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?

60. Long Live the House of Odin

HELLLLLLLLOOOOOOOO READERS! OMG, IT HAS BEEN SOOOOOO LOOOOONG! It has been tooo long and that is all my fault! I AM SOOOOO SORRY! It has never taken me this long to update before (hangs head in shame ) but getting back to real life as we try to move forward in the face of Covid is very time-consuming in the best way! Anyway, please know that I continued to cherish each and every one of your reviews, favorites and follows and they mean so much to me (Virtual hugs!) and I did continuously work on this story and this chapter, but this was a really difficult chapter to write and to be honest I'm still not satisfied with it. I also couldn't believe that I still hadn't finished this story and now Loki had his own TV show. (BTW I still haven't watched it and won't until I finish this fanfiction). Well, I pray that you are all safe and well. This is a long chapter, so buckle up and get ready, grab a drink of water, snacks whatever you need. I'm not in love with this chapter, but I hope you like it. Happy reads and writes and as always GOD BLESS

Chapter 60

This was it. King Loki of Asgard told himself. He rolled his emerald eyes upward so they caught a glimpse of the faint sliver of sunlight that was reflecting off of the blade of his sterling silver dagger that was held above Thor's helpless head. The other knife's point was shaking against Thor's neck; toying with and cutting into the flesh. Loki closed his eyes. This was a mad capped idea if he'd ever had one. He didn't even know if he could pool it off. A bold move...even for him. There was so little chance of actually pulling it off. He'd always been practical and rational, calculating. He weighed the odds. Outcomes were simple math problems of probability. The probability of this working was negligible, just like there was so little sunlight, but as he looked at the way the line of the white sun reflected off of the blade of the dagger and pierced through the darkness, maybe all they needed was a small chance to overcome. Loki gulped. Either way, he'd seal his fate in this very act. And he'd accept the consequences of that action wherever they would lead.

In that moment the cacophony of cries from the crowd of thousands of Asgardians trapped in the town square rang silently in Loki's ears. He could see their horrified faces, screaming with all their might, begging him to stop, but he could no longer hear a word that they were saying. He could feel the vibrations through the wooden planks of the scaffold and the Dark-Elves stomped and jumped with expectancy as they shouted praises to their newfound leader. He could feel them, but he could no longer hear their exotic, guttural chants. All fell silent as in one foul and precise motion, King Loki of Asgard brought his blade down on Thor's head to do what had to be done.

Loki's emerald eyes were closed and his lips were pressed so tightly together that they disappeared completely from sight. The first sound that came back into his mind was the clank of his bejeweled dragon's tooth daggers against the planks. Then he heard the thunderous sound of the Crown Prince of Asgard's large body hitting the scaffold floor right next to his feet. He opened his ever-green eyes to behold his handy work. The sound of his own rapid heartbeat in his ears and his labored panting came to him next. All at once, a whirlwind of screams echoed in his ears and once more flood his senses. He heard all the horrified cries the shouts for 'Mercy', the roars of frantic 'Nooo!" He heard voices ring out and call Thor's name. There were many voices clamoring for Thor. It was as if they were trying to resurrect him with their shouts. And if screams could raise the dead, then surely the Aesir would have been successful.

Loki's eyes remained closed, but he recognized Lady Sif's he'd never her voice so shrill he'd never heard her sound in such anguish. He'd shared a battlefield with Sif many times. He'd seen her get stabbed in the leg and back and sliced through the arm and then demand someone bring her the Berserker Staff so she could keep fighting. He'd seen her be called out in a duel for insulting another warrior's wife, take a punch in the eye from that warrior who was easily twice the size of Thor and get back up and knock out his teeth. One time the warrior woman had even been bitten by a werewolf and in all those times he hadn't heard cry out with such heartbreak and raw emotion.

Frigga, Queen of Asgard, the all-mother...his mother, she was letting out one of those pained unintelligible bellows. It was a deep aching hair-raising sob. She sounded like a wounded animal, gutted and tormented to the point of death. She was screaming and shrieking. Loki couldn't bring his bright green eyes to scan the crowd obscured in darkness in order to pick out the golden queen's face. He didn't want to see it for all the unnecessary agony he had put her through. Then all of a sudden, her cry went silent just all at once cut off. For a moment, Loki panicked. Her voice was so broken and pained, but then all at once to be silenced, like she had all the voice within in her strangled out of her and like she had the very life within her, the very breath sucked right out of her. He imagined that she saw the bloody body of her son lying on the scaffold. Such a sight would cause any mother's heart to stop.

The king lastly heard the petrified holler of Sigyn Arndottir. Lady Sif's scream startled him. His mother's scream hurt him. Sigyn's desperate cry nearly broke him then and there. Her voice rang out like an alarm being sounded in the crowd. Finally, his eyes flew open. Mouth gaping, he looked out into the crowd. And he spotted the blonde-haired handmaiden to Queen Frigga. She was so bedraggled looking with mud covering her hair that no one would have known how it was so beautiful as the quality of fine gold. He watched her. She called out to his mother. The two women were stationed close to each other, but the way the beautiful, blonde-haired Aesir woman yelled he would have thought that the queen was miles away. She kept calling out to the queen, but no response came back. Queen Frigga's body was limp and she was stuck on her knees in the mud. She slumped over on top of another body that had fainted from the horror of watching the brutal execution. Sigyn started crying, wailing. She was yelling Thor's name the same as everyone else. "OH, MY STAR!" Her eyes were wide and petrified. "MERCIFUL YGGDRASIL! MERCIFUL YGGDRASIL PLEASE NO!" she wept. "PRINCE THOR! THORR!" her words came out broken and choked as she watched the crown prince of the fall. Prince Thor, the rightful heir to the throne, he'd done nothing, but try to save Asgard and try to save Loki. She couldn't believe Loki would destroy him. In the midst of the chaos, Loki heard her call out to him. It was so sad so mournful, so completely obliterated with grief. "LOKI!" his name tore from her throat as if it came from her very soul. "WHYY?!" Her frantic question came up to him. He could hear her panting, her breath scarce and scant, "H-h-how...could...how could?' she questioned. "H-h-how could y-y-you be so heartless...murder countless of your own subjects?" she asked in disbelief to herself. "Y-y-your brother?" she mumbled like a child who had just learned some awful truth. "How...how...could I ever love you?' she wondered aloud with a whimper. She could scarcely even shake her head. "I WISH I NEVER LAID EYES ON YOU!" her voice rang out cursing his name just like the rest of the congregation of citizens who were packed into the City Square. She made sure to stare right at the scaffold at him. "I WISH I NEVER LOVED YOU!" she shouted with all her might. Everything was loud and blaring in Loki's ears it was just a jumble of screeches, but her words through his powers or through the powers of the Norns they came to him clear as if she and him were alone in a room together and she was shouting in his face. He could feel all her heated energy and fury, all the fiery passion that she had pent up deep, deep within her beautiful vessel. She was like a tranquil river, life-giving stream with banks that flowered and teemed with life, but if one followed the river long enough they would see that there were rapids with jagged spikes and rocks. She was like a majestic mount. So full of lovely green life, that one could never imagine that underneath its peaceful snowcapped peaks lied a fiery furnace, hot and ready to erupt. Loki had to admit to himself, just like he had in his bedchamber when she attacked him, there was something incredibly attractive about this side of her. "I...I...I...wish I never loved you!" she blubbered relentlessly.

The self-proclaimed king of Asgard's breath came out sharp and ragged. He turned his ears off from listening to her pained voice. it was better this way. No matter what happened now, it was better this way, for her and for all involved. If she hated him it was what he deserved. If everyone hated him what more could he expect. He'd done what he needed to do and he'd have no regrets. His chest with the golden breastplate that was on it heaved as if he had just run a marathon. He took a step back to admire his handiwork and swiped his silver tongue over his thin lips. Allowed the other dagger to fall from his other hand and then allowed a gleeful smile to take over his sharp features. The son barely managed to peak through the dark, heavy, dismal Aether-tainted clouds and shine on the gilded horns of King Loki's crown.

Before the dictator over Asgard could even process the weight of what he had done he found Lord Malekith rushing up toward him. The Dark-Elf general ran from his position just a few steps behind the king. He took a place standing right new to the son of Laufey, his dark eyes were wide with excitement at the sight of the death of the descendant of Bor. The sight of red spilling all about the prince's body and gathering at the golden booted feet of Loki was enough to send him into a wickedly joyful tizzy. He was panting heavily as he leaned over and took a good look at the body, "Is it done? Is it done? IS IT DONE?" the leader of the Dark-Elves questioned. And when he beheld the answer that he had longed for dozens of centuries, he called back to his men, "IT IS DONE!" he exclaimed in a loud voice and he raised his blackened sword high into the air.

Immediately, the Dark-Elf soldiers went up in ecstasy. They were wild and raucous in a heathenish kind of delight. They waved their arms wildly and started to flap about as if they were trying to take flight. They stomped their feet and paraded around the scaffold, they shook their spears and raised their voices, they started singing their ancient chants. The Dark-Elves weren't exactly known for their eloquence in the arts as their cousins the Light-Elves. The Light-Elves were a race of grace and beauty. They prided themselves on such things as dance and music. When they danced it was like watching the leaves rustle and swirl in the breeze, or like the waves lapping at the shore. When they sang well it was said that even the nightingales were envious of the lovely voices that some of the elves had, but listening to the Dark-Elves go on and on in their revelry was like listening to the snoring, howling snarling bilgeschnipe, watching them frolic was like watching stones tumble and roll about. But still, they carried on in their partying and praise of the Aether, Malekith, and Loki, for that matter. Soon their exuberance had drowned out the woeful cries of the Aesir people who were still chained like slaves, stuck in the mud.

Lord Malekith was dancing and chanting with his people for a moment, but after a minute he broke away, he went to the monarch decked in his regal velvety green and mysterious black and glistening gold. he eyed him with slightly more favor than he had before. He had never much cared for Loki. He was devious that much was true, but there was something in him that was still tender, still far too sentimental. But he was impressed by the fact that he had actually gone through with obeying Thanos' commands. He had actually killed his brother. The King of Asgard had sworn that he cared nothing about the blond-haired son of Odin, but Malekith could always smell sentiment on a person. It was a distinct smell that the leader of the Dark-Elves had trained himself to recognized when he began his conquest because it was weakness. He'd not suffer it. And Loki, Loki had reeked of sentiment. He stank like a filthy sty of familial feelings. But he'd done it. He'd actually killed the descendant of Bor.

Perhaps Thanos had been right about Loki all along. He saw that Loki's lust for power was greater than his 'love for family". A smile played on General Malekith's bloodless lips. Only now did he see that perhaps this Loki would be capable of ruling these puling infants, the Aesir with an iron fist and that was something much to the warlord's liking. Maybe they could actually form a true alliance. He brought his brass-knuckled hands to clap Loki on the back. "Well done," he congratulated the king. He offered a slight bow. Let out an ugly smile over his ghastly teeth. "You did it. You actually did it," he nodded approvingly.

"Oh yes, I did it," Loki confirmed for Lord Malekith's pointed ears.

Malekith's blackened eyes went wide, he was practically salivating and foaming at the mouth with a pang of ravenous hunger and insatiable bloodlust. "You've had the honor of first blood," Malekith called to the king so that his soldiers and the Asgardians could hear. "Now let me be the one to mouth his head on a spike," he declared as he continued to circle around the dead body like a vulture. His tongue darted out over his ashen lips as he looked at Prince Thor's lifeless body. He'd dreamed of such a day for as long as he could remember now. Mounting the head of a victim was an age-old tradition among the Dark-Elves. In the palace, at Svartalfheim the interior dining hall had been graced with the taxidermized of the heads of the rulers of the lands that they had conquered. He remembered when he told his king about wanting to mount the head of King Bor.

"General Malekith you have gone too far!" the king of the Dark-Elves said.

] "We are on the brink of taking back the realms," he declared to his monarch.

"We cannot march on Asgard," the Dark-Elf king stated as he sat upon his throne.

"My lord, you cannot be serious? We can easily overcome the Aesir, especially with our alliance with Thanos," Malekith insisted to his liege. He was bowed on one knee before his king.

The king bristled, "I did not approve of your going to that madman," the king responded.

"We need him, your highness," Malekith ensured the king. "His vision aligns with ours and he is powerful enough... we nearly lost Ria." He explained about the small colony of the Norn.

"His vision aligns with yours," the ruler of Svartalfheim interrupted. "Not mine..."

Malekith shook his head in disbelief at what he heard. He had always respected his king greatly, but slowly he was starting the see the sovereign as weak-willed and simple-minded. He was a man without vision, unlike himself and Lord Thanos. And if the king didn't watch himself he could find himself at the wrong end of Malekith's vision. "Majesty, the Aether's power grows everyday, we can bring the Night back and you will reign unchallenged, just as Bor," he said to inspire the leader. "Helping Thanos find the stones... it is a small price to pay..." he tried to explain.

The King shook his head. "Thanos destroyed his own realm," the king's voice was trembling. "he'll destroy ours too," he warned. "Thanos wants the Aether for himself," the monarch warned.

"No," Malekith wagged his head. He'd been inspired by the purple titan, "he believes in the natural order, the original state and he doesn't believe in allowing the weak creatures to rule. He believes as we do and his leaders did not. He had to take matters into his own hands..." Lord Malekith defended. "The Aesir are a weak people..."

"Malekith, you talk as a fool," the king started to scoff. They are not weak, they were one of the first kingdoms to rise at the dawning of the Light..." the king explained. "They taught the Midgardians and the Titans and the Vanir. The Norns honor them with near-immortality. They are too powerful, "

"The mortals are nothing but children," Malekith spat. " The Vanir are nothing, but magicians, they aren't warriors, sire, they lost the rule of Midgard to the Aesir." Malekith continued to entreat his king. "The Norns will bow to us and give us the gifts of time once they behold the power of the Aether to wipe them out.

" Bor will do anything to protect his people and the Nine Realms. The Day is strong as the Night now Malekith, you must understand this..." The king stared vacantly out of the palace window. He looked at his people. "Fear, chaos, and war, the trademarks of our people they are passing away. Time is shifting to a new era, we must adapt or fall"

"NO!" he barked out growling ferociously against the declaration.

"It is true...you have done well, but..." the king's eyes drifted to stare out of a dark stained window.

"We can defeat them with the help of Thanos' forces," the Dark-Elf general protested.

You will bring Bor and his hoard here," the king explained. "They will decimate us... and enslave us."

"No," Malekith reached out to grab his king's hand.

"Yes, tis true and you know it!" The king stamped his scepter to the ground. It resounded in the onyx stoned walls of his throne room. He tried to pin General Malekith with a stare, but the warlord was instantly upon his feet. "I cannot allow our people to fall,"

"WE have already fallen! We have fallen from our place of reigning supreme among the creatures on the branches of Yggdrasil, this is our chance to get our position back," He clenched his bloodless hand into a tight knuckled fist.

"WE will not survive if you force Aesir's hands to come here! No, I cannot allow it."

"Your Majesty you will see, you will see I will have Bor's head-mounted for you. He will be a great bust for you to display in these very halls," Malekith waved his arms wildly as he demonstrated toward the number of people they had already defeated. "Your Majesty I will give you the honor of first blood if you'd like when I bring the king of Asgard to his knees," Malekith stated as he panted gleefully.

"You will never defeat him, Lord Malekith!" the king ordered. " and we will lose all we have gained. " the elderly Dark-Elf monarch state.

His king hadn't thought that they could ever defeat the Aesir. He ran scared from the might of Asgard, dare not challenging the fabled all-father. Malekith had always dreamed of the day when he could prove his dead king wrong. He'd have the head of Bor's grandson and he'd stick it on a spike right next to the ancient throne. Lord Malekith heard Loki oblige his request. He needed not to be told twice. Malekith's tongue roved over his mouth as he unsheathed the broad sword. The weapon had not been cleaned from the last person that he butchered. he raised the black blade high into the sky. "THE SON OF ODIN IS DEAD!" he shouted. And the frantic mournful screams gave way to a dreadful deafening silence.

As Lord Malekith's gravelly voice raised the other voices fell. Soon there was just silence as the sound of the terrified screams of the men, women, and children of Asgard seemed to die down. They gaped. That was all that was left within them. As they watched Prince Thor fall all their hope fell with him. They had believed and they had hoped they'd so wholeheartedly believed and hoped until the end. And yet there before the crying and batting eyes, the Crown Prince of Asgard lied listless at the feet of a monster. It was the sight of a horrific opera where a brother slew brother. Lord Malekith's proclamation seemed to steal even the very cry from their lips right out of them. Prince Thor was dead and there was nothing they could do but watch helplessly. They were plastered to the ground, defenseless, yet most found themselves unable to scream or cry anymore. They shook their heads, allowed their lips to shake, they bit into those shaking lips stifling sobs that weren't even able to be formed. Mothers who were sitting right next to their children could not even reach out their arms and hold them, gather them to their bosoms, and whisper words of comfort. Men could not give their women one last loving kiss goodbye. Some were so overwhelmed by the awful sight of the brutal murder that had occurred. Others just couldn't take it anymore. They just passed out. They were held upon their knees, or bent over on all fours, or held in place in some sort of crouching motion, but they were unconscious from fright and pain. "Look away, look away," some wanted to say in the mighty congregation. But they couldn't. They'd been rendered speechless with terror. None who were still conscious could bring their eyes to look the other way. Their petrified pupils were fixated with fear on the sight before them and it was a hideous monstrous sight indeed. Asgard was supposed the protect the realms and despite their valiant efforts they had failed to do so. Their king and their princes were supposed to protect them. Prince Thor had done all he could, he'd fought for them with all his might, but he'd fallen and now all that was left was Loki. Loki was no Prince of Asgard, he was no son of Odin and he was no king. He was just a snarling ravenous dragon who had destroyed everything. They watched as Lord Malekith hovered over Prince Thor. He took long stomping, stalking steps over the body of the eldest son of Odin, Thor's bright red cape billow in the tainted wind that seemed to be becoming a full tempest. Thor didn't move. Malekith's arms were raised high and so was his sword. The slick black blade glistened as Malekith went to bring it down. He made his move without remorse. His swift injustice would be display.

Malekith's bloodless face was plaster with a ruthless and sick grin. His pearly whites shined. His breathing began ragged. Lady Sigyn looked at all that was happening with fear and trembling. Her heart was breaking. "No, no, no," she mumbled soundlessly. She couldn't believe what she had witnessed. Her blonde tresses were stuck to her smudged face in big dirty clumps. She felt like she had been kicked in the gut, slapped in the face, and then stabbed in the back. She tried to scream, her mouth was open wide, but no sound came out. Her face was wet, the dirt and blood on her face was mingled with her tears and it was like the slurry from a landslide, it was all a ruddy muddy color, but now she had no more tears lefts to cry.

She never thought that Loki would do it, she never thought he'd actually go through with it and murder his brother, Thor. How could he? It was unspeakable, unthinkable. She'd always thought that deep down inside that Loki was a good person. He hadn't given her much proof of that she supposed, her friends and family had told her better for years, but she hadn't believed them. Of course, none of them would have ever imagined that he would do something like this. They just thought he was sneaky, a liar, dishonorable perhaps, but they didn't necessarily think he was truly this evil. No one would have ever spoken out that boldly against a member of the royal family, no one would have ever believed that he was capable of this level of villainy, but he was. He was. He really was. He would ransack his own kingdom, slit his own brother's throat, bring Ragnarök, all to prove that he could. With her own big, amber eyes she'd finally seen it for herself.

The boy she had been infatuated with as a youth, the man she had been so smitten with that she'd given herself to him, she had seen good in him, at least she'd thought she had, but it was nothing, but a trickster's sham. He was nothing but a shape-shifter who had taken the form of a prince who has devoted to his kingdom and wanted to make them proud and bring them glory, a son who cherished his mother and wasn't ashamed to be with her at a royal auction or garden party if she needed an escort, a son who respected his father and only wanted to show his father that he could be the type of man his father thought was a worthy son, a sibling who cared his brother and would stand and fight by his side for forever, a man who could give his heart to one woman and love her for life. He was a charlatan who she'd been fool enough to follow. She couldn't move her body. She couldn't run away, screaming, covering her eyes, and get away from the sight. All she could do was sit there staring in disbelief and yet somehow in full acceptance of what Loki was. A monster. A monster that didn't know how to feel or show pity or devotion or love to anyone.

Her golden eyes stayed trained on the chilling sight before her. She watched as on the scaffold the Dark-Elves danced with delight and sang the praises of their twisted leader and even Loki. She gazed on against her will as she watched Lord Malekith, the short armor-clad leader of the Dark-Elves carry that broad sword that seemed so heavy for his short arms toward Prince Thor's prone form. The sick general had a toothy smile plastered on his bloodless lips. He was too pleased, giddy, and gleeful at their beloved prince's demise. It was awful. She blinked, but she couldn't look away. Why did Malekith have to go through with this terrible blood ritual of the Dark-Elves? Why wouldn't Loki stop him? Couldn't he even show his brother that much mercy? How could he allow Prince Thor to be beheaded by the likes of that fiend? Sigyn watched as Malekith said some words. Words that she didn't catch for they were in the tongue of Svartalfheim, but she knew they were unflattering curses. She looked on as Lord Malekith brought his mighty broadsword downward over Thor's neck.

Downward...downward the sword went. All of the Asgardians were frozen still, silent, and filled with dread. Malekith was laughing. His horrible chortle was loud as thunder and carried on the horrendous winds created by the Aether. Loki stood to the side with his brother's blood pooling by his golden boots. His head was held high and his back was straight, his face completely smug. The raven-haired mystic wore his signature smirk, thin lips twisted upward just slightly to one side. In his jade-colored pupils, there was a distinctly playful gleam. Lady Sigyn's breath came quickly, she wondered was this all just a joke to him? Was he such a madman? Had he no pity or remorse at seeing his handiwork. Was he truly so pleased with himself? To kill his own brother. Sigyn could only mash her lips together. They were dry and cracked and bleeding and the blood tasted terrible. Thor had loved him so, she knew it. She always knew it and Loki knew it too, still, he'd gone through with this hideous act and he was glad of it. She wondered if Loki had ever absorbed anything of their culture. In Asgard, sibling relationships were prized. It was practically the backbone of their society. So many of their legends revolved around brothers, the first leaders of Asgard were the Einar the 7 brothers, Asgard's 3 great moons were said to be 3 sisters the daughters of the first king of Asgard. They had a special festival to celebrate siblings, but all that must have meant nothing to Loki over all those years.

