfered with once more. Rockos, a people that hailed from the same world as Groots their fellow citizens of moving trees Rocks were lively stones known for their quiet and obedient nature.

"I wish not to rule over Rocko's," Loki sneered.

"I do not care what you wish! It is what I wish!" Malekith proclaimed his mouth big and he formed the

words in his own language. "I want these rebellious savages dead!" he hollered like a child.

"Then who will you rule over?' Loki questioned. Malekith was short-sighted. It was amazing he had gotten as far as he had in his conquests. He probably wouldn't have for as long without the aid of Thanos. "The Aesir must witness the death of their beloved prince. I assure you then they will capitulate to our whims and you will not have to resort to such extreme measures," he looked at the leader of the Dark-Elves.

Lord Malekith groused. "You won't be able to protect them forever!" Malekith declared as he pointed at King Loki's uppity nose.

"How have I protected them?" Loki questioned. He gestured to his handiwork the sniveling, bent-back, soundless Aesir before them.

"When Thanos gets what he wants," he reminded the self-proclaimed king. "Half of them will be destroyed either way," He reminded Loki.

"Precisely," Loki's tongue slithered over the word. "But I intend to have a vast slave empire, not just a few measly servants. So, we need to keep as much of the population alive as possible now or they'll be less to serve us," Loki explained.

Malekith twisted and grumbled to himself. "Enough of the stalling!" he shot back. The sun has risen," he pointed out. Loki looked up toward the heavens. The Dark-Elf warlord was telling the truth. It was hard to make out the faint rays in the fog of Aether clouds black as volcanic ash, but it was there. The barely-there bright light tried with all its strength to penetrate the deep gloom that had settled over the Imperial City. There was no more time. "Let us finish this," The leader of the Dark-Elves stated. He turned on his heels and continued in his march. Malekith signaled to his troops. The soldiers immediately tightened their bands. They needed no longer worry about the unruly revolt of the Asgardians, thanks to King Loki. They marched on. They gathered up in bands and started stomping behind their illustrious general in his polished onyx armor. The sound of their stomping boots was thunderous. It shook the ground around them. They were many. They were like a plague of locust ready for the swarm. They continued in their processional as they had before. They played their death knoll on the Aesir instruments. They played a song of victory on the Aesir drums and pipes and timbrels. It was awful. And the poor Aesir they couldn't even cry out. They couldn't even sing the hymn of their ancestors and beg for help one last time.

"Yes, let us finish this," Loki said to himself as he fell in line with the procession. He was soon right next to Lord Malekith. He was marching in time with the players. His head held high as the proud spires on the smoldering palace in the rear. Lady Sif was left in the background. She was struggling still to escape the enchantment that held her captive. The warriors of Svartalfheim merely walked around her. Prince Thor was still held in mid-air suspension. His frozen body contorted and display for all of the Asgardians to behold. All over the City square, the hearts of young and old sank deep within their chest. Ever thunderous step that was taken hammered a new nail in the coffin and sealed their fate. All hope was lost.

---

In the palace and outside the courtyard the small band of Aesir scientists and wizards and Lady Jane Foster lied in wait with bated breath. They were all crouched down low. Hidden in corners and crevices. They were held up with their reactors and detonators and remotes. They were waiting for the signal. They were waiting for the moment for fracas and outbreak and then they'd spring into action, but that moment never came.

"Does anyone have a visual?" a voice echoed through one of the communicators. Jane looked down at her wrist. She was deep inside the palace waiting by the throne. Her heart was pounding faster than she thought humanly possible. She wondered what was going on outside. According to her calculations, the sun should have already been up. But she had found that time moved slower on Asgard.

"No visual, copy," Another voice responded. This time female.

"It's quiet! It's too quiet," another voice chimed through the communication device. Jane bit her lip. The words of Lord Drek echoed her sentiments exactly. One moment there had been much commotion. It was so much so it sounded like an all-out brawl. Jane was glad of it. The Aesir weren't going to slip quietly into the night. And she was grateful for that. Their fight was the fight for all life in these realms. Perhaps the battle had already been won. She thought hopefully. Perhaps she wouldn't have to do anything.

"We've got to get a better look," Lady Leona spoke up. She was in the courtyard.

"I will go. I will go look," Hogun announced. The Einherjar was already high up and hiding in the rafters of the throne room. The throneroom of Asgard had once had a beautiful crystal dome ceiling that featured a lovely mosaic for some of the scenes of palace life and the royal family of Asgard throughout the ages and Asgardian history, but that had been destroyed by the Dark-Elves first attack. It had not been repaired and so there was still an opening. Without hesitation, Hogun sprang into action. With agility, he jumped and climbed and leaped from golden beam to golden beam until he was sitting on the outside of one of the spires of the palace. He had one of the best views in Asgard. From his position, he would be able to see all the way to the majestic Mountains of Tursk and he'd be able to see beyond the rainbow bridge and the Bifrost. He should have been able to see the iridescent colors of the Forever Sea and how it faded into the great constellations of the cosmos. He should have had a great view of the city. Normally, such a view would have shown towers and temples and bastions and villa homes and colosseums, museums and monuments and everything wonderful that the city had to offer. General Hogun swallowed hard. He was disappointed that was not the sight that his dark eyes saw. Everything was shrouded by thick black clouds and the Aether ash that was so red and thick that it filled his lungs and made him cough uncontrollably. He couldn't see the mountains and he couldn't see the sea. What he beheld below him was no great city. It was a dump heap, a ruin, and shambles. It was just crumbled and cracked buildings, broken bridges, burning streets. But in the midst of all that. Directly, below him, the famous member of the Warriors 3 beheld a sight that sent a cold shiver crawling up his spine. It was truly a terrible sight. He could see all the people gathered in the square, corralled like animals. He could see them all on their hands and knees, but not making a sound. He watched as King Loki of Asgard and Lord Malekith ascended the platform. It was only a few feet high and yet it seemed to tower above the people. Hogun watched in horror as Thor's body floated overhead witlessly commanded where Loki wanted.

"Sir Hogun! Can you see anything?" asked Lady Leoma.

"What do you see?" Bardok asked anxiously.

"Nothing good," the warrior of Asgard admitted.

"Hogun do elaborate," begged young Bardok through the intercom system on the communicator. Hogun was not a man of many words. He often found that saying less was saying more, but he knew he couldn't leave the rest of his team in completely in the dark. So, Hogun, the quietest member of The Warriors Three spoke. He conveyed in the best details that he could the gruesome scene that he had the misfortune of seeing.

Lady Jane Foster couldn't help but let out a terrible shriek as she heard the words of Hogun. Young Bardok immediately rushed to her side and tried to comfort the scientist as she started to sob. Hogun swung back down from the roof and the spires and assembled with a few more of his company the scholars and scientists and mages of Asgard. "There, there Lady Jane, take heart," Bardok said as he rubbed her back. "I'm sure, Sif Hogun... I'm sure," Bardok looked up at the brave Einherjar. "I'm sure that he exaggerates," his eyes were almost pleading.

Hogun stood proud and tall. His face severe as it normally was. He wasn't called Hogun the Grim for nothing. "I never exaggerate," he confessed.

"This is awful! Absolutely Awful!" Lady Leoma cried out. All of a sudden, the whole company was a mix of tears and wails and yells. There was wild chatter and panic and static ringing in on all the different intercoms. All the people were starting to leave their positions.

"Hold your positions! Hold your positions," the youngest of Asgard's master called into the palm communicator. He didn't want them to be bombarded by the rest of the people in their group. Young people, young scholars, and university students, many were peasants. They'd risked so much in this process. He didn't want to be accountable for seeing their crestfallen faces at hearing the news that all their best efforts seemed to have been for naught. He needed a minute to process what was happening himself. The fact that all their hard work and all their faith and hope meant nothing now.

"That's it," mumbled Lord Drek. He was wearing a turban-like hat on his bald head. It was torn and the feather that had festooned it was blown about too little frayed bits. The turban had been unraveling. He tossed it off of his bald head and stomped on it. It had been a symbol of his status in Asgard, but that was unimportant now. He had no status now for Asgard had fallen. "That's it," he repeated as he dusted his hands. "It's over," Lord Drek threw his hands up in the air. He was a large and imposing man. "We should have never tried!" He finally barked out. He pointed a condemning finger at his fellow mages. "WE should have known better," He reminded himself. He mashed his lips together. He paced and rubbed his hands together.

"Try to take some heart Lord Drek," began Bardok. He was still rubbing Lady Jane's back and trying to console the frightened human.

"No!" Drek shouted back with base in his voice. "It was you!" His eyes narrowed a bit. "It was you! And you! And you! And... and...and you" Lord Drek declared bitterly as he pointed out his fellow mages and finally pointed toward Lady Jane. The auburn-haired mortal woman was sniveling and sniffling leaning her head against young Bardok's chest.

"Now, Lord Drek, you must calm down," Hogun stated as he grabbed the master mage by his large shoulders and tried to pull him back from looming over Lady Jane.

Lord Drek shrugged and rolled his massive shoulders and freed himself from Hogun's steely grip. "NO!" he roared in the Einherjar general's face. "WE should have known!" He pounded on his chest. "We should have known better than to harken to this...this...this...MORTAL!" he shouted it like it was the worst insult in the world. "We are Asgard's mages. We are the keepers of wisdom in this realm, not this woman," he sneered, his dark eyes looking down on the young astrophysicist. "We should have known that nothing would ever work," he shook his head. "This is our fate! This is our prophecy and we should have known that we can't outrun it. We can't escape it. We should have never tried," he confessed. Lord Drek was a mage that had studied mathematics greatly. Their fate was simple calculus. Math always led back to the same answers.

"We can't just give up,' Jane finally managed to mumble as she lifted her cheek off of Bardok's dirty tunic.

"Don't you talk! Don't you talk anymore mortal!" spat Lord Drek

"Lord Drek...that is enough," announced Hogun. He once again stood between the mortal scientist and the angered Asgardian mystic.

"No, no, no, Hogun, you don't have to defend me," Jane stated as she pushed away from Bardok and stood to her feet.

"I promised Prince Thor," the close friend of the son of Odin spoke up.

Jane nodded and put her hand on his shoulder. "You have already lived up to your promise," she assured him as she wiped her eyes and pressed forward to stand in Drek's face. He loomed over her. His shoulders heaved.

"You! You brought this evil upon us in the first place!" Lord Drek stated with his lips quivering.

"Drek, my friend, blaming Lady Jane does nothing," Leoma spoke up once more.

Jane held up a finger silencing the older woman. "No, no, no Lady Leoma, let him say what he needs to say. I can take it," Jane Foster declared as she squared her shoulders. "Maybe your right," she shrugged. Then she dropped her head. "Maybe I did bring the Aether into Asgard," she admitted. "But you yourself Lord Drek, you said that this was Asgard's fate all along. That such a prophecy for your demise was always going to be. So, if it wasn't me, it would have been someone else...something else would have destroyed you," she expressed and she looked at him with dry eyes.

"You mock..." Lord Drek started with a sneer.

"No, you mock!" Jane stated accusingly. She held her finger out at him. "You mock me because I'm a 'mortal'" she explained and put the quotation fingers around the word. "Because I wanted to fight for a chance to live. Well, you're right! You're right! You're right!" she announced and stretched her arms out wide. "I am a mortal," she declared. "I wanted to live. I wanted all of you to live. We mortals, we fight for our lives! Because we know that at the most, we'll only have 100 years and we want to live every one of them to the fullest," she spat out.

"I'll tell you this Lady Jane," Lady Leoma walked toward the young astrophysicist, "I am nearly 3000 years old and I want to live every day to the fullest as well," she stated as she placed a comforting hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "Prince Thor may not survive," the female mage stated as she gulped. She felt hands come and rest on her shoulder. She reached back and looked into the eyes of one of her friends. She patted the hands that rested on her shoulder before nodded. She blinked her eyes to keep tears from falling. "But this fight isn't over! Not yet! Loki and Malekith still have to release the Aether during Convergence. They still have to get into this throne room," she pointed to the spot where her feet were standing. "They have to get through us. We can still stop them!"

"Right ho! Right ho!" echoed young Bard

ok. "There's still a fight to be had," he declared and slammed his fist into his palm. He eyed Lord Drek. The mighty mage nodded. "And we'll be the ones to have it," Lord Drek stated boldly. The Master Mage of the realm was normally one to use his superior intellect in a fight. He pulled out his pocket abacus and started doing some of his calculations. "If my calculations are correct," he began as he pushed the beads on the abacus, "and they absolutely should be," he added as he looked at many of the young scholars. They were some of Asgard's best and brightest, some of them were his students and they were all the future of Asgard. They were Asgard's future mages and scientists and healers and mathematicians, they deserved to have a chance to fight for their future. Even if they didn't actually get to live it. "If my calculations are correct, which they absolutely should be," he continued. "Then...then Lord Malekith and Loki should be making their way into the throne room by in no less 40 minutes. That will give them ample time to perform the rituals as the realms align," he stated looking up at the broken ceiling.

"You know good and well that Loki is nothing less than precise," Bardok decreed as his eyes narrowed.

"We'll be ready for them," Hogun spoke up. He pulled out his mace and swung it a few times.

The buttons on Lady Leoma's communication device started the chirp and chime a fuzzy face flickered on the screen on her wrist. "Lady Leoma, Lady Leoma!" a frantic voice called from the image. "What is happening? Is everything over. Is all hope lost?"

Lady Leoma looked back at young Bardok. The youngest of the Master Mages of Asgard gave her an approving nod. "No, my young friend," she replied. Her maternal face housed both a tenderness and a passion. "All hope is never lost. We will continue on with the mission as planned," she responded before shutting off her device. "I better get back to my place," she stated to the group that was assembled in the throne room. Then in an instance in a cloud of purple miss, she vanished.

"We better all do the same," stated Lord Drek. "I'll go back to guarding my post." He tossed his abacus aside and brandished a long broadsword that he had.

"I will go back to the roof. I will watch and alert if there are any developments," Hogun informed. Immediately the member of Thor's band started to scamper like a squirrel up and over and through the rafters back to a position that he had taken outside on the broken roof where he looked down on the terrifying scene below.

"Yes! Yes! Please Hogun," Jane Foster called as she watched the Einherjar climb with amazing speed and agility up the broken beams in the throne room. "Please! Please! Let me know! Let me know if something happens to Thor!" she shouted as loud as she could clutching her chest. Her eyes were welling up with tears as she looked at him become more and more of a speck. She gazed up at the darkened sky. It looked so very, very dark outside that she couldn't imagine that it was truly dawn and that her beloved's life was about to be over.

"Lady Jane, Lady Jane, Lady Jane!" Bardok called loudly to her breaking her from her trance. She didn't even know that tears were starting to fall from her hazel eyes once more. It wasn't until she felt Bardok tugging on her hand that she finally realized that she had been holding her breath, standing and staring. Lady Jane you must get into position," he told her. She noted the feel of his hand. His hands were smooth beneath the dirt and blood and newly formed scars. Not like Thor's hands were hardened from the centuries he had spent wielding his mighty hammer. She wondered if she would ever feel his rough, firm hands around her own again. "Come Jane," Once more the young Asgardian stated his hand slipped from holding hers to being simply wrapped around her shoulders.

Jane nodded and forced herself to take painstaking steps away from the standing directly under the broken ceiling. "Th-Thor's going to die, isn't he?" she mumbled as she looked into Bardok's eyes.

