The outskirts of New Asgard were in chaos, for there were fires everywhere and the invaders kept appearing in droves. They greatly outnumbered the Asgardians, and they were very confident that they could defeat them. The smell of burning and petrol filled the air, but though the humans had the advantage of surprise, they were sadly mistaken in their beliefs. The majority of the Asgardian defenders had been trained since birth to be warriors, and all were determined to protect their home. They had already lost one recently, and they were not going to lose another if they could help it. Once they had reached their positions, Thor gave the nod, and the battle truly began.

Loki could not help but grin as he felt the familiar weight of his daggers in his hands as he carved his way through the throng. His seidr was also in full use, for the treaty allowed him to use it to defend his home, and he was determined to make the most of it. He cast illusions to distract the enemy, and used spells to defeat them before an could get near him. Their weapons were useless against his armour, and he laughed as he defended his people. He loved the chaos of battle, and he had almost missed this. He was, after all, the God of Chaos, and what was more chaotic than this?

As he felled yet another enemy, he risked a look to his brother and smiled as he saw Thor take out three of the enemy tanks with one bolt of lightning. Stormbreaker was in full use, and though the rain was making it muddy under foot, it was helping to put out some of the fires. Valkyrie and Sif were laughing and swapping remarks as they fought together to defeat the invaders, while Korg and his Sakaarian friends made sure that anyone who slipped past the front line did not go any further. Their opponents were falling by the second, but still they kept coming.

Laughing gleefully as he fought off a trio of young men, Loki was truly grateful for that particular clause in the treaty right now, and he let out all of his pent-up rage and anger into the most powerful spells that he could muster. It was with grim satisfaction that he watched the invaders fall, and after twenty minutes or so, it was evident that the Asgardians were the victors. Still the invaders put up a fight, with no one willing to retreat, and Loki was in the middle of fending off one of them with his blades when he felt something tug at his mind. He glanced around for some sign of what it could be, and then he frowned as he realised he had felt like this once before, even though it had been many years ago now. But surely Freya was not so foolish as to use the sceptre while they were in the midst of battle?

The distraction cost him. His opponent grinned as he plunged his blade into the Trickster's side, and Loki hissed with pain. Feeling truly annoyed now, he quickly dispatched his opponent and muttered a healing spell to patch the wound up, before he felt another tug at his being. He was alone now, and he glanced at the rest of the battlefield to see that there were few opponents still standing. The Asgardians had been victorious, and he wondered then why Freya would use the sceptre. After all, she should be in the crypt, safe with the children. Loki was also curious as to why it had not pulled him away from the battle, for the last time it had been used, he had been transported immediately.

The shot rang out across the settlement, and Loki felt his heart stop as he realised what it meant.

The sound had come from the gardens, and he knew for certain that he was bound to someone's will, for they were wishing him to help them. He cursed then, for he was tired from the fight and wanted nothing more than to retire to a warm bed. Today had proven to be a long and stressful one, and he had the horrible feeling that it was only going to get worse.

Casting a teleportation spell, he landed in the middle of the gardens and immediately took in the scene before him. Four of the invaders had fallen, while the fifth was stood by the fountain with the sceptre in hand. He had a rather smug expression as he spotted Loki, while the Trickster wondered just what on Earth the man was doing with the artefact. After all, it was unlikely that Freya would simply hand it over when she knew the value of it. He knew that she may hate him right now, but even then, she would not give up his freedom, for that was not who she was.

His eyes fell on Ragnar then, for the Head of the Guilds was out cold on the gravel, and Loki knew immediately what this meant. After all, he had made Ragnar promise that he would protect Freya, so that would be the only reason he would be here rather than the crypt. It would also explain just how the young man had the sceptre, for it had been in Freya's possession earlier. Yet Loki did not see the Midgardian woman in among the fallen, and despite how angry he was with her, he still wanted her to be okay.

"I guess the theory was right…" The man said triumphantly as he walked towards the Trickster. "You must be Loki."

"I believe you have the advantage…"

"Derek Caygill." He introduced, and Loki had the sense that he would not like this man's plans for him. He also knew that he could not let the sceptre leave this spot.

"What can I do for you?" The God of Lies asked calmly as he took a step forwards, before he saw another fallen person. This one was neither Asgardian nor enemy, and he felt his heart sink as he realised that there had only been one person who had dared to wear a dress so close to his green. Though he was not sure why she had been out here, he was determined to make sure that she survived this.