Lord Malekith's sword moved in slow motion toward Thor's neck, but soon it was dangling just inches above Thor's neck. And soon it was being brought all the way down. Final, shrieks went up from the people of Asgard as they watched what they thought would be ahead that would roll. Lady Sigyn was prepared and if she wouldn't have seen it with her own eyes, she would have never believed it herself. She watched as King Loki's pale hand twisted. Malekith's sword went right through Prince Thor's body that immediately disappeared in a flash of bright, green light.

Malekith pounded his sword against the wooden planks of the scaffold once more, ever so relentlessly, but Prince Thor's body was nowhere to be found. Malekith's dark eyes widened. His white lips were left agape. "What?" He uttered dumbfoundedly as his sword kept banging and searching for the body, his foot patting to feel about for no one. He turned to face King Loki. He watched the slim monarch withdrew his hand ever so slightly and crossed it over his chest. He wore a smug expression on his thin lips. Too smug of an expression. Breathlessly, Lord Malekith the whereabouts of the fallen prince of Asgard. "WHERE IS HE?" he demanded. His eyes turned red.

Loki didn't honor his co-conqueror with a response. Instead, instead he threw up his hands and shouted toward the bound, broken and dazed people of Asgard, "LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN!" The words rose loudly in the people's ears. It took them all by great surprise. It was like someone speaking in a strange and unknown tongue. They were so completely pulverized. They'd seen their own failure, failure in their strength and fight, and failure in their faith. Their hope dashed and decimated it fluttered off of them in the tiniest fragments like the ash of the Aether. They were in such shock and such pain that Loki's words seemed not to even fall on their ears at first. It took a frighteningly long moment for it to dawn upon them. They could hardly imagine what Loki meant. He was a sick and sinister soul and they thought of his words as nothing more than mockery. Some growled and some heckled and just groaned out in pain and anguish as they thought of the horror of Loki's words. How dare he say 'LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN' so loudly and proudly after killing his own brother, rightful heir to the throne before their own eyes. He was no member of the house of Odin, he was no citizen of Asgard, he was a traitor a monster and some sobbed even harder as he uttered the words. "LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN!" the dark-mage shouted once more. Those who could look up did so and found the daggers had fallen from Loki's hands and not into a puddle of vile red liquid, but rather a scaffold that was dry and Prince Thor's barbaric chains were empty on the platform. They watched as Loki stuck out his hand and summon the great staff to his hands. Just then Loki stomped the hilt of the mighty staff Gungnir on the floor of the scaffold. The sound of it sounded like the beating of a drum. Somehow at that moment, the ground seemed to give way. It cracked and opened up; the invisible shackles that had held them bound for what had seemed like a million years fell off. Their limbs and bodies collapsed instantly unused to the recent freedom.

The leader of the Dark-Elves didn't seem to notice the people of Asgard starting to be loosed and starting to stir. His eyes swelled, the power of the Aether surged and raged within him. It was like a caged animal, banging on the bars demanding to be set free. He glared daggers at the self-proclaimed king of Asgard. "WHERE IS HE?" the general roared once again in Loki's face. He stepped over the spot where Thor's body had once been laid out so beautifully, dead and bleeding before him. Malekith's breaths came out ragged, "WHERE IS HE?" he fumed once more. This time he gripped Loki by the cape and pulled him closer. King Loki's thin lips curled into a half-smile. He kept that mischievous glint in his gem-colored eyes as he simply shrugged his shoulders and threw up his hands in a feigned sort of innocence. Lord Malekith's breaths came out his hot and heavy puffs and Loki was sure that the warlord would be breathing fire if he could.

"Not here," Loki finally replied as he looked down at the scaffold.

"What have you done?" Lord Malekith demanded.

"What I should have done from the start," Loki uttered, as he pushed Malekith off of him. The commander of the Dark-Elves stumbled backward.

Malekith's warriors made moves to help catch their leader from falling over. "Are you mad!" Malekith shouted. He pushed himself out of the arms of his men. "WE are but mere hours away from the Convergence! Ragnarök is coming!" he proclaimed. "Thanos is coming!" He shouted like it was a warning.

Loki's eyes narrowed. "Not if I have anything to say about it." Loki squared himself and dropped Gungnir and pulled out both of his gleaming daggers and pointed them at Malekith

Malekith shook his head. "You can't be serious! You can't stop Ragnarök now, not even if you tried," The leader of the Dark-Elves reminded him and he brandished his sword once more. He and King Loki started stepping around one another, both licking their lips hungry for a fight.

"Well, I do intend to try," Loki said with a hiss he flashed his knife before the warlord of Svartalfheim.

"What are you mad?' Lord Malekith shouted once more. He continued circling around Loki.

The silver-tongued trickster's shrew eyes took care to watch Lord Malekith's every move. "Possibly," Loki's emerald eye let out a playful wink.

Malekith let out a growl. He couldn't believe what he was hearing from the self-appointed dictator. "You truly are a fool!" the fiend started to cackle. His inane laughter was relentless.

Loki nodded slowly as he watched Malekith he allowed his eyes to drop to look at his shoes for just a moment. "Yes, yes, yes," he muttered. "I've been a madman and I've played the fool," he admitted. "But I think I starting to gain my sanity once again," he looked up and looked Malekith right in the eyes. He hadn't paid much attention to Lord Malekith's eyes before. He knew they were black, slightly scary, but that was all he had thought. Now he saw them truly for how deep and black and hollow and empty that they really were without pupils and without feeling the only thing that reflected in his eyes was the rage and power of the Aether. He could see the red gem bubbling up and ebbing and oozing he was completely consumed by the power of the stone. There didn't seem to be anything else left within the man. And for the first time, Loki realized how terribly close he was to becoming that same type of soulless bloodless creature.

Malekith shook his head. He mashed his lips together. "You almost had me believing in you," he recounted. "That maybe you weren't sniveling and soft-hearted," he cackled. "That you actually had what it took to rule!" he spat. "To be at Thanos' side, a member of the Black Order, to have power..." he went on.

Loki continued to stare at the Dark-Elf, "Well you know how the saying goes, 'Been there, done that,'" the ruler of Asgard stated. "I so easily get bored. Thought I'd try something new." Loki winked.

"Think you that you'll so easily bore of all the tortures, Thanos will concoct for you," The Dark-Elf challenged. He didn't have any eyebrows, but he arched the fold of skin that rested over his pitch-black eyes.

For just a moment Loki's breath quickened and he froze in his slowly circling tracks. He was double-crossing Thanos, there were few who survived such an act. Honestly, in the time he had spent with the great purple Titan he hadn't seen any who had been allowed to get away with such acts. He'd seen how the Mad Titan treated his "children" for their mistakes, he tortured them. No Loki certainly didn't want to be like them or any of the other beings that had crossed Thanos, they were all dead, some turned to stone in their moments of utter agony, the littered the halls of Thanos' sanctuary like tortured statues. Others were just bones; the worst were still experiencing the torments of the damned somewhere deep within the recesses of Thanos' prison. Thanos had one Skrull that he'd kept prisoner for centuries. He'd forced the Skrull into different forms with some type of fitted collar and turned him into a dog. A giant dog that he used to hunt others down. There Chituari soldiers who defected Thanos used them as target practice for his children. Thanos would have his sons and daughters fight them, over and over again, critically maiming them, hacking off their limbs, severing their arteries, Thanos would piece them back together just to have them chopped up the next day. There was another there were many prisoners in the dungeon where he was kept all of who Thanos tortured and used in varying intervals, but one pathetic soul had stood on to him. He had been a powerful-looking figure, but he blubbered like a child. It was because every day he was forced to keep rewatching the death of his entire family, which under a delusion of Thanos he had been forced to kill. He didn't want to go back to the machine, that terrible machine that pulled and drained his powers. He didn't want to go back to the tree and the snake

Malekith's bloodless lips curved. He saw that twinge of fear flicker in the evergreen eyes of the king. Loki was soft and those who were soft were always afraid. Lord Malekith cared not for Loki's fears, except for exploiting them, but he did care for this day. This day of glory that he had waited so long for, that the Aether had waited so long for. It would not be stopped, not hindered this time. he would not once again have his moment robbed by some Asgardian. He would have been happy to kill Loki right then and there. It would be no loss in fact it would be a great gain, but he still needed him. He hated how he still need the gutless, spineless little snake. But he did. He knew how to wield the Aether, but Loki knew how to wield the Tesseract. Thanos needed the Tesseract to be shot through the portals when Convergence happened to free him to enter the branches of Yggdrasil once more. Malekith growled. "That's right," he said cautiously looking at Loki's slightly widened eyes. "You dare to cross Thanos, himself, you know you won't survive," He taunted. "No in any real form at least," the Dark-Elf general sneered.

Loki's breath came quickly. He shook his head and shook away the fear from trying to overtake his mind and decision-making. "It doesn't matter," he breathed, "Not now."

"Don't be a fool!" Malekith called out. "Just tell me where the prince is and I won't tell Thanos about your momentarily lapse in judgment," Malekith proposed to him in the tongue of Svartalfheim. "Tell me now!" the general demanded growing testy. He had no time for the enchanter's games. He needed to see the body of Thor and he'd finish him himself. The son of Odin would die! Whether Loki was a willing accomplice to that or not be damned.

"I'll never tell," Loki shot back defiantly as he narrowed his emerald eyes.

"If you are not with us, then you are an enemy," the warlord snarled. He squeezed his hands in a tight fist trying to control the power of the gem burning within. "And you will die as well!" With that, the leader of the Dark-Elves started swinging his powerful sword in a crazed and feral assault against the king. He slashed wildly through the air letting out holler and holler. Loki drew Gungnir in his hands. Malekith's black blade collided with the magical golden scepter. They clanked together and sparks flew off of the end of each weapon. With Gungnir Loki managed to hurl Malekith away from him. The leader of the warriors of Svartalfheim crashed into the scaffold and onto his back. Loki took slow steps toward the general. A few of Lord Malekith's men seemed to rush to their general's aid.

"Kneel!" King Loki ordered Malekith as he walked toward the pale-faced elf, who clad in his heavy black armor wriggled on the ground like a turtle trying to get on his feet. Loki shook his head as he looked at Malekith's soulless black eyes start to glow red with the power of the Aether welling up from deep within. Loki looked at him and for a split second, he saw himself, wriggling and struggling, chasing a futile quest for power. He shook his head power that was used for evil was just wrath and wrath was little more than a tantrum. Malekith looked like a fuming child hollering and stomping and seething. Loki realized he had looked exactly the same thing. "Kneel," he repeated, "Tell your men to kneel and stand down and let the Aesir go and I'll send you back into a cryogenic sleep state," Loki pledged.

Malekith bucked, he was enraged from his humbled position that Loki would dare to even offer him such an act of clemency. He'd been stuck in a frozen state for nearly 5000 years. He'd not go back. "Death first!" the leader of the Dark-Elves roared. Then he hocked a wad of thick black spittle into Loki's face. Loki let out a scream of disgust as he felt the sting of the nasty black spit in his eyes. Malekith didn't hesitate to strike again. He stuck out his short, armored legs and swiftly kicked Loki in the stomach. It was enough to make him double over slightly and gave Lord Malekith enough time to shout. "GET THEM! GET THEM! DO NOT LET THESE ASGARDIAN WORMS ESCAPE!" Lord Malekith's hoard immediately sprang to obeying their liege. The soldiers who had been standing on the scaffold started firing into the crowd. Their vortex forming blasters and guns caused debris and rubble and even some of the citizens to be sucked up. "KILL THEM ALL IF YOU HAVE TO!" he continued to order. "MAKE THEM SUFFER!" he spouted in the language of Svartalfheim. "I'll make sure to make sure you suffer," Malekith stated to Loki.

"NO!" Loki shouted as he looked at the dazed and bewildered Asgardians starting to scatter and run. He saw out the corner of his eye as some were sucked into the vortexes while they cried and screamed and begged for help trying to hold onto the air, desperate not to go. Immediately horned king stood to his full height. He held Gungnir in his hands firmly. He fired a few powerful golden blasts in the direction of Malekith's forces. They fell soundlessly, their bodies like dominoes onto the scaffold.

The Dark-Elf general had managed to clamor to his feet. He watched as a few of his men fell, the others fell back awaiting orders. Loki pointed the greatest weapon in Asgard at the leader of the bloodless elves. Without Malekith the directionless warriors would be easy enough for the Asgardians to defeat. Without the Aether, Ragnarök didn't have to come. He'd tried to give Malekith a chance to surrender, but he hadn't taken it. Now he had to finish this. Loki gritted his teeth and without a second thought, he fired a powerful blast from Gungnir right for the general's chest. Malekith squared his shoulders and as the stream of brilliant gold energy made with the power of the sun came blazing toward him Malekith unleashed an Aether. The beam of light and the swirling cloud of darkness collided like two pounding fists. The power of the scepter and the power of the Infinity Stone caused an explosion, a bright burst of blinding orange light that shot off covering most of the City Square and sent hot sparks and shards of the Aether raining down on the newly freed Asgardians' heads. It knocked the rest of the soldiers down, rendering them unconscious. The blast hurled both the self-proclaimed king and the warlord toward the scaffold. Both were on their backs gasping after the explosion. Loki tried to clear the dark Aether ash from his lungs as he coughed desperately while starting to sit up. He shook his head and looked down at the weapon in his hand in disbelief, Gungnir should have easily been able to take out Malekith, but with the Aether defending him and it being just hours until the Convergence would begin this would prove to be more difficult. Malekith must have sensed it as well. For the moment that Dark-Elf still had the upper hand. Without the power of both Gungnir and Mjolnir together the Infinity Stone could not be put into stasis and causing more explosions wouldn't get either of them to the ends that they wanted. Lord Malekith growled as he sprang but up. He leaped to his feet. His black eyes gleaming wild and red. He yelled calling to his men, "GET UP! GET UP! YOU WEAKLINGS! YOU COWARDS!" He hollered at the incapacitated soldiers. The masks and helmets that covered their bloodless faces were exposed.

The Dark-Elf general took no time to check on his wounded warriors. Once again, he brandished his distinguished broad sword. He raised it high into the air. "Fine, I will do this the old-fashioned way," he declared to himself in his mother tongue. He marched toward the dark-haired enchanter who was leaning heavily on the magnificent staff as he rose to his feet. "I wanted the blood of the house of Bor," he shook his head. "But I'll settle for your Jotun hide," the leader of Svartalfheim told Loki as he pointed his machete in the king's direction. Loki crinkled his nose and narrowed his emerald eyes in the Dark-Elf's direction.

"Time to find out if you bleed, Malekith," Loki shot back as he flicked out his daggers for the moment leaving Gungnir to the side. Malekith charged at him roaring and Loki immediately blocked the broadsword with his dagger. Malekith hollered and showed the fangs of his grayish teeth. He quickly snatched his sword from being connected with King Loki's dagger and they started to perry and lunge against one another. Malekith hacked his broadsword like a machete through the thicket of dark energy that swirled all around him as he tried to cut Loki to ribbons. Loki danced his way around the scaffold. He avoided Malekith's long broadsword's every thrust, he slipped and slid under the sword slithering through it like a snake and occasionally sneaking in a quick jab of his shinning daggers to strike Malekith. "I'll mount both your head on a spike as soon as Ragnarök is over and send it straight to Thanos!" Malekith roared.

---

"Captain! Captain!" an eager voice called in the slurry of cries that were ringing out.

The Captain of the Guard from Kytheria he shook his head as he pulled himself off the blood-soaked ground. His legs felt like jelly from having been squeezed under hard rock and stone. His first attempt to stand up just had him fall right back down and splatter into the nasty pools of scarlet blood all around him. He attempted once more this time to find his legs stronger. He started to try to speak to call out to those near him, but his voice was raw from screaming when he saw Loki ruthlessly raise his hand to strike his own brother down. It was the most barbaric thing he had ever beheld. He'd beheld many horrors, but none as tragic as this. He'd been stuck staring at the gruesome sight and he was sure that he'd seen Thor's body fall. He tried to look around him. There was still much Aether ash swirling about in the atmosphere it was blowing red and hazy like some type of bloody fog and hellish mist. The wind had picked up and obscured everything. As he looked around, he noticed pandemonium had seemed to break out among the thousands that were stuck in the Center Square. People rushed about in a wild, hurried way. He heard screams and shouts, he saw people running this way and that. He heard the firing of the terrible vortex forming blasters and the crashing steel and bricks and rock. "Wh-wha-what...just happened?" asked the Captain of the Guard as he tried to find the familiar voice that had just called to him. It called again and he looked down to see one of his own men at his feet.

"I don't know, sir, I don't know," expressed a soldier from Kytheria who had been submerged up to his neck in rock. He crawled out of the ground that had held him, prisoner. His captain reached out a cut-up hand to help him out of the broken golden bricks and cement. His armor was severely damaged, but the young soldier was mostly unscathed. He was coughing up a storm though as he tried to clear his lungs of the dreadful burning ash. He fanned in front of himself to get a better glimpse of what was going on. "It looks like the enchantment is broken," he explained. The two warriors watched as one by one more of the people of Asgard seemed to be freed from the invisible prisons that had held.

"How's that possible?' the Captain of the Guard questioned. He shook his head. He looked around and saw that the people were no longer frozen in place or imprisoned under mud and rubble, but they were still injured and frantic and now that they had been set free many were still crying and running around either desperately trying to escape from the City Square or calling out the names of loved ones trying to find them. "I don't trust it, it could still be a trap," he informed the soldier.

In the midst of the wild chaotic hubbub of people pulling themselves off the ground and rushing off frantically trying to collect themselves, there was also a feeling of newfound ecstasy and excitement. Many citizens especially those closer to the scaffold joined into a raucous crowd. Bruised, bloodied, busted and confused, and frightened as they were forming a chorus. It was no longer a chorus of mournful cries and pitiable sobs of just frantic screams from tortured souls. No, now it was stronger and prouder. It was a growing proclamation. "LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN!"

"I'm just not sure, Captain," The soldier expressed. "I was so certain that I saw Loki strike Prince Thor down," he said angrily. "Cold-blooded son of a..." His teeth were gritted and he had his fist clenched tightly around his sword.

"I know, I know," The leader of the queen's guard went on as he shook his head. "But then there was..."

"A FLASH! A FLASH! Did you see the flash?" a young Aesir maiden turned to her friends and said as they crossed by the path of the soldier. The three young women were all leaning on each other for support. They could scarcely walk as they sobbed so hard.

"Do you think? Do you really think?" The young women asked amongst themselves as they skirted by the captain of the guard and Kytherian soldier.

"Prince Thor's body wasn't there! I know what I saw!" the plumper of the three maidens declared as she hobbled away.

The captain and the soldier stared at each other in disbelief. "It can't be after all that fiend has done...I...you don't think he really..." the soldier paused mid-sentence... Loki had done all this to them... he'd destroyed them...how could it be possible that he'd do anything good now?

While the two Kytherian warriors stared dumbfounded at each other they heard another pair come rushing by them. "Prince Thor escaped! Prince Thor escaped, do not weep my dear" A proud-looking young man who was dressed in the tattered uniform of a palace worker. "I saw a flash of light." a palace worker told a maiden who he was carrying in arms. "A flash of green light," he expressed with tear-filled eyes as he looked down at the woman in arms. "Healer! Healer!" We need a healer!" the young guard screamed as he continued to carry that woman. He stumbled and staggered as he carried the young woman.

"I bet the Norns did it. They would not let us perish," said the woman. She looked up at her beau. She was terribly injured. She was trembling and covered in mud and blood. A trail of blood was gathered at her forehead. She seemed to just barely be hanging out. She bobbed her head as she heard the words of the soldier. He was holding her hand. She gave the hand a very faint squeeze. Her eyes strained to stay open and see the soldier's face. "Not...going...to perish," she gasped and shook. She was a pretty woman with a full body. She had thick, curly hair. He fell to the ground as he tripped over somebody. He held to her tightly even after he had tumbled. He was weak and had been walking with a limp himself.

"No, no, no we're not. You're not. We're free!" the palace guard pointed out. He waved his hand to show her that the people were up and about, moving and walking, some barely so. Some were hobbling and even crawling, but they had the activity of their limbs. "You're not going to perish!" he assured her. He held her tight and pulled her close. He clasped her in his arms. "Please a healing crystal!" he called to no one in particular. The two Kytherians approached. "Please sirs do you have a healing crystal?" the youth begged. The two soldiers felt around in their pockets, they felt on their necks, but they had none.

He pressed his head toward hers. "Y-y-you're...not...goin...per...ish," her words barely managed to tumble off of her lips. She coughed pitifully in his face. She pressed her cheek against his chest. She was breathing deeply, but her breaths came out shallow. "As...gard...will...survive," she stated. Her hand strained to reach up and touch the young guard's cheek. The young soldier fumbled as he attempted to get the helmet off of his head so that he could feel the young woman's fingers against his skin. Her hand trembled as her light fingers ghosted over his wet, flushed skin. He went to catch her hand. To press it further into his cheek and to make sure that he got to kiss it.

All of a sudden, a young boy came rushing up to the palace guard and the bleeding maiden. "Healing Crystal! Healing Crystal" the child shouted excitedly as he stumbled on bare feet through rubble and debris and the blood that coated the one golden streets of the square. He was waving a bright gemstone in his hands. He fell down by the maiden's side and looked up panting at the palace guard.

"You're a healer?" the guard asked in shock. The child was young. He was too young to even be taken as an apprentice rightfully.

"My mother is," he panted. His little face was covered with blood and sweat and grime, but bright blue eyes blinked from behind his dirty face. He pointed yonder toward a figure that the palace guard couldn't even distinguish amid all the frantic and frenzied movements in the crowd.

The guard nodded, "Give it here," he demanded of the lad. The boy didn't have time to take the small healing stone from around his neck. It was snatched up immediately and pressed toward the most severe of the woman's injuries. The blood immediately dried up. It was sucked back into the wound and then the wound itself was stitched and healed.

"My dear! My dear!" as he gripped his beloved by the shoulders to see if she was well. She blinked and then smiled up at him with a smile that was full and wide. She wrapped her arms around the young man's neck and kissed him lustily. "I told you, you would not perish," he declared to her once they broke the kiss apart. "Thank you, thank you! Thank you," the lad the palace guard cried joyfully to the young boy.

"Good fortune! LONG LIVE THE HOUSE ODIN!" the child declared as he leaped to his feet! He put his fist in the air and started cheering away with the rest of the eager crowd. Before the child could scamper back off the Captain of the Guard caught him by the shoulder.