"I...I... I can't...say, my lady," Loki's one-time student quickly stated.

"Aren't you an enchanter?" she demanded of him.

"I don't have much of a gift for seeing the future, my lady," he replied. There was a pause between them as they took a few small steps. "But it doesn't look good," he confessed.

"There has to be something...there has to be something that we can do Bardok. I don't want to let him..die...I love him," the human expressed.

"Lady Jane, I understand you love him..."

"No, you don't! No, you don't!" she said ripping her shoulders from his gentle grasps.

"We all love Prince Thor, Lady Jane Foster!" young Bardok reminded her firmly. It was the first that she had ever heard him speak in such a tone.

"Then we must do something more! Bardok, don't let it be over. Come, surely we can bring these instruments out into the courtyard, we can use them to recalibrate..."

"Lady Jane, there is no time for that!" Bardok shook his head.

"But..." Jane started to persist.

"No. No more," he shook his head. "Even if we were to try to get out there and it's not likely that we could that doesn't mean that we could get out there before, they swing the ax. Malekith and Loki have too much power. You heard what Hogun described.," the very thought of the words sent a shiver up the enchanter's spine. "The best thing we can do is hope to save Asgard and the rest of the realms. Your realm," he pointed out. "Not Prince Thor," he stated. Jane knew that there was wisdom in his words, but she hated it all the same. "It's what's best for all," he insisted.

"The greater good," the scientist sneered.

"Yes," Bardok barely managed to mumble the word. "It's also what Thor would truly want," With that Bardok was back to his place.

Jane swallowed and walked with a slow determination back to her position that she had been holding by the throne. This throne that Thor should sit on and reign with strength and bravery for 1000 years or more. This throne that Loki seemed to covet so ruthlessly. He'd do anything to get it. She looked at the tools that were at her disposal. The reactor that she had made with her own two hands and then she reached into the gaps of the armor and found those lovely golden arrows. She'd do whatever she could to preserve the throne. If she couldn't preserve the king.

---

The City Square was eerily still. Silence encamped about the 1000s gathered in the square. They were held down with invisible chains and their mouths were fastened shut with invisible buttons. But still, their eyes screamed out as they beheld a few of the strongest looking Dark-Elf warriors ascend the wooden stage that was carved out for execution. The sturdy Svartalfheim soldiers were dressed in their military attire. They wore gleaming black armor and they wore their ghastly white masks. Masks that hid any true expression that might have been on the elves' faces. All it revealed was their dark pit-like eyes. Eyes that didn't shimmer with even a tear from the dust that was blowing about. Eyes that simply stared out vacantly and without mercy.

Those guards took their place around the scaffold. They stood stiff as statues and they lined every inch of the long and large stage. They formed an endless line of hostile black from corner to corner across the pedestal. They looked like a wall an impenetrable fortress. There had not been an execution in the City Square for many, many centuries. Most of the citizens who were packed into the square like rats in a hole hadn't had it in their memory when the last execution had actually taken place. It wasn't because there was no crime or that no villains were kept in the dungeons throughout the realm, but it was considered an archaic practice of the past. This had been a place where pageants to recall the ancient battles and the epic lore of their culture had been held. It had been a place to receiving news and glad tidings. A place to honor heroes and receive awards. It had been a place where the average citizen could catch a glimpse of royalty. There was a day that only happened once every 12 years when women from the Dales would often make their way to the Imperial City to be blessed by Asgard's queen. Queen Frigga would harvest a special herb from her own garden. It took her 12 years to cultivate enough of it, but it was a fertility herb. Running joke had always been that the women of the Dales were coming to the Imperial City to receive herbs to help the farms grow. But truly many of them were coming to receive the herbs to help increase their own fertility. Queen Frigga understood the plight of childless women. She herself had struggled to conceive and she knew that for farm families having children wasn't just a blessing of joy and laughter, but it was a blessing of life. Families needed children to help with the farming. It was a cruel irony that now in this place a queen who had worked hard to distribute fertility herbs to the women of Asgard, a queen who had struggled to bear one heir for her king, should now have that child who she struggled to give life die upon that spot.

After the Dark-Elve soldiers had barricaded the platform Lord Malekith was next to walk up the steps. His head was held so high. His face scarred and marred from the Aether. His eyes swirled with a deadly red. But his face, his face wore an absolutely horrid grin. The overlord had a smile stretched across tarnished tar lip from pointed ear to pointed ear. The jagged edges of his fang-like teeth were revealed. He stared into the barely-there sun that somehow still managed to poke its way from the pitch-black clouds that had been formed by the Aether. He walked pass his soldiers. He nodded to each of them as they stood at attention saluted their liege. He began speaking to them in the crude rough tongue of the Dark-Elves, but in the hush and silence of the square, his words seemed to echo and boom. "Iska biscah, buun tele, viska, de rotrot vun tele maan. Boo tu vee Asgardee lu-tu baah-baah truss" he stated to them. "Remember the day when we suffered? When you saw our world die?" he reminded them. "Remember how your wives and children fell because of the Asgardians?" He prompted as he walked pass each soldier and looked them in their hollowed eye. "This will make up for it. This will make it right. 2000 years you have waited, but no more," he assured his troops. Now Lord Malekith was in no way a kind person. He was not a creature who knew much of patience or tolerance or kindness. That was the closest thing to tenderness he had to offer.

After he had spoken to his troops, he made his way to the chopping block that one of his soldiers had carried on to the platform. It was a strange curved stone structure of the architecture of Svartalfheim. It had spikes and jagged edges. The spikes were retractable, but they could be made to poke out and stick a person right through the stomach so that every moment before their death was painful and miserable. The Dark-Elves were merciless. Malekith stood over the old chopping block where so many heads had rolled. He had inherited the ceremonial chopping block from his father. His father had been one of the sheriffs in Svartalfheim. He kept order with ruthlessness. He had positioned Malekith to be the exact same way. The King of Svartalfheim at the time of his father had been impressed with the way the sheriff kept the order in the most savage kingdom. As a gift, he commissioned the chopping block and he decorated it with many different stones. Rich and dark in color. Malekith had few memories of his childhood. It was so, so long ago and it had been terrible unpleasant. But he remembered his eyes being filled with the beauty of the chopping block. His fingers daring to touch one of his father's prized possessions. His father was not one to suffer or indulge him and his siblings much. He dared to touch and with some gleeful cruelty his father had the spikes that were embedded deep within the chopping block. The sharp, black spikes flew out and they nearly pricked his little fingers. He fell on the floor trying to avoid them. He remembered his father sitting by the hearth in a rocking chair smiling a mean smile at him. His curiosity and fondness for the chopping block continued to persist. He was fascinated by the stones that decorated the pedestal. Finally, his father gave him a closer look at his instrument. He pointed out the stones and named them one by one. He was just a young boy and said the stones reminded him of different things. The blue stones reminded him of water and the gray stones reminded him of the sky. There were a few white stones in the pedestal that reminded him of the petrified trees in the Dark Forest. The black stones were so dark that they nearly blended into the stone of the chopping block. He boyishly had said that they reminded him of the sand of their land. Then he saw the red ones. They were bright and impressive. They were like so little else that he had seen. His father had told him of the Aether that night, the sacred Infinity Stone that had belonged to the Dark-Elves and had allowed their people to stay in power for centuries. He'd told them about how the other creatures of the Nine Realms had been jealous and had stolen it away from them. When he saw the bright red gems gleaming and shining in the chopping block, he thought that it was Aether. He exclaimed and patted his hands and feet and pointed out to his father that the Aether had come home! They laughed together for, but a moment. His father prophesied over him that he would be the one to bring the Aether back to Svartalfhiem and he would be the one to bring their people back in a position of power? He placed his hand upon him and told him that he would have the privilege of using this chopping black same as he and punishing their enemies and seeing their blood spill upon this chopping block...this altar, just as he had.

Lord Malekith raised his head higher. He relished the moment knowing that he had finally fulfilled all that his father had prophesied over him. His sharp nostrils sucked in the poisoned air of the Aether like the air after the spring rain. He growled and rumbled and once again looked down at the chopping block. The mighty pedestal that he had used to sacrificed countless enemies. Their blood had run and poured all over the stone pedestal and over the course of the years, it had stained most of the gems red in homage to the Aether. He had dreamed of the day when he would have the pleasure of spilling Aesir blood all over this chopping block. Prince Thor would be but the first of his brethren to fall. "Bring up the prisoner!" Malekith barked.

That's when the self-proclaimed king of Asgard ascended the stage. His helmet formed a horrific shadow over the people, the heavy horns of some evil creature. His cape billowed in the wind without control. The wind whipped wildly about his emerald cape and it threatened to tear the cape right off his shoulders. It probably would have blown away if it wasn't for the regal fastens of gold that he had pinning it down. Loki's senses were attuned to the moment. For this was the moment. The moment was at hand. The moment that on so many levels they had all been waiting for. As he ever so nobly made his way up the simple stone steps of the platform, he was made to reminisce of the day. Not so long ago and yet what seemed like eons ago when Thor had his coronation. It was one of the grandest and most festive occasions that the realm had had in a long, long time. The whole palace was filled to capacity in the grand atrium. Thousands and thousands had gathered, hundreds of nobles from every province and town and city all across Asgard and royals from throughout the Nine Realms had all come to give honor to Thor and acknowledge him as the new king of Asgard and new all-father. Thousands were packed into this square as well. Just like that day, there were nobles and merchants, and peasants all present to witness a most momentous moment in their history. The people were dressed in their best. Asgardians loved a good fight, but they also loved opulence and grandeur and fashion. They had on elaborate gowns and armor made of gold and silver, platinum, they had on their rubies and sapphires, pearls and diamonds. Even the lowliest peasant had begged and borrowed and stolen to be able to rent a fine tunic for the day. But the people of Asgard did not look their best this day. They looked at their absolute worst. They were like skeletons, dirty and pale, their clothes ripped and torn worse than even the pitiful slaves on the markets of Musepleheim. They were bloodied and messy-haired waifs. They were downtrodden into the mud. Loki remembered Thor climbing up the dais making his way toward the gilded throne. And Loki recalled his jealousy, his bright, flaming jealousy, that green-eyed beast that lives inside all people it raged and boiled and roared deep within his gut. He wanted it so badly. He heard the people cheering Thor's name with such passion and glee and excitement. They truly loved the golden son of Odin. Despite his flows, the people loved Thor. The day he was about to become king, now that was a day that the people of Asgard had truly rejoiced. Now, here amongst this great multitude, no one was rejoicing. The people were bowing to him, but not out of reverence or respect out of dreadful forced compliance that only bred fear. There weren't any smiles just tears, there weren't any songs or laughter or clapping just a terrible silence.

Loki swallowed hard as he made his way to stand opposite Lord Malekith. He saw the silhouette his shadow formed over the people...his helmet horns, his own slim body, and the way his cape fluttered behind him like wings. All he saw was the dragon. Then he thought in the wind he hears its voice, subtle and serpentine and slivered tongued. It hissed in the boisterous breeze. "Yours! Yours! Yours!" The voice came hissing in his ear furiously. Loki slammed his green eyes shut hard and fast. He blocked out the sound of that voice. He'd defeated the voice and the monstrous creature that accompanied it. He'd defeated it once and for all. He reminded himself as his eyes remained closed a little while longer.

The king snapped his eyes open. The bright emerald of his irises contrasted greatly with the red haze of the Aether ash. Still, Loki's eyes were clear despite the fog and ash and darkness. He could see everything. He could see the people of Asgard. He could see them there a huddled and frightened mass. They were all down in the mud. Their bodies were bent and lowered in a humiliating posture. They were shaking and shivering and Loki wasn't quite sure if it was because of the fact that they were fighting against the invisible restraints that he had put upon them or because of the fact that they were truly shivering and shaking and because of the cold and exhaustion and fear that was wracking through their bodies. He could see their faces. Their broken, weary expressions. They were in anguish and in pain mind, body and soul. They couldn't utter a word, but they were screaming on the inside. Loki knew that type of pain. He'd experienced it himself. Silenced. It was the hardest thing he'd ever known. He looked out among the crowd of Aesir citizens. So many familiar faces seem to flood his eyes. People who worked in the palace. Nobles and courtiers who frequented every banquet and palace function. He saw townspeople and professors that he knew from the days he spent at the university. Then he also saw the faces of his friends. Loki gulped as he forced himself to stand stiff as a board, unflinching.

He saw Volstagg, the might Einherjar, big and burly an impressive figure. He remembered the many times they had teasing each other. Volstagg calling him scrawny and bookish. He called him a big sow. The last time they had quipped with each other it had been when they were walking across the Bifrost right after he had shown the Jotuns the way into Asgard. Volstagg walked by him jaunty and jovial as ever and quipped "What's the matter silver-tongue turned to lead?" Volstagg looked like nothing but a wild, dirty boar now. His face was cut up and bruised and beat up, he had mud tangled in his long red beard so much so that his beard looked like he was a brunette. He was on the ground nearly bouncing, nearly rolling trying to break free of the invisible confines. Volstagg was the only one of their friend group that was married and with a family. Loki hadn't given much thought to it before, but he wondered if Volstagg's family was still alive? If they aren't...it's because of me, he thought.

He turned his head just a little way and there he saw Lady Sif. She was buried nearly neck deep in the very ground. That proud shield-maiden. She never said never. She never said die. She'd fight until her last breath. And he saw the look in her brown eyes. That fearful look in her big brown eyes as she looked up helplessly at the situation that was transpiring around her without control. Lady Sif, prideful as she was not the type of woman to deal with things being out of her control. Her weapon was right under her chin and she couldn't even grab it. Loki thought it might have been for the best. If Sif had her ability, he would have no chance to enact his plan, because Sif would have split him from navel to nose most assuredly, and honest that would be if he was lucky. Loki's heartbeat rose a little fast. "Don't worry noble Lady Sif, you'll have your chance to take your vengeance."

Loki squinted his jade-colored eyes and looked far out in the distance and spotted some other familiar faces. He spotted them. They were in the back of the large multitude, but he spotted them nonetheless, He saw them. He saw the helmets of the finest silver. Even in the terrible storm that raged with the Aether, he could make out their gleaming helmets and he could see the distinct decorative plumage that they wore on their helmets. It was the distinct, beautiful colors of a peacock's feathers. So radiant. The color of the queen's guard. Loki's eyes grew wide for just a second. His thin lips started to form a smile, but instead, they just formed a shocked "Oh". He clenched his fists by his side and he did all he could to control his glee. They'd gotten the message. The Queen of Asgard had gotten his message and she'd come. He'd sent the message, hoping that it would actually make its way to the Southern Palace. Honestly, the technology in the catacombs was so old, so outdated that he doubted it would even transmit the message even with a little magical intervention. And even if it had gone through, he couldn't have been completely sure that the Queen would receive it, she could have easily and probably would have been at his father's side. It could only be the work of the Fates that she'd seen the transmission, but even more than that, just because she'd seen it didn't mean that she'd have to believe it. Why should she have believed it? She'd known it was from him, of that much Loki was certain. Why would she trust him? He'd done nothing in the past few months to earn her trust or deserve her love. He'd shown her every wicked and evil part of himself. He hated his own self for the unforgivable crimes and sins he'd committed against his people. Maybe she just believed him because she was desperate. Desperation made people do all sorts of crazy and unbelievable things. These were certainly desperate times. Even Loki had to admit that with every single second they got closer and closer to Ragnarök, the point of no return. He wasn't even sure if this whole plot could still be pulled out. His heart and mind raced. As he walked slightly forward so that he was standing a parallel opposite with Lord Malekith, he allowed his deep emerald eye to roll slightly upward to the Southern Tower which served as his laboratory. He thought of the container that was still cooking. He had to go through with the timing of everything just right to make sure that the containment was ready for the Aether. Even in the moment, they were cutting it extremely close.

