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?

48. Days of Future Past

A/N: HELLOOOO READERS! Dear Readers I am soooooo sorry for how long it has taken me to update. I thought I would have been finished this chapter in June, but life happens, work happens and there is often little time left for writing. Please know that even though it has taken me a long time to update I have still treasured each and every one of your follows, favorites and reviews, they mean sooooo much to me and they have kept me writing this story for as long as I have. I appreciate all the interest that you readers have shown over the years and I thank you. This chapter is somewhat long so pace yourselves. As always I pray that God bless each and every one of you. Happy reads and writes and without further ado:

Chapter 48

Loki journeyed on; out of the mud hut and through the bog and over the dead wheat fields until he was back in within the city limits of Bedlam once more. Dawns had once been glorious in Asgard. The sky would burst with a brilliant assortment of vibrant colors. He had often stayed up late working on his craft and practicing his skills til the wee hours and he had had the privilege to see so many Asgardian sunrises, they had never ceased to take his breath away, but this was no glorious sunrise. The atmosphere was polluted with Aether ash and the morning slunk into the city veiled in heavy dark clouds.

Bedlam came to life slowly. The tired broken people drifted from their hovels and broken down ruinous homes like the living dead. They plodded forth in a slow trudge. They groaned and moaned and grumbled as they made their way into the dirty streets and took a task from their taskmasters. Loki as all the people were rounded up lack chattel and driven to the square. They were belittled and derided by their taskmasters. The taskmasters laughed at the miserable wretched. They cracked their whips causing the people to tremble and fall on the floor before them. They groveled at the feet of the Dark-Elves like slaves. The Elves continued in their cruelties by spitting their half eaten food in the faces of the famished Asgardians. The desperate people desperate and tried to grab the bits of chewed apple cores and bitten bits of bread that had fallen from lips of their tormentors from off the ground. They viciously tried to shovel any morsel within their mouths. But the Dark-Elves would not even allow the starving people to have their scraps. The white-faced elves accosted the people who had food. The gripped their faces and forced them to spit out even the tiny crumbs that they had managed to gather for themselves. They tossed the people back to the ground. They cracked their taser-whips and shot that suction blasters into the air scaring the men, women and children in the crowd. Loki watched this and felt a great and terrible rage well up with inside him.

"Back! Back! You disgusting dogs!" One of the Dark-Elf soldiers hollered at the crowd. They all bowed low and cowered before the imposing figure clad in shiny black armor, equipped with powerful weapons while they were naked and powerless. "You should sit and beg for scraps like the worthless mutts that you are!" He decreed over the people. He cracked and electro whip and it struck an elderly man across the black. Upon feeling the crack of the whip on his vertebrae, the man immediately sat on his knees and begged and whimpered like a dog. He even let out a bark in hopes that the Dark-Elf would show him some sort of kindness. The Dark-Elves laughed as they watched the old man bark and whimper and stick his tongue out and pant. They pointed and jeered and then finally one of them tossed some scrap into the crowd and the begging man leaped up and tried to catch it in his mouth like a dog. He missed the bone in his mouth, but he found it on the ground and went after it on all fours. The Aesir seeing that the old man had been rewarded for his foolish behavior all followed suit and did the same. They soon were all on their hands and knees, whimpering and begging and panting like hounds for any scrap that the Dark-Elves would be willing to bestow upon them. "Silence!" Roared the Dark-Elf soldier. "Silence you dogs!" He yelled. The people immediately quieted. "They'll be nothing else for the rest of you to eat this day until your labors have ended. "I bring forth for you a proclamation from Lord Malekith and the ruler of this realm," he started. The Aesir huddled together and murmured to themselves. "You should rejoice in the kindness of your king. For he has declared this day a bathing day," he declared. Eyes went wide in the crowd there were astonished gasps and even some claps. "Your stench has now become so foul and repugnant in the king's nostrils that he can no longer bear the smell. " they were informed. "When you labors have all ended you may return to the square and each family will be served a bowl of gruel," the soldier explained. The eyes continued to dilate upon hearing the wondrous news. Soon there was a wild cheer throughout the crowd. The people were allowed to rejoice for a moment. "Silence! Silence!" Once more boomed one of the soldiers. Blasters were shot in the air and screams of happiness were soon turned into cried of absolute horror. "Enough of that!" He admonished. "There will be no rewards for you dogs until all your labors are completed. Now go to your stations and receive your duties for the day." He ordered.

The people filed obediently and silently into the lines in front of the Dark-Elf soldiers with their heads hung down. Loki hid behind a broken pillar as he tried to think of a way to get into the palace. He observed the structure. It was well fortified. It had been completely redesigned and made ready for a barricade. Loki knew that Malekith was a skilled enchanter and if the beast who had called himself king was truly who he thought it was he would have made the palace defenses magic proof in most ways. It was hideous, but it looked nigh impenetrable. He determined that he would have to sneak in. Loki whispered several incantations to himself. He tried to change his form. He wanted to transform himself into one of the Dark-Elves so that he could fall in with their ranks and march back to the palace. But try as he might his power to shapeshift proved useless. He couldn't switch out of the horrid Jotun form for anything. He couldn't change into an Aesir or a Dark-Elf or even an ant. But he could make himself invisible.

Loki waited patiently behind a brick wall to a building that was falling down. He watched with a shrewd eye as hundreds of Aesir young and old stood in line and awaited their job assignments for the day. Many were given menial tasks. Some were assigned to work on the wall. Other's were sent to the mines and the coal fields. Some were taken with the Dark-Elves to serve drivers for their vehicles or made to clean their houses. This is a dream. This a dream...this is a nightmare Loki told himself. There was no way that he could imagine that the people of Asgard would have suffered such indignities at the hands of these savages. This was all a terrible, terrible dream. Loki proceeded to pinch himself. He then slapped himself, but nothing seemed to wake him from this dreadful slumber. He slapped himself repeatedly, but still, there was no effect. Loki panted in distress after landing several heavy-handed, cold hard slaps to his icy jaw. Finding that all his efforts had been made null and void Loki continued with his original plan. Loki had to find a way to free himself from the realm of Bedlam. Surely, the Dark-Elves had some portal they were using and he intended to find out what it was.

Some of the Dark-Elves went off with the enslaved Asgardians driving them to their tasks like sheepdogs herding a flack. A few of the guards went off the patrol the city. Loki figure they most likely had stations to make sure that no one actually fled the city. But most of the guards filed into lines and marched back to the dark palace. Loki whispered a cloaking enchantment and made himself invisible to the eyes of all around and marched in line behind the Dark-Elf soldiers and made his wall the toward the palace.

The palace still stood as tall as a mountain, but it was now charcoal black. The spire and steeples and towers were jagged and sharp like spikes. The fountains that once flowed with life-giving water from the Forever Sea now spat a toxic inky, sludge. The gardens were destroyed. The prized gardens where ladies once danced in gorgeous gowns and gentlemen paraded about like peacocks. The beautiful gardens that were filled with lush trees of willow and birch and dogwood and fruit-bearing trees and flowers of every kind and color had now just been reduced to a dust pile of Aether ash and flame and sulfur rocks. The sacred statues that had once guarded the palace were once beautiful structures that represented Asgards warrior past. They were beautiful representations of the 12 Einar the founders of Asgard. There were depictions for their folklore and of the great kings of the past, but now the gargantuan statues were monsters, gargoyles and ghouls, hideous beast. Loki cringed as he slipped unannounced and undetected under the gaze of the monsters.

The Dark-Elf soldiers marched into their barracks. Loki immediately recognized them as the domiciles that had once belonged to the palace guards and Einherjar who would gather at the palace. The rooms that had once been made of marble, stone and silver were now coated and painted with pitch and tar. The environment was hard and harsh, spikes stuck out from the walls and their planks of old decaying wood that were used for floor paneling. The design of everything in the barracks was archaic and gothic. The Dark-Elves did not much believe in luxury or aesthetics. They loved things to be dark and crude looking, but still the grotesque chamber was a dream in comparison to the streets of Asgard.

Many of the Dark-Elf soldiers began to make themselves comfortable within their quarters. The room smelt of sweat and blood and a hint of sulfur. Loki pinched his invisible nose as he caught a whiff of the nasty smell of the warriors of Svartalfheim. "Come, men," a high ranking elf among them spoke up. "You know Lord Malekith could come down at any time today and inspect our barracks. Being out amongst the Aesir pigs have left us grimy with their filth," he curled up his white nose. "Let us bathe and make ourselves ready for inspection," he commanded. Some of the Dark-Elves grumbled in a complaint, but most started to quickly disrobe. Loki immediately looked down and up and this way and that way not wanting to take in an eyeful of the Dark-Elves pasty bodies. Instantly, he recalled that the barracks were connected to the catacombs and that they catacombs could easily get him access to any point within the palace. With his eyes closed so as not to behold the nude bodies of Malekith's thugs, Loki moved about the barracks and felt along the walls and searched for the loss brings that would give him access to the catacombs. Occasionally, Loki's groping hand would slide or brush against the pecks of one of the Dark-Elves. The creatures would immediately bristle to the touch. They'd yell and hit and curse at one another as they told them to watch it. Once Loki found that the Dark-Elves were so easily upset by even the slightest touch of their personage he began not so accidentally, stepping on toes, elbowing in the stomach, slapping upside the head and landing a quick and decisive kick, to the crusty and bloodless rear ends of the soldiers. The warriors of Svartalfheim yelped and howled as they felt unexpected blows on their naked bodies. They looked around wildly searching for their offenders. They couldn't see the mischief maker in their midst and so they would land a strike to the innocent soldier standing next to them. Before long the soldiers were all engaged in a bare naked brawl. They were pulling each other's long white ponytails, punching each other in the face and slamming one another against the walls. The raven-haired enchanter snickered as he rubbed his hands together as he watched the Dark-Elves beat each other mercilessly. Some had gone to fetch weapons from off the wall and they were using swords and maces and battle axes against one another. Let them destroy themselves Loki thought to himself. "Let Malekith inspect his troops now," Loki whispered. He leaned back on the wall comfortably and enjoyed the crazed antics of soldiers.

By sheer happenstance, his elbow pressed against a loose brick. The wall started to shake. Slowly, brick slid against brick and the wall opened up. Had the Dark-Elves not been so busy trying to clobber each other. They surely would have noticed the slime slick wall open up like a door. Alas as they tumbled and tussled and broke boards over one another's head and chased one another around with maces and axes and shouted and jeered and threatened one another they did not and the trickster crept through the cracks like a mouse.

Loki practically tumbled behind the wall and into the catacombs. He fell into a puddle of sludge and mud. He shivered as the cold slime soaked through his garments and laid on his skin. The catacombs smelled even worse than the foul-smelling streets of the city of Bedlam. The air was stale but frigid and wet full of dust and cobwebs. It smelled of centuries of black mold and rotting corpses and decay and waste. Loki started to gag as he breathed in the noxious odors that surrounded him once again. Loki pulled up the collar of his tunic and did his best to wrap it around his nostrils. He held his breath and plowed ahead through the catacombs. With each step, the mage took his feet sank deeper and deeper into the mud and sludge. There was no floor on this part of the catacombs and at one point his boot sank so deep into the mud that he thought he would lose his shoe. He had to forcibly pull his boot out of the slime. As he walked on he started to hear the sound of squeaks and terrible screeches. He felt a rustle on his pants legs and tugging on the coattails of his tunic. His skin crawled as he felt something tiny and hairy run-up and down his arms. Quick as a flash he felt something scurry and scuttle across his boots. He jumped up and drew his feet out of the mud. Loki's eyes grew wide, but the catacombs were pitch black and he could see nothing, not even his own hand in front of his face let alone whatever had been crawling on him. In response, he blew on his hand and summoned a fire to burn in his palm.

A bight and powerful red and orange flame started to glow bright and fervent in his hand. The light was so bright that it repelled the darkness from several feet ahead and behind Loki, but the bright flame also sent the vermin who had taken lodging in the haul of the catacombs scattering. They surged all over the hidden hallway. It was a raging flood of rats as large as cats and roaches the size of rats and centipedes as long as snakes and monstrous millipedes. Immediately upon seeing all of the oversized and mutated beasts, Loki shot fire blast out of his hands to destroy them. Loki could hear the rats hissing and squeaking and chattering and they were singed. No sooner had the fire died down then did Loki spy a flock of vampire bats flapping and fluttering and flying toward him. They came at him screeching and hollering. The sound of the blind creatures was deafening. Loki covered his ear to the sound of the terrible screeching, but their wails only grew closer. Loki tried to press ahead with his ears plugged and his head down, but as soon as he looked up he saw that the swarm of bats were simply inches from his nose. Quickly, he shielded himself. The bats flapped all around him. Their wings were razor sharp and as they fluttered pass him they struck his face and arms and even scratched his legs. Their long fangs dripped with venom that they spewed forth and they hissed and shrieked at their hoped-for victim. The ravenous bats had grown tired of feast upon the varmint that roamed the catacombs. They attacked Loki, the sunk their talons into his clothes and pulled and tugged viciously. Their claws tangled in his long black locks and they were caught there and desperately tried to pull and tug their way out of his mane. Feverishly, the Frost Giant tried to swat the vicious vampires away, but finally, their numbers grew too numerous. The enchanter instantly conjured up a mighty blast of wind to push the bats back. The bats flew in a frenzy trying to break against the air wall but they remained trapped behind the current. Loki waved his hand and a mystic green glow came around the bats, he was able to make a portal and the panicking bats scrambled to fly right through it. The portal led right to the barracks of the Dark-Elves.

Loki chuckled as his path in the catacombs finally became clear. He dusted off his hands. "Have a taste of Dark-Elf blood," he muttered as he waved to the last of the bats to fly through the h wall and into the barracks. "If you can find any" he shrugged his shoulders. The Dark-Elves had on every turn proven to be heartless creatures, he doubted they had any blood to spare, but he hoped the bats sucked them try of whatever liquid they used as a life force.

Loki lit another flame in his palm to continue to illuminate his way as he walked through the dark catacomb. He scratched his head as he puzzled at the fact that all his other powers seemed to be in tact besides his ability to shape shift. Had Dagmar truly cursed him from the great beyond to truly have to rule Asgard as this misshapen creature? Was he to be stuck here forever? What if he couldn't escape? Was this the road to the future that he had led his people down? This pain and devastation wasn't what he wanted. Not to this extent. He only had ever wanted the people of Asgard to adore and revere and extol him in the same way that they did Thor, that they did Odin. He hadn't wanted to destroy everything that Asgard was, oh the contrary, he'd only wanted to make it all the more wondrous. And they'd see, they'd see, he told himself as he walked through the muck that made up the floor of the catacombs. They'd all see. Initially, yes there would be some death, but only to breed compliance, but then...then the people of Asgard and the Nine Realms would find that if they did as they were told that he would be a benevolent and wise ruler. And he'd show that to them, he would. But first, he had to get back to the real Asgard and out of this false place, this Bedlam.

It started with finding Malekith of course. If there was a portal then Malekith would have access to it through either the Aether or the Tesseract. Malekith was power-mad and since he had always been in possession of the Aether and had always allowed it to be absorbed into his body, he figured that he would have kept it on his person or close by. Unless he had already given the two power gems to Thanos. Loki's frozen skin quickly dropped to subzero temperatures as he thought about having to face the Mad Titan. No, he couldn't he simply couldn't survive a confrontation with the warlord not if he was on his bad side. He had just fallen back into the titan's good graces. To double-cross Thanos or to make a move that Thanos would consider a double-crossing could result in death. Or worse. He gulped and grabbed at his neck. He could only hope that the items he needed were in the possession of Lord Malekith.

He thought of where he might find the Dark-Elf general. Surely, Malekith would have liked to position himself upon the gilded throne of Asgard, but he doubted that Thanos would have allowed the general to hold such a lofty position. After all, all such an honor had already been promised to him. Loki thought for a moment longer. When he had last left the illustrious general he had been greedily desirous of occupying the living quarters of Asgard's former king and queen. Loki had indulged the general's request, he would have rather stayed in his own chamber. Still, he deduced that that would be the best place to start checking for Malekith.

Loki made his way through the catacombs. Until he wound up right outside of his the royal bedchamber. He knew the path well. There had been many times when he and Thor had snuck into their parent's room in that way. Loki pressed the slime-slick stones on the wall in the right code and pattern so that the wall easily slid open. He was in the bedchamber that had once belonged to the individuals that he had called his parents, but nothing looked the same. The bedchamber was a complete wreck. The furniture was toppled and the curtains were shredded like a wild animal had torn at it. Glass was shattered all over the floor and food and crumbs covered the marble floor. Loki maintained his invisibility. As he stalked around the sprawling chamber. The columns in the sitting room had been knocked down and the gorgeous chandeliers had been replaced with a glowing ember that projected an eerie red light throughout the wall. The gold painted walls were now painted a horrendous, hellish red and lined with black and rusted brown.

Loki heard shouting coming from one of the rooms within the chamber. He immediately recognized the burly voice that shouted in the native tongue of the Dark-Elves. It was angry and sounded intoxicated. Loki followed the sound of Malekith's bellows. He traced them to the fresher area. There he saw Malekith standing clad in his regal armor, looming over a tiny, frail-looking Aesir woman. Her hair was long and silvery in color, but it was scraggly and thin. It flowed down her back and she was practically sitting on it, but it was formless and slightly tangled. It hung limply about her like a morning shawl. The woman was shaking and dressed in rags, it was a simple frock of gray coloring, but where from dirt or just the natural hue of the garment Loki did not know. "WENCH!" Malekith shouted at the old woman. "Can't you go any faster!" He demanded of her as he wagged his fist at her.

"I'm going as fast as I can, Lord Malekith," came a weak reply. Her voice was hoarse and pitiful. "My hands...my... my hands," she mumbled as she paused in her work for just a moment and stretched her fingers

Lord Malekith growled and showed his horrible gray teeth. "Did I ask for your excuses?" He barked. "Who told you to stop working!" He fumed all the more. His rage boiled over and he took his heavy boot that was resting near the side of the deep onyx tub. Once it had been shaped like a beautiful seashell now it was in the shape of one of the t-shaped vessels of the Dark-Elves. He shook it furiously at the older woman and she trembled. He cared not for her fear. He smote her with the heal of his boot anyway. She yelped and whined as the heavy, block heel struck her square in the spine. Malekith smiled. He was quite satisfied by having the privilege to strike his Aesir slave woman. "PUT YOUR BACK INTO IT!" He ordered. The woman bobbed her head and hurriedly went back to her duty and that was simply scrubbing Lord Malekith's toes.

The Dark-Elf had disgusting feet. They were ashy and crusty and covered with scales and barnacles. They smelled sweaty and of onions. The general's toes were long, but gnarled and crooked like deformed white twigs. His toenails were tinted with a putrid look green and they were jagged and thick and rough. Vigorously the old woman scrubbed his toes with a tiny brush. She did her best to sand and polish and buff the corns and bunions off of the bottoms of his soles. She gagged and coughed as she was forced to inhale the noxious odor of his feet. Still, she continued in her working. She shined and buffed and polished each toe. She then with her bare hands massaged his crusty feet with an ointment. Then she pulled out a pair of freshly man socks. The socks were of fine quality and they looked much nicer than the garments that the people of Asgard had to wear. Delicately she slipped the sock onto his feet and then she put his boots on. She spit-shined his shoes and then cleaned them once again with her tattered ragamuffin dress. Malekith gave a smug grin as he looked at his perfectly shined boots. He could see the reflection of his bloodless face on the toe of his boot. "Your insubordination should cost the people their mush today," Malekith stated as he shook his boot to shoo her from his feet.

The woman's eyes went wide! "What? NO! No! No, my lord, please," the woman cried as she thrust herself upon his boots and wept to intercede for the pitiful Aesir people.

Malekith's bloodless lips still formed a grin. "Come wench you need not beg," he chuckled and he tut-tutted her upon the head all the while digging his nails into her scalp and making her wince. "I will feed those miserable wretches," he explained and his ghoulishly white hand touched her thin cheek. "And you will scrub the feet of all of my men tonight," Malekith added.

The woman's shoulders slumped and her head bowed lower, "Yes, Lord Malekith," was her humble reply.

"Now thank me for my kindness," he commanded. And on commanded the woman did as she was told and spoke in the words of the Dark-Elves. She then bowed her face low and puckered her lips so that her nose scraped his boot as she kissed it. "Good little wench," Malekith stated. "Now clean up the rest of these quarters! It's a sty."

The Dark-Elf general then quickly turned on his heels and exited the bathing salon. He strode confidently and proudly out of the room. His head held high like some sort of grand Pooba. Loki was tired of seeing the indignities that the Aesir people were suffering. He had hardly ever seen such despicable treatment throughout the Nine Realms. He wouldn't confront Malekith unless he absolutely had to. He just wanted to get away from this cursed nightmare and get back to his own realm and time. But as Malekith crossed the invisible wizard's path, he could not resist the urge to trip the mighty general. Loki stuck his foot out and then the general went tumbling. He fell to the floor, sprawled out in a heap. He popped back up indignant and enraged, by having stumbled in front of one of the Aesir slaves. He looked around. His black eyes narrowed as he stared at the bondwoman who still sat on her hands and knees and scrubbed the floor. He was convinced that it was she who had tripped him. He picked up from of the vials from the cabinet in the bathroom and he proceeded to hurl it at her. As he reared his arm back and was ready to toss it at her, but he felt his arm was stuck in midair. Try as he might to push and pull and through, but he felt a strong force, an invisible grip, holding his arm back. Malekith looked around in confusion. "What manner of devilment is this?" He questioned in his native tongue. Fearful and perplexed, Malekith simply dropped the vial. But the vial didn't touch the ground. It floated just inches off the ground. Loki caught it and floated it back to its position upon the shelf. Malekith shook his head. Then quickly darted out of the bathroom.