"Boy, you say good fortune? Why?' the soldier demanded.

"Did you see? Didn't you see sir?' the child questioned. The captain of the guard shook his head. The young boy laughed. "But you must have seen! You see we are free!" he pointed out waving to the crowd. The people of Asgard were pulling themselves up from the muck and grime and rubble. Some were running for their lives trying to try and get out of what they considered a death trap, but most had taken back up in arms and were attacking their oppressors. "I saw...I saw!" the boy exclaimed. He was practically jumping up and down. "Saw that Dark-Elf son of a..."

"Boy watch your mouth!" the Captain of the Guard scolded.

The boy quirked his features. "I saw him raise his sword to take Prince Thor's head off. He had a huge black sword big as me, but...but...but when he went to chop his head, Prince Thor disappeared!" the child exclaimed once more. "Then... then... then," he was huffing and out of breath. "Loki said..."LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN!" He threw up his hands just the way he had watched the tyrant do only a few moments before. "My mother...says...says...we still have a chance!" his face was stained with deep red blood, more than likely his own, but his young brown face wore a grin as if he had just been given a large slice of cake.

"Soren! Soren!" the young child heard his name being shouted in the wind. The little boy turned to the woman who had short brown hair. She was waving to him from the distance calling for him to bring back the healing crystal.

"I gotta go!" He pointed with his thumb and ran off he leaped over the broken fallen bodies of his fellow Asgardians.

"Did you hear that soldier," the Captain of the guard questioned his comrade. It was truly unbelievable. They were too far away from the scaffold and with everyone standing he couldn't make out what was truly happening. Could it really be possible that this day could still be won?

"Captain disappeared is not the same thing as alive, sir" the young soldier insisted.

"We need to see if we can get in contact with Heimdal," the Captain of the Guard insisted.

"I'm on it," The Kytherian soldier reported with a nod. He then looked at the communication device on his wrist that the Commander of Communications had outfitted the queen's troops with. The sophisticated little disc was coated with dust. He dusted it off and tried to punch in the codes to send a hologram to the Commander of Communications. He frantically punched in the codes only to find that that feature no longer seemed to be working. He swore as he observed this fact. The only thing that seemed to be left was just sending a transcribed message.

"Well, anything?" the Captain of the Guard asked eagerly. People were still rushing by shouting the names of their loved ones who they were eager to find. Somewhere, toward the front of the crowd, the Captain thought that he heard chanting. It was an enthusiastic sort of rumble. Maybe it was stomping feet or clapping hands or maybe it was a distant clap of thunder from on high. The wind continued to pick up and howl, but he was sure that he heard a rallying cry of people declaring "LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN"

"Nothing yet, sir," the young soldier reported as he tried to speak over the voices that seemed to be growing louder. "I'm trying to get a signal," he explained through gritted teeth. "Most of my features are damaged," he explained. "I might be able to send out a transcribed message," he shrugged bitterly.

"Transcribe!" the Captain of the guard nearly shrieked.

"I know," the soldier muttered. "It's Midgardian level tech at this point, but it's all we got," the soldier expressed.

The captain started pacing around. "We'll be better off splitting up and looking for Heimdal on foot,"

"I'll send the message and then I'll get to searching," the soldier pledged as he typed in a few Asgardian symbols and then saluted the official.

---

Lady Sif rushed through the crowd of Asgardians. Many of which were trying to still peel themselves out of the debris that they had been buried in just seconds ago. Some scrambling madly trying to gather themselves and their children and the infirmed away from the chaos. There was a strange mix of jubilation and trepidation, hope and still dreadful fear. Mostly there was just a panic that came from confusion. Lady Sif was confused as well. Everything had happened in an instant. She'd had a prime seat to watch the villainy that had taken place of the scaffold. She was sure that Loki had made sure of that. He was a twisted, sick sadist. Seeing Prince Thor bound in chains was enough to make her blood boil, it was enough to make her heart burst. She wanted to die with him. It was cowardice, but the bold shield maiden had wished to die. Death was better than watching her best friend be executed by his brother. Being helpless like that, being stuck and bound, buried up to her neck in the ground, that had just opened up and swallowed her like a whale, that was the most unbearable part of it all. She knew Loki hated her. He always had, but he could have at least killed her. He could have buried alive and let her smother under the pavement of the City Square. Of course, burial was considered dishonorable among the Aesir, but it was better than the sheer torment of having to live with her failure of having to watch, her prince and her realm fall. Her double-bladed spear had literally not even been an arm's reach out of her grasp. She should have done it. She should have been able to do it. She should have been able to reach out and grab her weapon and slice through the enemy, jump up onto the scaffold and save Thor. Instead, Loki had forced her into a compromised and weak position and given her a prime seat to witness his atrocities.

She'd watched it all. She'd watched every horrific moment as it unfolded in slow motion upon the erected stage. She'd watch the Dark-Elves beat him, she'd watch him stumble onto his knees and crawl before his brother, she'd watched him slump over, she'd watched every heartless slap he'd received at the hands of his enemies. She'd heard his speech, his final words to the people of Asgard and subsequently to her. His words were beautiful and bittersweet and even though he could barely breathe, let alone speak it was the most eloquent she had ever heard him speak in all his life. And in that moment, she was proud. She was so proud of him. He sounded like a king...the king he'd always been. Lady Sif had to force her eyes to stay open. She wanted to look down, turn her head and look away or just close her eyes as she saw Loki raise his hands high to strike Thor down. She watched the blade go down; she saw the blood splay as Thor fell into the freshly forming pool of his own red juices. At that moment she'd seen too much, she did close her eyes and she did let out a scream. A scream like no scream she had ever let out before.

She regretted it, but as she screamed, she closed her eyes and she missed something. She missed something that happened quickly and fast and in a flash. She'd seen Thor's body on the floor, but when she'd open her eyes after letting out her blood-curdling scream Thor's body was gone. All of a sudden, the warrior woman grew frantic. Where was the body? Where had they taken him? What more could they possibly do to him? No! No! NO!" it wasn't right she had thought. Did Loki have any honor about him whatsoever? She didn't know why had ever allowed her mind to believe he might have. He had proven in everywhere to be nothing more than a wicked scoundrel in every way. She looked at the trickster. He was smug. He disgusted her from every finger of her being. He was a wolf in sheep's clothing, a snake in the grass...a...a...a cold-hearted Jotun who wore Asgardian skin...he was a monster.

Her heart had been pounding in her ears. The muscle had been beating louder than the drums of war. Somehow in the midst of her racing mind and the hollers and cries that were taking place all around her, she managed to hear the muffled call of Loki. She saw his thin lips mutter the words, "LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN!" As the words tumbled from his forked tongue as of a sudden then she felt the ground give way. She felt it creak and crack and mold and soften around her body. Without thought, she immediately started to wriggle free from her entrapment. The ground released her. She sprang forth like a cannonball from a can. She leaped up from golden cobblestones that were now covered in the Aether ash. Everything was dark and blackened like something charred in a fire. Even her own mind was finding it hard to believe that this had once been a city that outshined the very stars.

As she leaped up, she immediately went to grab her double-bladed staff. She saw a few of the Dark-Elf soldiers tenuously attempt to accost a few of the Aesir people. She saw them shoot off their blasters. She was seeing red already. Her eyes were trained on the dictator who dare to call himself a true king. Without thought, the female Einherjar whipped her mighty weapon back and forth back and slicing and dicing through any Dark-Elf who stood in her way. She gutted and speared them through like shish-kabobs, she sliced and diced limbs without remorse. She ran over bodies and jumped over debris and rubble and waste and ruin in the street like it was nothing. Nothing would stop her from reaching Loki high on the pedestal. She had failed Prince Thor, but she would not fail to avenge him. She may die and Asgard may fall, but she would not let this day go without making sure that the dark-enchanted tasted the sweet, salty savor of silver savor on his slimy, sickening skin.

While she raced toward her enemy, she let out another battle cry in rage as she replayed Loki's words of 'Long Live the house of Odin." How dare he say that after he had murdered his brother! He'd caused his father to go into a coma and Sif had a feeling the all-father had died. If Queen Frigga knew what was going on she doubted that the Queen of Asgard would be able to survive such pain. She had learned much about bravery and strength over the years from the all-mother. Queen Frigga was an experienced shield-maiden as well and she had not counted it robbery to teach her sons' female playmate a thing or two with a blade. She knew how strong and powerful the all-mother really was. Yet, in the time she had spent in the royal woman's company she had also learned that the great strength which she possessed did not simply come from years of honing herself physically, but like all mother's it came from love, but love was a strange sort of power for love was a power that could also make you weak. The Queen of Asgard loved so deeply. She loved her sons so deeply that seeing what Loki had become, well Lady Sif had no doubt that it would kill her. Yet and still that murderous traitor had the nerve to cry out "LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN!" His silver tongue was always spewing forth lies and she hated lying. He'd destroyed the house of Odin, his own family. And for what? Well, if he thought that he that he would be spared this day he had another thing coming. He wouldn't have the honor of referring to himself as a son of Odin. Never again. He'd not mock them in their darkest hours. He'd either die with the house of Odin by her cutting off his silver-tongue and shoving it down his throat and choking on it or he'd kill her while she tried. Lady Sif swore this to herself as she went on charging toward the scaffold.

She was only a few feet from it. She could have easily implanted her weapon into the ground and used it along with some momentum to catapult herself onto the stage. She could have decapitated Loki, she was sure, but something halted her. It was the feel of pudgy hands on her shoulders. "SIf!" a voice called to her. She didn't hesitate. She had too much adrenaline coursing through her body. She immediately spun around and punched whoever was touching her in the face. Their head reared back and she didn't have time to look at who it was. She hardly cared. If it was one of those bloodless devils then they were lucky that she wasn't ramming her spear right through them. She swung her feet underneath her and underneath her assailant and drop-kicked him. A fat body hit the ground with a thud. Lady Sif didn't bother to look down, she was ready to continue racing toward the scaffold, but something caught her by the foot. For a moment she panicked. She had that incredible sinking feeling again. The feeling that came when the ground opened up and nearly swallowed her whole. Her breathing quickened. No. Not again. She hated that stuck feeling. It had left her feeling helpless and Lady Sif was not a helpless woman. She continued trying to pull herself from whatever it was that was holding her down. She couldn't budge. Her movement became more urgent more erratic. She couldn't let Loki get away with the abominations he had done. She couldn't let Asgard fall. In her haste, she nearly pulled her leg out of the socket and fell flat on her own face. "Sif!" the voice called to her again as it seemed to try to help her up. She was still fighting and struggling. She pulled out a dagger and was swinging it wildly trying to get her attacker. The said attacker blocked most of her feral assaults with relative ease. "LADY SIF!" The voice called her and caught her by the wrists. Finally, the brunette shield-maiden heard the familiarity in the voice's tone. Her eyes opened for once, she looked into a red face. That face was all red. Red as beat every part of the visage. From the crown of the head, the hair that came out of the scalp was curly and red and the face was covered in blood that ran from the nose and the lips and the cheeks were red as well, there were smudges from bruises and cuts, but most of the red had come from the flushed look in his cheeks. The red continued in the bloodshot whites of his blue eyes and finally, it dribbled all the way down to the hairs of his chin that had seemed to become an incredibly tangled red beard.

"Volstagg!" Lady Sif cried out in shock. She immediately wrapped her arms around her life-long friend. The embrace was pleasant enough for the both of them. In truth, they had both feared the worst for the other. It was good to see that a friend was alive in the midst of all the carnage, but there was no time for those kinds of words. They climbed to their feet together. They liked around and there was still a degree of chaos and confusion from the newly freed Asgardians. Most didn't know whether to fight or run, they were so scared and hurt by all that had happened that the strong warrior race was practically paralyzed. The Dark-Elves were trying to maintain control of the crowd they were firing their electro blasters into the congregation of Aesir citizens and shouting for them to kneel and cracking their taser whips to force compliance if necessary. Lady Sif's dark brown eyes looked around at the chaos for, but a moment, it was hard to watch as the burning red ash of the Aether continued to sting her eyes and make them water. "Volstagg," she muttered his name and looked him in the face. "Thor's dead!" she finally blurted out. She wanted to sob. To burst into tears. For a moment all the rage and anger drained out of her and she was only left with the gaping hole of loss in her heart. Maybe she would have sunk to the ground if it wasn't for the plump Einherjar's arms holding her up or maybe it was her own years as a hardened warrior that kept her erect. She shook her head. "Loki did it. That monster! Coward! Traitor!" she seethed. "How could he?! How could he do that to Asgard?" she questioned aloud. "To his mother?" she continued to puzzle. "To Thor?" she gasped as she uttered her best friend's name. The love of her life who she never got to love. "Thor loved him! He loved him and believed in him despite it all, spirits know why?' she groaned. "How could he do it?" she questioned with vehemence. She shouted at her red-faced friend. "How could he do that to him?" she immediately changed her tone to a quiet whisper. "To us?" she asked and there was such an unbelievably lost look in her eyes.

Sir Volstagg has known Lady Sif nearly all his life. They had gone to kinder-care together. He had a wife, a mother, 5 sisters and even a young daughter and a host of other female family members and friends, but for all that the plump Viking had to admit that Sif was probably the woman he had spent the most time with. She was unflinching and steadfast, he'd never known her to be everything else, but the soft sound in her voice revealed just how broken she truly was. He had to tell her. He wasn't sure of what he saw or if it was even true, but he thought it was true and he hoped it was true, but he had to give her some hope. "Sif, Sif," he called to her, "he didn't."
Lady Sif didn't seem to hear her friend's words. She only heard the faint and distant rumble of applauding hands and chanting. It sounded like a rallying cry. It sounded like the excited voice of Asgardians echoing the final words of Loki. Instantly, Sif's expression shifted. It went from something so hurt and horrified and once again returned to being a frightful face filled with ferocity. "NO!" she shouted. She covered her ears. "No! Listen to them!" she gasped. "Their falling into Loki's trap. His silver tongue has tricked these poor people," her eyes were wide. "He's just killed his brother; he's killed our prince...OUR FRIEND!" she spun around and shouted at Volstagg. "We have to stop them! We have to stop them!" she panted. "We can't let Loki bring destruction to our realm...not like this not with mockery on the people's lips," she urged her fellow Einherjar.

Once more she started to try to rush off, but Volstagg caught her, "Sif...he didn't," Volstagg tried to explain as best he could.

The warrior woman shook her head, "He didn't what?"

"He didn't kill Thor," the red-bearded warrior muttered breathlessly.

"Volstagg!" Lady Sif nearly shrieked. "You can't be serious? I saw!" she pounded her chest. "I saw him bring the knife down...I saw him slit Thor's throat!" her voice was ragged. "I saw the blood...I saw all that blood," Lady Sif gasped. She brought her hand to cover her lips.

Volstagg's firm, fat fingers held her fast and his bloodshot blue eyes looked her into her deep-set chocolate pupils. "I know, I know," he muttered. "I saw it to, but then did you see...did you see that flash of green light, when Malekith went to behead Prince Thor and he disappeared?"

"I didn't see anything like that. I didn't see any of that!" she declared. "I see that Prince Thor is gone!" the shield-maiden spat. "I'll kill Loki! I'll kill Loki, I swear it by the stars and the Norns" she said as she ground her teeth and unsheathed her double blade. Once more she raised her boot and was ready to take off running full-speed once more to leap on top of the scaffold and wring Loki's scrawny, white neck.

"Maybe not, Sif, maybe not," Volstagg once again corrected her. "If Loki had already killed Prince Thor, then why have him vanish right when Malekith was going to decapitate him?" the red-head questioned.

"What?" the brunette warrior twisted her face in disgust at her friend's words. "What! He...he...he could be up to anything!" she shook her head taking a step back. "Look at all he's done! He's brought us to the brink of Ragnarök and...and...and you dare suggest..."

"Sif, he declared 'LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN!' before us," Volstagg tried to reason with her. He gestured and threw his hands out in the same fashion that Loki had when he made his brazen declaration.

Lady Sif immediately snarled, "I don't care if he said I'I LOVE ASGARD!' before all, it's just a trick! A trick! That's all he is...is a slimy trickster! He's just mocking us Volstagg! He's just mocking us," she pounded against her chest.

"But Sif you must think why then has everyone been set free?" the Einherjar general questioned. He was becoming breathless. The Aether ash was getting thicker the atmosphere was getting darker around them. As the words came out his mouth Volstagg had to admit that it was even hard for him to truly believe it. After everything Loki had done, how could he even possibly be entertaining the thought that Loki was doing something to help them. Lady Sif was probably right. Loki couldn't be trusted. His crimes were truly unspeakable. He must have been going crazy to believe any different. But somehow, he did in spite of all the evidence he did.

"Volstagg look around!" Lady Sif practically screamed at him. "He might have freed the bodies, but look at the people. He's trapped their minds with this trick, look how the people chant after him. And now you! Now you too!" she shook her head. "No! I'll not stand for it! If we are to die and if Ragnarok is to be brought down upon us then we have every right to know exactly what is happening to us. I'll not allow him to use his illusions and trick us into oblivion!" she pledged to her friend.

"Look!" the red-haired pointed out. He pointed his plump, dirty finger toward the scaffold. And Lady Sif did look. She looked up at the scaffold and there she saw Loki. She saw that no good snake, that scoundrel, that trickster and monster, and every other unspeakable word she could imagine. She saw him in all his beautiful regal vestment. She saw him in his long elegant green cape and his stylish black, leather, and velvet tunics tucked neatly underneath his golden armor. He was wearing that horned helmet that made him look every bit as villainous as he really was. She expected to find that savage traitor with his head cocked back laughing at their demise and calamity. She expected to find his hand in hand with Malekith, the two of them toasting each other and drinking from the same cup of evil. Instead, well she found a most unexpected sight. She found Malekith swinging his terrible machete to and fro wildly and she found Loki's nimble and agile movements dodging every blow. Malekith was raging, shouting and fuming obscenities in his own language as he attempted to assault the self-proclaimed king of Asgard.

Sif was astonished. She truly couldn't believe her eyes and she didn't. It may have seemed like Loki was fighting against Malekith. He very well might have been, but that didn't mean that all of a sudden, he was fighting on the side of Asgard. It most certainly didn't mean that she'd trust him. She'd never trust that black-hearted murderer ever again. But Lady Sif was far too much of a warrior not to recognize an opportune moment when it came to her and indeed an opportune moment had availed itself to them. If Malekith and Loki were fighting amongst themselves it gave the Aesir people the perfect opportunity to take back their kingdom before the Convergence just as they had planned. "We have to act now!" Sif shouted out amidst the confusion and commotion that was taking place among the crowd. "We have to find the rest of the Einherjar," she called to her pudgy friend. "This day can still be won!" she exclaimed and for what seemed like the first time in ages a genuine smile of elation crossed her face.

"It can, it can," Volstagg assured her. "We'll rally the troops," he stated breathlessly.

Sif confirmed his words with a nod. "As long as Malekith and Loki keep fighting they are both vulnerable. If we can get out best men and women to attack the scaffold. I'll take out Malekith!" Lady Sif declared as she flashed, she double-blade before her friend. "He can't unleash the Aether if he's dead," she confirmed.

"And Loki?" asked the plumpest member of Thor's band.

Sif looked at him with her lips curled into a vicious snarl. "If you want the honor of first blood yourself you may have to fight me for it," she stated. The statement was one that they had often used in jest, but her dark eyes were deadly serious.

"Sif we must find Lord Heimdal before we do anything!" Volstagg stated

The brunette shield-maiden shook her head. "Look at this!" she gestured around them. Everything was wild and madness, the people were simply overwhelmed, so many emotions to deal with at once that many were desperately scampering about like chickens with their heads cut off. "There's no way we'll find him," Lady Sif protested. "WE are Einherjar, this is what we have trained for all our lives..."

"We have to try Sif," the red-bearded Viking rebuffed her. "If this is to be our last stand then we must make it count we can't be disjointed."

Sif hated to admit when other people we right. Even if those people were her best friends, but he was right. They could not risk any disunity. Master Heimdal and Frandal had traveled back to the Imperial City even after they had fled with the people of Asgard to fight with the Queen's army. Master Heimdal's innate abilities would allow him to see their numbers. He could see how many were. He would be able to see how many were lost and how many were still able to fight. Then it dawned on her. "And the queen!" Lady Sif nearly gasped.

"Queen Frigga? What about her?" Volstagg questioned. "I doubt that we shall be able to make contact with Queen Frigga in Kytheria," he explained.

We won't have to," Lady Sif we on.

"What do you mean?" Volstagg questioned.

"Queen Frigga's army is here. You know our queen is too much like me to let her troops fight alone," a smile played on the shield-maiden's lips. She gave her pudgy friend a wink. Lady Sif cared about her own mother deeply. Despite the fact that they hadn't always gotten along. Her mother, Lady Rhoda was an accomplished sporting warrior herself. She had been an excellent equestrian and had competed in the games. But that was just it. Her mother liked combat as a form of sport for women. She had won many medals in the games, but had never necessarily tasted battle and had no desire for any adventure beyond the playing field. And although she was proud to have an athletic young daughter (as athleticism was prized among the Aesir in all forms) she had never wanted Sif to pursue war as a career. It was Queen Frigga who had encouraged her and helped to train her. "Not without expressly being forbidden by the king," she added.

"I pray that our king still lives," Volstagg muttered under his breath.

Sif heard him, "So do I," she replied and placed her hand on his shoulder. Asgard deserved to have her one true king sitting on her throne, not some coldblooded, bastard usurper. And there was no way in Helheim that if she was living, she was going to allow a creature like Malekith to rule over them all. "And hopefully Thor lives too," the warrior woman stated. She saw Thor fall, he was bound and gagged and completely defenseless, but the body wasn't there, but she couldn't trust Loki and to hope against hope was almost as painful as believing he was dead, but she couldn't help but hold out that the true heir to the throne could be restored. Lady Sif closed her eyes for just a moment a furious frenzy of frightened citizens rushed by. If the Norns and the kings of the past had given them this opportunity then she'd not squander it. "Let's go," she stated as her eyes snapped open. "We don't have much time."