Still, somehow in his mind, he could hear the beautiful, sweet voice of his mother reminding him that a mother's love never truly dies and that they were nothing that he could ever do that could make her stop believing in him. He looked at her. She the queen of Asgard was on the filthy muddy, bloody ground. She was up to her elbows in the muck and grime and debris. Her own cheeks were covered with soot and her face was scratched; her own lovely lips split. Her eyes were wide, and trembling and pleading with tears cascading down them. And she was looking right at him. Her eyes were burrowing into him just as he was looking at her. He could see the horror and hurt shining through her bright blue pupils. Pupils that looked so much like Thor's. She watched helplessly, along with the rest of the crowd, as Prince Thor's body floated listlessly ever toward the scaffold and soon to the chopping block. Her eyes housed such abject terror and yet the queen too was under the terrible holds of the silencing that had been rendered by Loki's powers. She couldn't make a peep to cry out for the salvation of either one of her sons. She cast her glance away from her oldest for but a moment only long enough for Loki to see her sapphire eyes flicker in his direction. Loki expected to find rage and seething hatred in her eyes. He almost wanted to see it. He wanted her to hate him. All he had done...hate was all her deserved and even that would have been mild. Odin very well could be dead because of him, so many more were dead because of him, the Imperial City was all but destroyed because of him. Thor's life and the lives of all this great assembly were all still in very much real jeopardy and he'd placed them all in harm's way. And for what? He didn't even really know anymore. He deserved to see hate and loathing boiling over from her, but he didn't. In her eyes, there was a mix of so... so many things, sorrow and confusion, hurt and horror, guilt and shame, but there was no hate. There was pity and remorse, there may have even been a wave of anger, it was powerful anger that seemed to be a flood. He'd never seen such anger in her. Sigyn was like one of the beautiful unicorns, wild and free and beautiful and gentle, it was only the cruel had of ruthless masters that could kindle their anger. But when angered and when cornered a unicorn could be as fearsome as a lion. But she didn't hate him.

The new king's eyes barely darted an inch before he found another familiar figured huddled near the Queen of Asgard. The female figure was every bit just as beautiful as Asgard's queen, though slightly younger. She too had lovely golden tresses. Her hair was normally yellow as corn with highlight nearly platinum, now every pretty strand and tendril was caked and tangled slick with mud and matter with the Aether's ash. Her eyes were bleeding with tears. They were streaming down her sweet face and streaking it like war paint. Her eyes much have been stinging fiercely and he had her invisibly bound and stuck to the ground. He saw her arms shake. Her chin quivered too. No doubt a sensitive girl like her wanted to scream seeing all this destruction. He hated seeing her cry like that now. He hated seeing the tortured pain in her eyes. Her gorgeous eyes. He'd wished he'd taken more time to look at them before, to truly admire their beauty. They were big and round and golden. They were like coins from the treasury, liquid pools of honey. They were deep and light all at the same time. Even at this moment when they were so fearful and angry and turbulent, they were still gorgeous. He'd never truly realized how beautiful they really were. In then, the faint glimmer of the sun was still reflected. Loki's own eyes widened as he beheld her.

Her face was coated red ash and soot, at least Loki tried to imagine that the red was from the burning ash of that evil power gem, but he knew that more likely it was her own life juices spilling out from her punctured skin. He wondered which of the vile elves had roughed her up with no regard. They were a savage people with little regard for femininity. Try as he might he couldn't shake the thought that it was just rough white hands of the Dark-Elf soldiers that might have left her cheeks brutalized and her forehead scarred and her lips split. He thought of when they fought in his bed-chamber. He'd attempted to show restraint, but not by much, and in his crazed and frenzied state, it wouldn't have taken much for him to do her harm. She could have just left him there to wallow alone and die as suffering and tortured blind, rabid animal. His guilt swelled up within him. Sigyn had kept him alive in the dungeon and even in the moments when he was incorrigible and so far, gone, she'd still pressed and persevered and delivered him the life-changing scroll. She'd gotten him to this point. If it wasn't for her...well Asgard would be in a much worst state than they already were and the rest of the Nine Realm...well...they'd have no hope at all. They were all indebted to her and so was he. He didn't know how he could ever repay her, no matter what happened today...maybe the day would be lost. Time was running out and he really couldn't say what their fate would be. He was desperate to change their fate, but as he gulped, he realized that in all his time studying ancient mysteries and prophecies he'd learned a few things in his time with the Norns and the time he'd spent at his mother's side. Some things couldn't be changed completely. Ragnarök was certain so. He knew that and everybody in Asgard had known it. There was nothing that lasted forever. One day their beautiful kingdom would fall. The question was would it be today and would it be at his hand? Thanks to Lady Sigyn the answer to the latter questions was a resounding no.

Loki reached up toward his thin lips. He was tempted to blow a kiss toward the daughter of Admiral Arn. He paused, hesitating completely. He didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve to love her now. When it was almost too late when he'd been her enemy and a villain. The king allowed his gloved fingers to curl back up at his side.

"It is dawn! It is dawn!" Malekith said smiling. He stepped closer to King Loki. For the first time, the white-skinned fiend did not hide and cower from the sun. He embraced its faint, distant rays. They could barely penetrate the sheer power of the Aether. It cast a long, dark shadow and the might of the light was like no more than the twinkle of stars in the endless red night. Once more he huffed and puffed breathing in as deep as possible every particle of the infinity stone as it ignited him with dark power. "No more stalling! No more of your excuses!" the venomous villain snapped. "Do it! Do it!" he declared. "Do it. Finish him off and end this," he prompted.

"Oh, with pleasure," Loki turned his head and spoke to the leader of the Dark-Elves. Loki's eyes flickered and glimmered as he allowed his signature, smirk to slide across his lips.

Malekith quickly made a move. He pulled out a mighty and a crooked weapon. It was an ancient tool. It was a swerved sword. Carved like a snake. It was the kind of weapon that at one point both Thor and Loki would have envies and wanted to have mounted or their walls and hidden within the chambers of their personal treasuries. "This was the sword of my father's. I used it to kill the king of Nidavellir," He explained with glee. He relished the memory of watching the giant dwarf fall. "The elves of Nidavellir made it," he reminded him. "The Prince of Musepelheim surrendered to me at the point of this blade," he continued as he held it up and traced its sensual curves with his fingertips. "I executed 5 Light-Elf generals with this sword too," he went on. And oh, the tales he could have told how each and everyone had fallen to this distinguished blade. "Our own king...this beauty was there when I disposed of him," the warlord admitted as he kissed the sword. Loki tried to keep himself from wincing. "I had this sword polished and I dipped it in the Aether on the day when I met your grandfather, well..." Malekith paused making sure his onyx eye got a good look at Loki, "Not your grandfather," He waited to see if it riled the self-proclaimed king up at all. "But king Bor," he shrugged. "I thought for sure it would be his undoing,"

"Instead, he was yours," the silver-tongued added quickly.

"Oh, it will still be his undoing," Malekith inclined his head. "if you have the guts to use it," he once again presented the magnificent blade to Asgard's new king.

"No thanks," Loki replied quickly. He waved his hand in the air and pulled a dagger out of thin air. The beautiful knife floated into Loki's hand. Malekith admired the craftsmanship. The way the blade curved just at the tip. "This will do nicely," Loki said smiling.

"That's not your normal knife," Malekith pointed out. His beady black eyes scrutinized the weapon.

"No, it's not," King Loki said boredly as he flicked the dagger. He played at balancing the point of the dagger on his fingertips. "It's a dragon's tooth dagger," Loki explained.

"And you killed a dragon yourself?" Malekith asked unimpressed.

"It'll be significant to Prince Thor, that's all you need know," Loki snapped. With that, he waved his hand, and Thor's twisted and contorted body floated up the scaffold. The Dark-Elf soldiers who were standing around the scaffold started to stomp their feet and cheer loudly as Prince Thor's helpless form floated toward the chopping block.

Loki lifted the enchantment that he had put over the crowd. They were still stuck in place but their mouths were free to move again. He heard a large gasp come out of the crowd. It didn't last long. It immediately changed to horrified screams and painful sobs. "NOOO! NOOO! STOP! PRINCE THOR! SAVE PRINCE THOR! AL-FATHER HELP US! NORNS! SAVE US! HELP!" all their desperate please rose up like a flood into Loki's ears. It was all beating and chaotic. There were shouts of sheer terror. They were helpless to do anything except watch as their beloved prince was about to be brutally murdered by his own brother. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS! IT'S NOT RIGHT! IT'S NOT RIGHT!" he heard more voices start to raise their objections. Loki tried to close his eyes to block out their noise, but it was too furious to drown out. His emerald eyes shot open and he looked out and her saw all the face with tears and blood running down them he saw all the bodies scrambling doing everything they could to move, but being forced to remain in one place.

"MONSTER! MONSTER! MONSTER!" the Aesir people started to roar in unison as they watched Thor's body being brought forth like a lamb to the slaughter.

"TRAITOR! TRAITOR! TRAITOR! TRAITOR!" other Asgardians continued to chant. Loki's face continued to survey the crowd. He could see Frandal's face that was always so jovial curled up with venom as his mouth formed cruel insults in his direction. He looked and saw Volstagg's face bright red like a beet and he was sweating bullets of blood with the strain he was putting in trying to pull his arm from invisible chains. Loki wouldn't have been surprised if he pulled his arms out of their sockets in the earnest effort he was making. He could feel every pull and tug that the people of Asgard were making through his connection with enchantment. It was enough to send him quaking and convulsing on the floor. He steeled himself. Just a few minutes more. Just a few minutes more and they could do with him what they will.

DEATH TO THE FALSE KING!" Yelled Lady Sif. Her mouth wide open and she nearly burst a lung as fumed. Her brown eyes burrowed into him. She wanted him to hear. Her decree because if her best friend died this day that was a promise that she'd make with Loki right now that he'd be dead soon after.

"WE LOVE YOU PRINCE THOR!" more of the citizens of Asgard began to call as they saw their helpless prince. Their shining knight and hero. They'd been hoping and praying, thinking and believing that he was going to be able to save them. That hope was gone and replaced with the terrible new fear that they wouldn't be able to do anything but watch him die.

"WE'LL SEE YOU IN VALHALLA PRINCE THOR!" a few more shouted as they saw him float above. Thor was helpless and so were they.

"LEAVE HIME BE! LEAVE HIM BE!" the please rose in the air, smattered with brutal coughing as more Aether ash stung the lungs of the Aesir.

"FREE PRINCE THOR! FREE PRINCE THOR!" the people shouted. It all seemed to be in vain. Loki and Malekith were heartless monsters. They didn't care about the pain they caused. This was what they wanted. To destroy Asgard, but still, the citizens couldn't help, but give all they could to still and try to save the crown prince's life. Even if all they had to offer was their voices. They'd give their voices to the last in protest.

Finally, Thor's body clad in mocking royal vestments made its way to the center of the scaffold by Loki's command. Thor hovered above. The firstborn son of Odin had given up trying to struggle against the imprisonment of the enchantment that held him bound and captive. His handsome face was cut up and blood was oozing from his temples. His eyes were blackened liked big bruised grapes. His spine was aching from cruelly being held in an uncomfortable position. The Dark-Elves had truly tried to beat the life out of him. Even the little healing that Loki had provided for him as the Dark-Elves readied him for his final appearance before his people had been a mockery. Why? Why even mend him just to have him broken in the end. As the question tumbled through Thor's foggy mind, the answer dawned on him that that was just Loki's point. Loki had always been tactical. Thor slowly closed his eyes. He was about ready to pray that he just dies here and now while he was floating over the stage. At least that way he wouldn't be killed at the hands of Loki. Then he cursed himself for the cowardice. That went against everything that he had ever been taught about what it meant to be a prince. No, he should look death in the eye like a man. Not cower and hide and beg like a slave. Thor could scarcely form a gulp. He didn't want to die in the truest sense. Asgardians loved life. Their lives had been blessed to be so long. He believed in Valhalla and as wondrous as Asgard was it was said to not even be comparable to the beauty and pleasures that awaited in Valhalla, but after his failure, he doubted he would make it in. Although that made his gut drop even the thought of that seemed somehow less painful than knowing that he had failed his people so that he had failed the Nine Realms so. He failed everyone he cared about, his friends, his family (Mother and Father) ...he didn't even know if they were still alive. Thor could feel his heart thrumming rapidly against his rib cage. He didn't want them to have to watch their beautiful kingdom that had defended their lives for 2000 years be destroyed. He was a disgrace to his family and to his ancestors. He'd failed Jane, the woman he loved. He had known many beautiful women from all over the Nine Realms. He courted countless ones, but somehow it was the mortal scientist who had captured his heart. He couldn't explain it. Maybe true love never really could be explained no matter what race one was sired of. They had such a brief time together. There were so many things he wanted to show her, to experience with her, and yet it seemed as though no matter what realm they found themselves on they were never meant to have the time together. If his eyes would have been able to cry, he would have shed a tear. It didn't seem right that they would never have the opportunity to know each other more intimately as man and wife. He knew that she didn't want to die. He wanted to be her hero. He wanted to protect her and save her and now he was just going to let her die. He didn't deserve to have ever been called a Prince of Asgard; he didn't deserve to have ever been called anyone's hero. He didn't deserve to be called an Avenger. He wished his new friends from Earth were here. He wished that they were able to help him battle Malekith and his hoard. They had already defeated Loki and his evil army once. He was sure that they could do it again. But they weren't here. They were Earth's Mightiest Heroes and this was not Earth, this was Asgard. He was supposed to be Asgard's champion...and he had failed. He'd failed them all.

Thor was called out of his reverie. As his body crashed down on top of the wooden platform with a thud. The wood scraped against his wounds. Even the simple brush burn felt excruciating. He gasped the screamed out in pain as the crash caused him to become reacquainted with the pain from the broken bones and bruises that the Dark-Elves had bestowed upon him as they fought him tooth and nail. Much of his surroundings were a blur. They were a dizzy haze of red and black mist that filled his eyes and made them water and filled his lungs and made him cough so much so that he wasn't sure if the red that was twirling all around him was really the Aether ash or his own blood. He groaned and moaned a bit as he tried to get himself oriented once more with his surroundings. He didn't have much time. He was on his knees for but a second until she collapsed in a heap on the platform. He shook his head trying to pull himself awake. His mind told him to wake up, move and fight, but his body was will less and frail, he could scarcely move. Come on Odinson, Thor called to himself. Have to get up... have to fight..." he puffed out heavy breaths and tried to push himself up on feeble arms that were shaking like a newborn colt. He managed to raise his head and mutter as loudly as he could, "For Asgard!" but the thunderer's voice wasn't that loud...

Before Prince Thor could even attempt to crawl, he could hear the cheers of the hopeful Aesir as they watched him rally himself. It empowered him just a bit. A Dark-Elf soldier came rushing toward him. His foot that wore a spiked boot came aiming and ready to kick him. Thor managed to catch the foot in his large hand and hold it back. He caught the foot mid-kick. The Dark-Elf soldier was pushing and pressing and trying with all his might to land a blow, but he wasn't able to. It took all of Prince Thor's strength to hold the foot back. He shook terribly, but he kept the metal, spiked booted foot from hitting him.