A smile rolled across the invisible face. He hadn't noticed the Tesseract on Malekith's person, but he was most certain that the Dark-Elf had it. It was too valuable to Thanos to be left in the weapons vault. Loki was about to do as Malekith had done, turn on his heels and exit the bathroom and continue snooping around the chamber, but then he started to hear a muffled cry. At first, the self-proclaimed king of Asgard started to ignore the weeping. All he had heard since he'd come to Bedlam was weeping. His heart had broken as he watched the unimaginable torture and disgrace of the Aesir people, his people...no not his people...he had never been one of them and the blue skin and tattoos that crisscrossed his body revealed. Besides this was all a dream. Loki reminded himself. It was nothing more than a simple dream. His overwrought mind giving way to the thoughts people had fed him. He had had dreams like this before. The kind where he could not wake up until he completed the task in the dream. Once he had been practically comatose for trying to solve a maze in a dream. This was no different. He would simply find the portal and wake up and the Convergence would take place and he would step into his rightful position as king.

Loki wanted to walk on, but as he heard the pitiful whimpering and weeping of the woman he felt compelled and unable to ignore her. She remained in the same position when Malekith had left her. She was still shaking like a leaf in a windstorm. She was hunched over and rubbing her tired hands. Loki tip-toed closer to her. He kept himself cloaked. As he drew closer he could hear her humming through her sobs. The woman's voice would have probably been very pretty had she not been crying so hard. Despite, the terrible tremble in her voice from the tears Loki recognized the melody at first. It was an old Aesir love ballad. One that was often sung at weddings. As he continued to listen to the little ditty he thought he could recall that Odin had once told him that he had sung this very same song to Frigga outside of her window when he was courting her.

Loki mashed his lips together as he feet drew closer. He was standing right beside her. He could feel the waves of a deep sorrow that rolled off of her. Her song was so broken and mournful like she barely had the will to live. Finally, the Frost Giant dared to peek at the face of the woman who sat on her knees. His heart nearly stopped as he beheld her face. His stomach turned to the point where he wanted to regurgitate. He felt faint. His knees buckled. Loki's jaw dropped. His red eyes bulged. His lips moved and he found himself unable to speak for a moment. He was in such shock that he found that he had lost his cloaking and now he stood in the middle of the fresher fully revealed as a Frost Giant.

His shadow loomed over top of the kneeling woman. It startled her. She yelped and started to wave her hands wildly about. She scrambled as she desperately looked for her bucket and pail to try and continue in her workings. "I...I...I...I'm sorry Lord Malekith... I just needed a moments rest," she explained shaking her head and still rubbing her hands, but never daring to look up. She scrambled and grabbed the scrub brush and the bucket of dirty suds. Her hands were dirty, broken, blackened nails and gnarled. They were wrinkled and veiny and full of warts and cuts and burns. They looked as if they had liver spots. Immediately she plunged her hands into the suds. She quickly pulled out a soaking wet scrub brush and began to scrub vigorously.

Loki shook his head, he tried to find his voice for a little. It still remained lost. "M-m-m," he mumbled like a child. She seemed not to be able to hear him. She kept working and scrubbing on no longer even bothering to hum a tune. Loki reached out his hand and took her by the shoulder to stop her from her labors. His hand was heavy and cold upon her shoulder. She was used to that feeling from the Dark-Elf's hand. It was terrible and rough. It was a hand that had no respect for a woman. It was a hand that had slapped her across the face, thrown her to the ground and beat her black and blue. But as this particular hand lingered on her shoulder she could feel that it meant her no harm. It was firm, but a steadying sort of firm, it was all at once gentle and kind and of some great comfort. "Queen Frigga," Loki finally mouthed as he looked down at her.

Breathlessly, she finally, managed to look up at him. There were few left who still dared to refer to her by that title. It wasn't as if she queen a queen anymore. After all that she had been through it wasn't as if she still felt like much like a queen. Loki looked at her. Her face was sunken in. She was thin as a rail. Her face was wrinkled beyond her years. Her eyes were dark and she was white. She had terrible bruises and cuts on her face. Some were old scars and others looked as fresh as if they had only happened a day or two ago. Loki's lips trembled as he beheld her. His red eyes watered and the tears stung the carvings in his blue skin. "There are no kings and queens here anymore," she announced and her shoulders slumped.

Loki shook his head. He didn't want the words to slip off of his tongue, but he saw her sitting there, so broken and frail, his heart broke and the word came tumbling off his lips as he sank to his knees by her side. "Mama?"

Frigga's blue eyes looked up at him. Her eyes were not the same beautiful sapphire color that they had always been. They were a pale ghostly blue. They were nearly gray, but when he looked into those eyes although they did not still possess the pride and the strength and regality that he had always known, they still held a look of love in them toward him. Her lips were cracked and dry, but she smiled at him with tiredness. "It is good to see you again, my son," she expressed.

"Again?" Loki mouthed.

"You have always been a comfort to me, ever since you were a little boy," she nodded her hand reaching out for him. Loki leaned in and reached out his hand to touch hers. "I would have given up hope," she expressed. "Would have failed and despaired in my prayers," she sighed and dropped her head. Tears slid down her dirty cheeks. "I would have thought that the old all-fathers had abandoned us and that Valhalla had been burned to ash same as this place. But they sent me you," she said and smiled up at him. Her old, weathered hands reached up and went to touch his frozen cheek.

Loki started to pull away. "No don't touch me," he declared as he wagged his head. "I might burn you," he told her.

Her hand fell back at her side. "You've never come to me in this form before," she looked him up and down. "But I love you no less," she explained with a genuine smile washing over her. "It is not the first time that I have seen you like this...when you were living..." She began.

"When I was living?" Loki questioned aloud.

Frigga seemed not to hear his question. "You were sick with fever and you'd transform into this form and I'd hold you, you never once hurt me," she explained and she took him by the hand.

"Mother," he gasped as he looked into her trembling eyes once more.

Her lip started to quiver fiercely. Her face crumpled. "Oh, Loki! Loki! Loki!" She blubbered miserably as tears washed down her wrinkled cheeks. Loki was unable to bear his mother's tears anymore. He pulled the elderly queen into a tight embrace. He wrapped his arms around her and let cry into his chest. Her tears soaked into his tunics.

She cried for a long while. He rocked her back and forth and gently cradled her like a little girl. "There, there, Mother," he shushed her. He stroked her long white locks. "It'll be alright. It'll be alright," he told her. He pulled her off of him just so he could hold her firmly and look her in the eye. "I swear to you, Malekith will pay. I will ram this blade through his heart!" He swore through his thin lips and gritted teeth. He pulled out his dagger.

She pushed the dagger down. She shook her head. "Every time you tell me the same thing, my son," she dropped her eyes. "I only wish that you were still alive," she said and then started to sob into her hands again.

"Mother, Mother, no," Loki said as he tried to grab her hands and pull them down and away from her face. "I'm right here! I'm right here! I'm not dead," he expressed. "I'm right here, Mother, I won't leave you. Not again, not ever again," he promised. She looked up at him with astonishment in her pale blue eyes.

She smiled slowly, "If only it were true," she replied as she raised her hand to stroke his blue cheek. She shook her head. "I've seen this so many times, too many times," she muttered. "Oh so many times," her eyes gazed up at the dark ceiling. "I've dreamt of you being alive," she reported. "Returning to us when you fell from the Bifrost. I kept hoping and praying that you'd return to us from the Void..." Her voice trailed off. Her hand raised to touch her lips.

"I did return, Mother, I did return," Loki said in earnest. "I fell from the Bifrost nearly 3 years ago...but I survived," he tried to explain to her.

"Yes," she nodded and smiled. "It does me good to have you here with me now, to have your soul return unto me. You are my only joy now, my only companion. I know one day we will meet again in Valhalla," she explained. She talked on. She rambled about how if the ancient all-fathers had not sent her the visitation of him then she would have lost hope that Valhalla even existed. One moment she laughed and then the next she wept.

Loki bit his lip to keep from crying as well. His mother's sanity seemed to hang by a thread. Obviously, she had been tortured and humiliated and disgraced. She had lost her will and fight and vigor. "Oh Mother, I am so sorry," he told her. "How could Malekith think that he could do this to you?" Loki shook his head and muttered through gritted teeth. He swiped his frosty thumbs under her watering eyes. "You are Queen of Asgard, not some serving wench, not some scullery maid. You are no one's slave," he declared to her as he lifted her chin and she looked him in the eye. "I won't let him hurt you anymore," Loki told her. He hugged her tight and she wrapped herself around him and climbed into his lap like a little girl. "Look what he's done to you," he growled and he clung to her. He took one of her hands in his. It was gnarled and weather, cut and full of warts and callouses and blisters. He took her hand to his cool lips and kissed it and soothed the ache in her fingers from her arthritis. That wasn't the way a queen's hands were supposed to look. That wasn't the way his mother's hands were supposed to look. His mother's hands were lovely and fair, gracious and graceful. They were bejeweled decorated with the most ornate rings, moistened with the finest ointments. He then looked on his mother's face. So thin as if she hadn't had a decent meal in ages, the color was drained from her cheeks, the light and energy had left her eyes, there was no rose in her cheeks, no color to her lips no shadow upon her eyelids. They'd aged her way beyond her years. She looked like a woman who knocked on death's door rather than a queen. His mother should not look like that. She should have been resplendent, she should have been the most beautiful face in all of Asgard, flawless and radiant she should have looked like an angel, like a goddess instead she appeared as a waif. He bowed his head and kissed her wrinkled brow. "Malekith will pay for what he did to you I swear," Loki ground out as he started to rock her gently. He swayed with her folded on his lap like a little girl. He could hear her humming and he noted that she was humming along to the familiar tune of a lullaby she used to sing to him at night. Her hands strayed to play in his dark locks just as they had when he was a little boy. He started to hum along with her. Soon their two voices were blended in sweet unison.

Frigga's eyes grew heavy. Loki could feel that her sobbing and trembling were starting to ease. She yawned and rest her head on his shoulder. "You always had a nice voice, Loki" she told him. "I wish you had sung more when you were alive," she muttered.

He chuckled slightly still holding her hand and tracing his thumb up and down her knuckles. "I was teased so much," he began. "I was ridiculed by everyone for studying magic, I cannot have imagined what the children would have called me had I wanted to become a minstrel or bard as well," he shook his head and gave a sad smile.

"You said you didn't care what the other's thought," she arched her white eyebrows. "Imbecilic Oafs is what you called them, I believe," she laughed.

"You always knew that that was only half true," Loki replied.

"I'm your mother, who could know you better than I?" She replied.

"Yes, you are my mother," he repeated. "You are the only mother I have ever known. I love you so much," he said.

"Just promise me that you sing every day now in Valhalla," she asked of him. "Tell me you are happy," she entreated him. Her pale eyes looked up with pleading.

"You will be happy too, Mother," Loki insisted. He gave her hand a squeeze, her touch was so light that it felt like she was barely touching him at all. "I'm getting you out of here!" He stated boldly. He wrapped his arms tighter around her to hold her. He shifted his legs underneath himself and started to stand, "You're coming with me!" He declared. To her. "You are going back to Asgard..."

A grimace fell over the queen's face. "No," she gave a weak protest as she lifted her eyes. "This is Asgard, this is my home," she insisted.

"What? Mother, no, no...no...this is nothing like Asgard! This place is a nightmare, it's a toxic wasteland! Everything has been destroyed," he went on.

"I dream of leaving..." Frigga heaved a sigh and allowed her head to lull back onto Loki's strong shoulder. "I dream of death..." She gasped and then choked.

Loki squeezed her hand firmly, enough to rally her and make her eyes pop open once more. "Never speak like that, Mother! Never! Never, please," he whispered. He lovingly ran his fingers over her long, silver locks. "We'll go back to Asgard...the real Asgard!" He insisted. "Things may look bleak now, but you'll see in a few years, I will rebuild Asgard and make it more glorious than it has ever been," he assured him.

Queen Frigga nodded and smiled as she breathed in deeply. The scent of her son, cedar and pine on a moonlit night, hinted with musk filled her nostrils. He smelled so real. More real than he had ever felt before in her visions, but...she couldn't believe that he was really there. "I know you would have been a good king," she stated.

"I will be a great king!" He proclaimed.

"I know that you and Thor could have stopped this madness. You could have stopped Malekith and his horde and that beast together," she said.

"The beast?" Loki's voice grew serious. "You mean Thanos?" He asked as his red eyes shifted.

"I know of no one by that name?" Frigga shrugged.

"Malekith is one of his minions, Mother, he works for him. he has been one of his agents for centuries, he is the great puppetmaster..."

"I only know of the terrible dragon, who has made himself a king here," Frigga expounded.

"Dragon?" Loki questioned as he shook his head. He had heard many names for the Mad-Titan before, but never had he heard anyone refer to him as a dragon. Thanos was a strong and powerful being. A magic-wielder in his own right, but he had never known the purple giant to be a shape-shifter. So why would his mother call him a dragon? Loki shook his head. His mother was clearly fatigued and weakened and confused. He pressed himself to his feet. He held his mother. "I'm getting you out of here," he whispered in his ears.

"I can't go, Loki, I can't go," Frigga shook her head.

"Why, Mother? I won't let you be Malekith's slave any longer," he informed her. "We are leaving," he declared.

"I have to stay," Frigga insisted as she tried to push away from her son's strong grip. "Initially, I was in hiding," she explained. "The people didn't want me found. They were scared what Malekith and the creature," she snarled and shuddered at the same time as she spoke would do to me. "But do you know that the Dark-Elves were so relentless in their pursuit that they began rounding up nobles and regular citizens alike trying to smoke me out. Many were executed. I couldn't take it anymore. So I gave myself up," the queen explained. "My enslavement allows the people to receive so good at the hands of the Dark-Elves, food and bath days. It keeps your brother alive...I...I cannot lose you both...please..."

Loki's eyes bulged. "Thor lives?" He asked. His tongue became thick and he could feel his heart pounding in his ears.

"In a manner of speaking," she whispered.

"What do you mean, Mother?" He asked with worry.

Frigga looked up at the Frost Giant with tears shining in her eyes. "Why? Why, Loki? Why do you ask me these things each time?" She questioned shaking her head. "Do you mean to torture me in these visits?" She asked. "Do you mean to make feel like such a failure as a mother?' Tears slid down her cheeks. "I lost you," she said as she stroked his cheek. "I lost you...my baby," she murmured, "And now I have lost my firstborn," she whimpered.

"Mother, please, you said that Thor was still alive. Where is he being held? I can find him we can all escape together," he assured her.

"I don't where they keep him. He is a servant to that dragon his whipping boy...I...I cannot bear what has happened to him," she covered her face.

"I'll find him, Mother, don't worry," he rubbed her back. "I'll find him," he stated once more with a clenched fist. "Then we will get out of here."

"I know you and Thor could have defeated them together. I just know it, but Thor lost Mjolnir," she shook her head.

"Lost?" Loki couldn't help, but roll his eyes. "How could he lose it?"

"Maybe lost isn't the right word.: she admitted. "He was stripped of his powers. I don't know how," she shrugged.

"All this time, that potion was only supposed to last 48 hours," Loki expressed.

"You were always gifted, my son, especially with alchemy, you studied as much with apothecary arts as with illusions," she began.

"Which I learned from you, Mother," Loki reminded her.

Queen Frigga gave a humble nod. "I know you could have manufactured an antidote and returned your brother's powers...but alas," she sighed. "Maybe then Thor's hope could have been restored. His will to fight not so broken," she started once more.

"Everyone is broken," Loki told her. "I ran into Lady Sif," he began.

"Sif," Frigga's eyes were wide. "I have not seen her in many moons," Frigga reported.

"She is scared of her own shadow, Mother," Loki growled.

"She has been through so much, I am amazed she has held out this long even if her strength and courage have not," Frigga bowed her head,

"What of Odin?" Loki asked with a soft voice. He couldn't believe how nervous the question made him. Yet he waited with baited breath like a child, his mouth was dry and there was a lump in his throat, he gulped. His heart started to beat faster.

"Do you not see him in the halls of Valhalla?" Frigga asked in bewilderment.

Loki gasped. Then he bit his lip. "Odin...is...is...is"

"He's gone," she stated as she started to cry.

"Mother, please, don't cry," Loki admonished her as he sat her feet on the floor. She immediately slammed into him and still clung to him as she wept. "It's alright, Mother, please," Loki murmured as he hugged her tight.

"No, it is not alright, my son," she said through choking gasps. "Nothing is alright," she stated. Her calloused hands were shaking. "Look around," she instructed him. "Behold what has become of us," she told him. "We are like dry bones in the desert," she shook her head. "Like ghosts," she mumbled. "There is nothing left of us," she admitted. "That must be why your father is not at rest in Valhalla," her eyes popped open. They were wide with fear. "Oh my, oh my, oh my," she muttered with fear in her eyes. "He is not at rest. He is not at peace. How could I ever think that he would be," she shook her head. "Everything that he worked so hard to preserve, to protect and to lead has been destroyed. How could he be at peace? I failed him," she sobbed into her hands and pressed her face against Loki's frozen chest.

"No, no, Mother, no," Loki protested as he grabbed her hands and pulled them down away from her eyes. "No." He told her firmly. "It doesn't have to be this way. We just have to go back, back to Asgard the real Asgard," he insisted.

"Loki," her head dropped and her thin silver tendrils fell in her face. "Asgard is gone," she expressed. "All that is left is Bedlam. The Nine Realms lie in ruin, but it is what Fate has designed for us...Ragnarok has already fallen, there is nothing that can be done now," she admitted. She shook her head and sank back down to her knees.

"No, Mother, you can't give up," Loki urged her. He took her by the shoulder once more. "It doesn't have to be this way!" He insisted. Frigga seemed to ignore him. She went back to her work of scrubbing the floor. "Mother, please," Loki said feeling his heart almost break as he watched the Queen of Asgard down on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor. "You are queen," he said reaching out to her. His voice cracked.

"I'm not queen anymore, Loki," she sighed. "I don't deserve that title," she sighed as she plunged her hands into her work.

"Mother," Loki shook his head. "How can you say that? You have served as Queen of Asgard for more than 2000 years..." He muttered.

"And for the past 200 years I have watched my people suffer and die," she shook her head. "I haven't led them, I haven't provided for them or protected them," she went on.

"But you kept them alive. You've done all you could...you surrendered yourself to be a servant just so the people of Asgard could have meat and drink. That is what a queen does. That is what a mother does. You always have deserved the title all-mother," he explained to her. Loki felt urgency enter his gut. Perhaps this was just all a strange dream. Maybe none of it was real, but mother's frail and shaky hands felt real. The look in her eyes and the curve of her spine were all evidence that something very real was going on. Then he reminded that time was of the essence. He only had so many hours before dawn and if he could remember correctly it hadn't been very many. He had to wake up. He shook his head, strong and hard and fast. He tried to wake himself up. He pinched the skin on his hand, but nothing worked. He was still there standing on the floor where he watched the queen of Asgard scrub the tub of the evil Malekith. "Mother, please...I don't have much time," he pressed in a whisper. He leaned over near her.

"I know... you always have to go...I can't keep you here... I never can...just like I couldn't keep you in this life," she mumbled. She sniffled. He tears mingled with the sudsy water on the filthy floor.

"No, mother please...I'm here, but I need you to go with me," he entreated her. He took her hand and pulled. "please we have to go," Loki coaxed all the more softly. "I'm going to find a way out of here. A way to get... get away from this awful, cursed place," he shook his head and insisted.

Queen Frigga gently pulled her hand away from his. She looked up at him and offered a sad smile. Sometimes when Loki would come to visit her he'd come in the form of a child. His eyes would dance and she'd tell him stories and fairytales just like she had when he was a lad. They'd talk and play together for hours and then he'd finally grow weary. He'd fall asleep in her lap and they'd take naps together just like they had always done when he was a little boy, but when she'd wake, Loki would be gone. Her arms would be empty and instead of holding a sweet, black-haired little boy she'd find herself holding a ragged mop and pail. Other times Loki would appear to her as a shy teenager. They'd talk and play chess and cards and practice enchantments together. But then he'd say that he had to go tend to his studies. It was typical of him as a youth he was always so studious. She'd bid him return from his learning for dinner, but he'd look at her and smile and wave goodbye and she'd know once more that he was only a ghost. He came to see her, but he'd always go. "You're free to go, Loki, go to Valhalla, be at peace and enjoy, my son..."

The Frost Giant scowled deeply. His mother was so weak and so broken now. Her mind was scarcely holding on to sanity. Her visions were the only things that seemed to keep her going. He knew that he could not convince her that he was more than an apparition now and he didn't really have the time. He bent down and ran his fingers through her thin silver locks. "There must be a way to change this fate," Loki muttered to himself. "This doesn't have to be," he told himself.

"This is my fate, Loki, do not mourn for me my son," she told him. "I am only glad that you did not have to suffer so," she expressed.

"Mother, you always taught me that we make our own fates. That we can choose our destinies..." He stated to her.

"Not all fates, Loki. Ragnarok has always been certain so. I foresaw it long ago and now it has come to pass," she nodded.

"No!" Loki shouted as he grabbed his ears. "It doesn't have to be this way!" He proclaimed. "I don't want this! I never wanted this!" He refuted.

"It's too late, Loki," she whispered.

"I won't let these things happen," he shook his head. "I won't let this come to pass," he whispered to himself. "I promise you, Mother, our future will be bright and the after Convergence I will build Asgard once again. Things may be bleak now, but I will make sure that the sun shines down upon us once more," he swore. He bent down and kissed Frigga on the cheek.

Loki watched his mother for a few more minutes. He watched as she sighed and gasped and continued to do her best to clean the floors before Lord Malekith arrived. He hated to leave her in such a sorry fate, but the sooner he was able to find a portal and return to reality the sooner he would be able to forget about the things he'd seen in this wicked dream.