"You are going to give me exactly what I deserve." Derek stated, while Loki smiled at the choice of words.

"You have no idea." Loki stated, before lunging at him. The fight was over before it had begun, and Loki felt nothing as Derek fell at his feet, dead before he even hit the ground.

He was instantly at Freya's side then, and he felt his world slow as he saw the bright red bloom staining the front of her dress, while her life's blood pooled beneath her. She was ever so pale, and she was struggling to breathe. He had hoped that she had simply been knocked out, but instead she had been shot.

"No…" He whispered, for he knew instantly what this meant. "No… Please Freya…" But she did not respond. He cradled her to him, wanting nothing more than for her to wake up and tell him that it was simply some prank, but he knew that it was hopeless. As angry as he had been with her earlier, he had never wanted her to get hurt. He could feel the prick at the back of his mind, wanting to save her, and he knew then that Freya had been the one to use the sceptre. Loki realised then that she had used it out of desperation, and he cursed himself for not getting here sooner. She had needed his assistance, and he had ignored her. As a result, she had been wounded, and she barely had any time left in this world. The truth hit him like a brick, and Loki held her close as he absorbed this.

His dearest Freya was dying.

He had no idea what she had been doing out here, especially when she should have been far away from the battle. She should have been safe in the crypt with the others, well away from harm. He had given strict instructions for her to be kept safe, and he had trusted Ragnar to do just that. And yet…

Yet here she was, dying in his arms, far away from all that she loved.

No.

He could not let her die.

Not now.

Not like this.

"Stay with me Freya…" He whispered, as he pressed a hand against the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the blood, but he got no response. He needed Freya far more than he would ever admit to. She always had time for him, and she made life in New Asgard far more bearable than he had expected. She had kept him going when he had believed that all hope was lost, and even her mere presence was enough to make his day better. She had never once stopped believing that he was capable of great things, and she had encouraged his need for mischief. She was truly a good friend, and he had missed her recently. He had never been able to admit that, and now… Well, it did not matter. Their last words had been in anger, and now he would not get the opportunity to make things right. He had already gone through this once before with Frigga, and he had been determined not to let it happen again. Yet it had. Another woman he cared for was dying.

No. He refused to let the same thing happen again. He did not care what anyone else would say- they needed Freya alive, and to Hel with the consequences.

"Please don't leave me…" He whispered softly, for he could feel her slipping away with every breath. Offering up a silent prayer, Loki closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he tried to focus. Healing spells were some of the hardest of all, and Loki had not needed to use them for quite some time. Focusing purely on his seidr, he started to sing one of the healing songs that his mother had taught him some years ago, all the while hoping that it would be enough to save her.

One spell was not enough, and he moved straight onto the next, fully aware that his energy reserves were starting to run low. He had not used his magic so heavily for quite some time and it was taking its toll on him. Healing spells were the most draining of them all, and he dearly hoped that he had enough energy to save her. They needed Freya. She had done so much for all of them, and she was a friend to so many. To think of a New Asgard without her was almost unbearable…

He risked opening his eyes at the end of the second song, but if anything, she was getting worse. Her breathing was much more ragged now, and a small stream of blood was trickling from her lips. Loki's urgency grew, for he knew that he had only moments before there was nothing more he could do to keep her from death's icy grip. He desperately prayed for a miracle as he sang one spell after another, determined that one of them would be enough to save her. When one ended, he leapt straight into another, ignoring how much of a toll this was having on him. His wound had reopened, and he was feeling rather light headed, but he could not fail. Freya had saved him in more ways than he could count, and he was not going to give up on her now.

But as he continued, it was becoming increasingly difficult to remember the words, and he stumbled over a few. He knew that his time was starting to run out, but he refused to give in, for he was determined that Freya would not die. Not like this.

Mustering what little energy he had left, Loki focused on the final spell. His hands were covered in Freya's blood, and his vision was starting to leave him, but he knew that this was the only chance he had left. A faint golden green glow surrounded Freya's wound as he sang, for his seidr was not so strong now, and he instinctively knew that it was too late. Undeterred, he continued, but as he reached the end of the third verse, Freya breathed her last. Loki faltered as he realised what this meant. He had promised to keep her safe, and he had failed.

"I'm sorry Freya…" He whispered, before the wave of exhaustion claimed him.


