*A/N at the bottom!*

Two months had passed since Aemilia began her training with Frigga. At first, it had proved extremely difficult to just throw herself into practicing magic again, especially without her previous mentor at her side. Loki had said that magic ran through her veins just as naturally as it was to breathe, but both were proving to be particularly daunting tasks as of late. However, with the ever encouraging support of Frigga and Aemilia's desperate desire to not have her life stolen from all-consuming grief, her magic eventually began to flow once more.

To an extent.

"Aemilia, breathe. Just like singing, magic requires deep, consistent breath support to stabilize."

The young protégé ignored the patronizing throb in her temple and the ache in her lungs. She tightened her stance, planting her feet and aligning her hips. She stared at a small side table in the Queen's chamber, and she attempted to force the churning energy within her out. When nothing occurred, her intense gaze turned murderous as she glared at the offensive table. Her jaw clenched in annoyance, and, much to Aemilia's surprise, the visage of a golden goblet weakly flickered atop the table.

Frigga, ever the calming sight in a lavender gown, moved to stand by the young sorceress's side. "That's it, Aemilia. Steady. Breathe." Aemilia's gaze never faltered at the flickering illusion, but as the shaking, spinning energy inside her grew to new heights, she still couldn't manage to find an outlet. Her knees and outstretched arms started trembling as her heart raced to accommodate the adrenaline and the magic that were rapidly traveling through her veins.

"Aemilia," Frigga warned, but her voice sounded like faded murmuring to Aemilia as she concentrated.

But, for the love of Odin, the wavering illusion just would not steady.

Self-pointed anger now fueled her determination, so despite her now labored breathing, she pushed harder. Come on, come on! And just as the goblet was about to become a full-figured illusion—

"Aemilia! Stop!" Frigga's urgent command along with a firm hand on her shoulder broke her concentration, and the goblet flickered once more before disappearing completely. Aemilia turned in rage to confront Frigga for stopping her, but she didn't get the chance to speak. Suddenly a severe, all-encompassing exhaustion overtook her over-worked body so quickly that her knees buckled and she collapsed.

Thankful to Frigga's close proximity, the Queen braced her before she could make contact with the hard—and surely painful—floor.

Head spinning, she waited for the stars in front of her eyes to clear before she straightened up all the way and allowed Frigga to help her to a chair next to the table that had been the center of her struggles a moment before. The next thing she knew, the Queen was placing a cup into her hands and urging her to drink.

"Make sure to drink it all, dear," she said, her hand staying a comforting presence on Aemilia's shoulder.

"Why did that happen?" Aemilia asked between drinks. "I have never struggled like this before, even when I was first learning magic."

"Magic is not merely a mental exercise," Frigga said. "It is physical as well. The more that you learn and push your abilities, the more strain that your body will take."

Finished with the drink, Aemilia felt a bit better, though not ready to try again. Frigga then took the cup from her and sat down in a chair next to her as she asked, "Are you eating well?"

Aemilia paused before replying, "I am eating better than I was, but... I'm not sure if I have quite gotten back to normal yet."

Frigga nodded, then said, "You know, my dear, when I was learning magic as you are now, I was also training in the art of war. Loki did as well, of course, from the time that he able to hold a sword in his hand. Perhaps you should consider doing the same."

Aemilia's eyes widened a little. "Train to be a warrior? Me?"

"Yes," Frigga said gently but confidently. "I am not suggesting that you go to war. But it will teach you the sort of discipline over both your mind and body that you need to perform your magic and reach your potential. And you will need to build up your strength if you wish to continue building your magic."

Aemilia had never seen herself as the sort to train in such an art, not because she was opposed to the idea, but simply because she had never considered it.

"If I did this... who would train me?" she asked.

At this question, Frigga smiled slightly mischievously and said, "Darling, who do you think taught Loki all that he knew, not just with magic but in battle? I would be happy to teach you as well, Aemilia."

Now Aemilia couldn't help but smile back at the Queen. The idea was suddenly much more attractive, if not a bit intimidating, but she was too close to Frigga to feel the sort of anxiety that she once would have felt at this prospect. She was already training her in magic - what was one more thing?