Loki left the bedchamber of the former king and queen of Asgard. The regal, royal bedchamber where the queen once slept and rested and wrote her letters and weaved on her loom, a place where she kept some of her most prized possessions now belonged to the Dark-Elf, Malekith. It was twisted an wrong that Asgard's all-mother slept on the floor in rags chained to the wall like a dog while Malekith slept in her bed. He killed her husband and now he slept in her bed. Loki could imagine no worse fate for his mother.

He tried to still himself. To remind himself that the things he saw weren't true, but his mother's words were poignant and sharp. He knew that his mother understood the currents of time more than most. Her gift/curse of foresight was stronger than most. If she had warned him that these things were already set in stone and that things could not be changed, how could he believe otherwise?

No! He couldn't give into such thoughts. This was just a dream? It wasn't a vision or a prophecy. It was just a terrible nightmare. It was just the fearful words of everyone he knew coming to play in his overwrought mind. Yes, yes, yes, that was it. It was just that simple and when he escaped from the twisted labyrinth of a dream, he would break Asgard down only to rebuild her. And they would see. They would all see. he would be a great king, the wisest and most powerful that they had ever known. He would make the greatness of Bor look like a mere shadow. Thor's fame would pale in comparison to his own. He would be more beloved than even Odin. They'd see. They'd see. They'd surely all see. Loki kept tell himself this as he walked quickly down the corridors. He told himself, but he was having a hard time believing it.

---

He moved quickly through the palace. Every route and pathway and corridor were memorized. His feet knew where to go even when his burning red eyes were fixated on looking at all the ways in which the Dark-Elves had completely decimated the palace. The Aether had the ability to transform beautiful things into a hideous thing. It could alter realities and that is exactly what it had done. The palace that had once been made of gold and ivory, alabaster and silver now looked as if it was made of rusted iron, charcoal and brimstone. The palace smelt of sulfur and everything was black and red and brown and gray. Loki had always pictured the gates of Helheim being fashioned in such a way, but such grotesqueness had no place in the realm eternal. The paintings, tapestries, carved pillars and elaborate collections of vases and pots, tables and chairs had been replaced. With carvings that looked like bones and skeletons. Loki gagged as he studied the terrible images that seemed to be etched into the black walls. There were skulls and spines and ribcages, femurs and hip-bones disgustingly scattered across the wall. Knowing Malekith as he did he had no doubt that these 'carvings' weren't the real remains of defeated enemies. Loki could make out several different species in the walls, but most were Aesir. Some of the bones were big and thick and strong, no doubt the bones of Einherjar who had ruthlessly slaughtered. But other bones were small and tiny. He saw the bones of little hands and little feet. Loki felt nauseous. Aesir children. His red eyes opened wide as he immediately thought of the little girl who he had just met. She was bright, brave, strong, resourceful and pretty. How could she not be, she was Dagmar's daughter. She was everything that her mother was. She was Dagmar's daughter... she was his...he could not bear to think of Malekith hurting that little girl.

Malekith was an honorless coward. When he returned to his rightful time and place he would see to it that Thanos' dog was kept on a short leash. Loki followed his feet until he was positioned right outside of Odin's throne room. He pressed his hand on the large door that stood tall as the palace its self. Those doors had once been painted with the pictures of Asgard's glorious past. The doors depicted Yggdrasil and Einherjar and maidens dancing. Now the door bore the symbol of the Dark-Elves and of Malekith's particular clan. Loki pressed his ear to the door. He could make out some dense sounds behind the thick metal. He whispered a mystic phrase that allowed him to amplify his hearing. He could now make out distinct voices. He listened intently. One voice that he could easily make out was Malekith's. The Dark-Elf general's husky guttural voice was clear as a bell as he spoke in the dialect of his people. He heard another voice, a voice that made his cold body go to subzero temperatures. The voice was strong, proud and had a hint of nobility. The third voice in the third voice in the midst Loki almost thought that he recognized and that scared him all the more. It wasn't simply good enough to hear what was going on inside the throne room. He needed to see it as well.

Loki made himself invisible and phased through the thick iron door that guarded the throne room. He positioned himself right by the door and took in all the horror that had once been a room of beauty, truth and justice. The alabaster and limestone and golden tiles that had once made up the floor of the throne room had now been reduced to rubble. There were broken bits of red and black glass everywhere. The pillars that once littered the throne room and upheld the structure had fallen. Those pillars had been made of marble. Many of which had been drawn into the fine shapes of the bodies of the great warrior kings of the past. The old pillars had each been erected in one of the forms of one of the original Einar. The 7 brothers, rulers of the original Viking clans that made up Asgard's people who united their kingdom and made it the stronghold that it had always been. Each of the 7 legendary brother's was commended for having a virtue: Loyalty, Honor, Strength, Bravery, Wisdom, Compassion, Power and Wealth. Each of these virtues not only stood as the pillars of the throne room, but they were supposed to be the pillars of the code of the Einherjar and pillars of Asgard. Loki beheld as each of these proud pillars had toppled over. Heads cracked, limbs severed, their weapons broken and smashed before the throne.

New pillars had been built in their place. Gnarled and weathered, spiraling brown and rusted and gray colored columns stood now. They were shaped as all sorts of horrible creatures. There were three-headed beasts, with claws and fangs and horns. There were winged monsters and in the center of it all was a wicked and wily, terrible serpent that twisted and spiraled around the column. Its mouth shaped as if it was hissing.

Instantly, Loki's eyes flashed up and took a glance at the ceiling. The dome-shaped ceiling had always been a spectacle that many marveled at. It was a magnificent feat of architecture and engineering. One of the things that made it so mesmerizing was the gorgeous murals that were painted upon it. The mural's spread across the entire throne room. They showed the beauty of Asgard. They depicted its natural splendor. From the majestic snowcapped purple mountains of Tusk, to the pure white beaches of the shores. The mural showed the vastness and wonder of the mystic blue, turquoise and lavender Forever Sea. The artists had worked hard to craft an exact replica of the Imperial City. It showed the golden city and its glittering buildings that rose into the air. It showed the way the lovely rainbow bridge ran through the streets. It elaborated on the beauty of Asgard's people. There were paintings ladies dressed in long flowing gowns of gold and silver and royal reds and blues dancing and prancing about the gardens. There were paintings of legions and legions of mighty warriors, all in resplendent armor that shined brightly standing in rows. There were images of the history of Asgard, of the great victories they'd won of alliances they'd made. Loki could not help, but think of the times when Odin had shown him these pictures and told him the stories and legends of their great past. They had filled him with pride once.

Loki had expected to see all of those images, but he saw none of that. Instead, his eyes were forced to behold terrible depictions of Asgard burning. There were images of war and blood and death. They showed the Imperial City, but they did not show its once beautiful might and strength. They did not show peace and tranquility or magnificence of the rainbow bridge. They showed streets drenched in red. There were skeletons and skulls and there were drawings of the Dark-Elves humbling the Aesir people and taking them away in chains. Loki had to look away.

Red eyes darted to the image that was portrayed right over the throne. His heart clenched for a moment as he remembered the image that should have been placed right over the throne. Loki remembered when it was constructed. It was a gift for the royal family. It was a picture of all of them, Odin, Frigga, Thor and himself. Each one of them was displayed in their finest. Each one was shown holding their most prized symbols. Odin wore his royal crown and held the power of Gungnir in his hand. Mother was dressed proudly as queen and she was by her loom. Thor looked resolute in all of his armor and his hand was raised in victory with Mjolnir. And he, he had been standing at Thor's side with a book in hand and his palms pulsating and radiating light. When the royal artist had first told him of his plan he had been worried that it would make him look weak and inferior to Thor, but when he had finally seen it...well he had to admit that he was pleasantly surprised at a how the depiction had flattered him.

He only wished that such an image still was placed over the throne of Asgard. Now there was a painting of Thanos' gauntlet powered with all 6 Infinity Stones. There was the horrid face of Malekith, but there was also another. The image was one that Loki could not bear. Its likeness was too much like his own. It was the face of a Frost Giant.

Loki blinked. He shook his head. Tears stung is flaming red eyes and he fought to keep them from falling because they stung his Frost Giant skin so. "No!" Loki uttered. "No, it can't be," he muttered in disbelief as he stared up at the ceiling. "No, please," he cried out. His voice was shielded by his powers as well so that it fell on deaf ears. He couldn't believe his eyes. He blinked and rubbed them viciously, but the image didn't change. Finally, he had to avert his eyes. He couldn't look at what the future seemed to hold any longer. His eyes darted downward and he actually looked at the one who sat upon the throne. It wasn't Thanos though. It wasn't Malekith, it was a monster. He would have rather seen Laufey himself sitting upon the throne of Asgard rather than the hideous being that had placed itself upon the high seat. It was a dragon. Its scales were a burnished and polished, gleaming, emerald green and it had obsidian black talons. Its snake-like eyes were a flash of fiery gold. Its body was like that of a serpent, wrapped in tangles and tight coils, but it was long and slender. "No, it can't be," Loki uttered once more. He shook his head as he took a step back after beholding the creature that he had seen once before so many centuries ago from a strange dream.

It all came rushing back to him quickly. He recalled...he recalled a quest from so long ago. He'd seen that dragon before. It had lurked in shadows, in the corners and in the crevices and in the caves and caverns of his heart. There it lingered and watched and waited patiently. A snake always waits for the opportune moment to spring upon his prey. He could remember the dragon's words. It's silver forked tongue, whispering words and smooth as butter, sweet as honey and beguiling as a cobra's dance to lure him in. And he had been lured, he had been tempted, sucked into his dark and raging desires. He smelt the smoldering smoke on the dragon's forked tongue and longed to play with fire. His hand had reached innocently into the bright red flame like a foolish child. He'd been drawn to such blinding light like a witless moth. But he'd resisted. He'd turned away, he'd fought back. He'd fought back and he'd won. He'd won! Hadn't he? He was almost sure he had vanquished that evil creature. He could recall it all so well and so vividly, the fire-fight in the air, two winged beasts raging war. He could see the lightning splitting the sky and, He could feel the strong dragon claws and gripping around his neck and nearly tearing him to shreds. He felt the briars and thistles and rocks and twigs scratch up his skin as the dragon thrust him to the ground. He could smell the smoke from the fire that had been set to the thicket when he was forced to run and hide like a mouse. He could hear the vicious dragon's horrific roar as he chased him down. Finally, he could recall the brilliant flash of his own dagger when he thrust it into the animal's chest. Yes, yes, yes, he'd killed it. He'd known he had...so...how? "How can this be?" The Frost Giant inquired to himself. "I already killed you," he expressed.

Loki's heart began pounding, his head started spinning, his pulse was set to racing. He soon found himself panting with fear. His skin crawled as if the dragon's cold scales were wrapping right around him. Loki grabbed his head. He shook it vigorously as he felt his eyes welled up with tears. He felt faint, his stomach turned and twirled in knots. He staggered backward. "No! No! NO!" Loki raged to himself. His voice muffled by his powers.

Or at least so he thought, but the terrible dragon's scaly, eyes popped open. They were a piercing gold color and they seemed to stare right back at Loki although he was invisible. Loki was nearly positive that he watched the jowls of the beast slither into a serpentine grin that revealed sharp teeth that were coated in sticky venom and slick red blood. A trail of the blood ran from the dragon's mouth as he gave a sickening smirk in Loki's direction. Loki's breathing was heavy. He felt himself, looked around to make sure that he was still concealed by his own enchantment. He found that he was, but yet and still he was convinced that the ruling reptile could see right to him.

"I must say I am impressed with how you have handled the uprisings," Thanos spoke. His image was projected into the throne room, but Loki could only see his imposing form from behind. "I thought I was going to have to send my children to quell the matter," the purple titan stated.

"The Aesir are weak and broken people. The brief resistance that we have met has been easily discouraged," Malekith stated. "They have learned their place and I doubt that we will meet which much rebellion in the future."

"I dare say I hope not," Thanos spoke. "On Earth, I have found that the humans are unruly. I have had to rule over them an iron fist," The titan explained as he raised his proud golden gauntlet in the air.

"Surely, that has not been a problem for you, your excellency," Malekith said as he bowed and scraped before the powerful being.

The Titan chuckled. He was bemused by the Dark-Elf general's statement. "Not a problem at all. I have easily enacted my will over the mortals, but alas to prove that my power is not to be questioned or trifled with I have had to put more people to death than I had originally anticipated," he muttered nonchalantly as he looked down at his fingers. "That has left me in need of more slave labor to construct my palace in Wakanda," He explained and held his head high. "The humans tire and die out easily from the labor. I am in need of a stronger force to do my bidding," Thanos stated.

"That will not be a problem at all, Master Thanos," Malekith began to gush. "The Asgardians are a hearty and strong people," Malekith reported. "They have been laboring for years now and their lifespans do not seem to diminish. They will be the perfect labor force for your efforts," He reported.

A smile spread across the Mad Titan's face. "Oh, I know of their incredible strength," Thanos nodded. "But I need to make sure that their demeanors are docile enough as not the rile up the spirits of men once more," Thanos reported. At this, he turned to the dragon that sat coiled around a broken throne. "They are ever crying out for and believing in heroes. Do believe it has grown quite tiresome for me," The giant flexed his muscles and yawned. "But many of their so-called heroes I have already destroyed," he continued to grin.

"Oh, you need not concern yourself about that, Thanos" the serpentine creature hissed. It's forked tongue darting out. "I think I know I have deviiiisssed a way in which you can show the humans that no heroessss shall be risssing up to ssssave them thisss time," the dragon expressed.

"Do tell," Thanos arched his stone brows.

The monster on the throne smiled. He clicked his claws on the arm of the throne. A smirk slithered over his reptilian mouth. "Behold," he pointed out and he pointed to a figure who stood stock still in the corner. With a wave of his claws, he summoned the person forward. The person came forth from the shadows. He had been standing so still and so silently that Loki hadn't even noticed that there was another person in the throne room. The individual moved slowly and took laboring steps forward. Their legs were bound and shackled and dragging heavy chains. Dirty bare feet came forth first and then next Loki saw the figure's legs. Those legs looked like they had once been strong. They were long legs, but they were terribly emaciated. They were sickeningly skinny and they shook with every pained step that the poor soul took. They were covered in cracked and dried dirt, but beneath the filth, Loki thought he could make out the man's flesh. The skin was a ghastly gray shade. Loki shook his head as he beheld the nasty pair of gangly legs. The skin on them was coated with filth and it seemed to sag and hang off of the bones. The hands of the man were chained as well. The man's hands were large, but unsteady and they were sweaty and pale. The individual's whole body was terribly pale, but Loki had noticed that almost every in Bedlam seemed to have a lack of pigment. The sun never shined on this land. Loki could hear the prisoner's labored breathing as he continued to make his way before the dragon and Lord Malekith and Thanos. He was wheezing and hacking and seemed as if he could barely get enough air into his lungs.

Loki was able to make out the reason for the individual's laborious respirations, he had a heavy manacle around his neck and Loki recognized the shameful shackle because he had also been bound by it. The chain on the manacle also scraped the floor. He did not know who this individual was, but he pitied him that he had been treated thusly.

The man kept walking toward the center of the room where he could be put on display before the gruesome trio. His stench filled the air. He smelt of garbage, refuse and sewage. In his invisibility, Loki pinched his nose and covered his mouth. He was a dirty as a pig and Loki was sure there were swine who had smelt better than this poor more. He was practically naked beside for a tattered loincloth that had been clumsily tied around his waist. It barely managed to cover his private parts. His shoulders heaved as he made his way to stand before the dragon. He rocked and swayed as he stood as if he was barely able to stay upright. His body was bruised terribly as if he had taken endless beatings. The lacerations crisscrossed his back and made the flesh look like a freshly plowed field. The marks were purple and blue and red. The welts were huge and swollen and irritated. Some were still bleeding and other's were overflowing with pus and nasty green ooze. His muddied hair was long and overgrown and wild like an animal. It was matted and tangled into long clumps and Loki was sure that he could see pieces of twigs and debris lost in the dirty tendrils. His hair was growing wildly down past his back. The prisoner kept his face facing forward in the direction of the dragon, but from his angle, Loki could scarcely make out a patchy, overgrown beard. The beard could have been blonde, but from all the dirt and grime that was smeared across his face, he could hardly be sure. The beard fell below the man's chest. His mouth hung open as if he was struggling for breath. His tongue dangled out of his mouth just a bit. Loki crept to the side to get a look at this prisoner's face. His beard was patchy and ragged and unkempt. He reminded Loki of one of the characters from the scary ghost stories that parents told their children at night. When they weren't telling horror tales about the Frost Giants, the Aesir often told stories of the undead. This man looked like a creature that had just sprung up from the dead. His eyes were the most frightening part of his appearance though. They weren't a violent glaring red like Loki's in his Frost Giant form, but they were quite startling nonetheless. His eyes were darkened and dull. They were lifeless, soulless eyes. They looked like nothing more than hollow pits. Different from the way in which the Dark-Elves eyes were soulless. Their eyes held no warmth or compassion, but the dull eyes of the prisoner simply seemed will less. Loki recognized this sad state. He had enacted such effects on a few of the Midgardians when he'd manifest himself in the S.H.I.E.L.D complex and used the power of the scepter over them.

Loki stared harder at the pitiful prisoner who was covered in mud and bound like a madman. His eyes flung open wide as it finally dawned on his who this grotesque, grizzled, grimy, gnarled figure finally was. Loki took a step back. His heart started racing and hammering against his chest. His head reeled and his mouth fell open as if it would hit the floor. "No," he muttered in disbelief. He rubbed his eyes. "No!" He protested refusing to believe what he saw. "NO!" Loki yelled out in protest. He immediately snapped his mouth shut and clapped his hands over his mouth. He was sure that his outburst would be noticed by the crowd of fiends, but between the prisoner's haggard breaths and the rustling of his chains on the floor. It seemed as though his cry went unnoticed. Loki grabbed his head and took a step back. His body leaned against the door for support. "Thor," he mouthed in horror as he saw his brother barely able to stand on his own feet before the dragon. "Wake up! Wake up!" Loki told himself. He pinched himself and slapped himself and thrust himself against the door. His back ached as it collided with the great, dark metal doors. He closed his eyes and slid down the door. He sat down and counted to ten over and over again. He was hopeful that when he opened his eyes that everything would be gone. That this terrible nightmare where his brother was a prisoner of not only body, but of mind as well. He wished to get away from this dreadful dream in which his mother was a slave and one of his closest friends, who had been the strongest, bravest woman who had ever known was scared witless and Asgard's great guardian was sightless and powerless and the daughter of the woman he loved...his daughter lived in the most terrible squalor he had ever seen. Loki's felt as if he could scarcely breathe. He forced his blood red eyes back open and was stricken and horrified by what he continued to see.

A smirk rippled across the dragon's face as the shackled man stood before him struggling to stand and laboring for breath. A desperately trying not to keel over. "Kneel before me," the creature ordered. On comman, the man dropped to his knees and pressed his face to the floor before the gleaming black claws of the dragon. He stayed there for quite a while as if unable to move until given another command. "Rise," the dragon finally announced and permitted the man to stand once more. Without a moment's hesitation or even a word, the poor slave did as told. He moved tiredly and stiffly but he followed orders none the less. "Come forth!" The dragon beckoned. It gestured with its tail and waved Thor forward. Thor obeyed. He stepped closer to the dragon and stood before it silently. Instantly, the dragon raised its tail like a whip and flung it through the air and then snapped it down quick and in a flash and struck Thor with his large scaly tail. Thor's head snapped as he felt the cold sting of the dragon's tail upon his face. It knocked him down and he fell to the floor and let out a pained cry as he fell upon the floor on his knees.

Loki gritted his teeth and let out a feral growl. His hand strayed to the hilt of his belt where he found the handle of one of his daggers. Loki unsheathed the weapon. He was more than ready to go running full speed ahead and ram the knife into the dragon's heart. He started to collect himself and push himself off of the ground. Loki waited and looked on Thor for a moment. Loki had never known Thor to take a beating lying down. He had never known Thor to be defeated period. He watched as Thor struggled to get up off of his face and get to his knees. His blue eyes had lost some of their deep rich coloring, they were wide and vacuous. They looked frightened and disoriented. He looked around him in a wild sort of confusion, his breathing coming out in rapid huffs. Loki waited to see that flicker and fire and fury return to Thor's eyes for but a moment. Surely, the insulting slap would be a jolt to his system to pull him from this stupor. He imagined Thor's face forming a wicked, cocky smile as he felt strength return to his veins. He pictured the Prince of Asgard rising valiantly and summoning Mjolnir to his strong right hand and vanquishing the dragon. He waited and waited and hoped and prayed for such a scene to play out, "Get up, Thor. Come on, Thor. Come on! Get up!" He whispered encouragement to his brother all the while one had tightly grasped at the handle of his dagger, while he bit his nails on his other hand. Loki closed his eyes for a moment. He just knew that when he opened them again that he'd find Thor riding on top of the dragon or pummeling Malekith into a bloody pulp, but unfortunately what he saw was quite the opposite. He watched as Thor shook his head and staggered back to his feet.

"Get up! Get up, you filth!" Malekith growled at the dirty being. Thor did his best to obey the commands set before him. With great effort and gritted teeth, he stumbled into a standing position. Malekith smiled cruelly as he beheld Thor. Thin and bedraggled, ragged and dirty, his body broken and his mind all but gone he stood before him rocking back and forth on his heels barely able to support himself, his face scratched up from the barbs and spikes on the dragon's tail, his nose bleeding from the impact of the slap. Malekith took no pity on the pathetic figure before him. He hauled off and punched Thor square in the jaw. Thor's head was jolted. His head swiveled to the side. He stumbled and swayed and like some child's toy bounced right back into place and stood once more albeit shakily and waited for another blow. Another blow was landed and then powerful punch left Thor nearly knocked down. Thor was stooped over, still dazed confused and witless, but seemingly trying with great earnest to regain his balance at the very least. Malekith's bloodless lips were still curled in a twisted grin and he turned toward the hologram projected image of Thanos and smiled even wider. While Thor tried to right himself, the leader of the Dark-Elves came up behind him and kicked him in the behind causing him to fall flat on his face on the steps before the dais. To this, both Malekith and the wicked dragon who had set himself up as a king among the Aesir people had a great laugh.