---

Queen Frigga had watched every blow that Thor had endured at the merciless hands of the Dark-Elves she had seen as they had jeered and spat and flogged and electrocuted her son for nothing. It was the most painful sight any mother's eyes could bear. She would have scratched her own eyes out rather than behold such a bloody sight. These were the darkest days she had ever seen and she had seen much. She had seen it all before...once upon a dream...once upon a nightmare really, but it had been almost forgotten, so many centuries of endless peace for many eons of beautiful bounty, so many years of happiness made all her visions just distant murky memories, but they came back like a terrible flood, washing over her, drowning her and suffocating her. And she wished she could succumb to it, but that didn't seem fair. It didn't seem fair that her child should suffer so and she could escape in death to Valhalla, where there was no pain ever again. She couldn't do that, she couldn't leave Thor, her baby, the child she had so struggled to conceive and give life to die without knowing that his mother was there. She had always been there for him as best she could be. She had taken every herb and tonic and potion and remedy struggling to keep the child in her womb alive. She was sick for much of her pregnancy because of so much medicine. She had to stay on bed rest for months unable to attend galas, walk-in her garden or even perform her duties as queen, but she did it, it was miserable, but she did it to protect the little one growing in her womb. She'd lost so many babes, but no more, not this time, she swore. She was ill to the point of death, by the time she was ready to deliver, but she didn't care even if she died, she wanted to bring her boy into the world because she knew he would be a powerful and warrior and a great hero like his father and he would be their realm's future. When he was born, there were many healthy women younger than her who were brought to be nursemaids to the young prince, she was so weak for months after he was born, but she would still try to nurse her babe once a week. Once she was strong enough, she nursed him all the time. Many of her friends and sisters thought it unfitting, but she didn't have a child for him to be an ornament that she kept at arm's length. And as he grew, she was there for him. Thor was healthy rarely sick, but he was such a rough and tumble boy that he was always getting bumps and bruises. Sometimes, Helga, the boys' governess would chide even the young toddler that he was going to give his mother and her a heart attack with his wild ways. She doubted he understood. But the governess' words were true, every time he fell or scraped his knee or hit his head it was as if she was receiving a blow herself. As he grew as a warrior he was often in the halls of healing. She would be by his side for every broken bone. He went off to basic training with the Einherjar. She honestly didn't want him to go because she knew that he would be called to battle, real battle and he may be hurt and if he was, she wouldn't be there to hold his hand, bind his wounds instruct the healers on the best way to tend to her son, she wouldn't be able to see him growing strong once more. Thor had been sent to Ria, for a sea battle, when Thor's commander wrote that the prince had been severely wounded. When he awoke, she was by his side, her hand combing through his hair while she ordered the military healers about. Thor, woke up laughing, "You really are the all-mother, aren't you?" he teased her. She reminded him that she would always be his mother as she kissed his cheek. And that is what she was his mother and she would always be there for him no matter what. So, she wouldn't she couldn't abandon him now in his darkest hour.

She hadn't wanted to leave him willingly per se, but somehow watching the horror of her younger son turned so evil and villainous and turned like a viper the elder well it was more than she could bear and she could bear a lot. It overcame her like a sensory overload and she could no longer take it. Loki was her's just as much as Thor was hers and maybe even more so. He was the child of her heart just as Thor was the child of her body. She held him and nestled him in the inner recesses of her heart just like she had carried Thor within her own body. They had been so close once as a boy Loki was content to sit on her lap all day and listen to her read to him or sing, Thor could not be pinned down, he always wanted to run and romp freely. He liked to learn of her. To learn how to plant in the garden, to learn what she knew of enchantments when he was ready to start weaponry, she had been pleasantly surprised when he wanted to take up daggers. She was eager to let him use a pair that had once been her own. And even as he grew into a man, no longer a little boy for her to coddle, their closeness remained. He was her companion. He didn't mind joining her in the garden for tea when noblewomen from faraway came, he would go with her to an art gallery. And just as he could confide in her she could confide in him. How many times had she shared with him her troubles and worries from feeling palace pressures to plan parties, to her disappointment at the viciousness of court gossip, she'd share with him her worries for Thor and even for Odin. She'd seek his perspective and counsel just as often as he'd seek her's. She'd loved him and she'd trusted him with all her heart. Why wouldn't she, he was her son.

Even just hours ago when she'd received the encrypted message inside the old data machine she'd believed and trusted him. She'd trusted that somewhere deep down inside the little boy who she had raised was really in there. She had known that the young man who she had groomed to be a king was still there. She had known that Loki wasn't just some mad man, some snarling monster with such an insatiable appetite for the chaos that he could do this atrocity, but now she'd seen...she'd seen with her own eyes that she was absolutely wrong and all her beliefs had just been futile and naïve and childish. She felt like a fool. Had Loki just lured her here? Had he brought her there just so she could watch all the abominable destruction and bring more innocents to be lambs for this monstrous slaughter? It tortured her. All this pain...for what? She hated herself for allowing this to happen to Asgard, to the Nine Realms, and potentially the universe if Malekith and Loki had their way. As she beheld the horror of Thor's defenselessness and Loki's ruthlessness and mercilessness, she started to inwardly loathe the fact that she had ever wished for Thor to have a sibling. She had grown up with a large family, she wanted Thor to have someone that he could trust all his life. As Thor grew, she realized just how trusting he was. He was so completely dependent on the people in his circle. She'd thought he needed Loki. Loki was perhaps too suspicious, but she and Odin had thought that they'd balance each other. She'd thought that he'd protect his older brother, she'd never thought that he'd be the person to abuse it and use it to bring about Thor's demise. She'd hated that she'd done that to Thor, but amazingly she couldn't bring herself to hate Loki. And that made her even angrier at herself.

He'd broken her heart. This was the second time he'd done so. The first time was when he'd let go of the staff. Why had he let go? didn't he know it would break her heart? It had nearly destroyed her. She wanted to die, she wanted to fall into the Void right along with him. She probably would have had it not been for Thor (Her eldest son. He was so broken over the death of his brother he was so confused by what had happened and also completely riddled with guilt that he couldn't explain) and Odin (The King of Asgard, the all-father, but he was also so full of guilt and anger, he was devastated about the demise of their son. He was sullen and withdrawn, lost. He felt such a sense of failure) and Asgard (their kingdom, their beautiful kingdom, the beacon of the realms, but the people were confused and scared after everything that had transpired, they were worried). So, she held herself together for the sake of them all. But now Asgard was crumbling, she had to face the devastation of watching her realm fall, Odin was lost to her for now. And Thor, well she had just witnessed her youngest brutally murder her eldest, she sure t supposed she had no reason to go on and so her body just naturally let go.

"QUEEN FRIGGA! QUEEN FRIGGA!" the shrill voice of her lady-in-waiting hollered. Lady Sigyn had just been released from the invisible bonds that held her. She instantly leaped over others who were running hither and thither. She rushed toward the royal woman who was face down in the dirt. Sigyn shook her head. This couldn't be. The Queen of Asgard shouldn't be in such a position. The people were such a tangled mess of frantic and ecstatic and bewildered that they didn't even notice their own queen fallen on the ground. Sigyn was only a few feet away from Queen Frigga yet somehow in her earnestness to reach the female monarch what was truly only a few seconds seemed to take hours. She couldn't allow Asgard's queen to simply be trampled underfoot like a toad under a cart. Her breath came out in hurried huffs. There were so many bodies strewn across the cobbled stone floor inside the City Square no one was paying attention. Finally, she reached her. She slid to her knees and scraped them against the golden bricks that had recently been coated with mud and blood. She carefully pulled Queen Frigga's limp body into her arms and onto her lap. Queen Frigga's face was now covered with mud, her armor was dingy and beat up and banged up and the beautiful plumage in her helmet had been plucked out. The bright colors of her cape had been shredded into nothing but ribbon. The Queen Asgard had a blackened eye and bloody nose. It was unacceptable. It was more than unacceptable, it was awful. Lady Sigyn's heart pounded in her chest. The way Queen Frigga looked. The way she looked made a lump formed in Sigyn's throat. She bit her lip as tears welled up in her eyes. She doubted that any of the citizens of Asgard would have recognized their lovely queen in such a state.

"No," she let out a trembling whisper as her hands skirted over the queen's face. Queen Frigga was the most radiant woman in all of Asgard and now she looked like no more than a fallen slave. No, no, no she couldn't allow their queen to look such a sorry sight before all the people. Sigyn's own dress was filthy and coated in slime and muck, it was ripped to shreds leaving her calves and thighs mostly exposed. But somehow, she had to try to clean the blood from the face of the wife of Odin. She had to try to reveal the queen's lovely features once again. Queen Frigga was so still. She was far too still. In the midst of all the hullabaloo and pandemonium, the queen's body didn't move a muscle. A look of horror overtook the blonde-haired maiden's face. She immediately feared the worst. "No!" she shouted out, but her voice was drowned by the excited roar of the crowd. "No! Norn's no!" she shouted as she grabbed her mud bedraggled hair. This wasn't right! It wasn't fair. Now the tides seemed to be turning back in their favor and they would lose their queen. Sigyn's lips trembled and she wanted to scream. She probably would have let out a horrified scream, but instead, tears started to fall as she became amazed when she felt light breath coming from the queen's nostrils. Those nostrils were bleeding, but they were also breathing and she closed her eyes and silently gave thanks for that surely it was a sign.

"Queen Frigga! Queen Frigga!" Lady Sigyn called gently yet urgently as she stroked the queen's face continuing to try to clean her. "Please, my queen, you must wake, please wake," she begged. "You must wake, my queen, wake and see..." Sigyn began to mutter hopefully. Her large golden eyes were wide and bright as she looked upon the scaffold and saw Loki and saw Loki raising his blade against Malekith. "You must wake," she continued to urge as she patted Queen Frigga's cheek. "You must see this... you'll want to see this, Your Majesty," she nodded. "Oh, trust me you will," she confirmed. Sigyn continued to call to her queen. She continued to urge her to wake, but she didn't. "My queen...my queen..." she muttered rapidly patting the other woman's cheek, but she didn't wake. She didn't even bat an eyelash. Lady Sigyn Arndottir's tears rushed from her eyes faster and heavier and they splashed down of the Aesir queen's face washing some clean streaks through the mud. Queen Frigga's lips started to quiver as she tasted the fresh, salt tears on her tongue. She started to cough softly then slightly more violently. "Your Majesty! Your majesty!" Sigyn called out ecstatically as she noticed that the royal woman's eyes started to blink open. She sat up like a bullet. Still coughing and convulsing slightly. Lady Sigyn immediately threw her arms around the all-mother. "Your Majesty, Your Majesty," she whispered as she held her tight. "It's alright, it's alright my queen, it's alright," the lady-in-waiting said in a soothing voice.

Queen Frigga's mouth was agape and her sapphire eyes were wild as she looked around. She saw people rushing about in a frenzy. There was still panic and confusion in the air, but there was also an air of excitement and newfound joy. She sensed it. Perhaps it was...hope. But she didn't understand. Queen Frigga shook her head in bafflement. How could there be hope? How could there be any hope left now? Thor was dead. Loki and Lord Malekith had won. What could they possibly do now? They could try to go down with a fight, but it was a fight they would surely lose. Surely, the people of Asgard realized this. They had to realize this. She wondered if in Loki's cruelty he had also enchanted their minds along with imprisoning their bodies so that they couldn't move. It then that it dawned on the queen that their bodies were no longer imprisoned. She recognized that the people were running and jumping and fighting. She became cognizant of the warm arms that had engulfed her. She turned her head and looked into the sweet face of Lady Sigyn. It was beaten up and cut up, but it was pretty nonetheless. "Sigyn?" the queen wondered as she finally managed to return the hug. Eagerly the golden-locked maiden bobbed her head and pressed a kiss against the Queen's temple. "What happened?" she questioned.

A smile cracked across Sigyn's face and although her face was coated in Aether ash the radiance of her smile shined through. "See for yourself, Your Majesty," she encouraged as she turned the queen around.

The queen's eyes blinked still adjusting to the scene. She saw some people rushing and scrambling, she saw Dark-Elves attacking shooting blasters and tightening their reins and moving in, she saw bodies on the ground, the bodies of young and old, noble and pauper, men and women strewn on the ground and cast aside like paper dolls. The stench of their deaths as thick as the Aether Ash that hung in the air. It sickened her. These were her people and she had been helpless, but to watch them be trampled upon. She hated seeing them face down in the dirt. It was such a disgrace among the Aesir. She wondered if they would ever have the chance to have proper funerals and have the rites read to them so that they could cross into Valhalla. Maybe if Asgard truly went up in flames then their bodies would be burned and their remains would be immortalized in the stars. It was such a twisted hope, but she hoped it nonetheless. "Sigyn how are we free?" the queen asked as she tried to move her limbs about. Every bone and muscle seemed to ache fiercely from being pressed in invisible chains and from the fighting to break free that she had tried to do. She didn't hear an answer immediately from her lady-in-waiting, instead, she heard the sounds of clapping and applause from the very front of the line by the scaffold. Their citizens shouting merely "LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN! HUZZAH! HUZZAH! FOR ASGARD!" She knew the heart of the Aesir people was so strong. It was relentless. That's how they always overcame. How they had forged ahead and beaten every realm who came against them, how they became the great rulers and people that they were. She should have felt proud of their stalwart and resolute nature, but hearing them chant LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN after seeing her son die was more than she could bear. She shook her head. She shook it fiercely. "There's no hope for us now, there's no hope," Queen Frigga muttered to herself. "We have to let them know, we have to let them know," she reported. She clutched Sigyn's arm in desperation to keep from sinking back to the floor.

"What? Your Majesty, no! My queen...my queen, please look and see," the blonde-haired lady in waiting said as she pointed the queen back toward the scaffold.

Queen Frigga didn't want to look that way. She didn't want to behold one of her sons bleeding at the feet of the other. She didn't want to hear Loki's manic cackling as he raised Gungnir high into the sky and proclaimed himself a tyrant. No, she'd seen enough of such madness to last her a lifetime. And at this point, she prayed that her life would be ending very soon. She had failed as a queen...and as a mother. Sigyn pointed and tapped her on the shoulder to get her to look at the scaffold. Queen Frigga bit her lip and twisted her head toward the direction where her son had slain her son but as she looked on the scaffold, she didn't see Thor's corpse, there was no sign of Thor at all, but she did happen to Loki. Loki stood toe to toe against Malekith. Malekith, who was swinging his machete as a man possessed. Loki was almost nonchalantly sidestepping each wide, feral swing of Malekith's dark saber. He dodged and ducked and twisted and dived, just like she had shown him once or twice. Malekith was howling panting, he was practically foaming at the mouth, enraged that he couldn't seem to catch the elusive mage. His eyes glowed like a burning red ember as he found that he kept missing the narrow target of Loki's neck. He was determined that he'd take one of the Odinsons heads off this day before the people of Asgard. He was seething, he was doing his best to keep his cool and to keep a lid on it, but the Aether inside of him boiled and bubbled feeding on his emotions of fury and begged to be released. He could not control the dark crystal's power anymore. From within him, he shot forth the energy shards. They came forth like tentacles seeking to grab the young king. As the red ooze burst forth toward him Loki pulled out Gungnir and shot a golden ray energy blast back at the leader of the Dark-Elves. The blast sent Malekith reeling backward and stunned him for a moment. He fell into his guards. His men caught him. He shouted something at them in the crude language and then they started firing off their vortex forming blasters.

Queen Frigga's heart immediately skipped a beat. She blinked her eyes and rubbed her eyes for she could not believe what she was seeing. "Loki?" she mouthed in disbelief. "Loki?" she looked back at Sigyn. The golden-locked Aesir maiden bobbed her head enthusiastically. Queen Frigga bit her lip. She wanted to weep with joy. She covered her mouth as she mumbled to herself, "My son! my son! Oh, Merciful Yggdrasil, please let it really be my son," she silently prayed her eyes looked up at the blackened heavens where there was only the slightest sliver of strained sunlight. "Loki! Loki! Loki!" she clapped her hands together eagerly applauding the efforts that she was seeing her son was making. She caught herself and quickly turned to Lady Sigyn, she could see that the younger woman too was becoming swept up in this moment of victory.

"Loki came back, Your Majesty! He came back!" Lady Sigyn exclaimed. Her golden eyes were wide as she flung her arms out to hug Queen Frigga tightly. "I knew he would. I knew he would," she continued to bob her head. "Alright... alright... for a moment there," she began as she wiped her brow. Yes, for a moment Lady Sigyn had given up all hope that there was anything left within the man beside a ravenous beast, but truly she believed that he was a good and noble prince, just like in the fairytales. Sigyn broke contact with the queen for Just a moment. Queen Frigga caught the young woman just as she was throwing up her fist to proclaim the name of Asgard, "LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN!" the queen's handmaiden proclaimed with the crowd.

"Sigyn," Queen Frigga cautioned her. She grabbed her by the hand pulling her back to her side. "It may not be as it seems," she tried to explain. Her bright blue eyes darting about as she watched the Asgardians. They were frantic, hopeful, and panicked, like children. They were overwrought and she couldn't let any more harm become. She hated to say it. As a mother, she shouldn't say it, but she was also a queen and she was also Thor's mother and until she saw her oldest son, she could not be convinced that Loki hadn't done all the dastardly deeds she'd just sworn she'd see him do.

"Oh, milady, you don't really think..." Sigyn's sweet amber eyes were brimming with tears. She was so happy, beyond happy, she was elated, overjoyed. She saw them having a chance for life again, a chance to defeat this enemy, how quickly she'd forgotten that Loki was this very enemy and he was a trickster. Her smile immediately turned upside down. The Queen of Asgard was wise, she was just a fool who could have so easily been tricked again.

"I don't know what to think, Sigyn... I hope...I believe, I believe in Loki...my son...but I...we can't take anything for granted right now," she explained. She shook her head. "I Love Loki...I do, but...we don't know where Thor is," her breath hitched. "This is still Asgard's very darkest hour," she went on. "There's still the Aether... there's still Malekith," she tried to explain. "Convergence is still taking place in just a few hours," the wife of Odin expressed. They both nodded toward each other. "But now we have a new window of opportunity to maybe save Asgard and the Nine Realms,"

"Then we have to take it," Lady Sigyn Arndottir proclaimed and she placed her hand on a small blade that she had concealed within the folds of her tunics. "We have to stop Malekith from unleashing the Aether...and...and..." she gulped. "Loki, if necessary," she assured the queen.

"Come, we must find Lord Heimdal, we must find him and all the troops and get every able-bodied Asgardian to attack now!

---

"

"Young Frandal, Young Frandal," Heimdal's deep voice called the Einherjar amidst the energetic cries of the citizens who were clapping and hooting and running free. He helped the swordsman to his feet. Frandal rubbed his bleary eyes that stung with the Aether Ash that was swirling about them feverishly and violently. The young swordsman looked positively bewildered. "Are you beholding this?" the gatekeeper questioned. His eyes trained toward the scaffold.

"Seeing," Frandal stated. He shook his head for a moment. Then he looked around as he saw men and women and children of Asgard being released from their invisible and earthen confines. They burst forth joyously, gasping and sobbing. He watched as they rejoiced and cried out in jubilation as they regained the activity of their limbs. They stretched and twisted to make sure they were actually free and when they found that they were the people raised their hands, they cried out they thanked the spirits and the kings of the past. They broke out into a triumphant and determined chant. They raised their fist and proudly declared. "LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN!" Some went rushing toward the scaffold others went to try to flee. "Seeing," Frandal repeated. "Still, working on believing," the blonde-haired kibitzer stated as he looked at the gatekeeper. He couldn't believe it, but he'd seen it. He'd seen it with his own baby blue eyes. Eyes that had made many a maiden swoon. He'd beheld as Malekith went to decapitate Thor. He'd watched as the Dark-Elf had raised his dark-saber into the blackened sky. He was too far away to actually see the expression that the leader of the Dark-Elves had been wearing, but he could only imagine the way his black eyes had gleamed at the opportunity. He watched him bring the saber down as he declared that the son of Odin was dead. Frandal had felt his stomach drop out of his chest and sink to his stomach. Only pain had engulfed his chest at that moment. His stomach was tied up in so many knots that he had immediately started to vomit. He spewed forthright on himself, he was unable to even bend over as he regurgitated. For those split seconds as he watched with bated breath as Malekith began to proclaim how he was going to mount Prince Thor's head on a spike and Loki just stood there... just stood there... oh he hated every moment he'd ever spent in that monster's presence, but then he'd watched as in the blink of an eye there was a bright, fluorescent green flash that caused Thor's body to disappear. And his first instincts were to think it was just some trick. The Aether, he'd learned from Heimdal had the power to create illusions. And for a moment that's all that Frandal had thought that it was, nothing more than another trick, maybe one that his own hopeful mind had played on him. Then he recognized the signature green glare. He'd known Loki a long time and he knew the trademarks of magic. That magic that he'd had so often ridiculed, "Loki, how do you ever expect to impress a damsel with your parlor tricks?" he laughed as he'd watch the dark-haired prince work his craft with his green sparks flying about while he strolled by the courtyard with a maiden on each arm. And yet he himself had often been impressed and astonished by the feats that the enchanter had been able to perform. that magic they were so often astonished by, that magic that in the heat of battle they'd so often relied upon. Like that time in Nornheim, the Norn Palace had been barricaded by brigands and Ravagers. who were trying to break in and steal the many treasures from the treasure chest of the time? Some had said they were searching for a map to the time stone. The Nornish king had desperately called upon Asgard for help, but Odin had been hesitant to disperse his troops for the mission. Even though the brigands and Ravagers had taken over the palace they were small in numbers. So, the King of Asgard had only allowed Prince Thor to take a small band of less the 50 soldiers. They hadn't expected to be met with such a strong force when. They couldn't break through the walls and they were going to have to retreat, they planned to come back, but Loki pointed out that if they retreated to recoup then the Royal Family of Nornheim would most likely die. Loki thought about little Wyrd. The Nornish king's youngest daughter. The little girl he'd tutor and had come to think of as a much younger cousin. So, Loki devised a plan and veiled them smoke with an eerie green glow and allowed them to the entrance so that they could ambush the enemy. He knew it was Loki's magic that had caused Thor to vanish.

Frandal's bright blue eyes continued to watch everything that was transpiring around them. The panic and the excitement taking place in the square. Some people were screaming in fear and horror, rushing about and calling out the names of their loved ones racing to find them and pushing backward to get out of the City Square, but more, many more were simply elated and their screams were energetic and elated. More and more of the Asgardian citizens were gathering up in bands, they were rallying together shouting and chanting "LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN! LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN!" they were shouting at the top of their lungs with all their might. They were amassing sticks and bricks and pieces of rubble that they had found in the broken-down debris of the once illustrious golden cobblestone of the City Square. It was so natural for the Aesir people. They were rising up, getting stronger and ready to mount up against their enemies. They tossed the stones and sticks and broken bits of golden brick that they found at the Dark-Elf soldiers who stood stiffly about with their emotionless masks firing their blasters and causing vortexes to form and suck up things around them. They shouted out orders at the Aesir people in their guttural tongue trying to quell them, but the Asgardians would not be quelled not be stopped, not this time. Even while some of their people fell once again to the violence and technology that the Dark-Elves possessed others were gathering a few scattered weapons. Other citizens continued frantically to clamor toward the scaffold where King Loki and Lord Malekith continued to battle. They were pressing their ways from all sides of the square ever singing the song of their ancestors. "The fates love Asgard...we have to keep believing..." They also cheered "LONG LIVE THE HOUSE ODIN! LONG LIVE PRINCE THOR!"