"I don't know what to say," Aemilia smiled. "Thank you. I would be honored to be taught by you."

Frigga smiled back and then placed her hand atop Aemilia's. "And it is my honor to teach you, dear. I think that you will be successful at anything you put your mind to achieving. The first thing you must do, however - for both your magic and physical training - is eat enough, and eat the right things. I will tell Gunnvarr what sorts of meals to have the cooks prepared for you from now on. And you must eat it all, Aemilia."

"All right," Aemilia nodded. "I will."

"Good," the Queen nodded, pleased. "Now, what sort of plans have you for the rest of today?"

"Actually," Aemilia said, drawing a breath, "I am set to go practice my singing for the first time in quite a long time."

"Oh!" Frigga replied. "Good for you, dear. I am glad to hear this."

"It has been so long," Aemilia said, "I fear for how rough and unpracticed I will sound, but... I must start again somewhere."

"Indeed," Frigga nodded. "As we all must. Have a meal with me tomorrow and let me know how you fare, yes?"

"Yes," Aemilia nodded. "And thank you again, my Queen."

Frigga nodded graciously, and then the older woman stood and helped her to her feet, waking her to the door of her chambers. Then the two women bade farewell to one another with a light but affectionate hug, and as always as of late, Aemilia walked away feeling a bit lighter and a little less heavy than she did on the rare days where she did not have time with Frigga.

From there, she headed to her chambers to prepare for her day out of the palace. As soon as she walked into her bedroom, her longtime handmaid, Gunnvarr, looked up in surprise as she finished making her bed.

Gunnvarr quickly looked back down, quietly saying, "I am sorry, my lady, I will be only a moment longer."

Aemilia frowned, closing the door behind her and wondering at the strange way that the woman was addressing her. She was normally "child" or "dear", very rarely "my lady", and the lack of eye contact was strange as well. Then again, when was the last time Aemiilia had even seen the woman? Her duties were always done, but she had not seen her for nearly a month, now that she thought of it.

"Are you well, Gunnvarr?" Aemilia asked, and the maid looked up again in seeming surprise.

"Yes, my lady. I am finished now, I shall be on my way," she replied, picking up a basket of her supplies and then heading for the door.

"Are you sure that you are well?" Aemilia asked, and Gunnvarr stopped before she reached the door, still avoiding eye contact. "I feel as if I have not seen you with my own eyes for weeks."

Gunnvarr then looked up, blinked a few times, and said, "That is what you requested of me, my lady."

Aemilia furrowed her brows in confusion. "What?"

"Yes. Shortly after those terrible events on the Bifrost, I tried comforting you and making sure you were well-cared for, but you said I was 'suffocating' you and to remain out of your presence from that point on."

Aemilia frowned then, a sense of shame creeping up on her as she processed those words. She had no memory of this event, but considering how she had behaved back then to everybody, it wasn't surprising. Another pang of guilt settled in her heart for handling her grief so poorly; so many people had been affected by her inability to see anything past her own pain.

"I apologize, Gunnvarr," she said quietly. "I truly do. I was not in my right mind then. It was wrong of me to treat you that way," she paused and looked into the handmaiden's wide eyes. "I have missed your presence."

The tension in the older woman's broad shoulders fell then, and Aemilia was surprised when Gunnvarr then pulled her into an embrace and sighed, "Oh, my dear, you have nothing to apologize for. I have missed you as well."

Then she pulled away, slightly teary to Aemilia's surprise, and she lightly gripped Aemilia's shoulder's as she said, "Oh, child, look at you - I know you rarely finish your meals and now I see the result!"

Aemilia grinned slightly at the woman's immediate change of demeanor before nodding. "Yes, I know. But that is changing now. I'm getting back to normal. Slowly but surely."

Gunnvarr smiled widely and said, "Of course you are." She affectionately rested a worn hand on Aemilia's cheek. "You are strong. Let me know the moment you need anything, understand?"

Aemilia nodded. "Of course. Thank you, and again, I am truly sorry."

Gunnvarr nodded, assured her that there was nothing to apologize for, and when the handmaiden left, Aemilia spent a moment looking down at her hands and frowning at her lack of memory regarding the incident that had placed the woman at arm's length. All the more reason to commit to getting her life back on track, as difficult as that might be.