Loki's breathing only became harsher, more ragged, his gleaming crimson eyes narrowed. He saw blood red as he watched Thor suffer these painful indignations at the hands of these fiends. Loki's eyes flashed to look down at his shiny weapon. He'd ram it through Malekith's heart. Lord Malekith commanded him to stand up once more. Without thought, Thor obeyed and just as he stood Malekith came and kicked him in the backside so that he fell back to the ground once again.

The dragon continued to sit upon the throne. He gestured with his claws and waved his tail in a manner that faked benevolence. "As you can see, Thanos we need worry about no resistance from..." His forked tongue lapped out and he showed his bright, white venomous fangs. "Prince Thor," he said his name like it was a joke as he slammed his foot on Thor's back to keep him on the floor. Thor seemed to panic at feeling the weight of the gigantic dragon's powerful talons colliding with his spine. He screamed out as He felt the long, sharp, black-nails grating his flesh.

Thanos' muscular, purple arms folded across his chest. He nodded his approval. The Mad Titan was not known for his smile, but his powerful chin was fitted with a bemused expression. "Impressive," he nodded. "I see you have taken the gifts which I have shown you and expanded upon them," he acknowledged. "I expect nothing less from those who I have bestowed my graciousness and favor upon," he inclined his head toward the dragon.

The scaly creature licked its forked tongue out, "The Mind Sssstone hasss many untapped abilitiesss," the serpent expressed. "Including a complete and utter domination of a person'ssss will. Prince Thor issss under my command, now" the dragon announced. "My power," he emphasized by clenching his claws into a fist. He then picked up Thor's head with his foot. He lifted his foot and raised Thor so that he dangled like a piece of meat in a butcher shop by the head from the dragon's talons. "He will offer no resistance to you on Midgard. And I am sure that once the humans see one of their 'Mightiest Heroes' in such a state that it will break their spirits. They will lose all hope. Without hope, the people will have nothing to fight with or fight for. And when the Avengers see the fate that has befallen their friend they will become afraid and fear for themselves. They will be too afraid to fight. They will become just like the people of Bedlam," the dragon explained.

A smile remained etched upon the titan's lips. "You are diabolical!" Thanos complimented the dragon. "I do love the way that your twisted little mind works," the purple giant stated and he even applauded his pet. "I am glad that I did not dispose of you when I could have..."

"I am most grateful for that as well my liege," the dragon inclined its head. "I have made good on all our dealsss," the dragon went on.

"You have proven not to be the measly, weasely worm that you were once described to me as, but you have proven to be a truly powerful and cunning ally," Thanos stated. "I am pleased," he reported. "Show me the power that you hold over the Asgardian again," Thanos commanded.

The dragon was much obliged to demonstrate his authority over the once future king of Asgard before his sovereign once more. He released Prince Thor for his terrible talons. He dropped him like a sack of potatoes on the steps of the dais. The cried out as he landed roughly in an awkward position on his leg. The position was simply painful looking and Loki cringed as he beheld it. Unfeeling and uncaring of the once prince's pain the dragon simply snarled. The mighty reptile demanded that Thor rise immediately. His voice was sharp and threatening. Thor hobbled to his feet. His leg was turning colors showing that it had been terribly bruised and possible dislocated. Thor groaned and moaned wordlessly and did the dragon's bidding. "Turn around," the reptilian ruler commanded and immediately the bound man began to turn about. His heavy chains rattled and rang and he spun about. His gate was lopsided as he staggered about in dreadful pain that the man's mind was unable to even process. The dragon kept moving his claw in a rotating motion and the Aesir man kept spinning about much to the amusement of the dragon and Lord Malekith.

Malekith rubbed his hands together greedily. He also wanted to display his power before Thanos. He had lost his favored position in Thanos' sight. He had always thought that he would be the supreme and undisputed ruler of Asgard, but Thanos had seen fit to bestow the honor and privilege upon the vengeful dragon. The Dark-Elf's soulless eyes cast a wink in the direction of the hologram image of the titan. While Thor spun about helplessly like a top Malekith continued to throw punches. He assaulted the son of Odin mercilessly with his fists. He slugged him repeatedly in the jaw and cheek and in the nose. Thor was nothing but a sitting duck to the brutality of the onslaught. His cheeks were growing red, his lip was getting fat, his eyes were becoming blackened,

"Faster!" The dragon roared cruelly. The command forced the shackled man to rotate all the more quickly in accordance with the decree he turned about like a top going as fast as his shackled feet possibly could twirl and causing him to spin without restraint right into Malekith's furious fists. The mocking laughter of both Malekith and the beast who sat on the throne of Asgard roared through the room. He beat heavily upon his male punching bag. Malekith, the dragon and Thanos pointed and jeered and called him all manner of names to ridicule his terrible predicament.

Blood boiled beneath his bright blue flesh. Loki felt himself becoming so hot that he felt in his fury he would melt. He growled and fumed and had to bite his own tongue to keep from screaming out in his rage. He saw red and fire. Loki's thin, icy fingers encircled around the hilt of the dagger, his teeth were clenched and bared, his knees were set in a runner's position and he was ready to run ahead, race and charge. He would smash the hologram-projector to bits and get rid of Thanos' presence. Then he would stab two daggers into Malekith's chest and make sure that the elfin general was good and dead. And that dragon...that beast...that animal...who had set himself as a lord above the people of Asard, who oppressed them so... he would cut off its head. He'd seen enough of this sickening spectacle. He didn't care if it was a dream or not. He couldn't watch any more of this. He watched as blood started to run from Thor's nostril he couldn't just sit on the sidelines and do nothing. Even if it was just a dream. But somehow it was becoming startlingly pressing that what he was seeing was no mere invention of his mind. He'd dreamt terrible things before. Oh yes, he was always plagued with horrible, hideous, frightful, fitful sleep, but this was something to the likes of which he had never seen.

Loki was set and ready to do all this, but just as he was about to act. He heard a fourth voice enter the mix and cry out desperately. Quickly, from behind the throne, another figure appeared. The figure was petite and demure. It was a woman. She was a far cry from clean, but she was the most kempt person that Loki had seen since he had arrived in this strange world of Bedlam. Her skin was somewhat clean, but it was not unscathed. There were markings and lacerations that were on her arms and legs and even her back. A testament, no doubt to the many beatings she had endured. She also wore chains on her wrists, though her feet had freedom. She was a petite build, but it appeared that she was more well-fed than many of the souls in Bedlam, though he would have hardly described her as hearty or even healthy looking. Her cheekbones protruded and her golden eyes were sunken in. She had long hair, yellow as corn, nearly platinum in color that was pulled up in a high ponytail. She was scantily dressed, like a harem girl. She had on a metal and leather black brazier that covered only her breasts and revealed all of her mid-drift and she wore a long thin, skirt made of green-silk that had the sides of the garment cut out so that all of her leg and thigh was revealed. She wore some bands and bangles of brass and silver on her ankles and wrists. Her hands and feet were tattooed with henna ink and fertility symbols. Her face was painted up elaborated with dark-red lipstick, dark eye-shadow and much rouge. She was positively seductive, but her natural beauty had been stripped from her. "Please!" The woman cried as she ran before the dragon's throne. She immediately fell upon her face before the monstrous monarch. "Please, no more," she entreated of the dictator. She scraped and bowed before the dragon. She crawled on her hands and knees and pulled herself before his scaly foot. She reached out with her hand and took hold of one of the monster's terrible black talons. "Please, your majesty take pity on him, please...please...please..." She wept as she stroked his claw.

Loki watched with baited breath. He didn't know what the monster would do to the harem maiden who spoke out of term. He had seen the way that the Dark-Elves and Malekith had tortured the Aesir people. He would not stand by and watch another atrocity committed toward his people. He watched as the enormous serpent flicked its tail and allowed it to slither toward her. Loki thought that the dragon would slap her across the face or back for daring to challenge him. Loki growled and his hand strayed toward his daggers. They were concealed along with the rest of him and he was sure that he could have easily sent a dagger hurling in the direction of dragon dictator and struck a serious blow. Still, as Loki watched on he noted the sinister snake didn't strike the young maiden, but rather he began wrapping his coils around her, not so tight as to squeeze the life out of her but just enough as to get her attention. It seemed to take pleasure in having its slimy scales wrap around the tender parts of her flesh and fit around her curves. She, on the other hand, seemed somewhat repulsed. Her face twisted and grimace with every twine that the dragon spun around her. Finally, she was wrapped up in its coils. It lifted her off the ground and with the tip of its tail and it nudged up her face so that her golden eyes looked into a gleaming emerald green pupils. There were tears pooled in her irises. The dragon hissed and her and its forked tongue crawled out of its mouth and licked her face.

"That's quite a request, Lady SSSSSigyn," the dragon spoke. "You know the payment that you owe me for such favorsss," the dragon continued.

"Yes," Sigyn bowed her head in resignation.

"Perhaps for this, we shall deny those of race their rations for today," the creature snickered and sneered.

Sigyn's eyes were wide once again. "No, you can't do that!" She cried. "Some of the people have eaten in more than a week. You can't do that! You simply can't do that! You promised!" She snapped

The dragon's eyes flickered with a venomous type of rage. It snarled its jagged edge teeth were revealed. "You dare presume to give me a command!" The beast growled. "I am the ruler here!" It reported. "I am the king!" It proclaimed. Its coils started the encircle around her even tighter. She gulped as she felt her breath being cut short. "I could have your head for that!" It declared. It squeezed her as if she was a rag that it was attempting to ring out. Sigyn let out a pitiful little squeak of pain. Loki watched in disgust at the display. His blue lips snarled and rolled. His fist clenched tightly by his side, He would surely take off this monster's head. He tried to control his emotions. He tried to tell himself that it was only a dream. That these visions weren't real, but everything felt real. "I should squish you like the bug that you are!" It roared.

Sigyn's was scrambling for air. Her eyes were bulging from their sockets. Loki heard her breathing coming out in ragged huffs. Tears started to stream from her liquid gold irises. The color was draining from her face. She was turning blue. Sigyn attempt to raise her head higher. Sigyn trembled but she kept her face firm.

"Go...a...head..." She panted through her teeth. "P-p-put...me...out of m-m-my misery," she uttered.

The dragon began to constrict its coils. Sigyn screamed as she could feel her bones starting snap. Loki readied his daggers. He started to move closer to the dragon. He didn't care if this was just a nightmare or not he wasn't going to watch Lady Sigyn be murdered before his eyes. "Oh that could be arranged," the dragon chuckled cruelly. "It has been a while since we've had a public execution," the dragon muttered and cast a glance toward Lord Malekith who nodded in agreement. "Of course," the dragon started. "Once you are gone," the creature paused. "What bargaining chip will there before the poor Asgardians?" The dragon mused allowed. It snapped it's mouth and attempted to chomp at her.

"No more bath days," the Dark-Elf general sneered. "No more respites," he added. "No more extra rations," he shook his head. "Oh well, my men have grown tired of even sharing their table scraps with those Aesir dogs," he expressed.

"No, please!" Sigyn cried looking back and forth between the two ruthless dictators. Her life was no longer her own. She wasn't even free to die for fear that her death would leave the Asgardian people in an even worst state than what they already were in although in all honesty, she couldn't possibly imagine how their lives could be any worst, still she wanted her people to survive and with the slave driving way they would work the people into dust and then their race would be extinct. She couldn't allow their light to go out. "Please...please...please," she sobbed. "The people of Bedlam have absolutely nothing, how could you take any more away from them?" Lady Sigyn wept.

"You're the one who wants to see everything taken away from them. Your insolence is a stench in my nostrils," the dragon snorted. "Now I ask you again what will you give me for the granting of your request?" The dragon proposed once more.

Sigyn bowed her head. Her hair fell in her face. Her body shuddered. Her face crumpled. "Anything you want, my lord," she sighed with resignation.

"Oh, Lady Sigyn, you know exactly what I want," the dragon chuckled in her ear. Its breath hot enough to singe her earlobes. Sigyn twisted her face to escape his hot breath. Her features were contorted with a dreadful pain, her lips hand lost their sweet pink flush and they were pale and dull, but they formed a truly pitiful scowl as she started to 's eyes were wide and helpless. She shook her head desperately. It's tongue never ceasing to lap at her cheeks and lips.

"Cease," he finally declared dismissively flicking his wrist. Finally, Thor was allowed to stop spinning around like a mangy mutt chasing his tail. He fell upon his face, the room was spinning he was so dizzy. Sigyn rushed to him. she flung herself over him. His whole body was trembling and convulsing. Sigyn did her best to help the man who had once been her prince, but now he was just a slave and he was the worst and most miserable kind of slave that she had ever seen for he was a prisoner of body, mind and soul.

"Thor! Thor! Thor!" She sobbed as she placed her hand on his scratched and bloodied back. She did her best to sit him up. He wasn't heavy, but he was shaking and shivering so back she could hardly hold on to his sweat-slick form. She finally managed to take hold of him and he sat up. His face looked terrible. His eyes were black and blue, swollen, his lips were busted and his nose was broken. He looked horrible and yet his eyes seemed to house no recognition or even understanding of the circumstances around him. She stroked his face and tried to wipe some of the blood away. He trembled at even her gentle touch. "It's ok, it's," the blonde haired maiden told the helpless man. He leaned into her gentle touch. His dull eyes seemed to register her kindness and he managed to allow his throbbing head to lean upon she shoulder over he exposed cleavage. He rested his head there for only but a moment and then he sat upright and retched on the black tile of the throne room. "Oh no, oh no," Sigyn muttered shaking her head. "You're alright, you're alright," she told him as managed to lean Thor back down so that his head rested upon her lap once he had stopped his regurgitating. He was panting and queasy looking with sweat streaming down his face. Sigyn, took the hem of her scandalous garment and wiped his brow.

"Enough!" The dragon snapped a command. Sigyn's heart stopped. A lump formed in her throat. "Leave him," the dragon rumbled through its sharp teeth.

"But...but...but...but...my lord," Sigyn muttered. Her golden eyes darted back and forth nervously. "He's sick...he's hurt..." She pointed out breathlessly. "He needs tending," she expressed. "At least let me patch him up so that he will be in fit condition for Thanos' service," she offered.

"Ssssssilenccccee!" The forked tongue lashed viciously. "You will do what you are told!" The dragon roared. "Or I will gobble him whole right now!" He informed her. Sigyn gasped and yelped and was set to trembling fiercely. She looked back and forth between Thor and the dragon monarch. There was a ravenous hunger deep within the beast. He had not had the privilege of satisfying his bloodlust in quite some time and she knew that the monster was not one to make idle threats. Lady Sigyn gasped and gulped and struggled for breath. Her lips quivered and once again she dropped her head.

Her tears fell unabashedly on to Thor's cut up face and washed some of the blood away. "I'm sorry," she mumbled to him as he hands flitted across his forehead. Slowly and gingerly, she scooted Thor's head from resting upon her lap. She carefully lowered his head to the floor. She folded herself in a bowed position and bent herself to the dragon's will.

A sinister smile slithers over the mouth of the serpent. "Get thee henccceee to my chambersss," the creature commanded its courtesan. Sigyn managed to rise to her feet. She did her best to hold her head high and he shoulders proudly. She sauntered and swiveled her hips in a manner that was meant to be alluring and enticing. The dragon's eyes followed her and Sigyn could practically feel the cold, slippery, slimy forked tongue roving over he body. She shuddered and tears trickled down her face as she walked on pass the dragon and Malekith and the hologram of Thanos and toward the dragon's bedchamber.

"Make preparations and send me Thor through one of the portals," Thanos ordered.

"It will be done," the dragon reported.

"But, my lord allow us to show the people of Bedlam the spectacle of their once most beloved prince. Let them witness his utter and complete defeat," Malekith offered as he rubbed his bloodless hands together.

"Very well," Thanos agreed. "But I do want the prince delivered to me by tomorrow at this time," he stated. With that, he nodded and his hologram image fizzled away.

Malekith turned his dark eyes toward the dragon. "I can't believe you would give up Prince Thor," he said in nearly a grumble. "He is a bargaining chip we have over these Asgardian wretches...without him how do you expect..."

The dragon twined and stretched and breathed deeply, "You question me?' The creature snapped. It's neck and body twisting as it moved closer to Malekith. Its rank breath made the Dark-Elf's nose burn. "Do forget that it is I who am the brains of this operation," the dragon hissed. "You are nothing, but the footman here to do my bidding and the heavy-lifting!" The serpent expressed. "Sssso remember your placccce, or I will happily remind you," the venomous dragon growled with fury. Malekith's lips quirked in a terrible sneer. He murmured something in the mysterious language of the Dark-Elves, but he bowed before the dragon nevertheless. The reptile's lips curled into a smile and a puff of dark smoke slipped through his sharp teeth. "That'ssss better!" The ruler purred. "If you leave the thinking up to me, Lord Malekith than surely you will find thingsss will go ssssimply ssswimmingly," it continued to smile. "The truth of the matter issss that we no longer need a bargaining chip to control these Asgardianssss," he explained. "They are weak and broken. They know they have nothing left," he gestured around with his claws. "Their world hassss been destroyed, their culture obliterated and without the prince, they have no hope whatssssoever," he explained.

Malekith straightened himself. His lips were pursed, "I supposed you are right," he remarked. His apparent irritation with dragon dictator seemed to have passed quickly. He cast his glance back toward Thor. The chained man still was on the ground writhing in pain and slumped in his own regurgitations.

"Of courssssee, I am," the dragon uttered slowly as he followed Malekith's gaze and looked down at Thor as well. His eyes gleamed with devilment as he saw him. "Now remove that ssssslug from my ssssight," he snapped. "Do with him what you will to make preparations for his dissssplay before the Aesssir," he reported.

Malekith grinned wickedly. His gray teeth showed from ear to ear. He cracked his knuckles that were laced in leather gloves. "With pleasure," Lord Malekith declared. He stomped over toward where Thor wallowed in agony. He loomed over Thor. He could not resist the urge to once more beat the man while he was down. He leaned over and landed a brutal kick to Thor's abdomen. The kick was so hard that it caused Thor to cough once more and cough up blood at that.

Loki's palms sweated as he gripped the hilts of both of his daggers tightly. He also could no longer control his urges. His heart raced and without a second thought he took off running. His feet pounding furiously as they raced across the tile. His lips curled in a snarl and his teeth shown in a ground. He didn't know who to take out first. Should he kill the dragon, who had proclaimed himself as the undisputed brains of the operation? Loki thought of every military strategy that he had ever learned. He knew that to cut off the head would leave the rest of the body defenseless, but somehow as he went watched the repeated abuses that Malekith had rendered against his brother he could think of no other option besides to cut the Dark-Elf general down.

Loki was set and poised to attack Lord Malekith. It wouldn't be much of an attack. Malekith would never see it coming. He could slip up from behind the warlord and slit his throat quickly. He thought that such a quick and painless death was too good for the despicable leader of the Dark-Elves. No, he desired to ram his blades over and over and over again into Malekith's chest. He didn't know if Malekith bled, cold and heartless as the general acted he had always imagined that the race of the Dark-Elves were simply bloodless beings, but he would find out when he rammed his dagger through his heart.

Just as Loki was about to charge, but he was cut off. The dragon was on the move. The long, emerald, green, serpentine body of the dragon, slipped and slithered down from its coiled positioned seated upon the throne. He crawled and whipped and moved like viper as he made his way down the steps of the dais. His path crisscrossed right across Loki. He cut him off. Loki froze in his tracks. His chest tightened. His dagger was raised and perhaps he could have thrust his blade into the dragon's scales, but he doubted it would have been a killing blow. The body of the dragon was immense. It seemed to stretch throughout the entirety of the throne room. He couldn't begin to imagine where the vital organs of the beast actually lied. He stood still. His breath coming out in ragged huffs and puffs. His hand was trembling terribly. He was about to stab. He was ready to stab. He could do several quick jobs and even though he doubted that they would kill the vicious serpent they would certainly maim the monster. Loki never was able to make the blows. Just as it seemed as though his dagger's edge was about the skim the scales of the slimy serpent the dragon whipped about. His body darted and weaved and seemed to encircle Loki, not to the point of coiling him, but certainly to the point of cornering him. Loki cringed as he felt the belly of the beast slither over his boots. The dragon slowly and very methodically wriggled his neck about and brought his head in the direction where it was facing directly in Loki's direction.

Hot heavy breath of the dragon could be felt upon Loki's cheek. His flaming breath was such a stark contrast from the cold Frost Giant skin that Loki felt as if his skin would immediately melt and he would be nothing but a puddle on the floor. The dragon's breath was awful. It smelt of 1000 burning bodies and it smelled of sulfur and brimstone. Its terrible teeth were even sharper than Loki's weapons and they were drenched in a poisonous saliva and intermingled with thick, crimson blood. It was a truly harrowing sight, but nothing was so startling and breathtaking as the eyes of the dragon. The eyes were gold and gleaming, filled with fire and heart and hate. They were cunning and sharp and fiercely intelligent eyes even though they were on an animal. They were treacherous eyes and even though they housed great emotion they housed no warmth or tenderness. They simply burned with evil. As Loki stared into the piercing gaze of the dragon's eyes he felt as if his breath should be stripped from his very lungs because in the eyes of this ruthless, venomous creature, this pitiless, merciless dictator that had enslaved the poor citizens of Asgard and had ushered in Ragnorok so that all creation was forced to suffer under the terrors of the powers of the Aether and under the thumb of Thanos, he saw his own eyes reflected. Loki quivered. His hand shook before him. the dragon's tongue darted out from between its scaly lips and sharp teeth. It searched and smelt and tasted the air with its tongue. It sensed. It sensed him. It's eyes burrowing deep into Loki. Loki tried to stare back at the dragon fearlessly, but what he saw made his blood run cold. "No," he croaked as his hand gave way and he dropped the dagger. The dragon chuckled, pleased at the fear it had elicited. His tongue hovered but an inch away from Loki's pointed icicle nose.