That was when Frandal blinked. Once again, the young, blonde swordsman felt his heart pounding in his chest. Was Prince Thor actually still alive? How could he know? How could, they be sure? Thor wasn't on the scaffold that much was true, but that didn't mean that Thor was alive. After all, he'd seen Loki strike Thor down with his own eyes. He shook his head in disbelief as he saw the elaborate elation of the people, Frandal too felt himself getting swept up in the energy of the crowd. He felt the surge of newfound hopefulness stirring up in his soul swelling and causing him to want to fight with every fiber of his being, but was it all for naught? They'd all watched as Loki had used his gifts for so much evil just moments before. He'd done all this to them, he'd destroyed their kingdom and destroyed the lives of so many innocent Aesir, and what he had planned to do...it would cause chaos throughout the Nine Realms. How...How could...how could he trust him now? It could just be another trick from a master trickster. Because that's all Loki really was the whole time, wasn't he? He'd just been a trickster and a mischief-maker. Frandal's full lips which were normally stretched in a broad grin formed a deep frown. He thought of so many times when he'd watched Loki's fiendish delight as he pulled one of his devilish little pranks. Loki had always taken such pleasure in luring others into a false sense of security only to pull the wool over their eyes and the rug out from under their feet and laugh at their simple-minded ways. It had worked in their favor several times. But Frandal had been the recipient of enough of Loki's tricks to know better now. He remembered Loki's words from so long ago. The second to last time any of them really held conference with Loki before his fall from the Bifrost. "I love Thor more dearly than any of you," is what the trickster had said. And pathetically he'd believed that little snake when he'd said. He believed it wholeheartedly. Loki was jealous and a liar, but overall Frandal had believed that Loki was a good friend and a loving brother to Thor. He'd seen enough brotherly displays of affection, he'd seen all the backslaps, embraces, and jokes, and the rescues that the two had shared. He'd actually defended Loki amongst their friends, particularly Sif. He regretted it now. He should have never believed him. His belief in Loki had allowed all this anarchy and chaos to flourish. Look how far Loki had gone? Loki had demolished everything. So why would he change now? No, no, sure Loki's only goal was to have the last laugh at them once again to make them feel like foolish, witless dogs who always gave chase when their master pretended to throw a bone. They'd run excitedly in search of what wasn't there and find the master laughing at their expense and when they'd come back empty-handed the owner would kick them nonetheless. Still, as he watched Loki fighting on top of the scaffold he couldn't help, but hold out a bit of shameful, naïve hopefulness. Could it be? Frandal thought hopefully. Frandal had always been a hopeful and optimistic soul. Could Loki truly be trying to help...now? If so, why now? Merciful Yggdrasil it didn't really matter why he supposed if it was truly the case. Frandal anxiously looked to Heimdal. Asgard's a great watcher. He could surely see more of what was going on upon the scaffold than he could. He shook his head, mashed his lips together, he didn't want to be tricked again. He refused to fall for one of Loki's schemes once more. "But...but what does it mean Master Heimdal?" questioned the swordsman.

The golden-eyed proudly as he squared his shoulders. His glimmering gaze glistened with tears as he stared toward the pedestal. He watched as the two once enemies of Asgard danced in battle. Loki kept dodging all of Lord Malekith's wild blows. He saw him twirl the staff Mjolnir around his shoulders only to duck under Malekith's machete and swoop the weapon under Malekith's feet and knock the general flat on his back. He saw Malekith's warriors raise their weapons. They were trying to fire at King Loki with their suction causing blasters. Loki would roll out of the range of the vortexes that were created and then quick as a flash he'd launch a dagger into the chest or neck of one of the Dark-Elf soldiers. Soon half of Lord Malekith's best guards who he had handpicked to be on the scaffold with him had fallen and their bodies lied scattered like children's toys on the scaffold.

"It means the son of Odin has returned," Frandal announced Master Heimdal. His lips curled into a smile as he could not break his glance from watching Prince Loki fight in defense of the people of Asgard once again. Heimdal's strong hands came to rest on his young friend's shoulder. Heimdal let out a deep sigh of relief. After Prince Loki had first fallen from the Bifrost his eyes had scoured endlessly for a sign of life of the second son of Odin. He had partially been neglectful in his other duties as a gatekeeper as he scanned and surveyed constantly for signs of the prince. He had been surprised by Loki's act of treason, but he hadn't wanted the young man to die. None had. He felt such guilt in the coming months when he had not been able to report to the Royal Family that their son was alive and well and coming home. And when his gold eyes had finally landed on Prince Loki after so long, he was practically elated, but then when he saw Loki saw what he was up to, how he'd changed for the worse, well he did not have such happy news to report. He could not report that the son of Odin had returned. He hated having to tell the king and queen and prince of the terrible tirade that Loki was performing on Midgard.

"Why have you summoned me here, my friend," King Odin asked as he leaped from the back of his mighty steed Sleipnir to look at the partially reconstructed Bifrost. The progress on rebuilding the rainbow bridge seemed to be going well, but he received reports from the master builders on a weekly basis, surely Heimdal hadn't requested his presence with such urgency to observe the construction.

"I have some much-awaited news, my king," the gatekeeper expressed as he inclined his head with a bow toward his sovereign and then went back to focusing on staring out toward the cosmos.

"Do tell," Odin pressed hopefully. They had recently dispatched a few Valkyries to transport refugees from Musepleheim to the Forest Kingdom of Alfheim. It was a simple mission, but it had been met with some resistance as some of the Light-Elves felt their kingdom was becoming overrun with refugees. Brunhilda had reported that they had gotten into a few skirmishes as they tried to enter the mountain pass. Odin suspected that he might have to send more troops and Thor and the Einherjar were prepared to rendezvous with the women warriors if necessary. "Is it Alfheim?" the grizzled ruler asked.

"No, my lord, something more personal than that," the gatekeeper reported. "News of your son," Heimdal posed.

"Loki?" Odin gasped. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't imagine it. It had been a year since Loki had perished and he had stopped looking for him. It broke his heart to keep searching for him only to hear report after endless reports that even his thin body could not be found. "Has my son returned?" the king of Asgard questioned.

"Not exactly, my king." Lord Heimdal confessed sadly.

It made the guardian's heart swell. After all this time he could finally say to his king that his son had returned to them for a moment the two men stood in the midst of the anxious and restless crowd just watching as the battle unfolded before them. Malekith shot off shards and shards of the Aether. He sent them cascading across the scaffold and subsequently filled the air with even more Aether ash. Loki had managed to counter the Aether attacks with the use of Gungnir. The energy blast from the mighty golden scepter was only strong enough to deflect the lethal red energy the shot forth from the Dark-Elf but it wasn't enough to stop the ruthless savage warlord. Heimdal's ever-watchful, burning golden eyes kept their gaze on the two warriors fighting. He noted Malekith was huffing and puffing furiously, but he was gaining momentum he was drawing on the powers of the stone, and with Convergence, practically at its peak the Aether's power would be unlimited. It would surge effortlessly and through the gateways between the worlds and strip all light from the realms. Malekith's face was blackening as the power of the Aether grew within him and the gatekeeper saw that Loki was tiring. The master mage had thrown a large, invisible dagger nearly the size of the sword at the Dark-Elf General. Malekith had stood unafraid as the silvery dagger was flung toward his neck. Instantly, the dark red shards of the Aether oozed out of his talon-like fingers and absorbed the dagger. From his position far in the back of the crowd, Asgard's gatekeeper was able to observe the way Loki's shoulders heaved and how his eyes grew wide as he watched his dagger disappear into the cloud of dark energy.

"Do you really believe it's true, Heimdal?" Frandal asked. "Do you really think that we can trust, Loki," he spat the tyrant's name. "After all he's done?"

Heimdal kept his gaze focused. "I believe so, Frandal, I believe so," his bass voice reverberated. "My eyes grow dim here and now, but I spy the fair son of Odin," he breathed his lips slightly curling. "And the throne of Asgard is preserved by a prince and not crushed by a tyrant," he expressed

Frandal's eyes darted all about. Surely, Heimdal was talking about Prince Thor. "You can see Prince Thor?" Frandal asked nervously as he looked at his old friend and mentor. He didn't want to think that way, he'd always been optimistic, but they were literally on the brink of their destruction, they didn't have the luxury of optimism anymore. He'd sworn an oath as an Einherjar to fight and defend Asgard with his last breath and he would fulfill that vow, but he had to know what and who he was truly fighting for.

The massive warrior squinted into the bleak redness of the atmosphere. As the Aether grew stronger and stronger, Heimdal could feel his own powers growing weaker. Inwardly, he called to the all-fathers of the past, he begged them to allow him to see the fate of Prince Thor. Slowly, a vision came to him. It was hazy like glancing through a fog, his eyes had never been so dim. He could make out the faint form of a broken muscular body bound and bleeding. It was in an obscure place, but full of strong enchantments. Heimdal tried to pear further, to pierce the veil, but he could not see anymore. He began to get a frightful headache. He shook his head. "Yes," he stated in a deep voice.

"Where?" Frandal asked excitedly. "Where is he?' the swordsman pressed. 'Does he live?' he questioned.

Heimdal shook his head. "I...I...I cannot say, young Frandal," he admitted, but he didn't turn his head to face the companion of Prince Thor. He paused a moment as he continued to watch the dark-haired enchanter dance around the scaffold dangerously close to the edge. "We don't have much time. We must act now," the chocolate-skinned warrior proclaimed once more. "See if you can find any other Einherjar," the Heimdal began to instruct. "The Einherjar must try to get to Malekith, keep him from accessing the throne room, the rest of the people must try to take out the Dark-Elves," he stated. The golden-haired fencer nodded immediately and took to trying to use the communication device that he had on his hip. He pulled it out. It was mostly crushed and the features of creating a hologram image were broken, but he could see that a few buttons on the side were blinking with a blue light that pierced through the blackened air. Frandal's fingers frantically fumbled to find a way to turn the communication device on. "Hello! Hello! Acknowledge this is General Frandal, can anyone, hear me?" he asked calling as loudly as he could in the midst of the shouting that rang out around him.

Faintly, he heard a relatively unfamiliar voice call back through the other end as the communicator chimed. "Hello! Hello!" the voice was nearly frantic. "This is the Commander of Communications from Kytheria," the voice expressed.

A smile lit up the face of Prince Thor's ever jovial friend. "Commander!" he exclaimed. "I'm elated to hear your voice!" the swordsman reported.

The Commander of Communications started to laugh as he heard the Einherjar general's excitement. "I can honestly say the same, sir. I am amazed that even in spite of all we have been through many of the communication devices and the communication tower signals as still able to transmit," he went on. "I've been able to locate several other Einherjar and the warriors from Kytheria," he continued. "We have been trying to find one of the generals or Master Heimdal," he continued. his breathing was labored and it seemed like he was running.

Sir Frandal tossed his head back and laughed. "Well, you are in luck, my friend. You get a two for one special today," he continued to joke. He waved his communicator before Heimdal's face. "I'm with Master Heimdal as we speak," he continued chuckling all the while praying and giving thanks to the great kings of the past for this small act of providence.

"I... never...thought...we'd...see...luck...again," the Commander's voice beeped in and out through the speakers.

"Merciful Yggdrasil the sun is shining on us again...just like Prince Thor said it would," Frandal muttered to himself and Heimdal more than the commander. He watched as Heimdal raised a powerful brown fist in the air in the direction of the sun. The sun that seemed so small and obscure in the midst of the darkness was doing its very best to peek through and be seen. "Come quickly to our location," he urged the commander.

"Turn on the communicators' tracking beacon," the commander instructed. Frandal immediately followed the instructions. He quickly twisted the dial and his communicator started to vibrate.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! We are picking up the signal now," the commander cheered. "Turn the dial up to the highest degree. Any soldier who has a working device should be able to pick up on the signal and find you," the words came out cracked and static-filled, but Sir Frandal got the message.

"Heimdal! Good Fortune! Good Fortune!" Frandal exclaimed like a child as he rushed up to the burly gatekeeper who was only standing a few inches from him. "We've got warriors! We've got warriors coming!" the swordsman stated.

Heimdal clapped his hand on his young friend's shoulder. His white teeth glistened as he pointed his strong chestnut finger in front of him. "That's not all we've got, behold,"

Frandal's blue eyes squinted and strained as he tried to make out what exactly Master Heimdal was pointing out. Heimdal's powers were legendary, he had eyes 1000 times sharper than any eagle, but Frandal's eyes were not so gifted. There was so much haze floating about, red and black and horrible obscuring everything and then there were the people who were rushing about hither and thither and of course, there were the terrible blasters that were being fired off at random that were causing light blast and flashes, but still somehow in the midst of all that commotion, Frandal managed to make out the image of the warrior who was a strong and proud as he was round. "VOLSTAGG!" Frandal immediately bellowed upon the sight of his friend. He slapped his knee with excitement and called to his friend once more. "By Odin's Beard!" he exclaimed once again. He started waving the Volstagg who immediately started waving back. Through the throngs of the crowd, Volstagg began to race toward him. The blue-eyed swordsman also spied Lady Sif as she emerged from behind the plump warrior. Frandal broke away from Heimdal and sprinted toward his friends. The three members of Thor's war party met somewhere in the midst of the crowd of frantic Aesir. They all embraced.

Volstagg lifted up his two friends in the air as he hugged them tightly. "This is good, this is good!" he proclaimed as he slapped Frandal on the back. "Thank the Norns you are alright, my friend," he said taking in Frandal's visage. Like the rest of them the Casanova was banged up and cut up, he had blood dripping from a nasty gash in his head. His clothes were tattered and his armor was dented and banged up. Also, his sword was broken to where it looked like just a dagger, but he was there.

"Ahh, you expected less," the golden-locked warrior laughed as he swiped his hand across his bloody brow.

"So many had died, we knew not what to think," Lady Sif expressed.

"True, true, Lady Sif," Frandal replied with a bob of the head. "I had to say after what we just witnessed with Thor," Frandal sighed and shuddered as he cast a scant glance to the scaffold where Loki was still fighting against the Dark-Elves for the moment. Frandal immediately corrected his tone after he noticed the stricken looks on his comrades' faces. "Well," he smiled once more in Volstagg's direction. "I should have known that nothing could hold you down my rotund friend," he slapped Volstagg in his pot belly.

The burly, redhead Viking warrior started to growl at his friend and raise a mighty meat hook in the air. "Enough of that!" the warrior woman proclaimed. "Save it for the Dark-Elves," she warned. "And Loki," she growled and spat to the ground as she stepped in between her two friends. Lady Sif's dark brown eyes looked back at the scaffold as well. Many of the citizens of Asgard were starting to rush around and sing and chant "LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN!" They watched as that moment's ago madman, that ten-second ago tyrant now flung freshly formed ice-daggers at Malekith and pinned his down to the floorboards of the scaffold. Yes, long live the house of Odin indeed. Long live King Odin, long live Queen Frigga, and long live Prince Thor. She prayed to the all-fathers of the past that Prince Thor was still alive, but Loki. He could die 1000 deaths in the deepest circles of Helheim for all she cared.

"Loki is the least of our concerns now," Master Heimdal expressed as he strolled up to the three Einherjar.

"Master Heimdal," Lady Sif immediately saluted as she raised her double-blade high.

"It is good to see you alive and well Lady Sif," the dark-skinned warrior responded his lips pulled into a smile.

"I shan't die!" Sif stated boldly. "Not until there is no Asgard left to fight for," she declared. Creeping up behind her she could hear the grating swooshing sound of one of the Dark-Elves firing off their blasters. She heard the scattered screams of men, women, and children as they tried to escape the terrible swirling vortexes. Lady Sif's dark eyes narrowed. She gritted her teeth and dug the toe of her boot deep into the broken ground. She flicked her wrist and unfurled her double blade. "Get down!" she shouted to the Aesir who were in her vicinity. Those citizens who were near her immediately hit the deck and fell upon their bellies or ducked down in fetal positions and covered their heads. With that, Lady Sif used her double-bladed lance to catapult herself into the air. She somersaulted twice in the air and kicked the Dark-Elf soldier who had viciously fired his taser gun into the crowd in the head. He fell backward and his bloodless back popped right off of his head to reveal his unfeeling face. While he fell his gun went off again causing a large black hole to form in the midst of the crowd. There was a little girl with her parents who was about to be sucked in. She frantically screamed and cried and she clung to her mother's finders. The woman could scarcely hold on to her daughter's hands crying for help. The little girl's shoes flew off sucked into the black hole. Lady Sif looked around as her feet touched the ground. She rushed to push the woman out the way along with her child. Then she stabbed the Dark-Elf that she had just kicked in the head clean through with her double-bladed lance. The shiny silver blade stuck through from his abdomen through his back she picked him up on her skewer and fed it into the vortex. With that, the shield-maiden wiped her brow. "Let's go," she declared.

Upon seeing the way Lady Sif had slaughtered one of their own some of the Dark-Elf warriors began firing more and more of their blasters in the direction of the Aesir citizens, but before they could pull the triggers on the citizens a group of warriors came charging forward. "FOR ASGARD!" the warriors shouted in unison. It was a mixed band of both Einherjar and the soldiers of Kytheria. The soldiers grabbed hold of their crossbows and bows and arrows. They shot their weapons right into the Dark-Elves. The shot aimed their arrows for their backs and chests and necks. And the Aesir watched as the Dark-Elves fell at their feet like dominoes.

"Well, well, well, I think the calvary's here," Frandal called out jovially as he applauded his fellow soldiers that had just come rushing in like a flood. The Asgardians who were around him and Lady Sif, Volstagg and Heimdal began eagerly clapping and expressing their enthusiasm toward the warriors. Frandal noted Commander of Communications. The plumage that he wore in his helmet was bald. "Well, you took your time," Frandal continued to tease as he pointed toward the other officer. The Commander of Communications looked bedraggled and winded and he was leaning heavily on his knees. He removed his helmet for just a moment and started to wipe his brow, his sweat poured out like water from a bucket onto his face. His lips playfully grimaced and he waved an unsteady finger at the handsome Einherjar general for his commentary.

"If you ask me, I'd say he's right on time. All of you are right on time!" a strong regal voice declared.

Lady Sif looked up after immediately recognizing the voice. He deep brown eyes immediately began to water as she took in the vision that was before her of a woman in golden armor limping toward her. "Your Majesty!" she exclaimed as she took off running to greet the royal woman.

"The queen! The queen! Queen Frigga!" voice from the crowd called out in reverential and hushed tones. They were astonished to see her. Without thought, the crowd of Aesir citizens fell upon their knees to pay homage to their beloved queen. Lady Sif and the warriors two along with Heimdal ran up to greet the royal woman who was leaning heavily on Lady Sigyn Arndottir for support.

Lady Sif stood frozen as she stood before the two other women. Her chest was heaving. Her lip started quivering as she took in the sight of Odin's wife. Her golden armor was banged up and dented, part of her armor was even cracked leaving some of the queen's body exposed...so exposed to the point to where her leg had been damaged. Her face was just as dirty as that of any little street urchin that one may have found wandering through the mining villages. Her lipstick was now smudged a horrible tainted color of blood and mud. Her robes. Her elegant robes that were made of the finest most expensive materials in all of the Nine Realms were just torn to shreds as if they were nothing. "My Queen," Lady Sif managed to choke. Her arms reached out reflexively, but then she withdrew them feeling too much shame for what had taken place. What she had allowed to take place. She started to drop to her knees, "Your Majesty, I...I...I so sorry," she stammered.

"We all are," Volstagg added with his head bowed daring not to look the Queen of Asgard in the face.

Queen Frigga shook her head pityingly. She and lady Sigyn exchanged tender glances. "Arise, warriors of Asgard," she announced as she gingerly removed her arm from being slung over Sigyn's shoulder for support. Her arms were outstretched and opened wide toward her sons' childhood friends. They were so much like her own children. She'd known them since they were all young. She truly knew them better than she even knew some of her own nieces and nephews. She embraced them. She folded each of them in a tight and warm hug. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she stated firmly as she looked Lady Sif in the eye. She cupped her face and cheeks. "Nothing," she informed her sternly her voice only slightly wavering. She pushed off of the young warrior woman and stumbled backward. She looked weak as is she would fall right over, but luckily, Lady Sigyn was immediately at the queen's side holding her for support.

"Your Majesty!" Heimdal exclaimed as his strong hands reached out to take hold of the queen

"You must sit down," Sigyn urged as she caught the queen.

"No! No." Queen Frigga stated and she tried to push herself back toward her feet. "I'll stand," she breathed holding her side. "I'll stand," she nodded as she confirmed her decision. Lady Sigyn's face looked positively stricken, but she did as the queen requested and let her go. "I'll stand," she muttered once more as she let out a gasp as a tremor of pain shot through her body. "I'll stand and you all, all of you warriors and people and children of Asgard, you stand," the Queen commanded. Slowly she saw as her people started to rise from their knees. In the distance, there was still a lot of rushing and shouting about people clamoring and fighting and some fleeing, but they weren't cowering. They weren't helpless and that is what mattered most to Queen Frigga, her people were free to fight for their lives once. She smiled at them as she looked at the soldiers, civilians, nobles, serf, men, women, children and the like. She smiled at them with a mother's love. "Children of Asgard,' she began, her voice was small weak from screaming and sobbing, but she did her best to make herself heard to the assembly around her. "You are the true heroes, for you have stood and are still standing! You have not lost heart! Now is our true last stand," she told them. "We will not get another chance," she swore to them. "The sun has risen, the day of Convergence is at hand...but it does not have to be the day of Ragnarök," she proclaimed to them. The crowd cheered. "I charge each of you who is able, to stand. Stand. Stand and fight until there is not one Asgardian left to defend this realm. "We will do this for our King," she told them. To this, the Aesir raised triumphant fists as they let their voice rise over the sweltering heat and Aether ash.

"LONG LIVE ODIN!" they shouted in a mighty chorus.