Loki kept his head straight and faced the crowd of Aesir, but when he heard their enthusiasm, he had to incline his head to see what was transpiring just being him on the platform. He watched as Thor held the foot in place. He watched as a few more of the soldiers from Svartalfheim quickly assembled and started to head toward the prince to try to accost him. Thor's eyes were blackened. He could barely open them, but somehow, he managed to take the foot that he was holding at the bay and body along with it and lift that body into the air, toss it and send it flying into the other soldiers. They all fell down like bowling pins. Malekith was furious and immediately started barking out orders to his troops. King Loki of Asgard raised an inky black eyebrow and the corner of the right of his mouth almost imperceivably curled upward. He shook his head. Thor's strength had considerably been restored if he was able to do that. The citizens in the City Square went wild with jubilations seeing their prince fight back.

"CONTROL HIM! CONTROL HIM!" Malekith yelled as he saw his men fall. Thor was up and, on his feet, unsteadily, his leg had cuts and gashes on the side and the other was dislocated. He couldn't exactly run, but he stood. He tottered and stumbled about not knowing exactly which way to go as the soldiers were climbing back to their feet as well. This time they pulled out their swords and their maces and they even took out their blasters and pointed it at him. Prince Thor wasn't afraid. If his death was inevitable then he'd go out his way. Fighting and not complying to death like a slave. The roar of his eager subjects cheering him on shouting and rooting for him invigorated the prince.

"THOR! THOR! THOR! THOR!" the people of Asgard chanted endlessly as they watched their beloved prince fight. Dark-Elves ran right for him. They grabbed him by the arms and by the shoulders a few more came at him with taser staffs, but somehow Prince Thor deflected and fought them off. When they grabbed his bleeding wrist and tried to hold him down, he called upon his considerable strength and pulled away. He bucked about like a bronco. He shook them and threw them from his shoulders and tossed them into the restless crowd that was still held prisoner by Loki. They couldn't move, but they certainly spat figuratively and literally at the Dark-Elves. Thor fought with all his might. They'd wallop him in the face and get a few good licks in. Thor's head would spin. His already blackened and bruised eyes would struggle to see, but somehow even on a broken and busted leg, he managed to remain standing. Thor caught a few punches in his right hand. The Dark-Elves had on gauntlets that made it difficult for Thor to crush their hands, but he'd pull them in close for a fierce headbutt and watch them woozily fall over. The people of Asgard screamed with joy as they watched how Prince Thor was vanquishing their enemies. Thor was running out of breath his stance became less and less sure and sturdy. He was practically sinking to his knees. The Aesir didn't seem to notice, they were just so excited that their prince was alive and fighting that they just kept chanting and cheering for him.

"TAKE HIM! TAKE HIM NOW!" the Dark-Elf General shouted to his troops. He only had a few men left standing. This was impossible. He'd not lose the honor of watching the blond-haired son of Odin die. The Aether swirled and surged within him. It was growing restless the primordial ooze had only one desire to convert all to dark matter. It wanted to rain chaos on all flesh and matter and it would be satiated this day. If his men couldn't handle it. If they couldn't subjugate the Odinson quickly and efficiently. He'd do it. He'd do it without reservation and without hesitation. He'd shock him with an Aether blast that would render that handsome, godlike body a battered corpse. Loki's pomp and circumstance and ceremony be forgotten. Thanos was a being who demanded obedience and he too was a being who liked his orders to be followed to a T, but perhaps he could grovel and beg the Mat Titan for forgiveness. Perhaps if he showed himself sure and strong Thanos would see that Loki was far too weak and too sentimental to be made king. It had to be him.

Lord Malekith watched as the few soldiers who had left standing on the scaffold moved in quickly, they surrounded the Crown Prince of Asgard. They targeted his weak points. They desperately took cheap shots and hit him in the stomach and groin. Prince Thor doubled over in pain but fought to remain standing. Then one soldier kicked his already damaged leg in. Thor screamed and crashed toward the wooden planks of the scaffold. He kept one hand and one knee elevated to show he wasn't completely bested yet. They struck him with their taser-staffs. Thor sizzled and became winded. He tried to hold off against the effects of the electro-pikes, but he couldn't. He collapsed and they held their blasters to the back of his head.

"NO! YOU CAN'T DO THIS! MURDERERS!" the crowd screamed out as they prepared to watch the unceremonious execution of the son of Odin.

"PLEASE!"
"NOOOOO!"

SPARE HIM!"

"PRINCE THOR!" the crowd continued to call out. Their earnest pleas did nothing to soften the hardened hearts of the Dark-Elf soldiers. Malekith feasted off of their fear and pain. Each cry sent a surge into him, like a pleasurable hit to the system. He loved it. His soulless eyes rolled indulgently in the back of his head. He controlled himself long enough to look over at Asgard's self-proclaimed new king. Loki was weak and he wanted to see the weak-willed mage faltering and floundering ready to cave and capitulate to the whims of the people. He didn't know if he was impressed or shocked at the way he stood their stone-faced and unphased.

"Come on! Come on! Get up, Thor," Frandal muttered from his position in the midst of the multitude. The brave swordsman was down on his knees his sword was in his hand and he couldn't brandish it, he couldn't wield the weapon and defend his friend. "Get up, Thor!" he yelled once more, his cry lost in the rage of the crowd. "Heimdal, we have to do something," He expressed through grit and strain.

The proud guardian could only scarcely turn his head to look at the bold blond next to him. His bright gold eyes that could see beyond the constellations stared straight at the scaffold. They search and searched for some sign that there was some escape for Prince Thor. His eyes managed to penetrate even deep into the palace walls there he saw the faithful fellow Asgardians who had taken uphold in the palace and were lying in wait, waiting to defend their fair realm, but there was nothing that any of them could do for Prince Thor now. His lips formed a severe frown. The strong, and proud gatekeeper tried with all his might to pull against the constraints of Loki's magic that seemed to keep him imprisoned. But it was all to no avail. He sighed heavily; he closed his burning gold eyes once more. Then allowed them to pop back open. This time he looked at the source of all their pain and misery. He stared directly at Loki. He had known Loki of old. He had known him since he was a baby. He had seen when King Odin had carried the tiny Frost Giant child back to Asgard. "My king!" the gatekeeper greeted as deactivated the Bifrost.

"Good Heimdal!" the king of Asgard greeted as he embraced his old friend with a hug.

"It is a noble victory, sire," the golden-clad warrior declared. "The victory will be proclaimed throughout the realm," Heimdal stated proudly.

"We shall not proclaim victory to the people just yet. All the fighting hasn't ended. The Frost Giants are still fighting on the Polar Fronts of their territory, but this...this does guarantee that the fighting will stop," Odin nodded. His eyes looked toward a few of the Einherjar who were striding through the Bifrost portal. They were singing and congratulating each other and there was a precious item in their possession.

"At long last," the gatekeeper declared. Heimdal was not one given too much emotion, but a smile managed to cross his face as he saw the ancient relic, being escorted into the Imperial and heavily guarded by some of the best warriors in the realm. When even he was a boy the terror of the Frost Giants was known throughout the realms and the source of their power was one of the most powerful weapons in the cosmos. They had plagued and terrorized the Midgardians and Elves for eons. Now it would be safe, locked away and it would be kept safe in the vault. Odin had ensured peace and security for the realms as was his duty. "It is a wonderful victory, but it comes at a great cost sire," The golden guardian stated with a sigh, "wish I could have been by your side my liege," he pledged as he placed his hand on his chest. He stared at his king's bloodied eye. He had seen the battle in which the great king of Asgard had lost his eye. He hated thinking that he had stood idle while the all-father suffered. He would have been by his king's side had he not be requested to stay and guard the kingdom of Asgard.

"I would have been glad to have had your sword by my side, my friend, but truly you were needed here," Odin assured his guard. "To protect our realm," he put a steady hand on Heimdal's shoulders. "And to protect my wife and child," King Odin explained.

"Of course, sire, my skills are at your command and disposal however you may use them," Heimdal assured him. "You have brought back many spoils from this war, my king and with the Casket of 1000 Winters, the Frost Giants shall not rise again," Asgard guardian expounded.

"It will be safe in Asgard's weapon's vault for all time," Odin explained as his remaining eye beheld the soldiers walking in procession with the casket in hand. "In time we will celebrate this victory with fireworks and festivals, dancing and singing in the streets, but not just yet" he warned the other man.

"And what of the other prize that you bring back to Asgard, my king," Heimdal barely gazed at the tiny bundle concealed under Odin's cloak and armor. "How shall we celebrate that?"

Odin's lips formed a tiny smile. "Nothing escapes your watch," he nodded.

"That is my gift and my curse, my king, but I know who's offspring the child is," He said. The warriors had walked on and it was simply the king and the gatekeeper and the slumbering babe left in the hallowed golden dome of the Bifrost. He had his suspicions. He was doubtful that one of the Valkyrie had given birth. Many of the women had sworn their virginity and they were incredibly committed. Odin revealed the child that he hid near his bosom. The child was so small, malnourished looking, but its slumbering form was innocent and angelic. Odin spoke not, but waved his hand over the tiny child and allowed its Asgardian skin to melt away and cobalt flesh, cold as ice with intricate carvings chiseled in it. "So the rumors were true, Laufey's Queen did have a child."

"Indeed, I found him abandoned in the Ice Temple," Odin explained. "Left for dead," Odin explained.

"The weak ones are often sacrificed to the ice spirits. I am surprised that Laufey would sacrifice his own child though," Lord Heimdal admitted.

"I am not. Laufey is power-mad and desperate. He would have done anything to secure victory. He's taken millions of lives. If he thought that one more would mean his prayers of conquest were answered, he'd not hesitate, even if it is his own flesh and blood"

"The child is frail, though" Heimdal's golden eyes scrutinized the babe who started to stir and then started to cry. The gatekeeper's thick lips parted into a smile. "Frail in body, but not frail in spirit," He admitted.

"Or in mind, he transformed himself into Aesir flesh," Odin's good eye winked. "There, there," he cooed bouncing the child in his arms.

"Impressive," Heimdal remarked. "he seems to have taken a liking to you, my lord," Heimdal pointed out. His lips slightly curling.

Odin continued to rock the babe. 100 years ago he wouldn't have known how to coddle a squawling infant, but his own son Thor had given him practice. "An infant will be fond of anyone," Odin shrugged.

"Not always sire, not always," Heimdal placed his thick hands on Odin's armored shoulder. "What do you wish to do with him, my king?" Heimdal inquired as he lifted a brow.

'I'm not sure, my old friend. I had a thought, but it is foolishness. A Frost Giant has no place in Asgard," he shook his head as he looked down at the tiny child in his hands. Still swaddled in the garments of Jotunheim. His little fists pressed into the folds of the all-father's cape. He didn't look like a Frost Giant, just a young babe.

"If you take him to the orphanage if they discover what he is I doubt he will be spared a second time."

"He is a child of royalty," Odin stated "and he will be raised in the royal house as Asgardian and then one day perhaps we shall put this child on the throne of Jotunheim. Unless, of course, you think it can't be done," Odin glanced at his gatekeeper and advisor quickly. "If you think this idea is unwise for Asgard," the king suggested.

Heimdal looked down at the baby, his crying had turned to whimpering and his whimpering had settled into soft cooing. This child was no threat to Asgard. "There has been fighting for so long...I think it is a very wise decision , your majesty," Heimdal stated. He bowed to Odin as the king prepared to mount his horse. "Goodbye, my little prince."

Now Heimdal cringed at the moment from so long ago. He had let a Frost Giant slip through his watch 3 times and every time it had come to ruin knew Loki's tendencies; he had watched with a spectator's eye many of Loki's conniving schemes over the centuries. He had seen him seethe and brood in his room enshrouded in darkness and solitude, he had seen Loki plot and plan and twist, but he had also seen the young prince try and grow and strive and do had seen a young man who worked hard and fought well deceptive, but not without conscience. He had thought of himself as a confidant of Loki at one point, the young man had come to him in earnest wanting to understand the stars and the realms and the sciences. He had seen that Loki had wanted to do good at one point in his life... as he stared into the new king's face. It was cold and distant and indifferent. He wondered if any of the young man he had once known was left. The eager boy who'd ask him for tales of the stars and the vastness of the CosmosHeimdal kept his eyes trained on Loki, "There's nothing we can do, now," the great gatekeeper announced.

"NO! MY SON! MY SON!" Queen Frigga screamed out in a bloodcurdling scream. She was too far away. She wanted to run up to the scaffold and even if she had to get down on her hands and knees and grovel and plead for her son's life in front of Malekith and his whole hoard she would if it would spare her own son's life. She'd beg Loki if she had to. Her own son, she'd cry and plead and rip her garments and make a fool of herself if she thought it would make a difference. There was a time when she thought that her tears would have been enough to change Loki. There was a time when a stern glance from her, a disapproving glare, shaking of the head would have been enough to bring a haughty prince into a contrite and humbled son who wanted to be pleasing in his mother's eyes. Yes, there was a time when Loki would have done so much to make her smile. Loki was always telling her jokes and riddles, impressing her with his wit, he'd show her some of his enchantments he'd transform into creatures and she'd laugh and smile and applaud and wrap her arms tightly around him and kiss his cheeks and tell him how much she loved him... there was a time...but as she stared into the ever-shifting sands that made everything obscure she knew this was no longer that time and that strange twisted creature that stood so tall and proud and looming over. That man was not her son. She had thought, she had thought that her son was still there. She thought that the real Loki, the true, good man that was her son had resurfaced when she had received that encrypted message at the Southern Palace. But maybe it wasn't Loki...the thought flashed through her mind, but no it had to be. It had just had to be Loki who sent it. It was code that only the royal family knew. Queen Frigga bit her lip. Why had he sent it? To trick her? To deceive her? To get her to bring her army here so that all of Asgard's warriors could be slaughtered in one foul blow and the people of Asgard could be left defenseless. It sent a shudder through her spine thinking that way, but all the evidence pointed to that fact. Queen Frigga's eyes began to water as she thought of the fact that the reason might be something far more personal. Had Loki done all that...had he brought her all this way to ensure that she'd see her son die at the hand of her other son. Did he just want to break a mother's heart? Did he want to kill her? Well, he wouldn't have had to go through so much trouble. He could have just told her Thor's life was in danger and she would have easily just thrown herself in front of the executioner's ax rather than watch her son die. She wondered what she had done to Loki that she could only earn his hatred in such away. She kept trying to look through the darkness and see Loki's face, but she couldn't and she was glad of it. She didn't want to look into Loki's eyes and see a stranger's eyes staring right back at her. Or worse yet to see a monster's eyes glaring in her direction. She wondered if his eyes would still be the same brilliant emerald color or if they would be a gleaming evil yellow or a hellish, violent red or worse just soulless black pits like the terrible Dark-Elves. Queen Frigga knew that she had certainly lost one son and she couldn't bear to lose another one. "Thor!" she sobbed reaching out to him with her words and with all her heart even though her arms were still bound and she couldn't run up to the platform and putting her own neck on the line. "Thor, my son, I love you I love you!" she continued to weep. "Please!" she begged as if Loki could hear her and as if he cared. "Nononono! This can't be," she cried as she watched the Dark-Elves manhandle her only born son and drag him toward the chopping block.