Rapidly, the dragon simply turned its head sharply and moved on from Loki staring in Loki's face. "Do what you will with Prince Thor," the dragon declared. "I have to deal with Lady Sigyn," he announced. Quickly, upon hearing those words, Loki was returned to his senses. He thought of the terrible things that the dragon would surely do to sweet Sigyn. He'd not have it. If the dragon intended to keep wagging its forked tongue in his face than he surely intended to cut it off and while he was at it he would stab the beast in the eye. Loki set out to do so, but he then noticed that daggers had swiftly fallen from his fingers. He looked around surprised and startled and horrified. He stooped down, quickly to retrieve his weapons. he did so, but by the time he had returned to a standing position the great green lizard had taken flight. It soared about the dome of the throne room. It flapped its wings and seemed to create a wind storm. Loki shielded himself from the blows. As he tried to keep himself from being blown away he noticed a large thick gold chain that was wrapped directly around the dragon's midsection. From the chain that dangled a crystal sphere and inside the sphere was a still beating heart.

Upon seeing the heart that was red and palpable and juicy it brought to light the ice-pump that resided in his chest. He felt his hollow, chest cavity, he could scarcely remember Lady Dagmar reaching into his body and pulling out an ice block. Where had his heart gone? Whose heart was it that the dragon came to possess. It seemed as though this creature took pleasure in killing. It didn't seem he was opposed to eating his killings, perhaps it kept they hearts of its most recent victims around its waist. While Loki's mind tumbled with questioned he watched the beast swoop and dive and expand its dark wingspan like a shadow over the throne room. The creature flew through one of the doors and exited the throne room. Loki gazed as he watched the last glimpses of its green tail disappear under the arches of the stone doorway. Loki inhaled a sharp breath. He shook his head as he regained his senses. He once again took note of the daggers in his hand. "Blast!" He swore as he looked down at the blades. His bright red eyes darted around as he realized he had missed his opportunity. He could have flung his daggers at the beast. Those daggers that were magically charged could have easily inflicted damage, but now it was simply too late. He turned his attention from the dragon. His deep bloody eyes searched for Thor. "No!" He gasped in horror, finding that his brother was no longer there. He could only suspect that Malekith had carted him off somewhere. Loki's eyes were wide and trembling. He couldn't believe that he had missed the opportunity to free Thor. He looked around, spun around, turned around wild trying to find out where his brother could be, but he did not see him at all. Panic filled him.

"No! No! NOOO!" Loki cried crashing to his knees. His hands here balled into a tight fist and he struck the black tile vigorously and repeatedly. "No! No! NOOO!" He screamed over and over again. He punched the ground over and over again until his knuckles became bloody. He looked down at his hands. His icy, blue fingers were cracked and from his veins spilled a thick, black liquid. Loki gazed at his own hands with horror. They were shaking uncontrollably. He mashed his lips together as he could feel tears threatening to spill from his blood-red eyes. He sniffled and did his best to resist his urge to actually cry. Tears felt like acid to Frost Giant flesh. He gritted and grunted and mashed his thin frigid lips together, squeezed his eyes closed and batted back the water that longed to flow from his eyes. Finally, he found himself huffing and puffing and practically hyperventilating as he struggled to quell his emotions. His whole body shook with a frightful fury. He needed release. He looked up once more at the domed ceiling. Now a testament to the power of the Dark-Elves, a new history written in Aether ash. He looked up and saw the face of that Frost Giant, a face so similar to Laufey's face, a face that looked exactly like the one he possessed now. Loki's cold hands felt the edges and ridges and lumps and lines on his face. They perfectly mirrored every etch and carving depicted in the painting on the ceiling. It was his face, the face of the villain that had brought so much pain and suffering to the people of Asgard and the Nine Realms. He screamed as loud as he could once more. He finally let his invisibility enchantment fade away. He sat there on his hands and knees in the middle of the dark throne room, blue as ice and exposed and sobbing. He halfway wanted the Dark-Elf soldiers to come stomping through the throne room and find him. Maybe they would seize him and drag him off to the same place where Thor was being kept. He waited for a few minutes, holding his breath and hoping. His eyes darted about looking for any sign that they might be coming, but minutes passed and he remained alone.

Furious, he struck the ground once more. "Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP!" He cried to himself. This time with much more force. A ripple of magic sizzled through his hands. It came out in a bright gold burst and it cracked the dismal obsidian tiles. The tiles split and through the cracks, beneath the black and hellish red colors he could see the beautiful gold and marble and alabaster of the old throne room shine through. His breath caught in his throat. Feverishly, he tried to pull the corroded and corrupted tiles back to once again reveal the brightness and beauty and splendor of before. Loki reached down with his hands, he pushed his nails deep under the black stones and pulled. He pulled and tugged hard. He pulled so hard that his fingertips started to ache and he was sure that he could feel bits of ice chipping off his thumb. His long, charcoal black nails broke under the weight of the tiles. Eventually, he managed to break through one of the onyx tiles and completely reveal the brilliant gold that was hidden underneath. The sight of the gold made him want to cry further. Such beauty and richness and vastness was hidden under all this squalor and horror. Old Asgard. That great utopia. It was still there. Wasn't it? Yes, it was. This was the very proof of it. That somewhere beneath the darkness their greatness still existed. He could see it. It was right there, he told himself as his hands traced the engravings in the pure gold tile that had been freshly exposed. He'd seen it and all he needed to do was show the poor people of Asgard. he'd remind them. Remind them of their rich culture, their vast history, their beauty and strength and surely then they'd be strong enough to see. They'd be strong enough to fight.

"NO!" Loki shouted in protest against himself. "This is just a dream!" He roared and railed and grabbed at his head. "Just a dream," his voice slowly broke into a sob. "Dream," he repeated his voice a soft whisper. "Isn't it?" He asked with wide eyes as he looked around. He'd had dreams like this before. He'd had vivid dreams, horrific and lovely. But no matter how vivid they always passed. He always woke up. While in Thanos' keep he had been plagued with many terrible nightmares. Those dreams had been so bad that he'd woken up screaming and drenched in cold sweat, but they'd passed. Even if they had been induced, by Thanos they still passed in time. Even if they meant that he woke up in a cold sweat, screaming and breathless the dream eventually passed. Even after he'd been freed from the Void and even while he'd been trapped in the prison he'd been tormented with frightful visions. He could hear Thanos' deep and powerful voice rumble threats in his hear, he could practically feel The Other's cold and stick breath on the nape of his neck, he could feel the sharp spikes Chitaurian beast's scales on his back. He would once again be surrounded in darkness, he'd be totally alone and naked and powerless and in his sleep, he'd find himself sobbing like a child begging for mercy. But by the time he'd scream out for help, just before things got really bad, just before he was made to watch his own death, he'd awaken, just in the nick of time and he'd find himself in the palace dungeon.

One time, while a prisoner of Thanos, he'd had a dream more pleasant than any other. He'd had a dream that he'd returned home. He was in the palace. Everything was picturesque and perfect. The palace shined like a necklace that had been placed upon Asgard's neck. He saw himself walking down the grand marble staircase, he beheld himself clothed in his most regal, royal raiment; his deepest forest green tunics made of the finest silks and his most expensive leathers and he was draped in a king robe with red velvet and fur around the collar. He'd looked simply splendid. He could smell the incense in the hallways, could hear the court minstrels playing music, he could hear laughter and pleasant chatter and talking in the Asgardian tongue such sounds made his heart skip a beat. He walked down the grand stairwell and made his way to the banquet hall and he could smell the sweet decadence of a feast being prepared in his honor. He saw the banquet table decked out with all his favorite foods: quail and pheasant and buttered rolls and everything pickled and aged to perfection. There were cakes and danishes and figs and dates, wines and cheeses. He saw all the courtiers standing at their places in the banquet hall each looking resplendent in all their regalia and finery. He could name each and every person present in the hall. They were clapping and applauding with smiles on their faces and they seemed genuinely happy to see him. He saw Mother and Father and Thor. He rushed to greet them with his arms outstretched. He was sure he'd never shown such public displays of affection before in front of the people, but when he finally met them he fell upon them with joyous weeping. And the way they showered him with hugs and kisses he felt like a child. He could feel their embraces and their kisses and their tears on his cheek. They were all overjoyed and whispering words of endearment to one another. It all had felt and seemed so real, so wondrously real, the love and happiness in the room had been practically palpable. He could feel it, smell it, taste it. Their love felt so good. They felt so real, but when his eyes opened...they were gone. Instead of being wrapped in the embrace of loving relatives he found that his own skinny arm had managed to snake their way and clutched around his waist. Instead of the clap of thunderous applause, the only roar he heard was the sound of the wind howling through the empty space. He awoke to nothing lovely, but everything was dark and dismal and horrific. But he'd awakened nonetheless, just before the dream got out of hand and he'd become consumed by his hope, he'd awakened.

Loki stared at his blue hands perplexed by what was happening. In his best and worst dreams the Norns had always seen fit to grant him the most basic of comforts which was allowing him to come back to reality. Why wouldn't they grant him such a privilege now? His blue lips trembled as they turned into a scowl. He had seen the unspeakable, the unthinkable, the unimaginable even and yet for all his abject terror for all his fretting and panicking he could not escape this dream. It was torture of the worse sort and he could no longer endure it.

Loki gripped his head and rocked on his knees. He was shaking and crying. "Why? Why? WHY?" He groaned miserably. His hands falling from his head and then folding on top of his stomach. The pain making him feel like he would vomit. "Wake me up! Wake me up! WAKE ME UP!" He cried and screamed and pleaded as his eyes stared up at the dome ceiling. He once more saw the image of his Frost Giant form painted regally like a king, but brandishing a primordial spear that dripped with deep, scarlet blood. And on the tip of that tall, bloody spear sat ahead. Loki did a double take. He blinked back the fresh tears that longed to fall. He rubbed his eyes desperately trying to alter his vision. Had that ghastly drawing been there the whole time? Surely, it had not. How could he have missed such a horrendous image? But there right before his crimson eyes was the terrible image of the all-father's head tipped on a spike on the spear of a Frost Giant so fearsome and devilish looking that he could only be named Laufeyson. Loki felt himself gag. He dry-heaved until he cried and the inky tears ran down his face and burrowed their way into the carvings on his flesh and burned him. "NO!' He rose to his feet in protest. "DAGMAR!"

"Dagmar! Dagmar! Dagmar!" He shouted angrily and bitterly toward the ceiling, his voice was loud and ragged. "Dagmar! Answer me!" He continued to rage. He was quite loud and he thought for a moment that he would be discovered by the Dark-Elves. He half hoped that he would be. Often time in dreams when one's life was in mortal danger, just before a person was about to face certain death when the dream just became a little too scary and a little too real one woke up. And that is exactly what he wanted. "Is this what you call a gift?" He questioned as he circled around. "This terrible nightmare," he fumed angrily at no one. "I have already been forced to live in a world without you!" He growled. He marched around. "And that was my doing. Yes, yes, yes...that was my doing, I know..." He admitted. He dropped his head and he cracked his knuckles as he continued pacing about. "I know...I Know...it's my fault...I sent the Kursed right to you...and I'm sorry for that...you know I am...I never wanted you to die. I loved you and you know I did...now you intend to torture me is that it?" He ranted. He stuck out his blue chin and lifted it into the air. "What will you force me to live in this hideous form, trapped in this awful nightmare," he shook his head. "What?" He said starting to laugh out loud. "Do you plan to leave me trapped in a coma for the rest of my days?" He called to her. "Leave me to rot or let my brain fester and boil with the fever dreams until I die from them?" He questioned. He smirked. Then cocked his head to the side and spread his thin, ice blue lips into a lopsided grin."I know you, too well, my sweet to ever believe that you would actually do that." He admitted to the air as he raised finger into the air. "You would never inflict such a cruel spell on someone, would you, now Mistress Healer?" He asked in a taunting voice. "Hmm? Hmm? Hmmm?" He prompted as he listened. He listened intently. His ear trained. He longed to hear her voice. Perhaps her silvery tone would pull him from this strange dream. Maybe she'd be so kind as to stroke his cheek, transform his skin back to pale Aesir flesh and then he'd be back in his own time and ready to take his throne.

He waited and waited albeit impatiently. Then he just became angry as he was met by only the empty echo of the throne room. He started to fume. His thin nostrils flared and his breathing became harder and harder. His hands were soon balled up at his side. "ANSWER ME!" He screamed out. Fresh tears pushed their way out of his glaring red eyes and onto his frozen skin. The tears stung terribly, but he could not stop them from flowing. He thought that his desperate plea would finally cause Dagmar to answer him. Surely, she was out there, his angel of Valhalla. He waited for her to manifest herself as an apparition and speak to him. He heard nothing. "Answer me! Answer me! Answer why don't you?' He asked as he cupped his hands over his ears.

"You showed me these things!" He insisted as he raised an accusatory finger in the air. "These terrible things! Why?" He asked defiantly. "That little girl," Loki closed his eyes and shook his head and tried not to think of the dirty child with bare feet, skin and bones and wild, shaggy black hair and green eyes. "why'd you show her to me? You know good and well that if there was a baby it would never have survived. It was destroyed on sight, plain and simple if it looked like a Frost Giant," Loki stated and he crossed his arms over his chest. "You know it and so do I!" He insisted. "Yes, yes, yes," Loki continued he started with nervous laughter. "The child is dead...dead...dead..." He muttered. His voice became lower with every utterance. His eyes shifted downward nearly sorrowfully. He thought about the little girl with dirty raven locks and the ratty tunics and filthy skin. She was a cute girl despite being unkempt, if clean and polished and truly dressed as a child befitting her station she might have even been pretty. She was smart and observant even despite the fact that she was uneducated if given the proper schooling she could have made a fine scholar. She was kind despite knowing hardship, how much better would that kindness be if she knew of goodness in the world. Loki frowned. He inwardly scolded himself. What point was it in thinking about this dream girl? The child wasn't real. None of this was real. "It was a good little illusion, Dagmar, my sweet, I must admit that. But it takes more than an illusion to fool me," he persisted as he thumped his chest with his thumb. "It was a nice touch, making the little girl so much in your own likeness...you...you're gone...and that child...she never was," Loki stated solemnly. He gave pause once again awaiting an answer from the great beyond. Nothing came to his ear nor to his mind.

Loki growled. His hands were squeezed tightly together. He could feel the ice of his fingers and palm, grating together and leaving ice chips on the floor. "Aren't you going to speak?" He barked out. "You drop me here," he gestured with his hands smack dab at the spot where he was standing. "In this place forsake by the Norns and leave me in this tortured body," he waved at his self and his ice-cold flesh. "Without a word, without a sign," he growled and grumbled. "Is this to be my prison for all eternity? Am I to be driven mad!" He hollered grabbing at his head.

He shook his head. It was starting to throb. He covered his eyes with his hands. "Their faces, their faces, their face," Loki whispered. He recalled Heimdal's eyes white as alabaster contrasting so deeply with his ebony skin. His eyes had been blessed to so to the edges of the cosmos and now they could see nothing. Heimdal's arms had once been strong, He had been muscular and sturdy. He was powerful enough to turn the hatch of the Bifrost and he was the first line of defense for Asgard and all the realms against invaders. Now he was charged with a task most unpleasant. He was forced not to be a guardian of Asgard and the people of Asgard, but rather to be a guard for their enemies and to keep them all prisoners. It was a pitiful turn of events for the most loyal citizen of the crown. Loki felt a twinge of rage at the fate that had befallen the old gatekeeper, but mostly his heart was filled with guilt and regret. "It's not my fault!" Loki protested. "It's not my fault!" He shouted. "Heimdal's powers had been weakening for years!" He insisted. "He couldn't even detect when I let the Frost Giants into Asgard," he explained. "He was too late to see when Malekith's ship was over Asgard," he reasoned. "It's his fault, it's his fault," Loki raised his fist in the air. "Or maybe its Odin's," Loki pointed out. "Yes, he should have commissioned a new guardian centuries ago, but he was too stubborn to do so. Now all of Asgard suffers, but the fault is not mine," he concluded and nodded to himself.

The faces of the people of Asgard came up before him. They had once been so beautiful to behold. They had been specimens among the races, divine in form and fashion, now they were lowly shells of themselves, they looked like victims, like rats. He thought of Lord Audric, Dagmar's father. She loved him so. Subsequently, that had always made him try to find favor in the man's sight. Lord Audric was one of few people who he actually thought may have genuinely like him. When he'd first met Lord Audric as a boy, he'd considered the man skinny. He was skinny in comparison to many Asgardians who were muscular and burly. The Vanir as a race was lither in form more suited for scholarly pursuits, Loki had actually found it exciting to meet someone who seemed to have his same frame. Over the centuries he watched Lord Audric transform from a thin middle-aged man to a nearly pudgy elder. But here he was bone thin, his belly extended from malnourishment. It was sad.

And mother and Lady Sif, their lives seemed gruesome and grim. Sif was a broken woman. Her mind had completely snapped from the horrors she had seen. The deaths of her friends and family and of the innocent people of Asgard had weighed heavy on her. Knowing that honestly, she could do nothing to help the people had led her to despair and subsequently to live in fear. "I owe Lady Sif nothing!" Loki confirmed as he raised his chin and his voice. "She was never my friend!" He countered. "She wasn't! She wasn't! She wasn't and you know it!" He argued relentlessly with himself. "She wasn't! She was Thor's friend," he confirmed. "What did she do, but torture me all throughout my childhood. She teased me and mocked me throughout my adolescence, called me a coward for using magic..." He pointed out. Loki started laughing. "Ha!" He blasted. "How the tables have turned," he chuckled and rubbed his palms together. "Now it is she! Now it is who is the coward" he clapped his hand as he expressed. "Now she's a coward," he bowed his head. "Sif was so brave...so strong," he muttered. "She was fearless," he admitted. "I'm not to blame," Loki kept telling himself. "I'm not."

And Mother. Mother. Loki once again had his mother's face flash before him. She was covered with soot and grime, her hair had grown gray and thin, the face was full of terrible wrinkles deep as furrows. Her body was weak and frail and wracked with pain and trembling, she stank like she hadn't washed in days when she should have felt like expensive perfume and jasmine and orchids. Her teeth were bare and calloused, her clothes were rags. She lived like a hag when she was a queen. Loki once again felt himself grow dizzy. His knees grew weak. He crashed to the floor once more. He cursed himself for such frailty and weakness, but he couldn't help but start to cry. Tears hurt his skin like third-degree burns and yet he could not stop crying. Had he led his mother to this fate? "She's not my mother," he insisted to himself. As the words barely tumbled from his lips he felt a stabbing pain take hold of his gut. He screamed out and then felt a torrent of tears sprang from his crimson eyes. "She lied to me my whole life," he sobbed. He shook his head and bit his lip to keep his chin from quivering. "Maybe that's why I'm such a liar," Loki reasoned. "Why I lie to myself every day of my life," he whispered. "Perhaps that is why I don't know the truth of who I am...what my destiny is," Loki muttered miserably. "Am I meant to be Asgard's king or her destroyer?" He asked as he looked down at his shaking blue hands. Then he looked up at the ceiling. He looked at the carefully illustrated portrait of himself. It was the image of a mortal enemy of Asgard through and through. It was the image of a coldblooded killer plain and simple and that was that. Loki couldn't gaze at the terrible painting a moment longer. He dropped his eyes and averted his gaze. "She's my mother," Loki finally expressed. His voice barely audible. "How am I just supposed to sit here and watch he be a slave?" Loki growled. "Is this my punishment? My gift?" He continued to rant vehemently to no visible person. He bore his teeth. "To watch everyone who ever meant anything to me be tortured and picked apart and have the power to do nothing?" He pleaded. He waited with baited breath, heart pounding in his chest, waiting for Dagmar to manifest before him as she had done and give him some sign and tell him what he needed to do. "Or maybe it is truly a gift," Loki expressed his red eyes flickering for just a moment. "Perhaps the fates have ordained that I should watch until I'm so calloused and unfeeling toward those people that I have all the strength I need to fulfill my destiny!" He grew excited. "Huh? Huh? Is that it?" Loki asked desperately. His eyes were wide and his tongue felt thick and heavy and he was practically foaming at the mouth. A smile spread across his face. He desired so desperately at one point to be hard and cold and made of titanium. Then he couldn't have felt the envy for Thor at the way people lauded and applauded him, he couldn't have felt isolated and lonely as he went through life feeling like oaf's shadow. He wouldn't have felt so betrayed and lost at learning that he was adopted. He wouldn't have felt the pure terror at being a prisoner of Thanos. Nor would he have felt the guilt for the wrong that he had done. He had been close to feeling nothing. Perhaps he was almost at the cusp of it. Surely after watching the pain and devastation and destruction on this scale day in and day out and being powerless to stop it, he would lose all feeling.

He wanted it. He wanted it. He kept telling himself that this was what he wanted. He kept telling himself that he wanted nothing more than to be a creature of wrath and vengeance and chaos, that he wanted to rule over others and receive their worship at all cost at any cost, but then he thought of Heimdal, Sif, Mother...Lady Sigyn. He had a not imagined how infinitely happy he would have been to see her. As he'd witnessed the abject horrors of this dystopia, he had despaired that she could survive. She wasn't like Lady Sif, a trained shield maiden, built for survival. She wasn't like Mother, the queen of Asgard. Mother was strong, proud, she had the inside of a bear, she was fierce and resolute, she would do anything to protect the people she loved. But Sigyn wasn't like that. She was gentle, delicate, like a flower, she could so easily be trodden upon, like a bird she could so easily be frightened away. Or so he thought, he thought that she would be crushed and overwhelmed and smothered by this harsh environment, but he was wrong.