"Do this for your prince!" she declared once more as she choked back a sob. "My son," she bit her lip. The queen could only pray that he still lived.

"LONG LIVE PRINCE THOR!" they thundered for their beloved prince.

"Do it for the ancestors," she admonished them once more. "And for your children and your children's children," she pointed to the youngest child amongst the crowd who she could find. The young child, a tiny tot of a girl whose shoes had been snatched off her feet by one of the dreadful blackhole-forming rifles.

The little girl's father hoisted her onto her shoulders. Her little face was full of bruises, but her pudgy little hands clapped merrily as she took in the queen's words. A few in the crowd who were near the young child went up and rubbed her cut-up legs and muddy feet. "FOW ASHGARD!" the girl exclaimed. The congregation echoed back the little girl's sentiments exactly.

Queen Frigga gave a weak smile as she saw the fervor in even the young child's eyes. Queen Frigga winced as she felt a pain overtake her. She grabbed at her side. Once more she felt her lady-in-waiting's warm and tender hands reach out and embrace her and pull her to sit down. It was a disgrace that the Queen of Asgard had to sit on nothing more than a mangy pile of debris. "Rest, Your Majesty, please," Lady Sigyn pressed once more. She tried to examine the queen's leg.

"Master Heimdal," Queen Frigga began as she reached her hand toward the gatekeeper. He took it quickly and felt the pain in her grasp and saw the pain in her beautiful blue eyes as she gasped. "What tactics do you deem worthy to win this day?" she asked in all seriousness through gritted teeth.

Heimdal nodded. "We must keep the Dark-Elves and particularly Malekith from reaching the palace," he explained. "If Malekith gets to the throne room where the worlds will perfectly align for a mere hour, he will be able to unleash the Aether," he explained.

"Then we have no time to waste!" Lady Sif declared as she flashed her double-blade. "Frandal, Volstagg, the Einherjar, and I will do what we can to dispose the Dark-Elves here or at least keep them contained," she announced.

"And what of we?" The Commander of Communications questions. "We warriors of Kytheria? We came to fight and fight we will!" he declared boldly before his queen and the superior officers.

"I appreciate all that you have done, Commander," Queen Frigga inclined her head. "And you will be rewarded heavily if we live through this day," she started.

"Your Majesty, if we live, that she be reward enough," he replied with a smile as he kissed his queen's dirty hand.

"We still need soldiers to help clear out the City Square," Heimdal informed the commander. "We still have many who are severely injured, we have elderly and children. Your troops can get the people out. Protect them as they evacuate. The Dark-Elves are ruthless and will try to pick them off one by one." Heimdal shook his head.

"Queen Frigga, you should evacuate as well," Frandal admonished.

Queen Frigga shook her head, her long dirty curls slapped her in the face. "No, no, nay Young Frandal never! Before I was Queen, I was a shield-maiden of Asgard," she looked to Lady Sif and some of the other female warriors. "I have a sworn oath to protect my people..." she went on as ashes started to try to stand again.

"Queen Frigga you are injured, you need tending to," Lady Sigyn spoke up softly from the Queen's side. Now Sigyn Arndottir was no healer, but she knew enough to know that Queen Frigga's leg was broken and that the guts and gashes from metal and rock needed to be queen.

"It's matters not dear Sigyn," Queen Frigga shook her head and continued to pull back down her tattered skirts and shooed Sigyn's small, gentle hands from trying to minister to her.

"Yes, it does, my lady, yes it does." Lord Heimdal's deep voice was soon in her ear as was his hands upon her bruised shoulder. It was enough to cause her to wince. "Listen to the people, Your Majesty," Heimdal said. He cupped his hand over his ear. She heard the voices of her people against the sounds of crashing and crunching of blasters and bombs going off and of steel and metal and rock grating against one another she heard their ever-hopeful rallying cry. "Long live the house of Odin," he whispered to her. "That is what the people of Asgard want. We know not of the fate of all of the members of the house of our king...but with your Majesty..."

Heimdal's voice trailed off in her ear. Queen Frigga closed her eyes. Her husband, he beloved husband of more than 2000 years when she had last seen him, he was on death's door. Her son, her dear Thor, she knew not the fate of her only-begotten child. She had hope and she'd cling to hope, but she didn't know. And Loki. Loki as she looked at him now, he was waging war against their enemy so valiantly so nobly, he was using all his strength all his energy he was using every move she'd ever taught him and his heart swelled, but was he truly an ally now, truly still a member of the house of Odin. Loki was so clever and devious; he'd tricked her countless time. She couldn't be sure not just yet. If she too died...well Asgard could still fall to civil war. "Very well, Master Heimdal," the queen resigned herself.

"Come, come, men," the Commander of Communication called "You all have a most important task once again of keeping our queen safe and getting the children and the injured out. We must rendezvous with the healers on the outskirts of the gate." The brave soldiers from the Southern Palace took to obeying their orders without hesitation. They gathered up the sick and injured and the little children who were amongst the small group that was huddled in the thick of the fight for Asgard's survival and the survival of the realms.

"We've got a Dark-Elf in-coming!" one soldier shouted as he noted a new group of about 30 warriors of Svartalfheim pushing through the throng of Aesir citizens who were trying to blockade them. The citizens were doing their best, they were using all their strength and might, but they merely had sticks and stones to fight against the advanced weaponry in the arsenal of the Dark-Elves.

"Come on! Come on! Come on!" the Commander of Communications shouted as his troops. "Pick them up! Pick them up!" he hollered. "Get going!" he urged as even he was forced to step into the crowd and scoop up children who had not yet be trained in the way of war. He tore a few squalling children from the hands of their parents. Some men and women tried to urge one another to go with the children or with the infirmed. But every able-bodied Aesir protested. They were willing to fight. Some declared that if they had to beat the Dark-Elves back with the shoes on their feet or the belts around their waists then that if what they would do.

"Einherjar! Form a perimeter around the civilians!" degreed the red-bearded warrior. With hearty stomps and salutes. The Einherjar followed orders. They blocked the people from the effects of the blasters. They brandished their broken swords. They shot their arrows high into the air, the trajectory of the arrows was obscured by the darkness of the Aether ash and they rained down on their enemies. "PUSH THEM BACK!" Volstagg hollered to the Einherjar. They pulled out their shields and used them to press forward against the enemy. They drove many of the Dark-Elves back. They nearly trampled the bloodless warriors. Some of the creatures got wise and although they recognized that through sheer force they could not overcome the Asgardians at this point. They fired their taser guns off toward the ground causing sinkholes to be created for which the Aesir soldiers fell prey to.

"Lady Sigyn, time to go," Frandal said the queen's handmaiden genteelly. He performed a swooping courtly bow toward the blonde-haired daughter of Admiral Arn.

Sigyn shook her head as she took Frandal's hand. "I'm staying!" she declared. "I'm fighting for Asgard and for the house of Odin," she admitted looking back at Queen Frigga. "Songs will be sung of this day and whether they be songs of victory or sons of mourning, I want to be in the number of faithful who fought for the lives of all this day!" she decreed.

"Let her fight alongside the Einherjar Frandal," Heimdal stated. "Asgard doesn't have much time. We need every mighty warrior we possess," he winked his golden eye in the handmaiden's direction. Lady Sigyn's eyes grew wide, she gasped and then her dainty lips broke forth in a most radiant smile. To have Master Heimdal count her in the number to be worthy to fight with the Einherjar was unbelievable. She wanted to bow, thank him, tell him that she was not worthy of such high praise, but before her lips could form a word she heard the calvary charge call. Sigyn turned back around the find that the rest of the Einherjar had started to rush into the fray of the fight with the cry, "FOR ASGARD!" on their lips. "LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN!" they sung as they ran with their weapons raised high in the air whether that weapon was a crusted over golden brick or a mighty sword.

"Lady Sigyn with me!" Lady Sif called to the golden-haired woman. "LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN!" she declared at the top of her lungs. She split her double-bladed saber so that she now had two distinct blades. She stretched her arms out wide and charged full speed ahead. She rushed past the Einherjar who were on the front lines. Pushing back the Dark-Elves. She took care not to injure her fellow Einherjar, but upon seeing the Dark-Elves she drove her blades through their midsections like a hot knife through butter.

Frandal and Volstagg likewise followed suit. The Generals came shouting and jeering at the opposing army. Frandal was limping but still sprinted forth with all his might. When he noted the Dark-Elves had cornered a few elderly citizens, the blonde-haired swordsman dashed to their rescue as a man possessed. He threw himself in front of the elders and before the Dark-Elves could fire off their blasters he rammed his sword into the barrel and yanked the weapon from their hands and began to pistol-whip them with their own weapon.

Volstagg led soldiers to ambush the Dark-Elves. He went with the soldiers who did not have form weapons, but merely bricks and sticks. His weapon, his mighty battle-ax had been damaged in the midst of everything. He was merely left with the blade of the weapon. He had no hilt or handle. Still, the warrior of girth wrapped his hand around the middle of the battle-ax. He swung it powerfully and used it to cut through the lines of the Dark-Elves with abandon. The large Einherjar would take to spinning like a top and quite agilely for a man of his considerable size. He would spin, spin, spin with battle-ax in hand, and completely slice through the taser guns that the Dark-Elves possessed. Without their weapons, the Dark-Elves ran scared from the red-haired Einherjar. Volstagg wouldn't let up he'd have his small battalion take up arms with the sticks and stones and bricks and pelt the warriors of Svartalfheim into the dust.

Lady Sigyn tried to stick close to the Einherjar. Most of the men were limping, wounded and bleeding from every part of their bodies. Their legendary speed was manifested. To Sigyn's knowledge, the Berserker Staff was not among their possession, but every one of the warriors attacked with the fury of the great warriors of old. Lady Sigyn wished that she had the opportunity to take hold of the ancient staff and feel the immense power that it was said to give those who touched it. Though she could hardly imagine feeling more adrenaline rushing through her veins than now. Her feet raced and scrambled leaping over the fallen bodies of fellow Asgardians. Each and every crumpled broken person she found filled her with a new drive. Sword was not her weapon of choice during her years of study, but still, she knew how to wield it well enough. With her face contorted as she shouted a battle cry, she fell in line with the ranks of soldiers. Blasters were being fired, vortex and bombs going off all around her. Some of the valiant would sacrifice themselves to the vortexes. They'd allow themselves to be sucked up and they'd cry out the name of their beloved realm. Just as the Dark-Elves would start to gloat and glory in the death of a soldier of Asgard another Einherjar or Valkyrie would take the moment to thrust a javelin or sword at the brutes. One such warrior had been in front of her an older Valkyrie. She ran straight into the black hole that the Dark-Elf weapon had created so as not to have others fall prey. Her eyes lastly locked on Sigyn. Sigyn gasped seeing the horror upon the Valkyries face as she was sucked into the nothingness of the hellish black and red atmosphere. Out of nowhere, another Dark-Elf leaped forward ready to toss a bomb at the battalion and send them all off to be hurling souls into Valhalla. Sigyn shouted instantly and precisely swung her sword so that it chopped the hand of the warrior of Svartalfheim clean off. She heard him grunt and groan like an animal. The blaster flew from his severed hands and went off in the air, several of the wormholes forming rapidly and sucking up soldiers left and right. The Einherjar applauded and encouraged the queen's lady-in-waiting. Sigyn was wide-eyed and breathless as she beheld what she had done. She kept running, all the while thinking of how she had never directly taken a life...she didn't want to kill, but she wouldn't let her kingdom fall. Lady Sigyn pressed forward, she held her sword and a dangerous angle and she hacked limbs like timber as the Aesir forces who were gaining steam with more and more citizens joining their ranks mowed over the Dark-Elves. The brave warriors did their best to fight against the Dark-Elves whose numbers were already dwindling. With broken shields and swords swinging left and right. They slowly managed to gain a foothold and push the Dark-Elves back to where they were pressed with their backs toward the gated and no sign of retreat.

Upon the scaffold, Malekith had lost many of some of his best warriors. Their bodies were strewn like broken dolls. The general looked upon their bodies the dark blood making the platform slick as oil and he and Loki slid around as they continued to attack one another. Loki realized that the power of the Aether and Gungnir were evenly matched at this point as Convergence inched ever closer. He could shoot as many golden blasts as he wanted. He could take out Malekith's men, but the general himself was nigh impervious with the Aether defending him. He'd have to use a close attack. He used the blood-saturated scaffold to his advantage. He slid forth on his knees just narrowly dodging a blast from Malekith. He stood up and he was in Lord Malekith's face. Just then Loki launched forth his arm. In it had a small dagger concealed to slip into Malekith's side. The knife went through the Dark-Elf's thick black armor and Loki was sure that it had pierced his side. He brought his tired green eyes to look at Malekith's he doubted they'd reflect much emotion, besides pain. The trickster was surprised to find Malekith's soulless pits glistening with glee. Loki felt the dagger sucked right out of his own clasp. Lord Malekith's ghostly lips formed a smile and sickening knife-like teeth gleamed as he saw the surprised expression on Loki's pale face. Loki looked down quickly noting the way the Aether clouds gushed and oozed around Malekith's offended side and they formed a protective layer around him. Loki attempted to yank his hand out of the Aether ooze, but he couldn't. His green eyes were momentarily frantic. Malekith in return brought shot the dagger back out at Loki, releasing it right into the self-proclaimed king's belly. Loki gasped and fell upon his knees; his free hand clutched his stomach. Malekith gripped him roughly by the hair and yanked his head back revealing Loki's lily-white neck as he winced. "You're pathetic! "The leader of the Elves spat. "You could have been the second in command to Thanos, although you never deserved that honor and you give it up for what?" he barked. "FOR WHAT? Sentiment." he shook his head in disgust, making sure to keep his talon-like finger-twisting Loki's head in an uncomfortable angle. "So soft!" he slapped Loki across the face. "You love family?" he asked mockingly. "Well, you can have them," he swore viciously. "I'll skin your Frost Giant hide and make into the rug Thanos treads upon it when he takes over these realms!" Malekith released Loki. He collapsed on the ground panting as he clutched his side. Malekith let out a malicious smile and he raised his dark saber and he was ready to decapitate one son of Odin this day. "Long live the house of Odin," he mocked

Underneath him. Malekith started to feel the scaffold shake and rock viciously. He looked down to see the Asgardian miscreants were rising up trying to break it down. All the while the people were shouting, "LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN! LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN!" Malekith's eyes widened in a moment of panic. He growled once more and pressed the sharp edge of his large dark blade to Loki's neck.

Just as Lord Malekith was about the finish his plans to execute a member of the house of Odin this day. He felt the hand of one of his still-living soldiers upon his shoulder. The Dark-Elf was severely injured, he could scarcely stand and his breathing was haggard. He could not even completely utter words, but he let out a few faint grunts and he managed to lift his finger to point toward the gate on the far side. The Aesir were winning despite the fact his soldiers were firing blast after blast. "NO!" Malekith roared as he beheld his troops losing. "NOT AGAIN! RETREAT! RETREAT!" Malekith called to the few remaining soldiers. "FALL BACK!" he hollered. With that Malekith unleashed a furious blast of the Aether. Black and red shards like the tentacles of a beastly fearsome Kraken flew out everywhere once again engulfing the City Square causing the Aesir the falter and fall to their knees gasping and trying to breathe.

"Noooo," the dark-haired enchanter groaned as once gain he watched the Asgardians fall under the power of the Aether. It knocked them down and sent them flying and scattering all over. Under the deep, dark veil and haze of the Aether ash that coated the Center Square Malekith and his men disappeared into the palace.

Loki crawled across the blood-slick scaffold on his belly, clawing through the inky substance as he tried to get to the edge of the scaffold. The dagger dug deeper into his stomach. Finally, managed to roll over on his back. He attempted to pull the dagger from himself, but his hands were slick with Dark-Elf blood and trembled fiercely. He watched as all of a sudden 5 familiar figures leaped on the scaffold and surrounded him. All pointing weapons in his direction. His emerald eyes blinked for a minute as he tried to place the figures. One of them reached down and roughly yanked the dagger from his stomach! He screamed as the knife was removed from his side without mercy! The blade was then pressed toward his throat. His own blood dripping on him. Loki's opened his eyes to see a fearsome female face, "S-s-sif," the tyrant stuttered.

"You have one minute to live Loki," Sif raged. "Fill it with words before I slit your throat as Malekith would have done," she threatened and she straddled him and pressed the knife deeper into his jugular.

Loki wheezed as he let out a smug grin, "Always the charmer Sif," he quipped.

"WHERE IS THOR?" the warrior woman demanded.

Everything was black. Prince Thor felt the pain from the wounds on his body. Every inch of him ached and throbbed. From head to toe, he was wracked with indescribable pain. It hurt to breathe. He wasn't sure where he was. He tried to open his eyes just once, but they were so blackened and bruised he had scarcely been able to do so. When he made the feeblest attempt to look and see his surroundings everything was such a furious blur. All he took in was blackness. He slammed his eyes shut. Tears and blood leaked from his eyes and stung them fiercely. This must be death. He must have been dead, dead and engulfed in blackness.

Prince Thor recalled being on the scaffold, bound and chained and powerless before his brother. No, not, his brother. That crazed animal that savage...that monster who had done all these terrible things, who had tried to kill him numerous times and left Asgard in ruin and who was planning on leaving the Nine Realms in complete and utter darkness, that couldn't be his brother. But then again maybe there was no "brother." Maybe "Loki" had always just been a ruse and a shame. His nature was just that of a trickster, a liar. In those final moments, his mind had been a blur. The memories came unbidden in his panicked and desperate state. He thought of so many times when Loki's duplicitous nature had got the better of him. It had started when they were so young.

---

He was reminded when they were boys. One day they'd been playing in the courtyard as was their custom. Perhaps they were playing hide and seek or tag. But either way, he'd been running trying not to let Loki catch him. Loki had gotten faster he had to admit, he didn't get winded or tired as quickly now, but he was still faster. He was laughing at the thought of leaving his brother behind in the dust. "Loki...Loki...Loki!" he called. "Come on, Loki, you give up yet?" he yelled boisterously to no one around. The only person around was their nursemaid old Helga, but she was busy gabbing with another one of the servants. She wasn't paying much attention. "Ha! Ha! Well, I win! I win!" the young prince of Asgard continued to chime. "And I'm taking your dessert tonight," he bragged the more as he strode around and went over to one of the trees with its low-hanging branches. He started to leap up and grab one of the low-hanging branches to climb the tree, but mid-jump a thought came to him what if Loki wasn't ok. It wasn't uncommon for Loki to get exhausted in the heat, he'd get so thirsty that he'd start to cry and hor he'd break out in hives if he was exposed to too much sun, there were a few times when he'd actually found Loki passed out, but that was a while ago, his brother was quicker and sturdier, now, but still he could have passed out somewhere in the courtyard. Thor started to feel nervous. He really should have gotten Helga "Loki! Little brother where are you?" he called as he looked high and low for a moment searching for Loki. He thought maybe he was slumped against a tree somewhere or maybe he was cooling himself by one of the fountains. He started to rush off to tell old Helga that Loki was hurt, but in the midst of his hastening, something shiny caught his eye. Gleaming in the grass there was a beautiful, long, emerald snake. Its coat and pattern were so alluring. Its green seemed to stand out so much from the green of the grass. The well-manicured lawn looked dull in comparison to the gem-colored coat that the snake wore. The blonde-haired son of Odin did like snakes. Temporarily, distracted from his mission to find his younger brother he stooped down to scoop up the serpent. The legless creature immediately slithered over to him and wrapped itself around his hand. Thor smiled at the charming little garden snake. He stroked its cold, skin. "You're kinda cute," he admitted as the little forked tongue lapped out at him. "I could use a new pet," He admitted with a shrug. He didn't need any more pets; he had a whole menagerie of animals. He could just picture Helga letting out a high-pitched squeal when she saw him carrying the serpent her way. "I'll call you, Thor!" the eldest son of Odin declared. He tossed his head back and laughed. "You'll be prince of snakes!" he proclaimed over his new pet. But all at once, the snake started the change it started to metamorphosis right before his eye. All of a sudden, the serpent's body had his younger brother's head sticking out from it.

"BLAHH!" Loki screamed out his bright green eyes were wild and wide.

"AHHHH!" the golden-locked son of the king of Asgard screamed. He shook his hands wildly and frantically dropped the snake.

That was just who Loki was. He was just a trickster who didn't play fair. Loki could have just tagged him. He didn't have to trick him and scare the living daylights out of him and nearly cause him to have a heart attack as a child or pretend to bite him as he had done. He didn't have to lure him in and trick him under the guise of being some beautiful creature only to have a sneak attack, but That's what Loki had done. That's just who Loki was. A slimy snake that lied wait in the grass, a trickster to the end. He'd always shown his true colors, but he'd never seen that then. He'd been a little boy who had just wanted to help his brother and he'd paid the price for it then. He'd paid the price for it now and if it was just, he who was paying the price, he probably could have forgiven Loki, but all Asgard had suffered the wrath of this venomous viper. It troubled him so the think that all the while, century after century of being raised together and playing together that Loki had just used it to bide his time waiting to strike. Thor's hazy mind allowed the memory to continue to play, it didn't completely end there. Loki had broken into a laughing tizzy upon seeing Thor's horrified expression. He doubled over with laughter, grabbing his belly and pointing. "Ha-ha-ha! Oh, I got you good that time brother," the younger child proclaimed. He rolled on the ground laughing. "I scared you...I scared you...go on admit it," he continued to tease.

Thor shook his head, "No you didn't, Loki," the older boy protested. He was in a huff, still trying to catch his breath and slightly embarrassed.

"Oh, yes I did," the dark-haired prince insisted. "You were all...AHHHHH! NOOOO!" Loki imitated his older brother's antics down to the facial expression.

"You...you just surprised me, that's all," Thor proclaimed as he finally caught his breath.

"Yeah right! You were scared," Loki declared and stuck his tongue out.

The blond-haired son of the king continued to shake his head. "Well...well...I just wasn't expecting it," he continued. "And you didn't have to bite me!" the golden-haired child explained as he looked at the area where the fangs had sunk into his thumb, he was surprised there was no mark, but it still smarted at the moment.

Loki sneered. "That's the whole point," Loki rolled his gem-colored eyes and crossed his arms.

"Yes, well..." Thor muttered to himself as he dusted off his trousers. He didn't take kindly to Loki getting the better of him, but Loki was getting better at such things now a days and he was only happy that his friends hadn't been privy to his embarrassment. "Well...well," the beautiful blond boy struggled to come up with a counter.

"I'm listening," Loki stated as he cupped his hand to his ear.