After changing her dress and wrapping a cloak around her shoulders, Aemilia decided to take the scenic route out of the palace grounds. She hadn't seen the gardens in far too long, so she opted to walk through them on her way towards the city.

The Queen's flowers were in eternal bloom, beautiful as they ever had been and still among the sweetest scents she had ever smelled. It was a pleasantly cool, bright day, and though the sun burned her eyes slightly, it felt good to be out again, to be reminded that there was a whole world that still existed despite the grief she carried with her.

And in that world were other people as well, some of whom cared about her and one of which caught her eye as they entered the garden from the direction that she was walking towards.

Her first instinct was to turn and walk the other way, but that was only because of how their last encounter had ended.

"My lady," Fandral said once he was close enough for her to hear, bowing his head slightly as he came closer. "What a pleasant surprise this is."

She somewhat forced a smile and nodded, not halting her steps. "Hello, Fandral."

When he reached her, he fell into step beside her and asked, "Would you mind if I walked with you?"

She shook her head. "No, I would not."

"How have you been?" he asked, eyes surveying her form. "It has been some time since I have seen you out and about."

"I am... faring better," she said very honestly, unable to lie to him that she had been well when she had not been. "I felt it was time to get out of the palace and... resume my usual activities."

"Ah! This is very good news," he smiled. "Can I assume this means that you are to sing again?"

"Yes," she replied. "That is where I am heading now. It has been awhile, but I want to focus on my singing again."

"I'm glad to hear it. I remember strolling through these gardens and hearing you sing to yourself as if you didn't have a care in the world," he said. "I have not had the pleasure of hearing your voice in far too long."

She smiled weakly. "It may yet be awhile. It will undoubtedly take me some time to get back to where I was."

"I have little doubt that you will get there," he replied with an encouraging smile.

She nodded appreciatively, then, noting his armor glinting in the sunlight, asked, "Are you on your way to train?"

"Taking a short break, actually," he replied. "The sun is rather hot this time of day."

"Indeed it is." Then, after briefly hesitating, she added, "Soon I shall be training as well. The Queen offered to do it herself. She says it will help strengthen me and help me to better control my magic."

At this, Fandral's footsteps slowed and he looked at her as he said, "Train? As in train to be a warrior?" When she nodded, he broke into a smile. "Well, this is brilliant! And you say the Queen herself is to train you?"

She nodded. "Yes! It was quite an unexpected offer, but it makes sense that learning such physical discipline would help me with my magic as well. It will be very new and I would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous, but..."

"Well," he said, "while it will certainly be a new experience for you, I have no doubt that you will succeed if you set that mind of yours to it."

She smiled and said, "That is nearly exactly what the Queen herself said."

"Then all the more reason to believe me," he winked. "And while you could not ask for a better teacher than she, if I can ever be of use, then I offer my services as well. I have been training Asgard's finest warriors for a very long time. I am sure that I could be of some use from time to time." Then he quickly added, "Only if you wish it, of course."

She paused, knowing why he added that final line at the end. This was by far the longest and most pleasant conversation that they'd had since before Loki's fall, and she was surprised by how well it was going and how little hostility she felt towards him. Maybe it was just from the time that had passed, or the fact that he had been truly apologetic for his celebratory behavior following the tragic events.

She could not hold a grudge forever, and he had been her friend. And friends, she was sad to admit, were in short supply these days.

"All right," she nodded. "I will keep your offer in mind. I am sure that I'll need all the practice I can get."

He smiled and visibly relaxed a bit. "That is true of all warriors, even myself. But it will be my pleasure to help you, Aemilia." She smiled at this, and then watched his expression grow more serious before adding, "I am glad that I ran into you today. I have felt so terribly for my actions and have missed your company, truly."

Now at the edge of castle grounds, they both came to a stop, and Aemilia drew a breath before replying, "It is in the past now. Every one of us was flawed in our actions when it came to... him. I cannot hold your actions against you forever, easy as it would be." She paused, eyes flicking up to meet his green ones, then added, "And I have missed your company as well."