Before he left he had caught a glimpse of just how strong she was. Loki shook his head. His mind was still somewhat foggy, but he could scarcely remember, Sigyn being the one who rose up against him. The one who had made a final stand to fight him. He would have never in his wildest dreams thought that it would be Lady Sigyn who'd come for him, but she had At that moment she had been so beautiful, so proud and determined. She fought with a vigor and fury that he was sure could have rivaled Lady Sif's. She'd nearly bested him. Loki chuckled. He'd never known that she'd had such a warrior's heart deep within, but perhaps he should have known. After all, she was a full-blooded Asgardian, unlike him. Loki scowled as he looked down at his blue hands the truth of his lineage ever apparent. The enchanter turned his attention from his skin color and focused back on Sigyn. He couldn't think of a time when he'd found Lady Sigyn more attractive than when they were fighting tooth and nail. She'd been shrewd and cunning then. Her moves were well calculated and controlled. She'd truly been a spirited, passionate partner and an equal. She fought furiously, she had anger and passion and even fear. It was reflected in her speech and in her eyes, but she didn't have hate. The strength and energy didn't come from hate or malice or bitterness, but rather from love. She drew them from the love that she had for Asgard and for her family and friends and strangely enough for him. She loved him, he couldn't believe it, but she loved him. Despite all he had done, despite the people that he had hurt and the lives that he had taken and the destruction that he had caused, she still loved him. But all that love and that compassion... he wondered if it still existed now. Could she still feel any kindness toward him after all that she'd seen here?

Loki had seen her he'd seen what that beast had done to her. He could see the way that she'd suffered and been tortured. The dragon had made her his prisoner and personal pet. He'd enslaved her and he couldn't imagine what things she had had to do to service the dragon to stay in his good graces. It made his stomach churn as he saw the was serpent had coiled her in its clutches, the seductive way it twined around her. The way the creatures tongue darted in and out of its mouth as it became eager to taste her and devour her. It made him want to spring into a fitful rage when he saw how its scales slithered through her thighs and its forked tongue licked and lapped at her own lips. How dare that monster touch her in such a way, unbidden. He didn't want anyone to touch her. He didn't know why, but he found himself perturbed by the very thought, the very notion of. He clenched his teeth and let out a feral growl. His anger had turned inward as he reflected on his own decision to trick her into allowing her body to be used by another. He'd tricked her and caused her to give her body to another.

Only now could he truly see how terrible his deception actually was. He'd seen the devastating toll that the dragon had taken on her. The light had gone out of her eyes. Once her gorgeous golden eyes had danced with light and energy and warmth. They were bright and bubbly and usually full of happiness. They swirled with a nearly childlike wonder and amusement at the world around her. She had trusting, gentle doe eyes. There was no guile in them. Sigyn was simple-minded. She took life for what it was and life on Asgard was joyous and good and full of beauty and peace and magic so why wouldn't her eyes have reflected that.. There was a time when he'd simply loathed that about the young woman. He'd hated her naivete. Her foolishness and ignorance had been annoying and irritating. There were times when he felt like being with her was much like babysitting a youngster. She was juvenile and ignorant, but she was kind and loving and he hadn't seen that before. Yes, she was childish, but there was something good about children, despite many of their annoying tendencies the best thing about children was their resilience and capacity to love. Children could be scolded by their parents and teachers in one moment, they may have started crying, but then they could turn around tell the same adult who had punished them how much they loved them. Children could fight and bicker with one another and then in an hour ask each other to come outside and play and share sweets like nothing had ever happened. Lady Sigyn had remained like that all her life. Despite his own cruelty to her, she had remained kind to him and even when her family disowned her Sigyn still desired to connect with them. Maybe that made her a fool, but he'd do anything to see a glimpse of the foolish girl he once knew in her eyes once more.

Now her eyes were hard. They weren't cold or cruel, but they were hard. She'd seen too much, suffered too much and dealt with too much. She was no longer the sweet, innocent little girl, that he once knew. Sigyn was a simple-minded lady, she took the world at face value. In this world all she saw was pain and death and suffering of every kind, there was no happiness in this world so what happiness was there to be shown in her eyes?

The scars on her face revealed her pain. She was cut and bruised and damaged. Her skin wasn't flawless even though she lived in this beastly bastion she wasn't safe from all the cruelty that this dark world had to offer. She was Aesir, a subservient being in this place and she certainly hadn't been spared her fair share of beatings. Her back was had been just a crisscrossed with the slashes of the whip just like many other Asgardians and some of her wounds seem quite fresh. Her body had been put on displace for the dragon and no doubt for Lord Malekith too. They may have dressed her in purple and gave her bangles and chains, her body was still far too thin, she lived on rations, maybe more than others, but rations nonetheless. She had some sway over the dragon, though Loki couldn't quite imagine why perhaps in some twisted was Lady Sigyn had become a favored pet of the creature and so every now and then he threw her a bone.

Loki once more felt hot tears pricking at the back of his eyes. He once more looked up at the ceiling he folded his hands together as if in prayer. "Is this a punishment from you?" He asked with a whimper. The liquid spilled from his red eyes and he quickly wiped the tears away to keep them from burning his icy blue flesh. "Because I...lo" Loki paused the word caught in his throat. "Because of my feelings for her?" He asked. "I didn't want those feelings...I...I wanted you...you...I always wanted you and you know that...so why?" He inquired. "Why all this torture of her?' He asked. He waited for the words he had longed for centuries to hear come from Lady Dagmar, that she was actually was jealous over him...but just as in the past she didn't give him the satisfaction of that answer. "WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?" He screamed once more. His breathing was ragged, his face was a full-on snarling grimace. His eyes looked wildly around the room as he scanned for something that he could throw. There was really nothing around. Angrily, he struck the floor. Icicles began to form on the floor. Loki gripped the long, thin, shard of ice in his hand. With a heave and a grunt, his flung the sharpened icicle at the ceiling. He had a target. He wanted to strike the terrible face of that Laufey-look-a-like off of the ceiling. This was the palace of Asgard it was a place where good kings had presided justly over the Nine Realms for many thousands of years. He'd not have a Frost Giant look down upon them now and he'd not have it be a face that mirrored the one he possessed now. With vehemence the icicle flew up toward the ceiling, it hit the mark, but it didn't seem to do any damage. The icicle shattered into several tiny, splintered pieces. Loki shielding himself as they rained down on him. Upset, he formed another icicle in hands and flung it at the ceiling. Loki continued in the pattern. He flung the icy darts over and over again with fury and strength until finally, they formed a crack in the ceiling right over the Frost Giant's face. Loki concentrated as he carefully formed another ice crystal in his hands. He fashioned it well and precisely so that he knew that it would do the trick. With one last great effort, Loki managed to throw the ice shard right for the crack. He fell back on the ground, flat on his back after doing so. He was gaping and gasping as he watched the painting on the ceiling crumble. The bits of blue tile that made up the face of the Frost Giant cracked and crumbled and fell all around him. When he looked up, when the dust had settled he looked up and was pleasantly surprised that he didn't see the merciless face of his Frost Giant form glaring down at him but rather he saw an old familiar face.

Loki was panting heavily. He gripped at his heart and blinked as he saw that the painting of the porcelain skin prince remained underneath the horrifying images of Asgards new dictators. He smiled as he studied the image. His features were keen and sharp, an accurate depiction, but although the palace artist had captured his telltale, signature smirk, his face had been drawn in a serene manner. He was standing in the garden amongst the courtiers. In his hands her his books and in the other hand a small scepter. Loki's hand reached up with longing as if he wanted to stroke the portrait, but it was too high up, too far out of reach, just as was that person that he used to be. He scowled and closed his eyes, but then with determination looked back up at the image. He didn't focus on himself but gazed at the one standing next him. His brother. Thor.

Immediately, Loki forgot about his own problem. His heart went pounding wildly in his chest as he pictured the terrible state he had last seen Thor in. Loki shook himself. He blinked as he took in the portrait of Thor that graced the ceiling above them. Hidden beneath the horrible images still was a picture of Thor. He stood proud and strong, perfect and pure paragon. His muscles were displayed to perfection. The artist had taken great care to portray each muscley sinew and each rippling pectoral. He was the ultimate image of Asgardian masculinity. His muscles were bulging and his armor was shown polished and gleaming. He looked radiant. He had a halo about his head and he proudly was painted holding Mjolnir in his hand. A symbol of his power. A gift from father and gift of the dwarves, there was perhaps not a more magnificent weapon in all the Nine Realms. There was perhaps not a greater warrior in Asgard. Thor looked the way Loki always picture him in his mind, proud and gallant and strapping and happy. He was happy in the ceiling portrait he had a smile painted on to his face that could have outshined the sun. Thor was always smiling after a victory and Thor was always having a victory.

Thor had been a far cry from the beautiful valiant warrior depicted in on the ceiling wall. He was beaten and bruised and practically starved to death, his muscles had faded away and folds of loose battered and discolored skin hung off his bones. He shook and trembled with every step he took. His handsome face was scarred and marred, he speculated that he even had a few teeth were missing. His beard was long and overgrown like some old Viking. He was chained and shackled like an animal. Loki bit his lip. He couldn't bear the image of the future king of Asgard looking like a slave. He immediately pushed himself to his feet and went in search of Thor.

---

Loki was careful to keep himself concealed as he made his way out of the throne room and went to wander to corridors of the place that had once been his home. His eyes darted around checking for any signs of Dark-Elf soldiers that might be lurking about, but for the most part the coast was clear. Every now and then he heard the faint rustle of the feet of soldiers, he'd see shadows on the wall, but in his invisible state no one was the wiser to his existence. Loki rushed through the halls albeit quickly as he could. There was a time when he felt like he knew every inch and ever crevice of the Imperial Palace. There wasn't a hallways where he didn't have some memory of he and Thor scampering around tussling and causing mischief. Now as he maneuvered around the corridors he felt like he was in some type of creepy funhouse. Everything was dark, tapestries that had once been lovely and ornate and well kept had been torn to shreds by some ravenous beast. Loki had no doubt that the dragon got into fits and tore through the halls wrecking havoc of the centuries old artifacts that had been collected. There were coats of arms that had been toppled over and the mess resembled a battlefield. Loki quickly stepped over the wreckage.

Loki couldn't exactly say that he was searching for where Thor was. No, he had a plenty good idea of where Lord Malekith had carted the once prince off too. He knew Malekith well enough to know that he never took any pity on any soul. He knew where the dragon would have kept Thor because he knew where he had also imprisoned his brother. Loki could vaguely recall the sorry state that he had left Thor in back in Asgard. He almost shuddered to think what state he would actually find him in once he arrived to the lowest recesses of the dungeon.

When Loki arrived at the stairs that led down to the dungeon, he started to relax his pace. He straightened himself up and took deep breaths. He reached slowly for the railing and walked cautiously down the steps. He wasn't looking forward to finding Thor in such rough conditions, but in order to free him he had to see him.

Loki reached the bottom of the steps after several long minutes of descending into the deepest recesses of the twisted prison that they call the palace. There was a sort of eeriness to the prison. It was completely pitch black. It was so dark that the Frost Giant couldn't see his own blue fingers waving in front of his face. The darkness was nearly thick as a could soup and Loki thought that he could feel it dripping on his back. It was still and empty. Loki couldn't sense any lifeforms that were in the prison. The whole of the entire city of Bedlam was a terrible detention center already. So there was no need to imprison anyone the poor souls trapped in Bedlam were already prisoners. Their lives were so miserable and wretched and they lived in so much fear and oppression that none of the poor Aesir ever thought about disobeying their Dark-Elf overlords. Still, despite the fact that the prison was empty, Loki was sure he could hear a chorus of haunting horrified voice. He could hear the all calling out to him, moaning and groaning and crying and screaming miserably. The sound was utterly heartbreaking and Loki plugged his ears. Even with his fingers buried deep in his ears he could still hear voices. The voice seemed to stop screaming and started to sing. At first only the melody rang out, no words, but the tune was familiar, a melody he had known since childhood. Soon, Loki became captivated by the melody. His hands fell from plugging his ears and he strained in the dark to hear the words, but all at once the song went mute and he was in the terrible darkness. Unable to bear it anymore, he used his powers to cause a light to glow in his palm. The light only revealed terrible sights. Skeletons and bodies left to rot, some had been singed to a crisp. There were scattered pieces of armor and weaponry scattered about the prison. Some of the bones were dangling from shackles in the cells with some of the limbs missing and Loki dared to guess that those unfortunates had been made into snacks for the monster. There were imprints of the wall, shadows left by the char and smoke marks that came from the dragon's breath. Loki could tell from the shadows that there had been a battle. At one point the Aesir people have tried to fight, but that had been a losing battle apparently,

He shook himself, pressing onward, he had to find Thor. Once again he knew exactly where to find him. It was the same place where he had left him before he came to this terrible place. Loki made his way and came to that very lonely cell in the deepest recesses of the dungeon. It was a place he had known all too well. One of the oldest containment in the palace, primitive and unsanitary. It was made of mud and thatch, brick and slime mortar, no light penetrated the remote cell and there were no comforts like in the other cells where at least the prisoners were afforded tile floors to sleep and simple sinks to rinse their filthy bodies in. Loki knew the cell well, it had once his own personal hell and now it was Thor's.

Loki took a deep breath before he turned the corner and came to said cell. He was surprised to find that the cell wasn't pitch black, rather there was a single candle sitting on the floor. A bowl of water and another bowl of mush on either side the candle. And on the far side of the room slumped over on a cold, stone, slab, bound and bare and bloody was the former Prince of Asgard. Loki didn't know whether to scream out in happiness at the sight of the blonde or to cry at the sad state of him.

He maintained some compulsion about him as he took a step closer to Thor's cell. "Thor! Thor!" He called in a whisper to the man on the other side of the bars. They hadn't even bothered to use an actual shield and the bars to the cell had been left unlocked. Loki opened the cell and walked right in. "Oh Thor," he mumbled as he shook his head and walked over to the wounded man. Thor looked absolutely awful. He had broken bones and blackened eyes and blood oozing from more places than Loki cared to count. He shook his head. Malekith had just tossed him in his cell like a piece of meat. He hadn't even patched up any of his wounds. There was so much blood. So much blood. Pools of blood were all around and Thor still dripped and oozed. If he didn't do something he was sure that Thor would bleed out. For a moment Loki thought that perhaps even death at this point was a kinder existence than the sheer state of torment that his brother must have been subjected to in this world, but somehow, his heart wrenched, his gut clenched, his heart ached at the thought of Thor dying like this. He couldn't allow it. Not without a fight. he had to do something. He had to try and save him.

Immediately, Loki's Frost Giant fingers reached out and tried to take hold of Thor. But as he touched him. He noticed that skin beneath his fingers started to turn a terrible shade of purple and blue and black. He gasped and drew his hand back. He looked down at his hands in horror. Just that quickly he had forgotten the fact that he was no Asgardian, he was a wretched Frost Giant and his touch could cause more harm than good. "No..."he grumbled miserably as he continued to stare down at his cobalt fingers. There had to be something that he could do. He fell on his knees and placed his hands in his lap. He wanted to sob. Carefully, he raised his hand to touch Thor's hair. It was a tangled, matted mess of mud and slime and greasy and dirt and it was far too long and overgrown. He steadied him this way. He placed his lips as close to Thor's ear as he could without actually touching him. His cold breath tickled the flesh of the ear as he spoke, "Thor, can you hear me?"

Thor didn't make any utterance. He was lying terribly still, bleeding uncontrollably, but his breathing was shallow. Loki closed his eyes and rubbed his hands together. "Please let this work," he pleaded. Loki's hands hovered over Thor's body. He knew he was no a healer. He was better at mixing potions and elixirs than he was at working magic needed for healing. His red eyes roved over Thor's battered body. He was sure that the extent of Thor's wounds would truly require a healing crystal, but since he lacked that he had to try something. Slowly, Loki allowed his hands to hover over Thor's body, just not touching him. Loki started to speak, quickly, rapidly in strange words. Soon his palm was filled with a pale blue light. Loki moved the pale blue light over Thor's body. It stopped on the areas that were most afflicted. Places where he was bleeding, the blood stopped hemorrhaging and places where bones were broken where instantly reset. Loki could hear the bones snap as they came back together. He kept moving his hand around, in circular motions tending to the areas that he saw had the most need. It took a long time, but finally Thor's body started to resemble less of a piece of ground beef and more of man's form. Loki's hands trembled as he finished his ministrations. He fell back on his behind gasping and exhausted from trying the heal the prince. His raven hair was plastered to his face and he pushed it back aware from his eyes to take a look at Thor. He'd managed to stop the bleeding and take care of most of the basic external wounds, but he knew Thor's damage was far more extensive than that. Thor was still, but soon he started trembling. Loki crawled back over the stone slab and sat next to Thor. "There, there" he murmured gently. "You'll be ok," he told him. Thor's lips mashed together and he started to thrash a bit more. "No," Loki muttered. "Easy, easy," he told Thor as he allowed his cold hand to settle on the blonds locks once more. He tried to send some soothing signals to Thor to help him stay calm. Thor seemed to calm for a moment. His body grew slack. He started to cough. Loki placed his own hand over his eyes and concentrated as he remembered the words to an enchantment that gave him x-ray vision. He started down at Thor's limp, dirty body and then started right through it. He looked pass the skin and beheld all the inner workings. He could see the punctures that were on Thor's lungs, the bruising that had been made to his stomach and other tender organs. He saw the contusions on his head. He needed more work.

Loki wasn't sure if he could do any more for Thor on his own. He needed something. Some product, a salve, a tonic and instrument, bandages, needle and thread, an astringent to clean the wounds, but he had none of that in this bleak cell. He had nothing accept...water. His eyes immediately turned to the small bowl of water that had been left out for Thor, like some dog. The enchanter then looked down at his ice blue hands. He remembered that he too could also make ice in his own hands and ice could become water. Loki's glaring crimson eyes lit up. A smile spread across his face. Loki caused a large ice block to form in his hands. He moved the block of ice gently across Thor's body. It washed away the dirt and grime for Thor's body and cooled some of the hot areas on his body. It helped to allow some of the swelling to go down around his lips and eyes and a broken nose. Thor's breathing started to ease it started to become deeper and more steady. Loki then caused the ice to collapse into a puddle of cool water. Loki wound the water. He moved the liquid around and around. He allowed it to swirl up and down his arms and around his fingers. He sent an energy pulse through the water mixing it with the same energy that he had used in the healing light. Soon, the small puddle of water was glowing with the same mystic blue light. Loki expanded water. He spread it out so that it was a flat sheet of water and then he allowed that sheet to fall...splat...onto Thor's body. The splash seemed to cause Thor to jolt a little bit, but not so much as to rally him. "Sorry," Loki said wry, a small smirk on his lips. "I guess I should have warned you first," he muttered. "Don't worry," he whispered. "This may tickle a little bit, it may sting too," he warned. "I'll try to be gentle," he explained. "I don't want to hurt you. Ultimately, I'm sure you're going to feel a lot better," he said as he moved his hands and fingers with grace and fluid movements over Thor's body. The water moved like a wave. And Thor seemed the jerk and move in response. "See," Loki stated with pleasure. "I told you it would tickle," he hummed and chuckled to himself.

Finally, Loki figured that he had taken care of any external scrapes or scratches that may have remained on Thor's body. He had allowed the water to wash over and cleanse the son of Odin from head to toe. He pressed his hands down and allowed the magic-infused water soak into Thor's pores. Thor gasped as the saturation took place. Loki worked his ministrations as quickly and as best as he could, he drove the water through Thor's system working it over the internal damage that had been done. He would cause the water to freeze inside Thor's veins so that it could numb the pain. He moved the liquid to Thor's lungs and eased the burning and discomfort that was there. Thor continued to breathe easier, stronger and fuller. Loki's hands shook as he tried to hold the liquid steady not allowing the water to do as it pleased and run free. Lastly, he caused the water to heat up within Thor's body. It caused him to naturally sweat and eliminate some of the toxins that were in his body. Loki moved his fingers in a raking motion in the air and pull the nasty, sticky, salty and disease infested sweat off of Thor's body. He bundled the sweat into a ball that looked like a wad of grease and slime rather than water. He splattered it against the wall.

Loki then caused another icicle to form in his hand. This was one was significantly smaller. It was formed in the shape of a ball and it fit snugly in the palm of Loki's hand. Loki inched his way closer to the blond-haired son of Odin's body, he was careful to keep his fingers tucked in so as not to make contact with the Aesir prince's flesh while he moved the ball of ice carefully over Thor's temple doing what he could to reduce the swelling to Thor's cranium. Loki pressed the ice against Thor's head and watched as almost instantly the contusions and hickies and knots that had been formed slowly disappeared.

Loki was exhausted from his work and he slumped forward his hands on either side of Thor's body as he made sure not to touch Thor's body. His breathing was heavy. He was sure that his profuse sweating was surely was going to land him up as a puddle. He ran his fingers through his ebony hair. He thought for a moment to thank Lady Dagmar for all the times she had ever coerced him into practicing healing with him. He smiled remembering how it didn't take much coercing. He could never refuse her, a bat of her gorgeous silver eyes, a flash of that bright white smile under her beautiful pomegranate lips, a whisper from he silver-bell voice and he was hot and flushing as a teenager and all but putty in her hands. Besides the thought of playing doctor with her and having the chance to allow her hands to work enchantments over his body was reward enough for him to agree. Now he saw how valuable their study time had been. "Thor, can you hear me?" He asked with baited breath. He waited for a response. He picked up his head and nearly started to bite his nails as he waited, but he got no answer.