"Well, I thought you were a snake and I mean...hey getting a look at your face is enough to scare anybody," the older sibling teased.

"Hey!" Loki snapped after the insult. It was a low blow Thor knew. They were young, but Loki had already started to become more sensitive about his looks. Asgardians loved beautiful looks and beautiful children were often praised. Prince Loki's looks were often questioned and the shrewd youngster had listened in on enough conversations to know that people found his looks curious. One of their aunts had mentioned it before. He was too pale and did not look like the rest of the family.

"Anyway," Thor said as he sat up, "How'd...how'd...how'd you do that?" he inquired.

Loki pointed to himself with a proud thumb. "I've been practicing!" the young child started bobbing his head up and down excitedly. Thor's eyes widened quite a bit at the thought. Loki was around the Midgardian equivalent of 5 at nearly 212 years of age. Mother had started showing him a few of her tricks. They were always spending time together in the garden and mother had shown him how to make a seed grow in an instant. Loki had been excited about the trick, but Thor hadn't been that impressed. It was just a seed. Just a flower, who really cared. But this was much more impressive! He'd never even seen mother do something like that before.

"Well did you like it, brother?" Loki asked eagerly as he looked down and shifted his boot through the grass. "That was a pretty good trick, right?" His emerald eyes looked up at his older sibling with so much hope for approval. He was wringing his little alabaster hands together. He finally, stopped fidgeting and extended a hand to help hoist Thor to his feet.

Prince Thor started to nod, "It was pretty good," Thor started to admit with a smile, he ruffled the younger boy's ebony curls. Loki giggled as he looked up at his big brother, "But you nearly caused me to have a heart attack!" Thor protested. "No tricks next time, you aren't supposed to do that in the game," The elder sibling tried to instruct.

"Well, you're not supposed to hit! Or put me in headlocks! Or sit on me!" the younger prince stomped his foot.

"I'm only teaching you how to be a warrior, little brother," Thor insisted as he flicked at Loki's nose and walked past him.

Loki took long quick strides as he tried to keep up with his older brother, "You're not a warrior!" he pointed out.

"I'm Prince Thor of Asgard!" the elder thumped his chest. He then raised his fist mightily in the air, "I'm the greatest warrior in all of Asgard," he proclaimed proudly as he stuck out his chest in a triumphant hero's pose.

Loki rolled his green eyes, "Yeah, well 'Greatest Warrior in Asgard'" Loki began. Thor immediately turned around. he liked the sound of that. Maybe he should start making Loki call him that from now on. "You're it!" Loki pointed at him gleefully before bursting into fitful giggles and then scampering off in another direction.

And just that quick the trickery and duplicity of the younger child had been forgotten they were just two boys playing in the courtyard once more. And he could see that Loki wasn't a snake, but a good, sweet, gentle albeit mischievous little boy, his constant companion and his best friend. But he'd been wrong. He'd been so, so, so wrong all along. He'd been a fool! He'd been a naïve, simpleton, who Loki has used and taken advantage of for all those years and if it was just him. If Loki would have just led him to the scaffold and executed him for his own selfish gain then maybe Thor could have accepted that, but now all of Asgard was burning. The city was bathed in the dark, red ash that made it look like death personified. And it was by Loki's hand. He hated that he'd allowed this to happen to his people. He was supposed to protect them. He's sworn to his father and before all the elders of Asgard and before the leaders of the Dwarves when he'd gotten his hammer that he would use it for the good of the realms.

He supposed he hadn't always lived up to that when he was younger. He'd made many mistakes and blunders with his hammer before. It was such a powerful weapon and he had been a show-off at best and not completely understanding the power and gravity of the tool he'd been given, but Loki had always been there to help him. He'd help him learn and grow with the weapon. When he'd first gotten his weapon, he'd been careless he'd drown fields of crops in rain, cause damaging winds that had created a violent tempest that had devastated a small village on Midgard. Loki had been his voice of reason telling him that if he didn't stop father would take Mjolnir from him. There was the time that he had allowed the hammer to fall into the possession of the horrid, but lovely Lorelei. He had almost married the siren. And thereby he would have given her the power of the hammer. Loki had been the one to build a collar that could silence her and protect the integrity of his power. There was time he'd almost gambled the weapon away to the Frost Giants. He'd gambled the hammer; he hadn't thought that he'd lose at a game to the Frost Giant Helbindi. Loki had told him not to put the hammer on the table, but he'd never listened until it was too late. In the end, the only thing Helbindi desired more than the power of the hammer to present to his father, was a beautiful bride. He wanted Freya, who at the time Thor was courting. It was Loki who devised a clever all-be-it embarrassing plan for them to get the hammer back which involved him dressing up as a bride for Helbindi. With all those times and countless others in which Loki had helped him retain his hammer, he couldn't have imagined that Loki would be the one to strip him of it permanently.

Thor continued to lie on the ground still hardly able to move or get his bearings and concentrate on fighting against the pain on his bloodied back and arms. He took deep breaths. The only noise he could hear was his ragged breathing, but he remembered hearing the crowd roaring his name, begging and pleading for Loki not to kill him. Their ragged screams had seemed to fall on deaf ears. Loki didn't care. Loki didn't care about him at all. There was nothing that the crowd could have possibly said that could have stopped Loki from his path of destruction. The Prince of Asgard only wished that Loki would be satisfied with his death alone. Still, the worst of it was thinking about the things Loki would do to the people of Asgard. Maybe he'd give the people of Asgard a chance. He wanted a throne. Now, he had one, he hoped that he wouldn't torture the people, but he knew that Loki would. He'd destroy their lives, make them slaves to help build the Dark-Empire. The poor humans would not even survive most likely, they'd be overrun by disease and other natural disasters that the Aether would cause. Thor felt immense shame and pain in knowing that he had failed them. He could only hope that maybe his companions on the Earth, the Avengers, maybe they could save some of the mortals, but Asgard would burn either way. There was a part of him that tried to feel a sense of relief. The Aesir would never want to live as slaves, they'd be happy to die and join the ancestors and the great kings of the past in Valhalla. Thor screamed out in the darkness, this terrible prison, the pit of Helheim that he'd found himself in, alone and shrouded in darkness. He deserved no better than this ending, the rest of eternity spent in torment for allowing calamity to befall the Nine Realms and probably soon the rest of the cosmos. He deserved to rot in Helheim alone.

The crowds' cheers had faded from his mind in those final moments. His world was reduced to choppy seconds of frenzy and everything blurring. The sobbing, helpless crowd pleading for him and saying that they loved him. It was good to hear. He felt like such a failure as a prince and a hero and son and a brother. It was good to know that his people had forgiven his sins even if the Spirits, the Fates and the Great Kings hadn't. Of course, they hadn't truly known all the gravity of his sins. They hadn't truly known of his foreknowledge, his warnings that Loki would do all these monstrous things and how'd he'd been given numerous opportunities to stop it. That guilt would now haunt him in the underworld for all time, but at least he wouldn't have to live with the hate of the Asgardian people, (that honor would be Loki's alone) he'd live with the hate of his own brother, no not brother's he and Loki had never been brothers. It was funny it was only in death that he finally had learned that much. Prince Thor started to let out a bitter chuckle, that turned into a pained cough as he could still feel the burning sensation of the Aether ash clogging his lungs. He didn't think that the uncomfortable feeling would be a problem in death, but if he truly was in the underworld and not Valhalla, he had to remember that there was no relief from pain here. The cough gave way to a brutal sob

"Don't worry Thor, this will all be over soon," he declared. Thor heard the articulate mage's masterful words. Loki never seemed so strong to him and he never felt so weak and defeated in his life. It was an awful way to feel completely helpless in front of all who were depending on him for help and in front of the one person who he'd thought he'd always be able to count on for help. His mind had been in a panicked and hazy state. Perhaps he'd just been dreaming or delirious, but he almost thought he heard the sincerity in the tyrant's sentence. In that moment Thor's breath hastened. He'd practically hyperventilating. He'd shaken his head, but he hadn't had the strength for much physical protest. Even just shaking his head took a great deal of energy and soon his head fell limp once again. His bruised chin had slumped against the royal armor that had been mounted on his chest. It was a mockery. He'd just been a lowly slave and a pawn in Loki's shadowy game. As Loki had spoken those mocking words, he'd kept raking his long, pale, icy fingers through Thor's shortened mane. Even the haircut that had been forced on him was the sign of a slave. He'd been shorn like a sheep for the slaughter. Thor had tried to shake his head and buck against those light and delicate, skillful fingers that kept petting his short hair. As he'd lied flat on his back and The Crown Prince of Asgard had let out a growl, but even that had been painful to his throat. He wished to Yggdrasil that Loki would have just slap him.

He recalled the feel of those hands in his hair,0 the touch so familiar, nearly comforting. And he was so desperate at that point. So, needy that Thor thought that he'd leaned into the touch. It reminded him of times long ago. The self-proclaimed King of Asgard kept running his smooth, cold, clean fingers through Thor's shortened hair. For just a moment Thor nearly found himself leaning into the touch. it was so familiar. It was a comforting touch in times of distress, so much like his mother's. Light fingers, fluttered through his damp hair and brought him back to wakefulness, "Thor?" Loki's voice was smooth, gentle, still, and nervous. Thor was still moaning and muttering in his sleep even though the healers had administered the antidote already. Thor being sick was not a sight the younger prince was much used to. Thor was always hearty and healthy and strong and viral, he was the one who was supposed to be laid up in bed with fever and chills, he was used to it by now, not Thor. Thor scarcely got the sniffles. Let alone a dreadful disease this serious. Loki felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe if he wouldn't have been away on Alfheim... Maybe he would have been with Thor, he'd probably be the one sick with fever, shivering, and muttering nonsense, but that would have been better than seeing his older sibling in such a state. "Come now, it's time to wake from this," he said gently, coaxingly as he kept a damp cloth to the crown prince's forehead.

Thor's glassy, reddened eyes batted open slowly, His surroundings swimming in and out of focus as he started to recognize where he was. "M-m-mother?" the big blond-haired prince questioned.

A clipped tone let out a chuckle, Thor felt something playing in his tangled tresses. "Guess again, sunshine," said a cool distinct voice followed by a lopsided grin.

"L-l-l-loki?" he asked groggily as he saw his pale face and worried green eyes. He smiled through his cracked lips and fevered haze. He recognized the voice. He'd missed that voice so much "You're...you're...you're...here?" Thor asked his normally booming voice a timid whisper from disuse. His blue irises were unfocused and confused. He winced after the words came out of his mouth. "R-really, really here?" he questioned. The words tumbled from his slack lips as the blonde-haired prince threatened to fall back into unconsciousness. He reached up a shaky palm to try to touch his brother's face. He was sure that his hand would phase right through him. His hand didn't even make it to touch Loki's face before it fell back at his side.

"Shhh," he put his finger to his lips while his other hand continued to stroke the long strands of blond hair out of his eyes. "Yes, I'm here...relax," he stated. He tried to pull the covers over Thor's sweaty body. He had lost a bit of weight in his sickness, but he was still brawny and muscular.

Thor nodded for a moment. Then his eyes darted around the room as if he was searching for something, his breathing a bit labored. "I...I...I didn't think...I'd see you again" Thor admitted through heavy breaths. "But I...I wanted to...wanted to see you," he whispered. "I wanted us..us..us... to go sledding again..." he muttered deliriously.

Prince Loki pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. His fingers stopped flicking at the strands of his brother's hair, he placed his hand on Thor's brow. He was still warm. But not nearly as warm as when he had seen his brother a few days ago. Thor was sweltering to the touch and he was in no way coherent. They hadn't been sledding together in 300 years. Loki smiled though as the old memories ran through his head. "Hmmm, that must be the fever talking," he said shaking his head. "I think the elixir is working though, you're much more lucid now," the raven-coiffed prince stated to his brother. He shook a small vial filled with a golden liquid at his brother. "Just rest," Loki expressed his hand still, absentmindedly rubbing through Thor's long matted locks.

"Idunfeelgood," Prince Thor muttered like a little boy. He leaned into Loki's touch. His brother's hands were light, smooth, but still strong. They reminded him of mother's hands, but Loki's hands always had a slight chill to them. "Ifeelsick," Thor continued to moan.

The raven-haired prince nodded. His heartstrings were being pulled on. "You'll feel better soon," Loki assured him. And Loki's simple statement made him relax just a bit.

He looked up at his younger brother from the flat of his back, he was still practically gasping for breath, He blinked weary blue eyes. They were so bloodshot and cloudy that one would hardly notice how brilliantly blue Thor's eyes really were. "Am...am...am...I...gonna die?" Thor asked with a gulp. Thor's face was stricken with panic as he looked into the deep green eyes, searching for truth and clarity. Even Loki couldn't give in to his penchant for mischief and lies seeing his burly, brave older brother looking so frightened.

"Shhh," Loki hushed him once more as he kept his nimble fingers through Thor's sweat-soaked strands. Loki's thin lips curled into a gentle smile, "of course not," he put his hands on Thor's cheeks, they were already starting to feel cooler. "You better not die," Loki stated somewhat harshly in Thor's ear. "After I came from Alfheim and had to journey with Sif of all people to Musepelheim," Loki panted and stuck out his tongue and fanned himself. The realm was far too hot. "To find the elixir," Loki's said with a wink.

"You and Lady Sif worked together?" Thor inquired eagerly as he tried to keep his eyes open. It was then that he noticed that Loki's tunics were slightly tattered and battered, singed, his eyes looked tired.

"Yes, begrudgingly," Loki admitted as he blew out an exasperated breath, "It was quite a quest, to a hidden valley inside a great volcano is Musepelheim," Loki winked. His voice was enthusiastic as if we were one of the traveling storytellers who would come and entertain in the town square. "Quite a lot of work," He said with a yawn, "But I suppose you're worth it," he winked as he poured Thor a glass of cool water.

Thor's cracked lips formed an eager smile. He took the water from his brother and guzzled it down, "Tell me?" he asked like a child, with big expectant eyes. Loki was feeling slightly indulgent, Thor had been so sick, it was so rare for his older brother to even catch a cold let alone be this ill. A terrible sickness had swept over the land of Asgard, not discriminating, claiming old and young alike, putting them into a deep feverish sleep. The people had started calling it The Sweat. The only hope that the kingdom would not be overtaken by the dreadful disease was in the Pool of Elixirs. Which was guarded by a ferocious army of fire-breathing beasts. Once Thor had fallen prey Frigga had sent word to Loki while he was away studying at university in Alfheim.

"You really should rest, brother, I'll come back in the morning and tell you the rest of the tale."

"Donwannasleep anymore," Thor murmured as his helpless eyelids drifted shut.

"Well, you need to," Loki insisted. He was sounding as stubborn and unflinching as their old nursemaid, Helga. Loki started to pull the quilts around Thor's bare sweaty chest. It was much at ease, no longer heaving. "I could use a nap myself," the enchanter admitted letting out another yawn as he covered his mouth. He blinked and shut his eyes for a moment.

Thor caught him by the wrist, his rough calloused hands held a loose grip on his brother's bony wrist. "Don't go..." he practically begged. The raven-haired son of Odin nodded. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat, he took a seat back on the edge of Thor's king-sized bed.

"Alright," he whispered. "I'm here," he confirmed.

"Stay?" the golden-locked prince pleaded with panting.

Loki's brow creased slightly at the needy sound in the blonde-haired prince's voice. He took in his brother's visage. His skin was splotchy with red from fever, but it was also somewhat pale, cheekbones slightly more pronounced, circles under his eyes, "If I stay will you eat something?" the raven-haired enchanter countered. "Mother says you haven't kept much down," he stated. Instantly Loki produced a bowl of venison stew, that had been resting on the counter.

Thor gave a weak shake of his head. "Mmnothungrylooki," He sighed halfway as if he was about to fall back asleep.

Loki's fingers still played in his sweaty blonde locks. "Come, Thor, just a little. It's venison stew, your favorite," he winked. "Let's see if the elixir has improved your appetite.." he offers.

"Ok," Thor nodded sluggishly and attempted to give Loki a smile, but immediately broke out into fitful coughing. Loki's eyes widened as he beheld Thor being tossed about by the painful cough. When Thor's coughing seemed to have settled Loki instantly took to helping his brother sit up in the bed. Before Thor could even offer a protest Loki brought a spoonful of the warm brown broth to Thor's chapped lips to get him to eat. After one bite Thor licked his lips and allowed his eyes to slip closed and opened his mouth for another helping. Loki chuckled and continued to ladle the stew into his brother's hungry mouth until the bowl was finished.

"All done," Loki announced as he gingerly swiped Thor's face clean with a handkerchief. "See, you were hungry," Loki said with a wink. Thor nodded dully as his eyes drooped. He felt Loki's strong hands lowering him back on his plush bed. Loki smoothed back his hair a few more times. He watched as Thor's breathing evened out. He tucked the covers up around Thor's shoulders. He was getting ready to leave allow Thor to rest when he felt the Crown Prince of Asgard lean his forehead against his cool palm pressing into the touch.

"Bro-bro-ther, will you read me a story?" Thor slurred as he managed to raise bleary blue eyes to gaze up at Loki once more.

Loki pursed his lips. He allowed his hand to rest on Thor's forehead a moment longer to feel if his fever was subsiding at all. His brows nearly knitted together as he observed that Thor's forehead was still warm, although he was no longer smoldering to the touch. He wondered if the elixir that he had fought so hard to retrieve was even working. "You must be delirious," he teased. Then he reminded himself that Thor was at least lucid now, though perhaps barely. The worried expression instantly quirked to a half-grin on thin lips. Thor had never been much of a reader although he did enjoy a good story. If Loki could manage to convince his energetic older brother to settle down and read with him it was only if he agreed to do the reading. He supposed he owed the big oaf. Thor had begrudgingly read to him when he was too young to read himself. "So, it turns out the mighty Thor is nothing but a big baby when he's sick," the green-eyed prince turned around and winked. "Feed me, read to me, tuck me in, stay with me," Loki said in a mocking tone as he walked over to Thor's bookshelf. "What would they say to all that in the publicity scrolls?" he continued to tease.

The golden-locked prince shook his head weakly, "Nooodontell." Thor frowned. "Sorry," he moaned pathetically, his normally loud voice barely a whisper. "I'm annoying," Thor confessed. He sniffled his head lulled to the side. "Thaswhyyouleff" the Crown Prince slurred. "Youdonhaveto," Thor continued to mutter deliriously.

"Hush," Loki shushed him as he came back to sit on the edge of the bed. His soothing touch once against on Thor's head. "Since you are so very feverish," he paused his lips and spoke in a baby voice, "I suppose I'll have to humor you," Loki added "DragonFrost!" Loki expressed as he shook the old book in front of Thor's heavy, bloodshot eyes. " You remember this one? You like this one. The one about the brothers," Loki reminded him gently. Thor couldn't even bring himself to speak again. He was so tired, but he wanted the company, Loki's company. He managed to nod his head and hum a response. He gave a somewhat enthusiastic smile. Loki started to read the old tale, his voice clear and refined and bringing the story to life. "Then the brothers realized that neither one of them could defeat the enemy alone. Only when they combined the powers of fire and ice could they break through and destroy the terrible beast," He finished and read the end. He slowly started to close the book and stand up to exit his brother's bed-chamber seeing that Thor's eyes were closed and his breathing was easing.

Thor's clammy hands once again caught hold of his. His thick mitts fumbled for Loki's fingers. He peeled his tired eyes open to look into the familiar pair of emerald irises. "Lo...ki..I missedyou...You...gone...so..long," Thor did his best to express his still muddled thoughts.

"Well, I'm here now," Loki said gently as he closed the old tome. He patted Thor's meaty, but sweaty hands. "Is this how you intend to make me come back, get deathly ill every time I'm away?" Loki's sarcasm once again made him chuckle. "Like some type of needy mother hen who doesn't want her chicks to leave the nest." Loki continued to laugh his fingers to carding through Thor's too-long strands of gold hair.

Prince Thor's lips curled into a smile, he laughed and soon found himself heaving a cough. His throat ached, he sighed and whimpered, but soon found that Loki was bringing him a drink of tepid tea to soothe his throat. He sipped it cautiously. "You were so angry..." Thor moaned. "Said...you wouldn't come back...didn't want to come back...see me again," Thor went on with his eyes closed and a rasp coming from his throat.

Loki licked his thin lips. Yes, he had been angry, Thor had insulted his new friends and his new lifestyle in Alfheim, Thor said that Loki was just studying in Alfheim to avoid going away to a military training camp like most young men his age. He called it womanish cowardice. Loki called Thor a brainless oaf and said that he never wanted to come back to Asgard if it meant he did not have to be around him. He said he liked it more in Alfheim where everyone wasn't throwing themselves at Thor's feet and he could forget he even had a brother. And Loki had seemed to have forgotten about him. He didn't write him and when he went to visit, he'd seen that Loki had grown close to one of the Elfin princes, Prince Thraundil. "I said things I didn't mean," He explained quickly as he took Thor by the hand

Thor nodded momentarily, his throat hurt something fierce and he didn't much feel like talking, but there was still something that he had to know, "You prefer Prince Thranduil for a brother over me?" Thor questioned shamefacedly. He had visited his brother in Alfheim, visited Thranduil court. He'd seen how close Loki and Thranduil had gotten, they were laughing and joking together, telling each other secrets and speaking to each other of things that Thor didn't completely understand. They talked of science and physics and other things. They talked about the books they had read. He felt like an outsider and he felt jealous. They seemed more like brothers than he and Thor were.

Loki placed his cool hand on Thor's warm forehead. "Thor," Prince Loki started. He shook his head. "I'll always be here for you Thor, whenever you need me..." Loki stated. "You know that right?" He asked. "You can't lose me, Thor...I'm your brother, even when we fight, say foolish things to each other... you're my blood-brother," Loki explained. "Not Prince Thraundil," he gave Thor a wink and a firm squeeze of the hand there was a gentle smile on his thin lips.

"And..and...and you," Thor went on and squeezed Loki's hand as the thinner prince stood up. "Loki, I'm glad you're home," Thor let out a yawn. "Not home without you," Thor managed his voice a dry whisper. "I...I...I didn't want to die," Thor expressed as he smuggled into his plush blankets

Loki continued to allow his fingers to flutter through Thor's tangles and doing his best to soothe Thor's feverish mind. "No more talk like that," the younger prince admonished. He put his finger on Thor's lips. He pulled the covers over Prince Thor's large shoulders. "You're going to be fine. I wouldn't let you die," he assured him.