Loki woke to find himself chained to a wall in a prison cell, and he sighed heavily as he realised that someone had tended to him while he slept. He had no idea how long it had been since the battle, nor where he was or who his captors were. Though his wounds had faded, his memories had not, and he idly wondered if there had been any other casualties, and if New Asgard was safe. He hoped that they would not pay dearly for his choices. After all, he was allowed to use his magic to protect New Asgard, but not for anything else. He had risked everything to save the life of his friend, and though it had not been enough, Loki did not regret it. At least he had tried, and he would accept the consequences. Freya had always warned that his magic would get them into trouble, and she was right.

He sighed heavily as he thought of the Midgardian woman. Though he had treated her terribly these past few weeks, he had hoped to make amends. He had missed their friendship, and he had wanted nothing more than to get that back. His lunches had been rather lonely, and he had struggled to find things to do in an evening. He had believed that he was always meant to be a solitary creature, but Freya had taught him otherwise. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and though he had learned plenty about Midgard, he still enjoyed listening to her explanations. He had enjoyed their time together, and he wished that he could have that back.

But she was gone.

That was the hardest bit to accept. He had wanted to keep her safe. He had wanted to find her after the battle and explain everything to her. He had no doubt that she would have forgiven him. Freya may have been angry with him at first, and he knew that he was deserving of such rage, but eventually she would have softened, and then it would be as if nothing happened. He had never been too sure if that was because she had a soft spot for him, or if it was just her nature in general, but he would never know for certain.

He had been aware that she cared for him for a few months now. It had been evident in her actions and in the way she looked at him, for there was a smile she kept just for him. He knew he should have stopped it from the very beginning, but he had not been able to resist tormenting her. The moment he had learned of her ideal man, he had known that she had been lying about some of it. She had been so easy to read, until that one evening after the beach. He had been ready to talk to her and find out how she really felt about him. There had been a moment where he had believed that she cared for him deeply, and he had resisted the urge to confess everything. He had been ready to let his guard down around her, but she had ran, and he regretted not following her that night. He had no wish to hurt her, and yet… Yet he had pushed her away, and on the same day that she had tried to resolve things, she had died.

"Hello Sleeping Beauty." A voice came from the cell door, and Loki groaned as he realised that he was being held by Thor's friends. The Avengers hated him, with good reason, and yet the team of heroes probably would not exist if Loki had not attacked New York. If there was one person that he wished never to see again, it would be the one standing at the door.

"What do you want, tin man?" Loki asked, while Tony Stark gave a slight chuckle.

"We have some questions that need answering." Stark pointed out, before gesturing to two agents. Loki did not resist as they freed him from the wall, and he grimaced as he stood up, for he felt the circulation return to his legs. He had no idea where he was, except for the fact that this was not New Asgard. He remained silent as they walked, and he was almost relieved when they sat him down in another room.

"Well this is quite the team." The Trickster commented as he saw four of the original Avengers sitting behind a desk. Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Bruce Banner regarded him with unease, while Stark just leaned forwards.

"Care to tell us just what happened on the night of the attack?"

"You cannot truly believe that I would be responsible for the devastation caused to New Asgard?" Loki asked, a little incredulous, and very much not in the mood for this right now.

"Well it is curious that you were found next to this." Rogers commented as he revealed the sceptre. Loki did his best not to react, but he wondered if they knew just what the item was capable of doing.

"This is the one that Freya Wilkes mentioned in her questioning." Bruce guessed, while Loki frowned.

"She's alive?" He asked, trying not to betray his hope, for he could not let them have anything to use against him, yet his question remained unanswered.

"Her questioning from when your people arrived." Banner clarified.

"It is." Loki confirmed.

"What was it doing out there? Did she believe that you…" Rogers asked, while Stark rolled his eyes.

"His fan girl would never believe he was capable of such things." He pointed out, while Loki did his best not to react to the term.

"I do not know for certain." The Trickster hesitated. "But I found it with a man by the name of Derek Caygill. I can only guess that he defeated Freya and took it."

"And then what happened?" Loki sighed as he went on to explain the events from that night, and he felt drained by the time he was taken back to his cell a few hours later. He had no idea how long the investigation would go on for, nor what the future held for him. All he knew was that if he was given the chance, he would only do one thing differently, and that was to go to Freya the moment he had felt the first tug at his free will. Perhaps then she would still be alive.