"Thor!" Loki called once more all the more desperate for a response. Still, there was nothing. "Oh Thor, please! Please wake up," he begged. "I've done all I can...please" he muttered once more. He desired nothing more than to take Thor by the hand, but he couldn't. He looked down at his hands and he loathed them. His hands had the potential to destroy everything they touched. Still, he desired to make some contact with the imprisoned prince and let him know that he wasn't completely alone. He started to raise his hand just ever so slightly and lower back on to Thor's long mane, but just as his hand tentatively hovered over the blonde's head, Thor's eyes started to open.

They fluttered at first. They batted slowly. Loki watched as Thor's brow furrowed and his features pinched before his eyes actually opened. Loki's heart pounded a smile eagerly spread across his cold blue face. "You're awake! You're awake!" Loki exclaimed. He threw his hands in the air. "It worked! It's worked!" He continued to shout. "Thor?' Loki turned his attention back to the son of Odin. Thor's eyes were blue, but they were milky and empty and unfocused. His expression was blank. He stared at Loki without recognition. Thor looked as if he didn't recognize anything. Not even his own surroundings. "Thor?" Loki repeated with a cautious whisper. He put his finger to his lip as he sadly studied the man's predicament. "Oh Thor," he sighed.

A pit formed in Loki's gut. What did it matter if he healed Thor's broken body if Thor's mind remained bound? He had never seen anyone in such a sorry state. Thor's eyes were lifeless and dull. His mouth hung open. He looked so empty, vacant of emotion and thought due to the terrible spell that had been placed upon him. Loki shook his head. He knew first hand of Thanos' cruelty. He had all manner of devices and ploys that he used to take hold of people's mind and mold them to his own purposes. It was he who had shown him the scepter and how to use such power over people's minds. Such power had been so wickedly enticing that he could not resist, but even when he had used the scepter on the mortals he had not seen them so completely consumed. They still had thoughts about and knowledge of the world around them. Yes, they were under his sway, but they were still people. As Loki looked upon Thor. He saw no sign of his personhood. He saw a pod-person, an empty shell. How could that creature do this? He'd make him pay, he swore he would. Surely, somewhere deep down inside, Thor's mind must have still been in there. Thor was still there...he just had to be.

Loki calmly instructed Thor to sit up and Thor did so without even an utterance. He groaned slightly as he forced his stiff body to move, but sat with his back leaning against the wall. Loki formed two large ice cubes in his hand once more and moved them closer to Thor's temples. Thor remained motionless. Loki caused the ice cubes to melt into frigid water in his hands. He splashed the water against Thor's face. He hoped that perhaps something so simple could jolt prince Thor from this mental slumber. It didn't work. Thor's eyes remained vacant, his face remained blank, his mouth dangled open and the water dribbled and ran from his face and dribbled down his chin. Loki frowned, but he was no less determined. He tried another technique with the water. Once again, Loki allowed frigid water to form around his fingers. He manipulated and bent the water so that it fit like a glove around him. With that once again Loki thought of the healing enchantment that he knew and infused the water with those powers. He allowed the water to freeze on his hand and formed an icy glove. He put his fingers to Thor's temples without ever having his skin come in contact with Thor's. Loki then looked deep into Thor's eyes. He tried to get Thor's gaze to focus upon him. But the task proved difficult as Thor's eyes rolled about glassy and unfocused and possibly unseeing. Finally, those milky, foggy, hazy blue eyes landed on Loki's deep scarlet eyes. Once they did Loki's eyes began to swirl with a hypnotic power.

Thor's blank expression remained, but that milky cloud over Thor's eyes started to dissipate and Thor's eyes started to swirl in the same pattern as Loki's. His body swayed as he became dizzy and disoriented, his equilibrium thrown off from his eyes swirling about. All the while the enchanter focused on trying to purge Thor's mind of the influence of the dark enchantment that had been placed upon him. The powers of the dragon were heavy and oppressive. There was a thick fog around the crown prince's mind that kept him will less and emotionless and so devoid of the essence that was his very soul. He was just a hollow shell of himself. A puppet for the dragon to manipulate and show off his power. Loki growled as he thought of the terrible spell that had taken the prince captive made him just an automaton. He gritted his teeth as his eyes began to swirl faster and faster, the colors becoming a blur. He concentrated harder and harder. He could feel the power of whatever workings the dragon had placed upon Thor's mind fighting back and resisting. It pushed back up against Loki's own mind. He felt like he could feel that dark, gooey sludge oozing into his brain too, trying to make him sluggish and dull. He could feel it becoming harder for him to concentrate and work his own hypnosis. Loki's grip was slipping. He needed to let go. The incantation was so strong that he felt if he didn't let go he would be consumed by it. But the more Loki stared into Thor's eyes the more he could feel his brother's presence buried deep underneath the haze. He couldn't give up. Loki tried to shield himself from the effects. He flashed up as many mental barriers as he knew how to create. "Thor?" Loki ground out as he used all his mental energy to try to reconnect with Thor's psyche once more. "Thor, please," he mumbled. "I know you're in there," he stated. Thor's self was timid. It was strange to feel such a shy and vulnerable version of the Thunderer. He was always loud and boisterous and confident and bold and brave and energetic and fun. Thor had always been the same rambunctious 5-year-old boy from Loki's earliest memories. Now inside he was a shrinking violet. He was like a bird who had been caged so long that when the door opened the bird was too scared to fly out. "Don't be afraid...I won't let them hurt you anymore," he explained. "Try to think..." He urged as his eyes continued to swirl in rainbow colors, faster and faster. He tried to project memories into Thor's brain. He tried to send Thor all the memories he had of all the heroic feats he had done; of the battles he had fought, the monsters he'd slain, the people he had saved, the adventures they had shared. It was as if he could feel the real Thor rising and becoming aroused a light and energy returning to his soul. Loki continued to try to coax Thor's essence out of its shell. Loki slightly eased up on his own mysticism, he tried to relax a little allowing Thor's mind to do the rest, but just as he did he felt that heavy blanket of darkness come back and shroud Thor's soul once more. It quickly surged and engulfed Thor's mind in a black cloak. Then it moved quickly...rapidly and flowed into Loki's mind. Loki screamed as he felt the oppressive nature of the dark magic take root in his own mind.

Loki screamed out. The sticky, soup of an incantation seemed to threaten his own mind and magic. It wanted to take over and control him too. Loki fought back his own power naturally kicked in and pushed back. Automatically, a magic pulse rippled from within side him. It sprayed the cell with a blinding golden light. Loki continued to scream and finally, his hands flew off of Thor. He let go. He sank to his knees and held his head, still hollering as his head ached from the attack from the dark forces. He was on his knees writhing, grinding, head practically lowered to the ground. He whispered a healing mantra to himself to try and steel off the pain that had taken over his brain. In a few minutes, it worked. The pain was slowly started to disappear. Loki raised his head. His black hair was plastered to his blue skin. He was shaking and trembling and out of breath. His bloodshot eyes looked over at the dirty blonde man who sat rigidly on the stone step. Loki shook his head. Thor's face was still void of all feeling and thought. He watched as slowly Thor's eyes stopped reeling and wheeling with the swirl of the hypnosis that Loki had tried to put upon him. The milky film came right back over his eyes.

"Thor," Loki whispered reaching his hand right back up and reaching out for his brother with hopefulness. He hoped that Thor would respond. That he'd watch Thor's dirty hands twitch and reach out for his, but they didn't. "No," Loki sighed. His fist pounded into the mud below. He pushed himself up off his knees. He only had to take a step before he was standing right before his brother. He loomed over Thor who sat with his shoulders heaving. His breathing was labored. Loki looked on him and his own shoulders sagged as he saw that all his efforts had come to naught. He hadn't freed Thor from the terrible bondage that he was under. Loki told himself that he should try again. He started to reach out his hands, grip Thor's hair once again and try to press deeper into Thor's psyche once more. His fingers started to flex and started to stretch in the son of Odin's direction, but then he immediately withdrew his hands. He balled his fingers back up into a fist. He reminded himself that this was just a dream. It wasn't real. It was just a labyrinth that he had to get through to get back to the real world. A real world that he was going to rule, not this vicious dragon. He would rule Asgard and he would make Asgard something great. It wouldn't turn out to be this terrible Bedlam, it would be a paradise and all would rise up and praise him. They'd see. They'd see. Loki told himself and then he huffed and started to turn on his heels and leave.

Loki told himself that he was walking away, pressing on through his dream and making his way back to wakefulness. He had to get back. Who knew how much time had already passed. It could be already dawn. His moment of glory could be at hand and he could have been missing it. He needed to wake up! He slapped himself. He was willing to punch himself in the face if that meant waking up from this horrible nightmare. He slapped himself repeatedly, but to no avail. He sighed. "I'm sorry," he told the shell of a man who sat before him, not breathing a word, his mouth hanging open slightly with a little bit a dribble hanging from his lips. He turned away quickly, he couldn't bear the image of Thor in such a state any longer. Loki took a few steps toward the door. He put his hands on the bars of the cell that didn't even need to be locked. The senseless being wasn't going anywhere. He was about to leave, but he couldn't help but pause. "Don't turn around," Loki whispered to himself. He bit his lip to keep his chin from trembling. "Don't turn around," he repeated to himself, but as he told himself his foot had already slipped and he already found himself turning back around. He looked back at Thor as he sat lifelessly there in the dungeon.

Loki turned around and ran back to Thor at full speed. He looked at Thor and studied his frame, it was so slight, they seemed like they were practically the same weight. Thor's body was completely exposed. He didn't know how he could touch him without hurting him. He thought that maybe he shouldn't, but he couldn't control the impulse to. It was second nature. What they'd always done. Carefully, he wrapped his arms around Thor's shoulder, he had to make sure that he didn't have any contact with Thor's actual skin. Some of his skin was exposed, but he pulled down his sleeves to keep Thor safe. His arms engulfed the prisoner. He rested his bony, icy chin on top of Thor's hair. "Oh brother," He whispered. He could feel Thor breathing. He touched Thor's dirty hair. Thor remained motionless "I'm so sorry," he blubbered. "I'm sorry," he continued. "I never wanted this," he explained. "I never wanted it to go this far... I...I...I never wanted to see you...like this," Loki sighed. "Please," he whimpered. "I'd do anything to hear you talk again," Loki admitted his chin still resting atop Thor's mop of dirty blonde hair. His long, black nails gently stroking through the tangles and knots in his mane. "To hear you laugh," Loki stated. He started to chuckle as he thought about Thor's laugh. Thor had such a hearty, robust laugh. He laughed with his whole heart. His laugh was like a burst of thunder. He missed that laugh. He missed being the cause of such laughter. He used to be the one that could get Thor out of any bad mood, he'd tell a joke or do a trick and Thor would laugh. Likewise, Thor could put a smile on his face. His moods could often be sullen and fickle, but Thor in his oafishness could sometime make him laugh in spite of himself. "We always used to laugh together," Loki stated in a bitter chuckle.

His chuckle broke into another faint cry. "Oh Thor, you have to understand that...that...that all...all I wanted was to prove to Odin...I...I...and...when I was in the Void, you don't know what Thanos did to me...he...he did such terrible things to me...but now look what he has done to you," Loki began. He finally pulled his from resting on Thor's head. He looked at the son of Odin. His eyes were still covered over with a cloud and film that hid the beauty of his baby blue eyes. "He's taken everything for you," Loki ground out as he clenched his fists together and shut his eyes from staring into Thor's blank face. His long, sharp, black-ice talons dug into the palm of his hands. "I'll kill him! I'll kill him! I swear, I'll kill him for what he did to you, Thor," the Frost Giant professed. "I'll make him pay," he swore. He felt like a fool saying such things. How in the world was he going to make Thanos pay? How in the world was he going to stop the Mad Titan when he had already given him his words that he would bring about Ragnarok for him. "It's all a dream, right?" Loki questioned aloud. "Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Dagmar, isn't it?" He screamed into the air. No reply came to him, yet in his heart, he couldn't shake the sinking feeling that everything before him was actually taking place. Once more he looked back into Thor's vacant, expressionless eyes. "Norns," the Frost Giant grumbled. "Is this truly what is to become of him?" Loki asked. His red eyes wide and on the verge as he looked around the empty cell. The shallow and hollow sound of Thor's breathing the only noise besides his own desperate plea. He looked back at Thor again, he looked like a broken toy a stuffed and lifelike dummy, but hardly a person. "Is it really all because of me?" he questioned aloud. There was shock and disbelief in his tone. He gazed down at his hand. They were as blue as the sea, but they might as well have been painted red for all the blood that he felt on them. Viciously, he tried to rub the blood away. All at once, Loki saw his hands become drenched in a sickening, crimson liquid. He gasped. He rubbed and rubbed harder and harder trying to cleanse himself from the tainted blood, but the more he scrubbed his hands together the more blood seemed to ooze from every pore and every crevice and crack on his blue hands. His hands were gushing with red. He jumped and scrambled desperately for relief. He ran toward one of the slimy walls. He slapped his hands against the old slick, black stones and tried with all his might to smear some of the blood on the walls and alleviate some of his own guilt. His hands made contact with the wall and there was a slap and splash the bright scarlet liquid splattered and some splashed back in his face. And if Loki could have gazed upon his reflection indeed he would have been horrified for he looked just like the pictures and portrayals of the Frost Giants of old who wore Asgardian blood as war paint. Still, the blue-skinned enchanter found that his hands were soaked in blood despite all his efforts. Exhausted, with his shoulders heaving he stared at his fingers that were washed over with blood. As he stared down at them he felt a nearly lethal burning sensation come over his hands. He screamed out as he felt fire engulfing his skin. He doubled over in anguish. He continued to yell. He once again fell upon his knees. He plunged his fingers deep into the disgusting mud below. He buried his fingers deep as he tried to smother the flames that seemed to have taken over his hands. Loki cried as the burns continued to rage for a few minutes longer. He didn't know how long he had been burning, it felt like hours, but perhaps it had only been a few minutes, but finally, the terrible sensation eased and he was able to pull his hands from the mud and gunk. They were simply filthy and in defeat, he rested his hands upon his lap. He tried to get his barrings about him. When the burning had stopped, he was able to collect his senses long enough to recall that he was simply in Thor's lowly prison cell and not in some burning building. He was panting and breathless he had to inhale and exhale several times in rapid succession to calm himself. After a few moments, his eyes were able to once again fix upon Thor. The Frost Giants's countenance fell to a completely crestfallen expression as he gazed at the fairer son of Odin sitting limply in the same position that he had started in. Loki had been screaming bloody-murder and had been in a state of panic, running around like a chicken-with-its-head-cut-off and Thor hadn't even batted an eyelash. Loki crawled closer to the man who had once been Asgard's greatest hero. He dare not touch him, although Thor was hardly responsive, Loki could tell that in his stupor he still felt pain. He'd been through too much and he didn't want to inflict any more pain on him. He sat at Thor's feet. He looked up at the strongest person he had ever known and saw the weakened shell that was all that was left of his brother. "I''m sorry, Thor," he whispered as he beheld hollow eyes. "You didn't deserve this," he confessed. "You did absolutely nothing to deserve this. You never did," he went on. "You asked were you so terrible to me that I should have desired to destroy you? And the answer is no, Thor. No. You were always good to me. You were always a good brother to me," Loki said as his mouth twisted with a smile. 1000 memories raced across his mind of the happy times they'd shared. His red eyes softened and danced slightly as he looked at Thor's lax face. He moved his hand as close to Thor's as possiblewithoutt actually allowing their skin to touch. His gaze was adoring and affectionate just as it had been when they were boys. "You taught me how to catch a ball," he smiled, "You helped me learn how to ride a horse," he nodded. "You tied my boots for me..." he went on. "You were sometimes my only playmate. You taught me how to talk to women, it didn't work, but youo tried... you taught me how to hold my liquor. You protected me, defended me, when I didn't deserve it, sometimes I really was all those things people said about me...I was a liar...I was full of mischeif, I was mean-spirited, but you...you never let any one impugn my honor...I...I...I miss you... so much... Sometimes I told you that I thought you were an idiot, Thor" Loki blew out a pent up breath as he spoke. "But that's not true, Thor you are smarter and stronger and more powerful than you even know. I've always known it though. You were a great brother Thor, and a great friend...I'd...I'd...do anything...I'd give anything to change this...I can't bear this," Loki put his hands over his face. "I wish it was me instead," he confessed. He brought his eyes back up to look at Thor's face once more. "You always had so much life and energy. When we were boys you were always running around. You drove all the nursemaids crazy as youo couldn't sit still," Loki giggled to himself. "My goodness, you couldn't even sit still when we were grown men," He let out a laugh, he slapped his knee. He had hoped to find the faintest of expressions that would show some form of consciousness of cognizant. Instead, Thor remained silent, still and stupefied. "Now," Loki blew wind through the side of his mouth, "You are just...still," he announced. "Too still, Thor," he shook his head. "You are still of body and still of mind," he explained. "I know I used to tell you that you needed to learn to quiet your mind, but...this...this is something different entirely," he muttered as he clenched his fists. "I didn't mean for this to happen, Thor, you have to know that...I didn't want this," Loki's voice was shaking. "I wanted none of this!" he finally blurted out his long nails pressed against his head he nearly screamed. His eyes were wild and wide as they gazed back up at Thor's bony, slack-jawed, dull-eyed form. Something about his brother's patheticness made it impossible for him to lie to. "Alright maybe I wanted it in the beginning, but not like this," he gestured with his hands. "Not to this degree. Our home, our kingdom, our culture, our family and friends...what's left?" Loki asked and his voice had a certain lilt and levity to that bordered on his hysterics. He started to guffaw loudly in the darkness of the cell. He shrugged his shoulders, threw his hands up in the air and tossed his head back while letting out boundless laughter. "What's left...what's left...what's left...what's left?" he muttered helplessly, a wide, jagged, white toothed smile spread across his face, blistering tears threatened to push out the corners of his vermillion colored eyes. Finally, he broke into fitful, fiendish feverish laughter. "Nothing!" he blasted out like it was the punchline to some hilarious joke that he just couldn't hold in any more or like it was the obvious answer to a seemingly mystifying riddle. His eyes fell upon Thor again. He waited for the blonde to respond in kind to his quip. Thor had always had a good sense of humor and enjoyed jokes. Although Loki had often remarked the crown prince's sense of humor was droll at best and juvenile at its worst they had always been able to share in good-natured exchanges together. Thor did not have the same wit and patience for riddles as he did, he became frustrated when the answers didn't avail themselves to him easily, which of course, they never did, but when he would finally tell Thor the answer's the warrior always seemed to be amused. The memories allowed the enchanter a short-lived smile as once more he looked upon Thor's empty gaze. The Frost Giant sniffled, he rubbed his hand under his icicle formed nose, "nothing's left of the Nine Realms, nothing's left of Asgard and nothing is left of you," he admitted as he bobbed his head alone. "And I'm so sorry, Thor."

Loki swallowed. He nodded to himself and forced himself to his knees and to move on. His knees creaked as he forced himself into an upright position. He felt a slight twinge in his est cavity. In that hollow place that should have held his heart, but rather held an icy block. It felt like a crack had made its way through the ice. He hated to leave Thor like this, but he told himself that this wasn't Thor. He placed his hands on his knees as he pushed himself up. He brought his hand to carefully tuck the terribly long strands of muddy blonde hair behind Thor's ear. He gave Thor one last broken-hearted smile. "I know you're in there," he whispered against Thor's ear. "You're scared and you're hurt and confused," Loki expounded. "I know because I've felt it too," he replied. "You're in a prison and you've been there so long that you are scared to come out. It's dark and quiet and awful there, but you've grown used to it and you're almost numb to the pain it brings and you want to stay there and be numb and not feel. It hurts too much to feel and you'd rather feel nothing at all," Loki continued to elaborate. "I've been there, Thor, but I'm starting to finally realize...that...I'd rather feel something than nothing. Even if that something is painful because...because...because...it means I still have a soul. You still have a soul...don't let that monster take it from you," he begged. "Please...please...please come back...I beg of you, Prince Thor," Loki called. His eyes shining and stinging with tears that tried to penetrate, Thor's vacuous glance. He got no response. "It's been a long time... Maybe too long," Loki informed himself more than the man he was with. "I wasn't there to help you or to protect you..." he sighed. "I'm so sorry," he stated once more. "I love you, brother," Loki murmured against the top of Thor's hair as he planted a soft kiss on his dirty hair.

Thor's dull, clouded batted for the first time in a long time. He shook his head and his neck creaked and cracked. His lips quivered and shook. He wiggled his fingers and wiggled his toes and stretched just a bit, his limbs were achy and sore, but they were finally free to do his own bidding. His eyes blinked in the dim light. There was hardly any light and yet he thought he could make out a shadowy figure lurking around. A nervous feeling gnawed at the pit of Thor's stomach. His memories were scattered and jumbled. He tried to think, but his thoughts were terribly unclear. They were nothing but a hazy blur and the overarching feeling that he got from them was pain and humiliation and fear. He hated the uneasy feeling that just the sight of someone gave him. It wasn't supposed to be this way he reminded himself. He wasn't supposed to be this way.

Prince Thor started to stand, but he found himself to be entirely too weak. He immediately slumped back down no soon hand he pushed off the stone cot which he sat upon. He was left breathless and winded and trembling from even the slightest physical effort. He realized that there was no point in trying to chase after whoever was there. The son of Odin attempted to clear his throat. His throat was dry and terribly scratchy. It was sore and raw from disuse.

The Frost Giant proceeded as he had done so before to exit the cell. His blue hands touched the unhinged latch of the cell and Loki's foot was half-way out of the cell when he heard a familiar voice. "H-h-hello," Thor sputtered timidly in the dark.

Loki sucked in a sharp breath. He barely wanted to believe what he heard. His red eyes grew large. His heart pounded in his chest and the familiar. Loki clutched the sides of the wall. "Thor?" his crisp voice responded.