He nodded, and a quiet moment passed between them before he looked towards the city and said, "Well, I shall not hold you any longer. I hope I hear from you again soon."

"You likely will," she smiled, and it was less forced this time.

He smiled back, bowing his head a little bit once more as he slowly backed away. "I wish you the best with your singing, and all of your endeavors. Good day, my lady."

She nodded. "Good day, my lord."

And with one last warm smile, he turned and headed back towards the training arena. Aemilia released a breath that she hadn't known that she was holding, a little relieved that now she was alone once more, but she didn't like this. She had been alone for too long in her self-imposed solitude, and the longer that this day went on, the more she became convinced that the time of grieving and loneliness needed to come to an end.

She turned and kept walking, focusing her thoughts back on her singing and how it really did feel nice to once again have the sun on her face.

Aemilia had predicted that returning to her music would be a challenge, but she hadn't quite realized to what extent. Her mentor and long-time voice teacher, Ragna, had been incredibly supportive and gentle—given the circumstances of Aemilia's leave—towards her for their first session, but Aemilia could tell how disappointed the older woman was at the state of her voice.

And, of course, Aemilia had fully-functioning ears, she knew very well that her voice had immensely regressed in quality, range, and stamina. That fact plagued her mind and threatened to send her into an even deeper depression, but she had set a fairly strong cocoon of denial around her. She would just have to move forward and practice, probably longer and harder than she ever had before.

It was going to be a long road to recovery, that was for certain.

As she collected her new repertoire in preparation to return to the palace, the theatre's small, elite ballet ensemble piled into the room for their afternoon rehearsal, officially signaling her time to leave. Mind busily toiling over her new, strenuous rehearsal schedule, she went to open the exit door. Before she could situate her pile of music into her left arm to reach for the handle, the door flew open towards her, making her stumble backwards and onto the floor and sufficiently scattering all of her sheet music onto the floor.

As Aemilia attempted to regain her bearings, a high, tinkling sound of a voice said, "Oh, dear! Great Valhalla, I'm so clumsy! Here, let me help you!" Then the girl joined her on the floor, with one pointe shoe secured on her foot and the other in her hand, scrambling to help her.

"It's perfectly alright, I assure you," Aemilia said with a polite smile, looking up to finally make eye contact with her assaulter.

The girl before her was very pretty and particularly petite, with a pixie-like face and bright blue, wide eyes. She was dressed in proper ballet attire with her beautifully golden blonde hair piled on top of her head in a falling knot. She looked young, younger than Aemilia, but maybe only by a decade or so. Aemilia saw recognition flash in her big blue eyes, causing them to widen further and a vibrant blush paint her cheeks. "Lady Aemilia! Oh, my, I didn't know it was you!" She quickly bowed her head, making more strands of blonde fall out of place. "My deepest apologies, my Lady."

Aemilia blinked for a moment in surprise at the girl's reaction. She was acting as if she had pushed the Queen herself down. Granted, despite her recent absence in the theatre, her singing was still quite revered. And she had been the beloved of the realm's youngest prince. Perhaps Aemilia could understand the girl's panicked reaction.

"Oh, it's perfectly alright," she replied, trying to smile as disarmingly as she could to ease the girl's worry. It must have worked, because her shoulders visibly relaxed. "If you could just assist me with gathering my music, I would greatly appreciate it."

"Of course, my Lady!" The two women promptly picked up the copious amounts of paper littering the floor. As they finished, the girl introduced herself with a still slightly frazzled smile, "I'm Elida, by the way." Elida stood to her feet and extended her hand for Aemilia to take it.

"Aemilia," she said as she hoisted herself up. Once standing, she noticed that Elida barely came up to her chin.

"Yes, I know," the petite girl replied, and Aemilia immediately tensed, bracing herself to be questioned and coddled about Loki's unfortunate fate, just as she had been ever since the fall. Much to her surprise, however, Elida stated with a wide smile, "I've seen every one of the operas you've starred in! You are absolutely magnificent, my Lady. The best in all of Asgard!"

It took a moment for Aemilia to reply, "Oh! Well, thank you."