Thor attempted to wriggle, attempted to break free, but he was too weak and every movement that he made took energy that he did not have and before he knew it, his body was limp from exhaustion. There was nothing left. He had nothing left to give. He hated to disappoint his people, but he had no more fight left in him. He wished he had Mjolnir. He chided himself that he had surrendered it foolishly thinking that he was saving Loki's life. Thor was barely able to swing his head, barely able to even keep his eyes open, but he rolled his swollen, bloodied eyes toward the tyrant standing to the far side. Loki wasn't even looking at him. He cared so little now.

Lady Sigyn Arndottir heard Queen Frigga weeping loudly beside her. Her deep sobs cut through the blonde-haired handmaiden's soul. She was sobbing herself. She couldn't believe it. It couldn't be happening. NO! Not after all that she had done, not after all that she had been through. She'd risked life and limb to get back to Imperial City to get the scroll to Loki. And she just knew... she just knew that whatever was on that scroll had to have changed Loki. She thought that most certainly knowing that he had a child with lady Dagmar would have changed him. She thought that she had knocked some sense into him when she hit him on the head with that vase. She'd thought that he had been the one trying to help them in the catacombs. The old man... the old man. Sigyn could have sworn that that old man with those eyes, those intoxicating eyes...she thought that maybe he had been...her tongue darted out as she licked the dirt and blood that was mingled on her lip. But she thought wrong. She'd thought wrong! Everything that she had ever thought was wrong, wrong, WRONG! Lady Sigyn's breath started coming quickly and hurriedly out of her chest. She didn't even have the ability to shake her head, but her lip was shaking like she was old in a blizzard, her eyes were overflowing with water like a broken faucet. She couldn't even speak. She had been wrong. She was always wrong! She had been, so, so wrong about everything and now all of Asgard was to pay the price. "NOOOOOO!" the golden-locked maiden cried out. "LOKI! NOOO! WHY?"

If the blonde-haired lady-in-waiting to Queen Frigga would have had the power she would have slapped herself across the face a few good times for her own foolishness. She had had the power to end this. She had had the power to end this all. They never had to get to this point. She mashed her lips together as she recalled just hours before that Loki had been lying helplessly on the floor unconscious and she had had both dagger and arrow in her hand. She could have slit his throat or stabbed him in the chest and it would have been over. Well, there would have still been Malekith, that brute, but they could have handled Malekith better without Loki letting him know all of Asgard's secrets. Sigyn's face crumpled, this was all her fault. Ragnarök was coming now and there was no one left to save them. She cried to the Norns and to the kings of the past. Hoping that they would forgive her for her foolishness. They'd given her the opportunity to save her people and she'd wasted it. She'd blown it. Just like she so stupidly blew every opportunity that had ever come her way. Her parents had given her a good life, they sent her to one of the most prestigious schools in Asgard, but she didn't take advantage of her education. There were many men who wanted to court her, she could have had so many others, why did she have her heart set on Loki. Even when another had been willing to marry her, she'd run away and defied her father's wishes. For what? Now the one opportunity she had had to do some good for them all she blew it. For what? For what? For a fantasy of Loki becoming the good and noble white knight of her dreams that he had never actually been. She still wanted to believe that Loki had enchanted her to make her so foolish, but perhaps love was just a strange spell of its own. It was ridiculous that she'd spared him. Aesir believed in love. They had been epic ballads and poems recording the glories of love, but the first love every child was taught was love of Asgard, they were to love their fair realm above all else. She should have loved Asgard more than she loved Loki. They were supposed to love family secondly. She should have loved her parents enough to obey them and leave well enough alone and just marry Theoic. Maybe that wouldn't have changed their fate, but at least she wouldn't have been directly involved in their demise. She should have loved everyone more than she loved Loki! He wasn't worth loving! He wasn't worthy of love from anyone. He was a hateful, evil monster! And even still Lady Sigyn could only sit and curse herself because she should have felt hate and rage toward him. She did feel rage, but she mostly felt just heartbroken.

Sigyn couldn't quite rotate her head, but she could hear the wife of Odin sobbing beside her. "Oh, my queen," she started. "Thisismyfault...thisismyfault," Sigyn muttered helplessly. "I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry!" she repeated and repeated as liquid cascaded down her cheeks. "You...you...you and your army came all this way... for this... for this..." she looked up at the ghastly scene of Prince Thor being pressed against a chopping block, "Prince Thor...the fall of Asgard...it was me... I should have... I should have..." she sobbed.

The Queen of Asgard shook her head. She couldn't even reach out and take young Sigyn by the shoulders and pull her into an embrace. But they were close together that she could feel the younger woman near her. "No...no...no" Queen Frigga's voice was raspy from screaming and crying, but Lady Sigyn was attentive to it.

"Your majesty, yes, yes," Sigyn admitted. "I...I... I had a chance..." Sigyn stifled herself. She didn't know if she should reveal to Queen Frigga if she had the opportunity to kill her youngest son in one foul blow. "I... I should have stopped this!" Sigyn muttered as she hyperventilated. "Now it's too late," she gasped.

"Sigyn...Sigyn...Sigyn," the queen's voice shook at first, but grew firmer as she tried to get the younger woman's attention. "It's not your fault," she stated. "Keep your eyes focused upward if you truly desire to see the grand architect of our demise," Queen Frigga of Asgard stated as her own eyes stared unblinking at the scaffold.

Sigyn bit her lip, she tried to stop herself from speaking, but words ran out like a flood. "But I could...but I should have... I had the opportunity..." she hiccupped.

Queen Frigga couldn't imagine what more that Sigyn could have possibly done. Her handmaiden had seemed to have already gone above and beyond her call of duty and she was eternally grateful to her for that, but it seemed eternity was coming much sooner than they had ever anticipated. "Sigyn, you did all you could," the wife of Odin tried to explain once more. She couldn't even turn her head to see her young lady-in-waiting, but she couldn't even turn her head. She wished she could reach out her hand and squeeze Sigyn's and let her know that she had done nothing wrong, but she couldn't.

"But-but-but... Queen Frigga...I...I... I Could...have...stopped...Loki," she explained deliberated through choppy breaths. After the words came out Sigyn immediately regretted them. She hoped that Queen Frigga wouldn't catch her true meaning.

The bright blue eyes of the queen widened perceptively for just a moment..." I see," her words a low whisper that could scarcely be heard above the mournful moan of the crowd of Aesir people. "I see," she breathed again. "But you couldn't do it?"

"No, Queen Frigga," Lady Sigyn blubbered all the harder. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I sorry!" she continued to wail.

"Don't apologize, don't" Queen Frigga continued to try to console.

"But Asgard!" the young noble woman squeaked. "i should have for Asgard, the realms! For all of us!" she practically screamed.

"Then you would have been just like him," Queen Frigga flicked her eyes upward toward her youngest son who stood as a dictator lording over them all. "Guilty of hurting the people that you love," she explained further. "Whatever happens to us now, well that is Loki's doing..." she expressed with watery eyes.

King Loki continued to gaze out at the crowd the faint rays of dawn barely were even able to illuminate the faces of the crowd because of the thickness of the Aether ash. Still his eyes managed to find Sigyn. Or her eyes found him. Those normally big, bright and innocent eyes were now looking bloodshot and pained. Their innocence was gone. It was replaced with hot, searing anguish. It was heartbreaking thinking that he had put it there. He could see the tears and the horror in her eyes. But somehow despite the fear there wasn't despair. Instead, there was still and a desire to fight. Loki couldn't help, but admire the intensity and tenacity that was placed there. The gentle mellow amber of her irises was now a blazing furious gold. She hadn't given up even now. She was a true Aesir. Aesir never stopped fighting. They would fight until the end. Seeing her determination made him want to raise his head higher and square his shoulders just a little more. But the heat in her eyes was different. It wasn't just a desire to rip the Dark-Elves apart. It was a desire for him. She was fighting for him to still do the right thing. She still believed in him. She never let up from staring at him. Her eyes streaming with tears an she never let up from the fight in her mind that Loki could still do the right thing. King Loki shook his head. "Sigyn Arndottir, you are Surprising" he muttered as he blew out a breath.

The ebony-haired enchanter didn't have much to contemplate his mother's handmaiden's boldness and daring of spirit to still believe in him. For soon her heard the rough thud and thump of Thor's heavy, broken carcass being placed ever closer to the chopping block. His shoulders were being pressed downward. The son of Odin did manage to make some protests. "No! NO! NO!" he cried. He was still putting in the effort to resist, but that was futile. His big muscles and rippling pectorals had failed him. They were weak as water now. His insides ached. His head throbbed and his heart felt like it would explode. His limbs kicked and flailed about like a child in pout, out of his league, but still desperately trying to get his way. But he didn't. It took several of the Dark-Elf soldiers to rein in the unruly prince, but they managed to. The wrangled him like cattle. "Clap him in irons!" Malekith ordered his soldiers. And they did so. In a moment Thor's feet were bound in heavy iron chains and his wrists were fitted with a pair of fetters. Then they pressed his head against the chopping block. They put a stock around it so that he couldn't even attempt to move.

Prince Thor's head shook and wriggled vigorously back and forth. He was making every attempt to break free. If he had his strength, if he had his power. He could have summoned the mighty hammer and broken then scaffold into a million pieces and pieces and smote Malekith and Loki in a swoop, but he didn't have his weapon. Finally, Thor stopped moving. He stopped struggling. He allowed his head to flop down. His eyes were so red and puffy and swollen and that he couldn't even manage tears any longer. He felt something wet and sticky dribbling down the side of his face and running over his eye and he could only imagine that it was blood. He let out a mournful sound. He must have sounded like some type of dying animal and that's all he felt like. A dumb beast. An animal that was hand fed, plumped and fattened just for the killing. All the while, the animal was raised tenderly and made trusting only to make it easy prey at the end. Thor's mouth twisted into a grimace. That's all he had become in the end was Loki's prey. He'd thought he'd had a brother, but now he realized he never did. No real brother could do something like this. Something so terrible, so wicked and vile. He thought he had a brother, but like so many times in his life he had been full of ignorance. Now all of Asgard paid the price. If Loki hated him so much fine. He could have just killed him. But why did he have to bring all this destruction upon their people, upon the people of the Nine Realms? Some of them didn't even know who Loki was and yet they incurred his wrath so vilely. The crown prince of Asgard's head continued to feel heavier and heavier, the weight of the stock kept pressing it down, so much so that he couldn't even lift it off of the cold stone, painted ruby, red with the blood of so many victims before him. Thor's breathing became labored. He tried to see, but everything was a blurry, slurry of ash and soot. There was a sea of people just feet from him and yet he couldn't make out their faces, but he knew they were there. His bloodied lips quivered and he choaked out a few garbled words. Red liquid flying out as he muttered to himself.

"Forgive me, father," he sighed. He hoped his father was in Valhalla now. He hoped he was resting and at peace and enjoining the glory from the victories of the 1000s of battles he had fought. He hoped he wasn't languishing watching this. "I've never deserved your name," he admitted. "I've failed you. I'm sorry mother," he stated. His neck was too weak to raise up to look out at the crowd and see her, but somehow in his heart he thought she might be there. He hoped that she wasn't. She was Asgard's queen, she deserved far better to be pressed down in the mud like a slave, but she was so brave and valiant that he knew she would want to be fighting to save their people. She shouldn't have to see this. She shouldn't have to see him die. He'd seen how it had hurt her so tremendously when they'd thought that Loki had died. She was so heartbroken. There was a time when she had no song to sing or hum, the smiles that passed her lips didn't make it to her eyes. He didn't want his own demise to cause such a sweet and strong woman so much pain. "I wasn't the prince you raised me to be...I'm sorry," he continued to mutter. "Friends," his voice cracked as he thought of them. He'd like to hope that they were somewhere hiding, that maybe they'd found away off of Asgard, but that would have been fruitless because if Ragnarök came there was no hiding place. And even if there were his friends...well they'd never run and hide. They'd always been in the thick and heat of a battle. They wouldn't have it any other way and, in a sense, maybe neither would he, but he wished he was fighting by their side and not about the murdered so unceremoniously here. "I...I..." his words wouldn't come. "I wish I could have been the hero of Asgard that you all thought I was." Prince Thor mashed his lips together. He thought of Jane. Beautiful Jane. He loved her so much. Yet there were things he didn't know about her. There was so much they had yet to discover about each other. It would have taken a lifetime, he had several to spare, but she had only one. She had only lived such a short time and now because of him it was doomed to end even quicker than need be. "I'm sorry," he whispered in the end. "I'm sorry we couldn't have had more time together. "I'm sorry, I couldn't save you," he expressed and let out a sob.

The roar of the crowd echoed still as they cried and cried for their prince to be spared. Malekith stepped forth. "SILENCE!" the leader of the Dark-Elves boomed. His voice reverberated across the endless expanse of people. "SILENCE!" he shouted again. "Oh, Asgardians," he began in a mocking tone. "Look how far you have fallen," Malekith tossed his head back and laughed. I came out as a roar. The Aether shot out of his mouth and it was shot forth at a tower and it cracked and crumbled it and the stones came tumbling down. The people screamed beneath as they were crushed. "Once the mightiest of all the realms, now, my cowering slaves!" he proclaimed.

There were a few faint cries. Protests, saying "We will never be your slaves! We will never bow to you!" But from the position that they all had crouched like roaches in between the decimated buildings and knee and neck deep in mud, their protests made little difference. "FREE ASGARD! FREE PRINCE THOR!"

"SILENCE!" the two-faced Dark-Elf warlord roared once more. His eye sight was heightened by the power of the Aether and he could pierce the veil of the Aether ash and see the way so many of the Aesir people were shaking in their boots or lack thereof. It all made his system ecstatic. Just as King Loki had predicted, the Aesir people were completely lost at seeing the defeat of their beloved prince. Their spirits were broken. They were beyond broken. They were completely crushed. Decimated. They'd never defeat him now. Their time was up. They were only a few hours away from when he would have the power to release the glory of the Aether forth over all the Nine Realms. Millions upon billions would perish. He doubted any mortals would survive. Not that he'd care. Mortals, their existence was perplexing and it would have bever even been without the light. They'd be the first to fall and they wouldn't be missed. The few people from the Nine Realms that remained would beg and plead for their lives and they'd pay by the nose and work like a dog just to survive. They'd look to Asgard for help as so many of the Realms had done in the past, but they'd only see a tired shell a shattered fragment of the once proud people, groveling in the dirt. "This is your day of reckoning. You are mine now!" he shouted at them.

King Loki finally interjected. He strolled in front of Lord Malekith. His long, bony body, clad in glittering gold blocked the stocky, ironclad Dark-Elf. The self-proclaimed king of Asgard simply cleared his throat. He shot a look toward Malekith. The warlord's eyes glowed the evil red of the Aether and he growled indignantly. He quirked his thick half-bloodless, half midnight lips into a scowl and stared defiantly at the king. "The people of Asgard are mine," Loki made sure to announce to the general. Why had Thanos picked Loki and not him? He would never understand. He'd acquiesce, for now, to bide his time, but when this day was done, he'd give the Kind of Asgard Helheim to pay. He'd show Thanos that he was the one to be the rightful ruler and second in command. He grumbled and complained to himself as he slunk back and stood by Prince Thor's side. He even gave a bow as he did so. He made sure to never take his eyes off of King Loki. He backslapped the prince for effect and sent the big burly muscular blonde shaking and reeling a fresh.