"Y-y-yess," The blonde-haired prince spoke cautiously in the darkness. It felt funny to even respond to his name in such a way after so long. "Who...who...who...who's there?' He asked his eyes still struggled to adjust to the low-light. "Who are you?" he asked. The raven-haired enchanter slowly turned around. There was a smile that was spread upon his face although in the darkness Thor could not see it. "Are...are you friend or foe?' Thor continued to question nervously. His body was weak. He could feel how weakened he actually was and he would not be able to fight off an enemy. "Have you come to hurt me?" Thor asked with baited breath.

"No," Loki responded as he turned around slowly. He could make out the way that Thor's eyes darted around in the dark. He could hear his heavy breathing. "I'm a friend," he stated. "I'm here to help," he whispered as he approached slowly.

"Friend...Friend...Friend," Thor muttered and hummed the word over and over again as if to reacquaint himself with it. It sounded innocent enough, but he wasn't sure. "Friend," he finally settled upon the term. He shook his head. "mmm," Thor groaned as he was tired and confused and his body was still in so much pain. He could scarcely move and if this person wanted to hurt him he was certainly vulnerable to an attack, but the person wasn't attacking him or beating him or torturing him. The tone in which the person spoke was easy and soft and reassuring and intelligent sounding. "Your voice is familiar. But...I...I can't see...won't you show yourself?" Thor tone was a plea. Loki's heart crumpled as he thought of how long his brother had sat in darkness. "You sound like someone...I knew once...someone I loved once...long...long ago, but...I...I lost him," Thor admitted as his shoulders slumped. He leaned his mud covered head on the wall. Loki swallowed just before he allowed himself to form a small fire in his palm and let Thor see his face. Thor's eyes brightened as he beheld the flame. "You're a mage!" he would have exclaimed had his voice not been so hoarse. He sat up with excitement. "So was he!" Thor's mouth spread wide with a toothy grin. "Loki!" he called and looked up at the Frost Giant. Thor reeled back and pressed his spine against the slime slick wall. For a moment Loki's bright red eyes flickered with a kind of hopefulness. He pushed his long, damp, ebony tendrils from his face. His icy blue lips formed a smile, he was about to call out his brother's name in elation, but before any word could be formulated upon his silver tongue, Prince Thor let out a dreadful, painful sounding gasp. "No," Thor said as he beheld glaring red eyes.

"Thor?" Loki spoke again as a new lump formed in his throat. He'd hoped Thor would recognize him. Surely, he could see that it was him. Mother had recognized him after all, but she hadn't really believed he was there. "It's..." he started as he took a few tentative steps closer.

Thor shook his head and then grabbed it like a terrible headache had taken over. "I...I...I" the blonde-haired prisoner sputtered. "I thought that you were some else," Thor admitted like a child. His eyes dropped down and he looked at his bare, muddy feet and sat with his hands in his lap.

"But I'm not him," Loki finished Thor's thought for him. His own shoulders rounded in disappointment at the fact that Thor could not see him for who he was despite this tainted blue flesh.

"No," the thunderer spoke quietly. "You're not," he said with a sigh. His thin shoulders rounded. "You're a...a...a..."
"Monster..." Loki stated.

Thor shook his head. "Wasn't exactly what I was going to say. I was going to say Jotun."

"Isn't a Jotun a monster to an Asgardian?" Loki shrugged.

"I was always taught that, but I don't really think that's true now...the only monsters I know are Thanos and Malekith and that beast who they've set to lord over us. Laufey himself couldn't be as bad as them," Thor replied.

"You're delirious to say such things," the Frost Giant responded.

"No...no...no," Thor's eyes were wide and watery. "I've seen so much horror, now known want and pain and hunger unimaginable. I've seen monstrosities committed and it wasn't committed by Jotuns. In fact, they were the first people to suffer. It wasn't right. They were a whole race wiped out in Ragnarok. We should have protected them," Thor shook his head and the wet, muddy strands of golden hair slapped in the face. "I should have protected them," Thor pointed to himself. "But you are a Frost Giant," Thor said looking up and blinking with confusion. "How are you here? How'd you survive?" he questioned. Loki rolled his eyes. He actually felt tired of telling the same lie over and over, but none the less he told it. He told it because quite frankly he didn't know if Thor in his fragile mental state could handle much else. So he told him that he was a light-elf transformed into a hideous Frost Giant. "So, you came to Asgard seeking help?" Thor inquired.

"The realms have descended into chaos...I thought that perhaps..." Loki began.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," Thor said with a bitter chuckle, "but there is no safety or refuge here," he sighed. "Asgard is gone," he stated. "I'm sorry that we can't help you," Thor expressed as he showed his dirty palms. "But all our mages were rounded up and killed," Thor expressed. Loki winced as he thought of all his teachers and professors and colleagues who had undoubtedly been slaughtered. "My brother was a powerful enchanter, the most powerful in all of Asgard...he could have surely helped you with your quest to be turned back into a light-elf, but alas there is nothing that I can do to help you," Thor looked up into the Frost Giant's face. His blue eyes were glistening with tears. "I can't help anybody," Thor sighed in defeat.

Loki's eyes went wide as could be. He reached his hands out and he wanted to grasps Thor's hands, but he remembered that his touch was toxic to an Aesir and so he immediately retracted his fingers. "What! Thor, that's not true! You're the only one who can do anything to help anybody! You're the only one who can save Asgard and what's left of the Nine Realms, now," Loki urged him.

Once more a bitter, dry, shaken laugh bubbled forth from his sore throat. "That's not true," the blonde muttered pathetically.

"What? No, no Thor, what are you saying, of course, you can..."

"Look around," Thor declared. "I...I...I... don't even know where I am," Thor said and there was a tremor of fear in his voice.

"You're in the palace," Loki explained. "You're in the dungeon, but that's because you've been under a terrible spell. I freed you from it and now..."

Thor gasped. He batted his eyes and sputtered. "So...so...I've been stuck in this cell unable to do anything to help my people for so long?" Thor mumbled miserably.

Loki shrugged. "I don't know how long you've been under this enchantment," he phrased with a shake of a head. "Although, you were deep under the sway and control of powerful magic, so it is safe to say that you had been under for a while," he admitted.

The son of Odin grabbed fistfuls of his muddy, blonde locks. He wanted to rip every hair from his head he was so angry and frustrated. He let out a terrible scream and then he started to sob. Thor's tears washed down his dirty face with an unabashed shamed and streaked his cheeks. "I've failed them... I've failed...I've failed them!" he cried.

"Thor, no, this isn't your fault," Loki protested. "None of this that happened is your fault!" he practically screamed. "You can't blame yourself for this. Please...please don't...the fault is mine," Loki insisted and he pounded at his chest tears also seemed to brim and bubble in his own red pupils.

Thor looked up with watery, red eyes like a little boy. He snuffled and blinked dolefully as he looked up at the Jotun man in confusion. "Your fault?"

"I mean it's Malekith's!" Loki quickly recovered. "And the dragon's. They...they...they placed you under a terrible spell...but...but now you're free! You can defeat him..."

"H-h-how'd I get free from the spell?" Thor's voice broke Loki's train of thought. His eyes were still wide, but at least they were blue and bright, but they were searching for understanding.

"I...I...I don't know...I...I kept trying to work with it until you broke free..." Loki explained and turned around quickly.

"Thank you," the prince muttered, his head was bowed and he twiddled his thumbs for a minute while staring at his bare toes that bloodied and muddied.

The Frost Giant turned around and looked the crown prince of Asgard up and down. "You're welcome," he replied. He offered Thor a faint smile, but Thor couldn't return the facial expression. His face was so pained and tortured and confused. He also still looked hurt and ill.

"You must be very powerful to do what you did," Thor responded.

Loki's blue shoulders that were covered in regal fabric shrugged. "Not powerful enough to free me from this form," he coughed.

"Mmm," the prince groaned. "I wish I could help you. I owe you my life, though I don't know how much life is even worth now. I wish I could help you, but I can't. If my brother was still alive he could help you, perhaps...but..."

"Thor, listen to me," he entreated the prince. "Look at me," he demanded. The commanding sound in his voice made Thor snap to attention. "Forget about that!" he proclaimed waving his hands violently. "Forget about me and what I look like!" he snapped.

"But..."

"This isn't about me," he shook his head. "This is about you, this is about Asgard and the Nine Realms. They need you! You have to defeat that beast. You're the only one who can," he encouraged him.

Thor blew an exasperated breath out the side of his mouth. "I can't," he whispered.

"Yes, you can. Of course, you can. You're the only one who can!" Loki declared. "You're the rightful king of Asgard, future all-father of the Nine Realms, you have to!" Loki insisted as he slammed his fist into his palm and then reflexively reached out his hand to catch Thor's. Their skin made contact and immediately Thor winced as he felt the icy flesh on top of his own. Loki's eyes went wide. He snatched his hand back. "I'm sorry," Loki immediately muttered. He pulled his hand back and hid it behind his back. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated. "I didn't mean to hurt you..." Loki replied. Never had he felt truer words tumble from his lips. Thor's eyes were trembling. His pulse was racing. He almost seemed to curl in on himself in retreat. "Thor..." Loki spoke tenderly as to a child that he was trying to coax out from hiding under a bed. "I'm sorry...I won't hurt...I won't hurt you again," he explained with a sigh and showed his hands

Nervously, Thor lowered his guard. He was panting and breathlessly, but he bobbed his head in compliance to the Frost Giant's treaty. "I can't do it," Thor continued shakily.

Loki's features pinched. His lips pursed, his brows furrowed. "Thor you are the strongest, bravest, person I know..."

"I CAN'T DO IT!" Thor roared. It was the strongest he had sounded during their conversation, but there was no strength in his eyes. Only a dreadful weakness. "I can't...I...I just...can't" his voice broke from the thunderous eruption to a gentle, nearly submissive, susurrus murmur.

Loki blinked several times, stumbling to find his silver-tongue as he watched defeat on the blonde's face. Thor's shoulders folded. His elbows fell to his knees, he cradled his head. "You have to!" Loki demanded of him. "Look at what has happened to Asgard," he pointed around them. "Jotunheim has already been destroyed," Loki said with his voice hitching. A pit gnawed at his stomach as he remembered a time when he had aimed the full power of the Bifrost at the icy planet. He wanted to destroy them, to destroy their race, his own race so there would be no trace, no remnant to remind him that he was not Aesir. It was only now he could see how truly terrible of an action that would have truly been. Now one of the branches of Yggdrasil was missing and the Realms would forever be out of balance and lacking because of it. The blood of the innocent ever crying out throughout eternity to the Mighty Creator. "Who knows what has happened to the other realms? What about your precious Midgard...who knows how they fair... you must..." he urged, urgently. "Our mother is Malekith's slave and you dare sit here and do nothing!" Loki yelled at him.

Thor's body folded under the harsh tone and criticism like a scared dog with a tail between his legs. Loki continued yelling and ranting and fussing. "Our mother?" The crown prince questioned.

"I mean...I mean, your mother, the all-mother of course!" He corrected. "She's like a mother to us all, anyway... isn't she?" Loki shrugged in an attempt to play off his blunders. "She's queen of Asgard. She's no man's slave. I know you wouldn't let your own mother be forced to scrub the feet of that scum, Malekith? You can't just let the people of Asgard suffer in this dreadful bondage any longer, Thor, they need you..."

"Don't you think I've tried?" He questioned. His eyes darkened. "I tried to stand against the Malekith, the Dragon...they were too powerful...I mounted the Forces of Asgard." Thor shook his head and his eyes went wide as he reminisced. "We called forth every Einherjar, Valkyrie, Shield-Maiden and Viking. There were so many of us at the start," His voice was light and then...then there were so few," he stated with a deep gusty sigh. "Malekith's force seemed puny in comparison to our ranks. We had them outnumbered, but they...they had the power of Aether on their side. It's power so ruthless...I'd never seen anything like that," Thor moaned as liquid came from his crystal blue irises. "I led our warriors into a massacre...Malekith commanded the Aether it ripped skin from bone," the prince shuddered. "The dragon... the dragon could breathe fire and ice all at once," Thor gasped eyes rolling upward. "few survived and those that did were slowly picked apart and fed to that beast," he growled. He balled his hand into a fist.

"Thor..." Loki shook his head. "This time will be different I assure you..." he nodded

"Besides," his shoulders slumped. "I don't even have my hammer anymore."

"We can get it back," Loki explained. He let a smile grace his lips. "Where does the dragon keep his treasures?" Loki inquired. For he knew well that dragons always guarded their treasures. Thor exploded into bitter chuckles until he started to cough terribly. He coughed fitfully, unable to catch his breath. Loki offered him some of the dirty water that he had on the floor. He was able to purify the water with a simple bending trick he had learned. He brought the bowl up to Thor's parched lips. Thor drank greedily. Loki helped lower him down so that he was leaning on his back. "Shh, relax, there...there," Loki said as he eased him.

Thor shook his head and thrashed a bit. "It's gone...it's gone...it's gone," Thor moaned as he swung his head back and forth.

"It's alright," Loki whispered tenderly. He took the time to rip another part of his pants leg as to make a rag to put on top of Thor's feverish brow. "We'll get it back, you'll see," he assured him.

"Nonono...can't...can't get back," Thor panted. "It's been destroyed," he finally expressed as his eyes shot open.

"Impossible," Loki shook his head refuting the information. "Mjolnir was made from the heart of a dying star... It's indestructible..." he reasoned.

"So...so...I thought too, but... but that dragon...that beast...he crushed the hammer in his talons... before my eyes he broke it into bits," Thor expressed with wide eyes as his hands gestured of the weapon being destroyed.

Loki was quiet for a long moment. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "Maybe we can fix it," he offered.

"It's nothing but dust now," Thor went on. "There was a great flash of lightning and then it was nothing," Thor sighed.

Loki's face looked stricken for a moment, but he quickly rallied himself and shook the terrified expression off of his visage. "That's ok," Loki said immediately. He snapped his fingers. "You don't need it!" he declared.

"Don't need it?" the prince scoffed.

"That's right!" Loki nodded encouragingly. "You can fight them without out it," he exclaimed broad grin on his face.

"Fight without it?' The blonde-haired Aesir man shook his head. "I couldn't defeat them with it, how could I defeat them without?" he shrugged.

"Thor you used to fight all the time without your hammer," the blue-skinned mage reminded his brother. "You fought a Bilgeschnipe when you were a youth and killed him with your bare hands. The youngest ever to do so! You can vanquish any foe..."

"That was different," the golden-locked son of Odin protested. "I was different." he shook his head. "How do you even know of such things?"

"Who has not heard the tales of exploits of the valiant Prince Thor!" Loki heralded raising a mighty fist in the air.

Thor shot up. His chest and shoulders heaved, his bright blue eyes were simply petrified. "But I can't do this! I can't do this. They are too powerful. I've tried I've failed so many times. I...I...can't not again. Please," he begged. Tears splashed and ran down his dirty thin face.

"You must!" Loki told him firmly. His fist was clenched tight.

"I CAN'T!" Thor yelled.

"Thor," Loki shook his head. "What are you saying? You're just going to roll over and die?"

"I can't do it," Thor confessed in a fragile broken voice. He was thrashing on the stone slab that he had to sleep on. His head rocking back and forth. "Not again," he babbled on. "Not without the hammer. Without the hammer...I am nothing," Thor admitted.

"That's not true, Thor...the hammer was just a tool to help you harness the power that was already within you...I can teach you..."

"I wish my brother was still here," Thor muttered as tears splashed forth from his cerulean eyes. "He'd know what to do," Thor insisted. Thor nodded to himself. A weak smile played on his chapped lips. "He would have thought of a way to defeat those monsters, I just know it. We were a great team," Thor looked up at the Frost Giant. The Frost Giant has a noble nearly regal face. More refined and dignified in features than most creatures of that race. At least so Thor thought, but maybe he had never paid enough attention to any of them before. This one's eyes though red of flame were not hard or bloodthirsty like the rumors had always said they would be. But his eyes were kind and emotional, in fact, the Jotun seemed on the verge of tears himself. Thor tried to study the visage of the man before him. He didn't know him and yet he felt like he did. He blinked as he studied the Jotun's features. His eyesight swam in and out of focus, his head hurt and he was famished and dehydrated and he was desperate and vulnerable and broken. He was so lonely and miserable, perhaps that is why a Frost Giant who he never knew seemed to bear a striking resemblance to someone he once loved. Thor instantly tried to remind himself that this Frost Giant had just told him that he was once a Light-Elf, a light elf who had had a terrible curse placed upon him. Perhaps it was far-fetched, but it was no more far-fetched than the Dark-Elves resurrecting themselves and taking over Asgard. It was no more ludicrous than a dragon sitting upon the seat of power in the Nine Realms. Thor had seen too much too not believe.

"There was nothing we couldn't do together. He was so smart," Thor muttered wistfully. "But he's gone. Everyone is gone." Thor shook his head.

Loki gulped, "Everyone isn't gone...Thor," he spoke gently.

"Asgard has lost her king," the prince muttered.

Loki's eyes went wide. He was washed over by a wave that made him feel so dizzy and lightheaded that he could hardly keep himself upright. He grabbed at his head and at his chest. "Father is dead?" Thor looked at him quizzically for the term he used to refer to Asgard's former king. "I mean the all-father is dead?" He asked and his tone was somber. His voice shaking as the words escaped his thin blue lips.

"Yes," Odin's oldest son admitted. "He died in his bedchamber when Asgard fell. THose fiends were so honorless that they did not even render him the proper funeral rights. They buried him," Thor groundout. Loki in return gasped in horror at the level of disrespect Malekith could have shown to the all-father. They buried him the ultimate disgrace to an Aesir. They had always practiced cremation it was the only way to allow their bodies to return to the skies and become what they were made of and drift forever in the conscience of men and their people forever. Loki felt as if he would vomit.

"Where-where is he buried?" Loki asked as he closed his eyes.

Thor shrugged. "On the outskirts of this desolate city,"

"I've lost family and friends...so so many friends," the blonde prisoner wailed. "Yet the loss of my brother still stings the greatest," he reported. Loki's eyes widened ever so slightly to this news. Thor and Odin had always been close. Thor was devastated when he had lied and told him that their father was dead. "I guess it's just the first cut is the deepest," he continued. "Losing Loki was the beginning of the end for Asgard. He explained. "I know he was hurting and I know I was responsible for that, but how could he leave me like that? I...I...I needed him. Mother needed him. Asgard needed him. I...I needed him," Thor started to sob into his hands. "I don't know what to do without him now," Thor admitted as he took a few deep breaths to quiet his crying.

"He'd want you to fight," the Frost Giant stated. "If he was here, Thor if he was standing right in front of you like I was, I know he'd beg you to fight. You were his hero, he wouldn't want to see you like this."

"I don't have any fight left," Thor confessed. Please," Thor said as he looked into his eyes, "I'm so tired...I...I want to die," he mumbled. "I don't mean to disappoint him again, but I...just can't go on...I can't and can't," Thor was panting and rasping. He was weakening with every word. His eyes were fluttering as he struggled to stay awake, but found himself losing that battle terribly.

Loki's heart broke. One of Thor's catch-phrases had always been that he had no plans to die and now the proud prince welcomed death. Loki looked down at the fairer son of Odin, he was half way sleep. His lips quivered as pleas tumbled from them, he started to thrash and shiver. He was in no position to fight against the beast or Malekith. Thor was withered, his bones not even strong, he was emaciated and his mind was fragile. He'd ask no more from this shriveled version of his brother tonight. "Sleep, Prince Thor," Loki said as he waved his hands over Thor's sluggish eyes. They closed without resistance. His breathing slowed and his lips went slack. "When you wake I promise you will find peace," he stated. "I promise that the sun will shine on us again," he pledged. He then worked his magic and put a protective forcefield around the crown prince of the battered realm. It was a glowing green cocoon in which energy could be imparted back into Thor's body. It would take time, but he would heal. He permeated Thor's thoughts which were already turning into torturous nightmares and interjected pleasant memories into his dreams and Thor smiles in his sleep as he envisioned he and Loki riding horses through the woods.

Loki smiles down at Thor. He blew him a kiss and proceeded to go. He'd spent too much time talking with ghosts. He had to get out of this maze and go. Go before he missed the dawning of a new era where he was the leader and he continued to assure himself that it would not be so dreadful as this world he was seeing.

He went out the cell doors and just as he stepped out. Someone caught him by the sleeve. The tug was light and delicate, like a butterfly. He turned around, startled by even the faintest touch. His mind, all at once caused him to scold himself. He should have used his cloaking spell. He should have made himself invisible. How could he have been so foolish as to let his guard down? How could he think that Malekith wouldn't have sent soldiers to spy on and protect his precious captive? Loki spun around in a defensive stance. He immediate pushed forth his arms and thrust whoever it was off of him. He slammed them against the wall and pulled out one of his daggers. He charged it with energy and held it at the person's throat.

When he finally looked down to actually see who was before him it disarmed him. He immediately recognized a beautiful pair of golden eyes that were big as doubloons and trembling like leaves in the wind, they looked even bigger due to the thinness of the face. The golden eyes were set above two sweet puckered lips that were without any paint, but kept a natural pink tint. Beneath a hood, there were long strands of blonde hair that poked through. The body of the person shook as they raised their hands in surrender. A squeal escaped them. "Loki!" they gasped.

Loki dropped his weapon. "Sigyn!" he cried. His dagger clattered on the floor as she wrapped him in a tight embrace.

A/N: Whoa! That was a long one, but you made it! Give yourself a round of applause, a pat on the back and cookie from me! This chapter was the first chapter written after I had seen Infinity Wars, so I tried to add some touches of things from the movie into this chapter, but still keeping with my original ideas. Anyway, we are drawing very close to the end of this epic tale and I can't wait to write the climax for you. Once again I encourage you that if you have been reading all this time then you deserve to leave a review. Come on, Don't be shy ;)