"If you don't mind me asking, but, does your presence here mean that you are now returning to the theatre? I have dearly missed seeing you perform," she said as she hastily put on her other shoe. Aemilia raised her eyebrow at the bad etiquette, but by the looks of things, Elida was late for her rehearsal.

"I definitely hope so. I'm afraid I'm out of practice, however, so it might take some time before I'm capable of starring in anything." She looked around the ornate hall for a bit, taking it in. "I have definitely missed it, though."

Elida must have noticed the sadness Aemilia felt in that moment, because her tiny hand took Aemilia's and said with a knowing but gentle look in her eye, "It's amazing how returning to your passion can be incredibly healing." The two women shared a moment of understanding then, and Aemilia knew that, in some sense, this young dancer somehow understood what Aemilia was going through.

The piano suddenly began playing, which snapped Elida out of Aemilia's gaze. "I'm very sorry, but I have to go." She lightly squeezed Aemilia's hand before letting go and attempting to put her hair in some semblance of order. "It was an absolute pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Aemilia. I do hope that we could possibly spend some more time together in the near future!" she said with a smile as she went to join the already-dancing girls. With one more energized wave and a smile, Elida finally turned away.

With a slightly amused grin, Aemilia watched the eccentric girl quickly make her way to her instructor, apologizing for her tardiness and stumbling over her words the entire way with her cheeks aflame. When she was finally dancing along with the rest of the girls, Aemilia left the theatre, a small smile still on her face. Elida was an interesting girl, and she actually found herself looking forward to speaking with her again.

It would certainly be a welcome distraction.

That evening, Aemilia and Gunnvarr fell into a similar routine to the one they had when she first came to the palace. Gunnvarr served her dinner, of which Aemilia determinedly ate all of, then she put on her nightgown, and now she was enjoying the methodical, calming strokes of the brush Gunnvarr was pulling through her hair.

It had certainly been an exhausting, long day, but it had been one of the first that Aemilia hadn't felt like locking herself in her chambers to cry. This was the first day that she had actually stuck to a fairly busy schedule, and it had distracted her enough to a point that she actually felt somewhat like her old self again. Yes, staying busy was surely the best thing for her well-being at that point. And with magic lessons, combat training, and regaining her voice, remaining busy didn't seem like it would be too difficult.

That reminded her of something. "Gunnvarr?" she asked, the sound breaking the prolonged, comfortable silence that the two had set.

"Yes, child?"

"I was wondering if you could possibly do something for me."

"Anything, my dear." The two made eye contact through the mirror, and Gunnvarr softly smiled at her.

"I spoke with the Queen today, after my magic lesson, and she wishes for me to begin training in combat." The older woman stopped brushing for a moment and looked at her with wide eyes.

"Combat? Child, why in the Nine Realms does her Majesty wish for you to train in combat?" Aemilia smiled slightly at the maid's concerned reaction. It was very similar to how she would imagine a Grandmother's reaction to be.

"It is only to enhance my control over my magic, and I imagine for any time where self-defense may be needed. I have no intention of going into battle alongside Sif and the Warriors Three," she replied, laughing lightly.

The older woman still seemed wary of the idea, but she continued, "And why do you need my assistance?"

"Well, I was wondering if you could assist me in acquiring a suit of armor. After all, no one knows what would suit me more than you."

Gunnvarr was quiet for a moment, setting the brush down so she could braid Aemilia's hair. "That is certainly true, dear." With a sigh, she said, "If you could give me a list of your guidelines, I would be happy to find something for you. At least I'll know that you'll be in the safest gear in all of Asgard."

The two women smiled at each other, and Aemilia genuinely thanked her. Then, they fell into comfortable silence once more, and Aemilia thanked Valhalla that their relationship had seemingly mended. She had dearly missed her loving and outspoken handmaiden.

Meanwhile, as Aemilia settled into bed to have one of the most peaceful nights of sleep she'd had in months, the fallen prince of Asgard still physically lived, but in his soul, he was dying. In the dim, dark, fading haze of reality, he thought that it would have been easy to let go. It should have been easy to close his eyes and give in, let the flames burn and smoke fill his aching lungs until they collapsed in his chest, but every time that morbid relief came near... the flames died, and he would begin to heal. Then the gruesome cycle would repeat itself.