"Dear citizens of Asgard," Loki began with all the genteel elegance of a king. But when a king spoke his people listened attentively. They applauded and hung on his every word. Even Loki's few syllables were automatically responded to with hissing and booing.

"FALSE KING! FALSE KING OF ASGARD! NOT OUR KING!" the crowd seemed to echo in unison.

Loki continued to wear a signature smirk on his thin lips as he heard their anguished protestations. "This is indeed your day of reckoning!" he repeated Malekith's sentiments. "This is a day when you, my dear subjects will get everything that you have had coming to you for far too long," he warned them. He even wagged his fingers at them like he was simply chiding a bunch of ill-mannered toddlers.

"BOOOOOO! BOOOOOO!" the Asgardians responded immediately.

"Take a good look and remember, for isn't this a savory sight for the seeing," he pointed out. he stretched his arms out wide so that the crowd got a good view of what was going on. "The two sons of Odin before you, just as it had always been," he paused and breathed deeply. He allowed his emerald eye to roll back and cast a glance that wasn't so pitying back at Thor who was sagged against the chopping block like a rag doll.

"YOUR NO SON OF ODIN!" a shrill voice yelled out.

King Loki of Asgard seemed to pay it no heed. He walked closer to the edge of the stage. "But I'm sure it wasn't in the way that you had thought it would be. You surely thought that your beloved Prince Thor," Loki threw his hand out and pointed to the broken body of his brother slung against a chopping block. "Your Eagle of Asgard," He put quotation fingers around the words and continued to jeer and taunt them. The crowd grew silent and still now. "You thought that he would be standing over you as your golden king, but instead you have I," the dark-enchanter flashed a dazzling smile. "You thought that the proud and valiant prince would be your savior?" he tortured them with his words. "But behold...is this your king?" he mocked them with the words. "Is this your hero?" he continued. He thought he saw Thor flinch ever so slightly under the weight of his words. "Pathetic," the horned dictator sneered. "Don't you deserve better?" he asked them. "Surely, you want more," he continued as he walked along the edge of the stage with the grace of a cat. He waited for the crowd's response. He had the nerve to cup his hand over his ear to hear them. And hear them he did. He heard every cry and holler and jeer that the crowd of Asgardians had to offer. They were a raging sea of curses and heckles and tears and sobs and begging and pleading mixed with smattering of an assortment of hurled insults.

DEATH TO THE FALSE KING! DEATH TO LOKI! LONG LIVE PRINCE THOR!" they roared the more.

"Long live Prince Thor! Long live Prince Thor," Loki echoed and mocked the broken assembly. "You really want him to live? Look how pathetic he is," he pointed out. Loki entertained his subjects like a jester with wild expressions.

"Yes! Yes! Please! Anything!" the Aesir people continued to beg from their knees
Loki shook his head in response to every effort they made to appeal to him.

"He hasn't been the valiant protector that he claimed he would be," he went on to explain. "Oh, Asgard you deserve so much better," he stated to them. "And don't worry my dear citizens, I intend to give you the very best in myself," the golden-clad self-proclaimed king degreed as he aimed his thumb at the center of his chest. "Don't worry, we will rise from the ashes of this day," Loki proclaimed as he raised his hand and let Aether ash gather in his palm. "And we will be restored to glory once again," he confirmed before the people.

Lord Malekith quickly walked toward Loki. He got close to him. "What are you saying?" he demanded of the leader.

King Loki of Asgard ignored the Dark-Elf general and continued to talk to the people of Asgard. The whole time his words were cut across by the frantic and frightened ramblings of the trapped Aesir. One particularly frantic scream rose out from the front of the crowd. It was a young woman who was rather close to the platform where Thor was held, hostage. "AHHH! HE'S YOUR BROTHER! HAVE MERCY!"

Loki paused as the words dawn on him. He looked down in the sea of the people and spotted the tired soul that had let out one last gallant attempt to plead for her prince's life. She was just a commoner, no one that Loki could think of that he knew. Loki looked down at her. He looked right at the woman. She was sniveling and shivering and when she beheld the crazed usurper of the throne, she started bawling all the more. "Mercy? Mercy? You want me to show mercy?" he asked the individual and the collective of the citizens of the Imperial City. A resounding yes shot forth from the crowd. It was louder than thunder it seemed. Loki tip-toed over to wear Thor was held as a prisoner to await an undeserved death. "He is my brother after all and does deserve mercy," Loki continued. Again, he was met with 1000s of people clamoring and demanding tenderness from him. Loki's piercing emerald eyes looked out over the crowd they shot immediately toward the familiar faces in the great multitude. Each eye wet and red and wide and hopeful that maybe he would spare his own brother's life. He saw his mother she was mouthing his name pleading with him to stop all his evil intentions to have heart enough to leave her eldest and truly her only born son alive. Then there was Lady Sigyn her bloodshot eyes were locked on him burrowing into his soul scrutinizing him and trying to find if there was any shred of goodness, even the smallest smidgen of humanity in him to keep him from committing such an unspeakable atrocity. There was a resoluteness in her. He still was amazed that she could still believe in him.

"Dear Aesir, I shall grant you an act of mercy," King Loki of Asgard declared. The crowd grew silent. Only the violent stir of the wind now made a peep now as they waited expectantly.

"WHAT!?" The Dark-Elf general raged. "You cannot be serious?" he fussed vehemently.

The king of Asgard turned back and smiled at the general. He crossed over closer to Thor. He actually allowed his hand to stroke the side of Thor's cheek almost tenderly. Malekith's dark eyes watched with much mistrust. "Come, come to Lord Malekith, you cannot be so surprised," Loki continued to wear his signature telltale smirk upon his thin lips. "After all, as they said...he is my brother," he gave a wink in Lord Malekith's direction. It was enough to make the warlord rub his palms together. "My subjects. I assure you that I am a king of tradition," Loki spoke eloquently and graciously, "And I honor the customs of our people. In accordance to our traditions, I will be merciful enough to allow Prince Thor last words before his slaughter," Loki expressed.

"BOOOOO! NOOOOO! NOOOO!" the subjects exclaimed. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS! TRICKERY!"

Loki's hand immediately stopped tenderly stroking the blonde-haired prince's face and went to gripping up the freshly shorn prince's hair. Thor let out a pained gasp as his head was raised and yanked and his battered face displayed for all the people to see. Thor's eyes were swollen and bleary, but he thought that he made out the faint look of Loki winking at him. "Any last words, brother?" he asked. Thor looked up at Loki. His harsh, pointed features swan in and out of his focus. He could barely keep his eyes open. His fleshy lips twitched and his voice cracked though no word was uttered. He licked his lips and tasted his own salty blood. "Come, come brother this is your cue," Loki ribbed all the while his eye still winked. Thor shook his head.

"L-l-Loki," he croaked.

"Ah-ah-ah" the king gave a mild scold. "Do you really want to waste your words on me?" he offered. "Talk to your people...son of Odin." he admonished.

Thor tried to talk back. Then in his heart, he knew somehow Loki was right. His life was about to be forfeited. He felt so much shame, guilt, and fear. He had never felt such fear before. He didn't even truly know what exactly he was afraid of. Death. He supposed everyone was afraid of death, but it was more than just that. He was afraid for his people. What would become of the Aesir? Would they simply be ground into the dust until they were no more? What would become of the Nine Realm? He wished he could have gotten word to his friends, the Avengers. He wondered if the team would have been able to stop Loki and Malekith? He guessed it didn't matter much now. But Loki, that slimy monster, he was right. The people of Asgard needed to hear from him. Loki had his head raised. He'd cocked it back at a painful angle. But it was the only way that Thor could have possibly managed to keep his head raised. So, he was grateful for that. His bruised and battered face was on display before the good people of Asgard. They saw how worn he was. How he had tried and tried, but it didn't seem as though he could prevail. His breathing came out slow and labored and very heavy as he struggled to find words.

"P-p-people of...of...As-as-as-g-gard..." Thor stammered as he started to speak. Thor had always been boisterous and loud. The Queen of Asgard said that on the night he was born during a terrible thunderstorm and she knew that in that way it was prophetic as to the powers that he was to have, but then he started to scream quite loudly when he was born and he was so loud that she could scarcely hear the storm outside and so she knew that she had to name him Thor, for thunder. But now, now the mighty Thunderer's voice was all but drowned out in a whisper. Even though Thor's voice was soft and weak the entire congregation in the City Square...well they heard him. It was as all the people were holding their breath waiting for the final words of their beloved prince. "G-g-g-good...people...of...As-as-gard, d-d-don't be...a-a-afraid," he continued as it was hard for him to speak. Loki's long, white fingers continued to keep their tight grip on the short blonde hairs that were coming from his head. "Y-y-you...you...you...are a... brave people," he took a gulp for air. "We...we...knew...that..th-th-this...day...would...come," Thor went on.

There were murmurs in the crowd. "nononono, say it's not so, Prince Thor," but it was doubtful that the Crown Prince of Asgard heard them.

"We...we...we...were all taught of this day," Thor couldn't even nod his head, but blood started to run from his nose. Thor's eyes blinked as he tried to maintain consciousness. "But we never thought it would come..." a tear trickled down Thor's eyes. King Loki of Asgard held his head so steady that he couldn't even shake it. "I...I... I n-never...thought...it...would...come," he admitted shamefully. " I...I'm...sorry...I'm sorry..." the prince stated to his people. "I'm so sorry," the tears came quickly out of his swollen eyes. "I'm sorry...that...I... can't...stop...this...I...I...I...h-h-have f-f-failed you...all," Thor confessed. Behind him in the midst of the stillness of his people, Thor heard the happy guffaws of Malekith and his elves. Amongst the crowd of Asgardians still frozen in place that Dark-Elf soldiers raised their hands and hollered in glee. King Loki of Asgard finally released Thor's head. He allowed it to slump down in one quick motion and Thor banged his chin against the hard stone of the chopping block causing him to bite his lip. More blood spewed forth. He heard his subjects blubbering in the midst of the cheering of the soldiers of Svartalfheim. Thor swallowed hard and it took all the strength he could muster to raise his head once more. But he raised it. His neck was shaking, but he managed to keep it held high. "I...I... I may not save you...but you won't die," he spoke over them. "You...you...you won't die," he repeated his voice getting stronger. "THE...SUN... WILL...SHINE...ON...US...AGAIN," he prophesied. The Asgardians could not clap their hands or stomp their feet for they were still entrapped, but they raised their voice and they called out.

"LONG LIVE PRINCE THOR! LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN! LONG LIVE ASGARD!" they shouted at the top of their lungs.

"WE LOVE YOU PRINCE THOR!" a few more called from the crowd. Thor smiled as he heard the praise of his people for the last time. With that, his head slumped down once more against the chopping block in exhaustion.

Loki stood right by Prince Thor and slowly began to clap his hands. The horned ruler wiped a tear from his bright green eye. Thor had never been much of an orator. Of course, he'd been instructed in discourse and rhetoric, same as he, but Thor had never excelled at it. He always let his hammer or his sword do the talking. Now that he was unarmed, he had...almost been...well eloquent. "Bravo. Bravo. Brava." Loki said slowly as his long thin hands clapped along. He once more stepped a little closer to bowed and bent people of Asgard who huddled and shivered and wept in the mud for their soon-to-be-dead prince. "Stirring words! Stirring words, brother" King Loki said as he cocked his head in Thor's direction.

"Don't call him that! How dare he call him that!" Loki was able to pinpoint a distressed sultry tone coming from the multitude. He knew that it was Lady Sif. She was right he didn't have any right to call Thor his brother anymore. Even if everything went according to his makeshift plan and the way things were going, he could scarcely hope that that would actually happen, but no matter what he couldn't think that Thor would ever consider them brothers again. Loki felt his heart pounding in his chest with the thought of never having Thor by his side again was terribly painful. Loki squared his shoulders and made himself stand taller. He dared not feel sorry for himself now. Everything that happened was his fault and he deserved every repercussion.

Loki allowed a smile to play across his lips. Once more his glaring, green gem eyes continued to wink. "I'm sure that the people of Asgard will hold on tightly to those words for years to come," he admitted. "But..." Loki started.

"NOW IT IS TIME FOR THE SON OF ODIN TO DIE!" Lord Malekith proclaimed as rushed to the front of the podium to stand by King Loki's side. He raised his hands high into the air and the Dark-Elf soldiers screamed with energy. His soulless eye burrowed into Loki's. They were matched and gridlocked. Both villains staring each other down. Each with a gleaming eye. Loki stood a few inches over the elf. His horned helmet made him look as if he towered over the warlord. Loki wore an ever-smug grin on his lips, but Malekith's rough features were folded into a tremendous scowl. "Enough of your games, oh King of Asgard," Malekith spat. "You are stalling!" Malekith said threateningly. He raised a talon-like finger in Loki's face. "I've had enough of your speeches and your stalling," he continued to rant. "The sun is high. Dawn has come! "He pointed toward the darkened heavens. He stomped his black booted foot. "His blood should be spilled!" Malekith protested as he slipped into his mother tongue. "It should be pouring all over this chopping block and appeasing the Aether," He growled as he felt the power swirling deep within him. "It must be satisfied," he roared. "Convergence draws ever closer and Thanos demands to be set free and demands such a sacrifice. If you still intend to incur his favor and rule over these worms then do your duty!" Malekith railed. He watched as Loki's shifty jade eye darted ever so slightly toward the Southern Tower. Malekith caught him. "Ah-ha! Ah-ha" the Dark-Elf general started to cackle. "I knew it! I knew it! You truly are stalling. If you are planning a cue it shall fail," he stated to the self-proclaimed king.

"I have no need to stall. This is what I have dreamed of for nearly 3 years!" Loki declared.

"Prove it!" Malekith spat once more. This time thick black spittle literally spewed from his mouth and narrowly missed Loki's. Smooth and polished regal face. "Prove now!" Malekith once again challenged with vehemence. "Strike the descendant of Bor down! Prove yourself to me and the rest of your humble subjects and your liege, Thanos." Malekith had no eyebrows, but he widened his eyes. Loki didn't flinch as the short, but stocky general inched closer to him. They were only a nose width apart. Malekith jutted out his chin as he stood upon his tip-toes. His breath was rank as acid and filled Loki's nostrils. Lord Malekith's fleshy, bloodless lips curled into a smile boldly in Loki's face. "And if you're too much of a coward to do it...let a real king show you how it's done," he stated as he slipped into the rough tongue of his people and thumped his chest. Loki didn't back down or bat an eyelash in the face of Loki's Malekith's incriminating words or deadly breath. He let a tooth smile come across his severe lips. His tongue wet them as if a flash of green light he pulled his dagger out of thin air.

"Bring him forth," Loki stated to Malekith. Instantly, the Dark-Elf soldiers dragged Thor from the chopping block and to the front of the stage. Thor's body was limp and weak and he didn't put up much resistance as they dragged him like an overgrown sack of potatoes toward Loki's feet. The crowd could only cry and scream for their beloved prince's life.

Thor's knees dragged and scraped against the wood of the platform. He was carted and dropped at the dictator's feet. Malekith stood just a few feet off. His look was proud and antsy and anxious. Thor lied curled up in a ball at Loki's feet. Loki's long green cape fluttered all around him. "Are you going to die cowering in the fetal position, brother?" Loki's crisp voice taunted over the howling wind. "How unbecoming of a son of Odin. Tsk..tsk...tisk," He clicked his tongue as he inched a little closer with the dagger's blade raised high in the air. In the background he heard the last feeble calls for Thor to be spared.