Thor smiled up at him, innocently, nodding more so along with the comfort of the sound of his brother's articulate voice than to the words. "I...I...I didn't...want to die and...and...and lose my brother," Thor spoke in earnest, his heavy bloodshot, droopy eyes barely stayed open. "Not have you here for me...P-pp-prince Th-Thraundil told me he wished he had...had...had a brother...like you," Thor tried to open his eyes once again.

"Well, I'm sure you told him how much of a royal pain I can be," Loki admitted coolly with a smirk

Thor's bloodshot eyes had settled into a closed state and he hummed contentedly to himself as he heard the familiar articulate voice of his brother. He'd missed that voice, even if that voice was calling him a fool or teasing him. "Mmmhmm," Thor nodded as he licked his dry licks and gave a small wag of his head in disagreement. "You're the best brother..." he finally slurred as he drifted off to sleep one hand still holding Loki's as he felt Loki's play with his sweaty, tangled locks. He was finally able to slip into a blissful peaceful state of sleep.

Those fingers, those fingers had stroked through his hair and made him feel safe. Made him feel like he wasn't alone. He'd trusted that hand, that touch so much and he'd allowed it to lull him into a trusting stupor so many times. Well, he'd not do it again he'd not fall for it again. It was just another way in which Loki always proved himself a traitorous trickster. Loki may kill him, but Thor was determined that he wasn't going to die a fool believing in Loki. He'd seen Loki in all his glory for exactly what he was a venomous dragon, a villain, and an enemy. Why even bother with the gentle, patronizing, familial touch. At this point why not just punch him in the face?

Prince Thor tried to open his eyes. It hurt and maybe it had been an unsuccessful attempt at opening them. He couldn't be sure if he did. All that was really around him was blackness. Pitch blackness and could. Maybe he shut his or maybe they were still open wide and tearful staring into emptiness, but Loki's sickening visage, the image of his brother just before his slaughter swam into his mind. His pale, bloodless face was wearing a grin. It was appalling all the devastation he'd caused and devastation he would bring and he'd had the nerve to have the crooked smirk on his face. Asgard was burning, the Nine Realms were about to be smothered in a blackness, Loki had been about to kill him and he was wearing that diabolical smile on his face as he'd just told some cheeky joke. Thor had wished he'd had the strength to raise his fist and punch Loki in the face and knock one of his straight white teeth out. He wanted to take Mjolnir and strike him down. But alas he'd had no weapon. He'd been powerless. He'd given up his strength, his power, his kingdom to save Loki's life, and now all of Asgard had to suffer for his stupidity.

He hadn't had a weapon, but Loki had. He'd had one of his gleaming, razor-sharp daggers looming over his head. It was pointed and ready to kill him. The dagger flashed before his eyes, he remembered that dagger. Loki had a collection of rare knives, he had so many. He was usually gifted with knives. He had too many to count, but the one that had been in his hand in Thor's last moments he'd recognized it. His eyes had barely been able to see, they were so swollen, but he could make out the familiar shape. The dagger wasn't Loki's...not technically...it was his. It was the Dragon-tooth Dagger that Loki had gotten him on the Solstice when he was first old enough to receive a real weapon. He had maybe been a Midgardian equivalent of 12, he still believed in Julenissen then. He was naïve when he got the rare weapon, he'd been so ecstatic thinking his beloved Solstice patient had bestowed the amazing gift upon him. It seemed like just the type of gift that Julenissen would give the Crown Prince of the Realm. He boasted about the gift all day it was his favorite present. It made him feel like such a warrior. Even his parents seemed impressed by the shiny dagger laced in brass and gold shaped like a fang. The servants oohed and ahhed. His friends were so envious. Loki just stood around smirking as he watched his older brother dart around with excitement over the gift. He immediately wanted to play a rousing game of slave the dragon with the dagger. In which he turned to chase his brother around the giant Yuletree and Loki even readily turned himself into a small scaley beast to play along. And they played and played.

For centuries the dagger never left his side. He always had it on him. His favorite weapon, just as valuable to him as Mjolnir. Although he never thanked Loki properly. He'd been too embarrassed by the time he found out that his prized possession wasn't a gift from Julenissen, because Julenissen wasn't even real, but his little brother who just played along. His brother had made him feel like a real warrior, like a man when he was a simple-minded little boy who still believed in fairytales at the time. That dagger, a precious gift, he considered it a symbol of their brotherhood now it was nothing but the means to his demise. Maybe that's all Loki had ever been all along with a means to their demise. The dagger was a real symbol of their brotherhood, something that was treacherous and deadly.

Thor bit deep into his lip. He tasted nothing but blood. Inwardly, he cursed the day now that Loki had given him that dagger. He cursed the day Loki had ever learned to wield a knife. He remembered when Loki had first started training with Master Plyto. Loki was eager to try a weapon, but he was clumsy at first and Mother was afraid that he'd cut his smooth little fingers off, Loki was more of a scholar than an athlete and Odin wondered if he would ever truly master a weapon, but Loki didn't give up. Mother worked with him as well. He never gave up. And he got good. He got great actually. He'd watch Loki train and grow and develop with his weapon. And some had called it a womanish weapon at best, Thor could recall taking part in some teasing that he'd thought was good-natured and brotherly. But all along he'd been impressed with how his brother as a knife fighter. How many days had they sparred together in the palace training salon? Thor with his sword and Loki with his dagger. He remembered the first time Loki bested him. Loki was about 300, a Midgardian10. Loki was of the age now when he could use a real weapon and he'd wanted so much for Thor to see him as a worthy opponent to spar with. Thor always sparred with Frandal and Volstagg and Sif and Hogun never with him. He said he was too little, too young. "I'll spar with you, brother," Loki called out enthusiastically as he chased the older boy down the hall.

'Loki it's supposed to be a sparring match, not a massacre," Thor laughed as he slung his sword over his shoulder. Nearly decapitating his younger sibling who quickly ducked under the blade.

"It won't be a massacre, Thor," Loki curled up his nose. "I'm good, I'm really good, Master Plyto said... and mother's been showing me somethings too," the younger prince insisted as he pulled out his dagger.

Thor rolled his blue eyes, "Like Mother would actually, try to hurt her wittle boy," Thor said all too sweetly and reached out to pinch his thin cheeks. Loki twisted his face away. "You probably use a blunted knife with Master Plyto, anyway " the older prince shrugged.

"No, I don't!" Loki balked.

"It's fine Loki, I'll just ask a servant to spar with me," he said and continued to walk away.

"Alright, well don't forget to mention to the servants how you were scared to lose to your little brother," he called out tauntingly, he knew that would get a rise out of the older boy. When Thor finally agreed they'd had 2 hours of practice combat. Thor was hungry and Loki was drenched in sweat obviously tired, Thor was ready to call it quits, but Loki was still fighting. He was all shaky limbed and panting but he was still going. Thor had his big heavy broadsword. He swung wildly and missed him by a mile. Loki saw the opportunity; he could get under Thor's large swings and get in his face. Loki bested him knocked his sword out of his hand and pointed his daggers at Thor's throat. "Ha! I got you that time, Thor," The green-eyed prince grinned from ear to ear. If he wasn't so exhausted, he would have jumped around and shouted to every servant in the palace that he'd beaten his big brother in a spar session.

"You cheated," Thor declared panting.

"How... come...every... time... I win you say I...cheated?" Loki inquired through huffing breaths. His arms quivered. But he dare not lower his daggers until Thor conceded.

"Because you always cheat," Thor added with a laugh. He tossed his head back and flipped his long blonde hair, "Come on let's get some lunch," Thor said as he tried to walk away. But Loki duplicated himself. The younger prince of Asgard had smirk on his thin pink lips as he surrounded his brother with himself and his blades all around.

"Say I won," Loki challenged, playfully.

Thor's blue eyes looked at Loki. Loki's green eyes were hopeful and dancing with excitement for a moment for praise and recognition from his older sibling. Thor nodded for a moment. "Ok, Loki, you won," he declared slowly as he reached out his hand and wiggled his fingers on Loki's stomach causing the younger son of Odin to burst into hysterical laughter. Loki started laughing hard. He was terribly ticklish. He laughed so hard he dropped his daggers. He tossed his head back and snorted. Thor kept tickling him mercilessly.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Loki begged in a squeal as he tried to twist and wriggle out of dodge of Thor's fingers. He finally fell on the ground in a heap of fitful laughter as Thor continued to torture him with terrible tickles on the stomach and under the arm and under his chin. "Quit! Quit! Quit!" he pleaded. "Come on...not kids...anymore..." he panted all smiles as he let out another irreverent snort.

"Ah-ah, say who won," Thor demanded still tickling his younger brother who had tears in his eyes from laughter.

"Thor...Thor...Thor please...tickling...no...fair...dirty trick," Loki giggled like a toddler.

"Oh, I thought you liked tricks!" Thor said smiling as he continued to make Loki laugh uncontrollably while he laughed too.

Thor wasn't laughing, now as he sat there in the obscure darkness. Loki wasn't giggling so feverishly that he couldn't stop snorting. They weren't sparing or practicing or dreaming of warfare where they could fight as Asgard's greatest team. They weren't a team...not anymore. They weren't those little boys playing at war anymore. It was horrible, that it had come to this. In his wildest dreams, he would have never imagined dying like this, so broken, bound, and powerless and at Loki's hands. Still, as Thor remembered gazing up into Loki's tainted emerald eyes that danced with a fiendish glee and this twisted moment of triumph, he recalled wanting to feel hate. He'd wanted to feel hate, pure, raw, and evil. Just like Loki felt. Loki felt hate. That seemed that was all that was left in him to feel; evil hate red and fiery and from the depths of Helheim, he felt so much loathing that he couldn't even control it anymore he had let it roll off of him in waves. It was like a hurricane, a destructive storm that destroyed everything in its path. Loki was 2000 years old. 2000 of what he considered brotherhood and all he had earned was Loki's hatred. Well, Thor had hatred too now. Why should he not? He was left to Helheim, alone, in pain, in darkness and soon to be in torment. It was all Loki's fault now. So why shouldn't he hate him? He wished he was alive to have crushed Loki with Mjolnir into tiny bits. He would have ground him up into dust so small that his ashes wouldn't even be fit to be sand on an asteroid. He hated Loki for what he'd done, for what he'd become. Had he the power he would have ripped his silver tongue from his mouth forever saying the word brother out of his lying mouth. It was simply a mockery.

Thor's flesh still held the lingering sensation of Loki's fingers lingering on his forehead. Was that to be part of the punishment enacted upon him in the afterlife. To always be saddled that mocking touch. It was the pretend comfort of a pretend brother. He hadn't even been able to hold his own head up in those final moments before Loki had done the deed. He should have been crying out to the kings of the past and to the Norns for help, but instead, his mind was still so full of memories and thoughts of Loki. He continued to allow 1000 memories to flash through his mind of the times that he had shared with Loki so long ago. All the memories of their boyhood and their adolescence and their adult lives that had been lived in tandem. All the fun they'd had playing together as children, all the mischief they'd caused, all the trouble they'd gotten into, all the laughter that they had shared, the endless adventures that they had together. Thor saw it all plain as day, but he then realized that Loki was also seeing it and reliving it too:

All the images were as real as flashes of lightning before his eyes. But at the same time, he could feel how Loki was there too. Their senses were connected, and both tuned in with the sights, sounds smells, and feels from so long ago. Loki and Thor could both feel the gentle handholds from their childhood together. One of the memories was Thor's purely. Loki was too young to truly remember, he had been about 10 years old, but less than a year old, by human stands. Loki could see himself as a hapless babe trying to figure out how to walk. He hadn't been crawling that long and crawling was so much easier. Thor's hands helping him gain a steady stance. "Come on, Loki, you can do it!" the elder prince cheered for the black-haired baby. He helped him stand up. He tottered with the first few clumsy leg movements. Thor held Loki's hands the entire time while his steps were uneasy and unsure. Thor let go so that he could try it on his own fell right into Thor's arms in a heap. He startled himself with the fall. He was only a baby as his lips started to quiver and he started to cry. "Aww! No cry, Loki no, cry" Thor gathered him up on his lap. He hugged him and kissed his cheek. "You can do it! Try again! Try again," he encouraged. And he did try again. Standing and falling over and over. He fell on his bottom and he fell on his knees and he fell flat on his face, he became frustrated and fussy with his lack of success, but Thor was there to help him stand back up each time and guided him as gently as he could, but Thor wasn't naturally very gentle, he pulled and pushed the green-eyed prince along eagerly. "When you...you walk...like...like a big boy...Loki we'll play games together all the time," he stated to his struggling younger sibling." We'll play tag and hide-and-go-seek...and...we...we...won't have to just play peak-a-a-aboo all the time," the blonde-haired boy explained to the baby. He put his hand up over his eyes and poked his head out at little Loki.

Loki giggled as he saw Thor's head appear from behind his fingers. He clapped his hands "Boo! Boo!" Loki exclaimed and covered his eyes for Thor.

Prince Thor ruffled Loki's thin, licorice locks, "Ok, ok, we can still play peak-a-boo sometimes," he laughed. "Come, on one more time little brudder!" Thor expressed. Loki concentrated and pushed off the floor on chunky legs on his own. He was wobbly, but Thor applauded his efforts and took a few steps away to see if Loki could do it on his own. He finally took ten, tiny stumbling, sloppy, steps right back into Thor's little arms. The second time was all gurgles and giggles, "You did it, Loki! You did it!" Thor exclaimed. He clapped loudly for him, he was cheered and wooted for him, he bounced Loki up and down as much as he could being little more than a toddler himself. Loki clapped excitedly for himself for a moment and laughed and squealed as he saw how pleased Thor was. "Mama! Helga, come see, come see! Loki can walk! Loki can walk" Thor yelled enthusiastically. The queen and their governess came rushing in, they were so excited to see the green-eyed babe take a few more steps right back into his big brother's extended arms. Then he plopped right back down onto his backside. He looked up at his older sibling, mother and nursemaid with a wide, ecstatic nearly toothless smile. Then he started to blink his eyes slowly and yawn. Loki rubbed his chubby, little hands on his tired eyes before his head slumped against Thor's chest. His fingers curling in and taking hold of his older brother's soft tunics. He learned that being Thor's companion would be exhausting.

Queen Frigga soon came and scooped up the sleeping little prince. "Oh Thor, you wore poor Loki out," she giggled as she carried her slumbering younger son and kissed his forehead. "Looks like your little brother would do just about anything for you," she said with a wink to the blonde-haired toddler who was eagerly bouncing at her side as she held his hand.

His memories kept being shared with Loki. They poured between the two consciouses. Most of which Loki actually could recollect. The experience of the shared memories went on Loki being privileged to so many cherished moments from their childhood. The games they had played together as children always laughing and talking and sharing secrets. They could both hear the whispers and squeals and laughter. And they both tasted the things they shared from a glass of warm goats' milk to the cookies and cakes they'd sneak down to the kitchen to swipe under the cooks' noses with the use of Loki's new abilities, to a goblet of wine after a toast. They shared the feelings of so many affectionate embraces, the firm, gentle weight of Thor's hand on his neck in the consummate brotherly gesture of Asgard experienced between the two men through the shared memory. It had been a mere 3 years ago at Thor's coronation, but it felt like 1000 years ago. Thor had looked at him with wide, sapphire eyes earnest and happy and trusting and needing reassurance of the person he cared about the most before he ascended the throne. He needed Loki's words so much than to know that Loki would be by his side as he became king of Asgard. "You're my brother and my friend. Sometimes I maybe...jealous, but never doubt that I love you," Loki had confessed. And Thor had believed. He'd smiled back at him. So thankful to have his brother by his side. He was such a guileless pup, he never suspected what was coming. Thor blamed himself for his foolhardy ways. How could Loki ever have said he loved him? How could he have ever believed? But at that moment as they'd shared the memories Loki's psyche was also open and vulnerable and he could feel that Loki had felt warmth and sincerity when he had spoken those words.

Thor only became aware of his own sobbing from the moisture on his face. He knew his torment would be ceaseless now. He had so much regret. He wanted his lips to form words just as hateful and venomous as the ones Loki could offer. He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs so that all of Asgard could hear, "SEE YOU IN HEL MONSTER!" right before Loki struck him down. But when he'd looked up at Loki for that final time. He didn't feel hate or loathing like he should have, he didn't even feel anger ...he just felt... sorrow and longing. Sorrow and longing for a relationship that he now believed were all in his head. Maybe for Loki, it had all be a trick, a sham and an act for centuries, but it had been real for him. He knew that Loki must have felt it. He must have felt something from those memories. He'd felt it. He must have felt something...still, somewhere... deep in his heart, soul, if he even still had one, Loki had those same memories. Thor couldn't help it, despite himself, and his better judgment and stubborn pride, he couldn't help the words that tumbled off his lips. He was so desperate. Desperate to do anything possible to save the Nine Realms, to save Asgard, to save his friends and family. He'd had to make just one last attempt. He'd so pitifully, pathetically called out to his captor, his betrayer, his usurper, "Brother, please."

Thor hadn't been completely sure; consciousness had been slipping from him then like water running through his fingers. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, but somehow, he thought he'd heard Loki respond to his plea amid all the chaos that was breaking out around him. "Brother, I have a plan," Loki's smooth voice was projected into his mind. The voice wasn't even audible, just a tiny whisper in the back of his head. He'd been too weak, too broken, to hurt to really see, his eyes were blackened and swollen, he couldn't see as blood and tears had been running down his face. But in his mind, he saw something flash before his eyes: the image of the Aether being put into a state of stasis by powerful blasts from Mjolnir, Gungnir, a well-crafted box for containment of the Infinity Stone and a device that Jane seemed to be working with that caused the Dark-Elves to disappear. That was the last thing he remembered. He knew no more until he'd come to the place where he was.

Thor thrashed about cold and disoriented as he tried to shake the memory from his head. Those memories were so vague, they were like a dream. He was sure he'd dreamed that. He'd just been panicked and frantic in the final moments of his life. He'd been so helpless of course he'd tried to cling to hope... to any hope. He was sure that he was just a naïve simpleton, still a gullible boy deep within who wanted to believe he had a brother. But he didn't. He didn't! He didn't! Loki hated him had always hated him. Loki hated everyone. He hated their mother and their father and their friends and the innocent people of Asgard. He'd brought this destruction down on them. That was all that was in him, evil and malice. Still, Thor was grateful that Loki had at least shown the tiniest sliver of honor. At least he hadn't felt the killing blow.

Thor took one last deep and shuddering breath and tried to still himself from being racked with tremors of endless pain. He wanted to lie there, wallowing in the darkness, and let his pain smother him and let oblivion overtake him, but if he had learned anything from Asgard's priests and sages about the afterlife, is that those who faced the grim fate of Helheim were bound to be tormented by the imps. Thor doubted he could escape or outrun the wicked beings, but he didn't want to be a sitting duck for all of eternity. He'd been that at the very end for Loki. He'd been Loki's fool; well, he at least was going to attempt to get up and face this Hel like a man.

He forced himself to open his bloody, blackened eyes with a groan. He tried to stretch out his arms to grope in the thick darkness, but that was when he noticed that his arms and legs were still shackled like a wretch. Thor tried to stretch, he tried to move in order to break his shackles and manacles, but he could get free. He shook them and wriggled, wiggled, and bucked, but they stayed connected to his wrist and binding his feet together. The blonde-haired prince found himself completely winded after his struggle. He panted and screamed in the darkness. He would just be a sitting duck left for the monsters of Nilfheim to come and pick the flesh off him. Prince Thor gave up, he waited for hounds of Helheim to come and find him. His blue eyes blinked back tears and stared into the bleak atmosphere caused his pupils to burn. His head pounded, besides the poisoned memories of a millennium of false brotherhood, he could hardly think. His chest and back ached abominably he didn't want to move. He felt all he could do was lie there and try to feed himself air. His limbs felt weak as water, Thor tried to move his big, muscular arms, but as feeble as they felt he might as well have been a paraplegic for the pain and the shackles. He could feel trails of blood running from his head, his back, his arms. He gasped for breath. His lungs were hurting from breathing in the Aether's ash. He was in such miserable agony he started to wonder if he was still alive. Death surely couldn't be filled with this much excruciating pain. Surely Loki had killed him. Loki was a merciless monster after all. But as he opened his eyes this time things started to swim into focus, not just an endless expanse of pitch blackness. He noticed things, the lofty ceilings, sloping rafters. He recognized the familiar golden cobblestones that his busted back was lying on. He huffed, panted, and attempted to roll over. Just the slight turn took heroic effort and left the thunderer grunting, he would have screamed from the pain in his shoulders. He flipped over onto his front. His face was pressed against a rug. The rug was plush, thick, and rich, the tassels and fringes on the rug felt like silk and velvet. Soon, smells started to waft into the crown prince's bloodied nostrils. Despite the red liquid that trickled down his nose and toward his mouth, he could smell the familiar scent of incense and musk. The blonde-haired prince tried to open his eyes a bit wider and see more. He saw many familiar things that swam in and out of his vision. But he could make out all manner of vials and bottles, crystal balls, oil lamps, machinations and contraptions of wonder and shine and books and scrolls so many books and scrolls. Thor blinked trying to orient himself... It couldn't be possible, could it? Thor was about to dismiss it as a delusion of the miserable realm that he was in. That might be even worse than all the other tortures of the damned that Helheim could concoct for him. He didn't want to have to be reminded of Loki, that vile, loathsome, betrayer for the rest of eternity. No, he wanted to forget such a creature as Loki ever existed. Thor shut his eyes and swallowed deeply to keep himself from sobbing once more. His bound hands twitched, but he noted now that something was in his right hand. He couldn't exactly bring his hand up to his face, but he felt the familiar weight and shape of the item in question. The dragon-tooth dagger. "Loki?" Thor questioned groggy and bewildered.

A/N: YAY READERS! YOU MADE IT! GIVE YOURSELF A ROUND OF APPLAUSE! I know that chapter was very long but hopefully, it was worth it ;)I just couldn't avoid all the brotherly feels and flashbacks. I really thought that we would be done with the battle scene in this chapter, but it looks like I still have more of it to write which maybe is a good thing. As always I appreciate each of you who takes the time to read this story. It is because of your continued enthusiasm about this story that I have continued to write it! Lastly, I just like to remind everybody that as we continue to face these difficult and uncertain times where we see disease running rampant, wars and violence much like the prophecy of Ragnarok in this story the Bible prophesies about the end of time and many of those prophecies are coming to pass. If you would like to know more about God's plan to rescue through JESUS CHRIST please feel free to message me. God bless you all.