Thor was gasping for breath in his curled-up posture. It hurt to breathe. He shuddered. It had come to this. This was how he was going to die, a sniveling, shivering weakling at the hands of an evil being and a madman that he had called brother. He could take it if it was his demise alone, but the fact that his failure meant that all of Asgard and the Aesir will suffer that all the Nine Realms, innocent being would just be made to be slaves and then wouldn't even ever know why well that was something that was unbearable. He'd rather be dead then live with such guilt or shame any longer. He wanted to just lie there and let death come, but he hated hearing Loki's silver-tongued taunts. He thought of his father. His father would have never wanted him to take death lying down. That was the last thing he would have wanted to see.

He had gone to Arena for the first time when he was the equivalent of a human 13. Mother hadn't wanted him to go, but father had thought it would be good. He faced older students, Einherjar apprentices, young palace guards. They were good and well prepared and yet he always won. It was wonderful to hear the applause of the crowd. The young nobles and peasants alike singing his praises. His name was displayed proudly on banners and flyers throughout the city as the arena of champion. It felt great. It wasn't until Lady Sif in a moment of anger hinted at the fact that other young men lost on purpose. They weren't really losing because Thor had outmatched them. They were afraid to beat Prince Thor. He'd railed against that idea. That simply couldn't be true. He'd proven himself in his training classes time and time again. He'd shown what he was capable of. He'd beaten so many at the academy. But they were children his age. Many of them were just pampered young men who played at war as a sport but weren't necessarily planning on making careers as warriors. He was furious that she had insinuated that he truly couldn't beat all comers. She was wrong. Besides, in Asgard things weren't like that. Perhaps in Musepelheim to defeat a member of a royal family would mean that someone had to pay with their life, but not on Asgard.

Finally, he confronted his father about it. After much badgering and pestering, he got the truth. "I told them to take it easy on you and treat it as a sparring session," Odin admitted as he strode around his library sifting through scrolls.

"Take it easy on me! Why? Why would you tell them to do that? I don't need that. I'm the best warrior there is," He thumped his chest and followed behind the great king.

Odin's one good eye looked up from the scroll he had been studying. He quickly rolled it up, "Thor you are a mere 483 years old how can you say you are the best?"

"I am! I am! I know I am, Father. Let me prove it to you! Let prove it to all of the realms!" he threw his hands out bold.

Odin shook his head. "Thor I highly doubt that you want the whole realm to watch you lose," Odin admitted.

"I won't lose!" the young prince argued back.

"So much confidence, yet untested in battle you are. Many of those lads have gone out and slayed a bildgeschnipe or a dragon. They've fought brigands on the high seas. You have done more training than actual adventuring, my boy," the wizened king merely chuckled.

Prince Thor rolled his eyes began to mutter under his breath, "I've had plenty of adventures you just don't know," he crossed his arms and pouted like a little boy.

"Excuse me," Odin said sternly as he stepped closer.

"Just let me do this! Then you will see, how powerful I really am," Thor boasted once more. He took great stomping strides around the study chamber.

"Powers come in time, my son. You don't have to rush." He explained with a sigh. He looked back at his firstborn child. He was willful and arrogant, maybe by his own making. "Fine Thor I will tell the young men to prepare for a full-on fight. No holding back. But if you do lose, you will concede honorably," his father admonished.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yada, yada, yada, the blonde-haired prince went on. "That won't be a problem at all. "There is no way I'm going to lose," he stated all the more confidently.

Well, the big day came. The area was packed with what must have been 10,000 citizens. They were all screaming and roaring and cheering. They were itching for a good fight and so was he. Now, he'd been having matches with him against 10 or so other young warriors. Because this was to be a true battle it was only to be him against one young man. That young man's name was Brutus. Brutus was tall and strong and handsome. This match didn't last very long. The warrior came at him with everything he had. And in the end, Thor lost. He didn't lose badly Persey, but he lost. Brutus had more hits, slicker, tighter moves. When the Arena master proclaimed Brutus the winner. Thor screamed. He hurled his blade into the stands and started to stomp out of the arena. As he was leaving out of the exit gate, he saw his father standing there blocking the way on the back of Sleipnir. Odin point back toward the arena. "You must learn to lose," the king announced and pointed for him to go back.

Thor looked up at Odin shaking his head, "No, no, no," he protested against his father's commands. "You can't be serious," he shook his head. His hand clutched at his prince's ring. He had had it since he was a lad. It identified him as a member of the house of Odin. That ring went back to the times when the Asgardians had first chosen a king and it was a gift from the Vanir the first leaders of the Nine Realms who conceded their rule to the Asgardians long ago. "This is a royal artifact!" he protested. Odin said not a word. His firm finger continued to point back toward the arena. Odin's staunch response didn't waver. "Father, please," Thor finally ground out through gritted teeth. He saw that there was no budging the king on this matter. Finally, he skulked back toward the center ring of the arena. There both Brutus and the crowd of Aesir waited in silence to witness the spectacle of Thor losing. Brutus held his head high but when a youthful Prince Thor limped his way back, he gave the royal a bow. Thor didn't allow the gesture to linger. He dropped to his knees and bow before the young Einherjar in training who had bested him. "I concede victory to you noble Brutus," the blonde-haired prince stated although he couldn't bring his blue eyes to look up at the man. "I surrender this token of my esteem to you," he stated angrily as he bitterly twisted the golden ring off of his finger and held it up toward the winner.

Brutus looked dumbfounded for a minute. He wasn't a noble, he wasn't even the son of an Einherjar. His family were just potters, but all his years of training it seemed had finally paid off. Besides the armor that he had as a recruit of the Einherjar, he had never held any gold. His father and mother were in the crowd of the arena and they were surely watching as their son, a poor boy receive the honor of a king. It was glorious. He took it, snatched it up quickly and held it up before the vast crowd. A spot light was shined on him. The arena went wild with cheers! But the applause wasn't for Prince Thor and that ate away at the young prince. Never in his life had he felt such shame. While Brutus ate up the adulation of the crowd. Thor ran out of the arena, relegated to the shadows for the first time. He hopped up on his white steed and followed behind his father as they rode with a team of palace guards surrounding him. They went back to the palace. Thor hid away in his chambers for hours. He didn't take meat or drink. His mother tried to knock on the door, but it was of no use he wouldn't allow her entry. After night had fallen Odin opened the door against Thor's wishes. He found the older boys sitting on his bed pounding a pillow with tears streaming down his face.

The king approached slowly, he sat on the bed and for a while he sat in silence with Thor. Eventually, though he cleared his throat and placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "There is no shame in losing, my son," he stated.

"I'm a prince! I shouldn't lose! I shouldn't lose to the son of potters!" he exclaimed.

"The son of a potter," Odin mouthed.

"I'm a prince, I'm your son," Thor explained.

"And you lost!" Odin qualified. His one gray-blue eye didn't stray from looking at Thor with intensity. "You lost badly! You weren't the best. You were weaker, slower, and not as skilled," Odin's words burrowed into Thor like a knife.

"I failed you! I disgraced this house!" the tears ran even more furiously down Thor's face which was starting to turn red.

Odin shook his head sympathetically. He mashed his lips together and gave Thor's shoulder a tight squeeze. "There's no shame in losing, Thor," he repeated.

"Yes, there is,' Thor muttered back.

"We all lose,"

"You?" the golden-locked eldest son of Odin asked as he tried to wipe his tears. It was bad enough to be a loser, but he didn't need to be branded as a cry-baby in his father's eyes as well.

"Yes," the gray-haired king admitted. "I have lost in battles much more fearsome and important than your arena match, "he stated. "The arena match was vanity and I shouldn't have indulged it," Odin began.

"I wanted it," Thor shrugged his shoulders

"And I, as your father and as your king, should have told you no. " Thor's eyes widened and his blonde brows raised as he heard the word. His father so rarely said no to him. "Thor, if we never lose, we never improve or grow, losing often teaches so much more than victory can. In Asgard, we prize-winning so much that we tend to forget that there is honor in losing as well,"

"How can that be?" he questioned.

"You can lose with honor and dignity; you can accept defeat and hold your head up high and believe that there will be a day when you can be victorious again. You can learn from your opponent, study them and take advantage of what they have taught you. You can honor the outcome," Odin explained. "Thor losing was not the problem today, but throwing your sword, running out the arena and not following the proper protocols, not looking the man who bested you in the eye or even offering her true congratulations that is shameful. I am not disheartened that you lost. I should have allowed you to lose sooner, but I am disheartened that you a prince of Asgard would not accept defeat with nobility and strength. You could have asked to train with young Brutus so that you could be a more worthy opponent. You could have offered to throw him a victory banquet before all the people showing that you bear him no ill-will, but you ran away in anger." Odin admonished.

The son who looked so much like him held his head down low. "I am sorry, father," Thor admitted.

"Don't be," Odin gently clapped him on the back. "But the next time you lose and you will have times of defeat again, hold your head high. If you truly did your best then there is no shame in defeat,"

That had been a long time ago, but Thor had held on to his father's words. Thor faced defeat a few more times in the arena and only a few. But each time he did so more and more honorably. Now, when it mattered most, he had faced defeat. It was dishonorable and disgraceful, but it happened and he had to face it, but he wouldn't cower and beg as Loki wanted. He'd let his brother kill him like a man. He wanted to look Loki in the eyes one last time. He wanted to see the monster he was.

So, Thor managed to raise his head. Beads of sweat and blood rolling down into his blacked eyes. His lips were quivering, but he managed to hold them steady as he took some shuddering breaths. His neck ached abominably. It hurt to hold his head up, but he did so. He struggled to get his blackened and swollen eyes to stay open and stay focused on Loki's thin, devilish face. Loki's chiseled and refined features swam in and out of Thor's vision. He shuddered as the image of the man he once knew changed into distorted shapes in front of his eyes. Loki's wolfish grin was morphed further into the entire face of a wolf. A wild, snarling snapping canine that howled and bayed at the moon desperate for blood. Thor blinked his eyes rapidly and cleared his vision, but when he looked at Loki again, he saw something even more horrible. The huge horns of Loki's helmet, the silky-green threads beneath his gleaming gold armor...it reminded Prince Thor of the dream, the vision he had had so long ago. That vision of a dragon. Oh! That dragon. That terrible old serpent that had hissed and roared and raged and ravaged the kingdom. The creature that he had let devour them all. "No, no, no," Prince Thor groaned pitifully as his looked at Loki's face becoming ever more frighteningly reptilian. Perhaps Loki was talking to him. Perhaps Loki was whispering the last ancient rites according to the Aesir customs. But all Thor saw was a wicked forked tongue lashing at him. He was feeling dizzy. Prince Thor blinked one more time. He heard his people calling out his name and begging for mercy, but it was mercy Thor knew he wouldn't receive. Loki was a monster now truly. He held his glistening daggers above his head. Thor forced himself to look up one more time. He'd promised his father that he'd never face defeat again in a dishonorable way. He'd never look away again from an adversary. He promised himself that he'd look Loki in the eye. He'd look at him one last time and he'd tell him how much he hated him, how he cursed him, and how he would rot in Helheim for what he did. He wanted to say it. He wanted to spew out terrible venom at Loki one last time. Not that it would make a difference, but he wanted to let it be known. He shook his head and poised and set his lips to say final defiant words, but as his bloodshot sapphire eyes looked into Loki's emerald irises once more, Thor was amazed that he didn't feel all rage and hate. He just felt...felt...heartbreak. 2000 years of brotherhood had come to this...all he'd earned was his brother's hate.

King Loki's breath came out in rapid puffs. His eyes darted all around anxiously. He looked over at Malekith and his soldiers through the corner of his eye. They were stomping their feet chanting something in the Dark-Elf language. His other eye quickly shifted to the crowd that was pressed into the mud and clamoring, screaming, crying all around him to set Thor free. Then finally his brought his bright green eyes to look at Thor, the weak, helpless figure huddled and chained on his knees looking up and taking his last gasps for air. He watched as Thor's chest expanded as he tried to suck in a breath. He watched as he started to cough terribly as the Aether ash swirled around him and filled his lungs. Thor's body was shaking and convulsing. Loki took a deep gulp as he made his eyes narrow in on Thor's. Thor's face looked like a bloody pulp and hidden underneath the swollen, sweaty, bruised, and battered features, and underneath his blackened eyes, he managed to see the slight sliver a blue that dared to peek out and look him in the face. His eyes were obviously stinging and burning as they batted rapidly. It would have been so much easier for the big lug to have just closed his eyes. But Thor was defiant and stubborn as ever. Even now. He had to admire his brother's moxie at the moment. Thor didn't know what was coming, but he had a prince's pride and warriors' strength to the last. He had done their father and their people proud.

The conquering king mashed his lips together as he stared into Thor's pathetic eyes. Loki knew what he would find when he looked into Thor's eyes. He was prepared for it. He deserved it. He deserved hate and malice. He planned to see the utter disgust and abject horror shining in those blue eyes. He was ready for the hate that must have been buried deep in Thor's soul that would have just bubbled up and been oozing, leaking out, and attacking him through Thor's pupils. He deserved nothing better. He wanted nothing better. He dared not ask for anything better. He had caused too much devastation to even dream in his wildest fantasies that Thor could look at him and feel anything, but cold hatred and hot loathing. He kept telling himself that that was justice and it was...it truly was. But he was not prepared. He was totally unprepared and overwhelmed when he saw tenderness and sorrow shining through those bloodshot blue gems.

Loki's breath hitched for a moment it was enough to send the newly proclaimed king of Asgard reel on his heels and he nearly dropped his dagger that was aimed high, right about Thor's head. Thor was staring up at him with pleading, longing, wounded, puppy-dog eyes. After everything that he had done...Thor didn't look like he wanted to murder him. He didn't seem like he even bore him any ill will. He wasn't cursing his name and railing against him. He was just staring up at him softly and sadly. He looked at him with defeat and humiliation and confusion. Thor's eyes that could barely stay open were searching, searching desperately for something from Loki.

Now Loki kept his one shaky hand, hovering in the air over Thor's head. His left hand reached out and yanked the chain that was connected to the manacles around Thor's wrist and pulled his prisoner closer to himself. Thor helplessly stumbled on his knees toward the tyrant who had taken over Asgard so ruthlessly. Thor was dizzy and weak and nearly collapsed just from one too strong tug. It was one of the first times the dark-haired mage had ever actually felt that he was physically stronger than the wielder of Mjolnir. Thor ended up with his body and head slumping against King Loki's long legs. Loki saw could feel the soulless eyes of Malekith shifting watching this interaction. Reflexively, the dark enchanter immediately pushed Thor off of him, but as his hand quickly latched on the Crown Prince of Asgard's shoulder even just for a moment he was able to latch on to a memory that was rippling inside Thor at that moment.

The memories rushed in on him like a flood. He hadn't been trying to read Thor's mind and he hadn't had any spontaneous thought sharing happen in a long time. It had happened with he was younger and just learning the powers of mental manipulations. It had maybe happened when he had touched some type of mystical contraband and had been cursed with hearing people's thoughts for about a week. He had a frightful headache when that was over. But still, he couldn't understand why it had happened this time. Perhaps it had been because he was using so much magical energy right now even to just hold the Aesir in place. Perhaps it was because Thor had a head injury. Concussions made people very easy to read and Thor had always been easy to read, anyway. He was an open book. Thor's emotions weren't exactly nuanced. He seemed like he could only feel one thing at once. He was either a barrel of laughs and all humor or he was a boiling volcano of all anger. Now he was just simply a sea of sorrow. He was filled with so much sorrow and longing.

Loki's breath hitched as the millions of memories ran through his brain igniting all of his senses. He saw nights when he was little and snuggled up to his older brother who would read to him. He saw them playing with their toys in the parlor and their impish pranks that they used to terrorize the palace staff with. He saw the days spent in the sun and snow and rain, running about, riding horses, swimming, hunting, sailing. Afternoons they spent sparring or wrestling. He saw their vacations and their many, many, many adventures. The perils they had faced side by side for more than one thousand years. He saw them sitting in the study and him doing his best to tutor, Thor. He saw their late-night fireside chats, spent telling each other jokes and secrets. The times of comfort that they'd given each other at sick bedsides. The times of support that they'd always given each other for a lifetime. He saw the hugs and embraces from the time they were toddlers. And he felt the love, the love that they had once had for each other once. He saw Thor's desperate longing for that. He was like a man in the desert so desperate for water, begging for a drop of liquid for his parched tongue and there was none. But those memories were so long ago. He saw more recent memories, their fights, and battles that weren't in play or in practice. He saw the fear and pain that he had caused for so many. Particularly for Thor. He only deserved Thor's hate. He felt it momentarily, he felt all the rage and anger and the disbelief as Thor relived so many horrific moments, but mostly he just felt longing. Thor's longing for the person from before who had once been his brother. Thor wondered if any of it had ever been real if he had ever known Loki at all. If he had ever really had a brother, to begin with.

"You...you...you won't get away with this Loki," Thor stammered to confess.

Loki allowed a smirk to play cruelly on his lips as he blinked his green eyes rapidly to keep tears from falling. "Probably not," he confessed but he doubted Thor even heard him.

"The...the...will...of... the people...will prevail," Thor continued to blink as he barely stayed awake. He wished he could have picked out the familiar faces and had the last face that he would see be the face of someone who loved him rather than staring into the eyes of a strange beast who bore his brother's skin. This creature was so filled with hate and venom and rage he couldn't believe that they were ever really brothers at all and that broke his heart most of all.

King Loki of Asgard nodded sympathetically. Loki's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat he held Thor tight and poised his hand with blade in toe ready to strike. "Well, we will soon find out what the will of the people is actually made of," the dictator confessed.

Thor's breathing was heavy and without Loki's cold, cruel hand supporting his neck his head flopped downward. "G-g-good...will...win," Thor rasped.

"You can only hope," Loki said coolly as he tut-tutted Thor on the head. He spun his brother around and made sure that the people of Asgard had one last good view of their beloved prince.

The earnest sounds of the pleas from the crowd erupted in a cacophony. Their wails were like thunder as they begged for the life of the wielder of Mjolnir to be spared. "PLEASE! LET HIM GO! LET HIM GO! HE'S YOUR BROTHER" the terrified cries rose up once more. "TAKE ME! TAKE ME!" someone in the crowd roared.

"Do it! Do it! Finish it!" Malekith growled like a greedy toddler in the background. "Or I will," The warlord threatened as he started to march toward the pair.

Thor gave one last attempt to look up at Loki. For all the pain, and death, and destruction that he had caused and all that he was going to continue to cause for no reason that Thor could understand he wanted to let Loki know how he truly detested and loathed him for his abominable acts. His last act of defiance would be to make sure that Loki knew he was no king in his eyes and he was no brother. He was his enemy plain and simple and he hated him. Thor's sapphire eyes could barely even open. It pained him to lift his eyelids, but when he finally willed the poor black and blue lids to open and he looked at Loki his eyes weren't filled with hate...all the contrary. "Brother...please," Thor muttered helplessly before he offered the faintest version of a smile as he slipped into unconsciousness.

"I can't watch this," Frandal declared next to Heimdal. He could not turn his head but he shut his eyes to the horror of having to watch his best friend, the Crown Prince of Asgard be executed like a common criminal. Thor's only crime was that he had loved and believed in Loki far too much than that monster had ever deserved. "I didn't come all this way, just to watch Thor die and to watch Asgard burn," the normally jovial Einherjar stated bitterly. He'd fought in so many battles. He was a survivor of 100 duels. It wasn't right to have to endure seeing this. He wished if Asgard had to fall that he was far away from the Imperial City still living with the hope that maybe they could win.

"Close your eyes young Frandal," Heimdal's deep voice stated. "I will watch," the gatekeeper stated. "I don't deserve the privilege not to watch. That is my curse," he stated. He couldn't raise his head any higher, he couldn't stand. He wished he could have stood and rushed up there and jumped in front of Loki's blade. He would rather have had him plunge those dreadful daggers into his chest or gauge out his own eyes than see his prince, his future king murdered, but it was too late for that. He'd failed his king Odin. He hadn't protected the kingdom as was his sacred sworn duty and he hadn't protected the heir to the throne. He was as treasonous as that traitor Loki. He glared his own daggers toward the wayward prince. He wished he could pull out his long, golden sword and fall upon it.

"Look away Queen Frigga, look away!" Sigyn cried out to the female sovereign of Asgard. It pained her to see her queen down in the mud, bowed on her knees helpless to do anything, but watch her kingdom fall and see her youngest son execute the older one. "It's awful...it's awful...I can't...I can't believe Loki is going to do this terrible thing." Lady Sigyn started to blubber.

"I...I... I wish... I could look away, Lady Sigyn," Queen Frigga's voice came out still and small in the midst of the hullabaloo. "But...but...I... can't," the female monarch said as she stared with wide, and horrified sapphire eyes at the terrible sight that was unfolding on the scaffold. Her eyes were unblinking and they started to water. "I have to see," she mouthed. Her hands longed to stretch out toward her sons. She wanted to between Thor's head and Loki's blade and tell him if he hated someone so to hate her. She was the liar; she was the one who had kept secrets from him all his life. She was the one who had knowingly read him tales about how terrible Frost Giants were and had taught him the history of Asgard and the Frost Giants. She'd take his hate and she'd be his victim. She'd do anything to save Thor. She'd do anything if she thought that it would save Loki's soul. But she could do nothing. She was stuck in that spot. Stuck in the muck. She couldn't rush up and save them and for that, she deserved the torture of having to watch. "I have to know once and for all what Loki is," Queen Frigga whispered.

The Lady in waiting to the queen mashed her lips together she couldn't bob her head in agreement, but she too refused to break her eye contact with the vicious scene that was taking place so many feet away from her. She didn't want to be in love with a monster anymore. She'd watched him commit this atrocity and then she could only hope and pray to the Norns that they would be merciful enough not to curse her soul to be burdened with loving a madman. She knew that she wasn't a very smart woman, but Sigyn could only hope that she wasn't that much of a fool that she wasn't such a fool that even after all this that she could have given love in every way to a man that had no heart. If Loki could sit there and do this then he would prove that he was just exactly how the storybooks described monsters. "I...I...I...I have to know too, my queen," Sigyn gave a shaky confession. "Loki, please...please don't do this!" she begged. Sigyn's heart began rapidly pounding in her chest. It beat against the ribcage so loudly that she heard it like an execution march. Sigyn would have been her nails down to the core had she had the ability to raise her hands to her mouth. Instead, all she could do was worry her lip, she was practically chewing it raw. "Loki please," she whimpered. You can't do this, you can't be this monstrous," she started to cry.

Volstagg was screaming. His body was glued to the floor as was everyone else's around him. All he could do was scream. There were no words. It was just the bellow of someone being skewered alive. He loved to go to butcher shops and pick out prime pieces of meat. There was one butcher shop that he frequented that the butcher bragged of having live animals. The butcher would take people back to where he kept his livestock and he would allow people to pick out fatted calves and kids ripe for the killing. The butcher would slaughter the pig or goat right before your eyes. Now, Volstagg had a mighty appetite, but growing up in the Imperial City he never thought of the cruelty of slaughter before. He'd seen war and battle many times, but there had been something so heart-wrenching about the way the animals were being executed. They were helpless and defenseless creatures, not wild beasts. They were butchered in front of people for entertainment. The butcher did it as a way to make his meat shop stand apart from the others. He did it for profit. It had been so horrible that Volstagg actually lost his appetite for the day and he actually ended up buying the livestock not to eat but to send to his great aunt. She was an eccentric old woman who kept livestock in the city. Now, Volstagg felt like those helpless creatures. Caged and pinned and tortured for what? All for Malekith's twisted amusement. And he could expect nothing better from Malekith, he was just the patron, he was just coming to collect his meat. He didn't care where it came from. But Loki, Loki was the butcher, he was the man who kept the animals, kept the fed and fat and healthy, who rubbed their heads and treated them kindly for so long only in the end to be cold and callous and murderous with no remorse. All the plump, red-head Viking could do was scream out as he watched the slaughter. Asgard was falling, his friend was about to killed right before his eyes and he never even got to tell his wife and children goodbye. "AHHHHHHHGGGGGHHHH!" he roared as his whole face turned bright red.

"THOR!" Lady Sif cried. She was buried to her neck in the rubble. She couldn't move her hands or arms or legs and it tore her apart. All she could do was stay glued into one spot and watch the kingdom that she had sworn to protect fall and watch the prince of that kingdom, the greatest warrior that the realm had, the man who was her best friend, the man who she loved so much be murdered by his own brother. And she hated Loki. She hated Loki so much right now. She hated him forever having made her think that they were friends. She had considered him a friend. And friendship meant a lot to Lady Sif. She didn't offer her friendship lightly. He annoyed her because he was so often right about things, but in some ways, she understood him. She understood going against the grain and defying the expectations of what people thought you should be. She'd cared about him and although she saw his deep-seated jealousy toward Thor, she never... she never thought that he would do the things he did. Thor would say that Loki was still good deep, deep down insider and there was a part of her, tiniest, sliver in her soul that may wanted to believe that that was true, but he was an animal a savage and that was all she could see in him now. "THOR! I'M SO SORRY!" she raged. "I failed you...I failed you...I failed Asgard," she sobbed. Hot tears streamed down the brunette shield-maiden face. "I will end my own life I swear," she went on. It was considered the way of the coward and Valhalla was not supposed to await those who had shown such weakness, but she didn't want to go to Valhalla, she didn't deserve it anymore. She'd go the below. If only to ensure that she could toss Loki into the deepest pit herself.

"Asgard!" the villainous king cried as he had one dagger raised even higher into the air and the other pointed at Thor's throat. The tiniest ray of sunshine managed to poke its way through thick Aether clouds and make Loki's dagger gleam. Loki saw the glare. He put on a stiff-upper-lip, "The sun will shine on you again!" he declared once more. "Now, dear brother, this is for you!" he whispered his final words. He brought that dagger down in one swift motion. It sliced through the air that was so thick that it made a sound. Loki heard screams of horror after the action he had taken. Something large and heavy fell at his feet with a loud clank and a thud. His hands were trembling and sweat was tumbling from his forehead as he released Thor and allowed the blonde-haired son of Odin's limp body to fall at his feet. The clatter of them as loud as a gong sounding in the ears of the broken and frightened people of Asgard. Loki was breathless and his hands were trembling uncontrollably. His porcelain palms were so sweaty that he dropped the blood-stained daggers on the platform by Thor's head. His breath was coming out hard and ragged. Loki took a few steps back. He looked at his handiwork. Thor's body lay limp and unmoving at his feet, blood spilling and pooling around his shiny, polished golden boots.

"NOOOOOO!" a scream like a wave spring forth from the crowd. He could hear it so distinct the frantic, tormented cry of a mother. "WHHYYY? Why? WHY?" the queen of Asgard wailed.

"It is done? It is done? IT IS DONE!" Malekith called to his soldiers happily. So many centuries he had spent waiting in a cocoon, in hibernation, dreaming of this day. Dreaming of the day when he could finally rain death and destruction on the house of Bor. He had thought of nothing but the day when nothing would be able to stand in the way of his quest of plaguing the realms with Darkness and he a creature of chaos would finally reign supreme. He would extinguish the legacy of light and love and peace. The worlds would finally be brought back to the base primal nature war and survival of the fittest. Now nothing stood between him and unleashing the Aether. It was glorious. The Dark-Elves started to roar and cheer. They were stomping their feet upon the platform. They were raising their fists and their weapons in victory. They started to dance about. They were dancing and shouting while the Aesir were crying. The Dark-Elves were not the best dancers. They were not like their cousins the Light-Elves. When the Light-Elves danced it was like watching leaves wafting in the breeze or watching waves roll on and off the shore. It was enchanting. The Dark-Elf soldiers well there dancing was like watching rocks being rolled off a cliff or the ground being split in two, it was frightening, but they were doing it. They were carrying on and celebrating. They were singing their praises to the Aether, Malekith, and Loki.

Malekith broke away from doing his triumphant dance. He rushed toward Thor's body and pushed pass Loki. The king seemed to still be reeling and in shock from what he had done. Lord Malekith managed to clap the monarch on the back in congratulations. His bloodless lips were stretched in a smile from pointy ear to pointy ear. He hadn't honestly expected the King of Asgard to actually be able to go through with the act. Loki reeked of sentiment. He was soft. But he had done it, maybe he was more ruthless than he had given him credit for earlier. Maybe he would actually be able to rule these people with an iron fist. He had to admit he was impressed. "You did it! You actually, did it?' Malekith mouthed in astonishment.

"Oh yes, I did it," Loki nodded smugly. A tiny little grin made its way to his severe lips.

"You've had the honor of first blood," Malekith muttered as he circled around the body like a vulture. He scrutinized the body, examining and relishing the way the color was rushing away from his form and the way that the crimson liquid continued to spill forth from his neck. "Let me take his head and mount it on a spike," the warlord spoke greedily as he licked his ashen lips.

King Loki of Asgard nodded, "Be my guest," he motioned with a flamboyant hand toward Thor's form

Malekith stalked over, with his broadsword raised high into the air and ready to decapitate the prince. He'd toss his body to the people of Asgard and watch them writhe. All the while Loki stood back smirking as he watched Lord Malekith got ready to bring down the sword. "THE SON OF ODIN IS DEAD!" he yelled out as he brought the sword down. The blade moved swiftly, down, down, down, Malekith was pleased with the effortless glide, he pictured a head rolling right off of the edge of the scaffold, when he looked down, he watched as instantly, Thor's body vanished in a green flash. "What? The general from Svartalfheim gasped. His mouth hung open. He continued to bang his sword on the ground, but he found nobody. "Where is he?" he questioned. "WHERE IS HE?" he demanded of the trickster king as he turned to face him. Loki's hand was outstretched before he crossed it over his armored chest.

"LONG LIVE THE HOUSE ODIN!" King Loki Proclaimed as he threw up hands in the air and then stomped the hilt of Gungnir to the planks of the scaffold. All at once, the children of Asgard were released from their invisible bonds.

A/N: HELLOOOOOO READERS! YOU MADE IT! Whoa give yourself a round of applause, that was a long chapter, but actually a little shorter than some of the others, I had to cut it short. I hope it was still a worthy and good read and has you pumped for the thrilling conclusion of this tale. Truly it was a difficult chapter to write. You all have been with me for so long and if you haven't ever said how you feel now is your time, don't be afraid to review because there are probably only 2 chapters left if that. As always I just want to say to you that Jesus loves you. This is a tale about redemption and if you want to know about God's plan for redemption in this crazy world feel free to message me. I would love to share more. Well as always God Bless you, dear readers and friends.