He was in utter darkness, somewhere deep in the bowels of this accursed, unknown realm, tied by his outstretched arms and standing helplessly on legs that could no longer hold up his own weight. He had been subject to this binding for an unknown amount of time, as time ceased to mean anything since his fall through the void. There was no day, no night, nothing but darkness and pain, and the fire that scorched his skin mercilessly.

"The Other"— the supposed savior who had found him and brought him to this hole in the galaxy, to a Mad Titan, and to unspoken horrors—he had promised new purpose. But, instead, what Loki had received was more torture, more solitude, and worst of all... the inescapable truth of what he was underneath the lie of his Asgardian appearance.

Thanos himself had stripped away the false, Aesir form and left him with the cold, blue, Jotun truth that laid beneath it, then instructed the Other to seal his bonds and "begin". That was when he knew that he had merely traded one torture for another far worse, and simply could not be given the privilege of death.

What he did not know was why. Why did they burn him, weaken him, let the flames place him just on the brink of death, only to take the fire away and let him heal just enough to endure more? The heat, the fire, the smoke, all of it was so much worse in Jotun form. He could feel himself melt, decay, wither under the natural enemy of biology made to thrive within the iciest of all the realms, all while the putrid smell of his burning hair stinging his nose and left an even worse taste in his mouth.

He was surprised that he still had a voice with which to scream, or lungs left to breathe through excruciating pain once the flames on his back died yet again. He limply hung there, unable to grasp even the faintest relief of it being over, because it wasn't. The fire would come again. And he would continue to be denied death, again and again.

Just as expected, he heard the Other approach. Footsteps and the drag of fabric on the ground echoed through the darkness, and soon a snarling voice pierced the silence. He could not see a thing, but his mind could imagine what the creature looked like as he spoke.

"Such strength, wasted for so long..."

It burned through his entire body to laugh, but he wheezed out a dry, barely-there scoff. "Have you come to kill me at last?"

"It should be very clear by now that he does not will your death."

"And what does he will?" There was no masking the desperation in his hoarse tone. Torture was a well-acquainted friend by now, but not knowing why would drive him mad all on its own.

"To burn away the old," the Other said, reverence in his tone. "And build the new."

"You are as mad as the fool you serve."

He feared not the consequences of speaking in such a way. He had nothing left to lose, nothing of himself, his identity, utterly nothing. All that was left was his sharp tongue, and nothing these mad creatures could do could take that away from him.

The Other merely laughed. "Watch your tongue, boy."

"I am not your subject to command," Loki replied defiantly. "Nor his."

"This is why you burn," the Other said. "Perhaps you merely need to be reminded of why you are here. Who let you fall. Who let you die."

A claw-like hand then grasped the side of his face, and with a painful gasp, he was suddenly plunged out of the darkness and into a vision of a time seemingly long since past.

"What are you doing? If you destroy the bridge you'll never see her again!" Loki screamed at Thor, who, with each strike of Mjolnir, cracked the bridge further. The entire structure rattled and whined at the force, threatening to snap in half at any moment.

Desperate to save the bridge and his plan of obliterating Jotunheim, Loki lunged at Thor with all the power he could muster, but he was too late. Thor, with one last raising of his hammer, pleaded, "Forgive me, Jane!" Mjolnir made contact, and the bridge imploded with a deafening and blinding blast, sending both brothers flying into the night air and the rainbow bridge crashing and falling over the edge into absolutely nothing. Nothingness that both princes of Asgard were hurtling towards.

However, the Great Odin somehow appeared at the very right moment and grabbed onto Thor's leg just as the two brothers grasped each other's arms. Suspended in the mouth of the abyss, Loki met the cold, one-eyed gaze of his father, and he knew that his plan had failed.

He desperately called out, "I could have done it, Father! I could have done it! For you!" His voice cracked as he pleaded for Odin to understand, "For all of us!"

But Odin did not understand. His bitter gaze did not falter, and his voice did not waver when he simply said, "No, Loki."

Those two words managed to completely crumble Loki's final remaining sense of self into dust. He could have saved them. He could have put his heritage behind him. He could have continued on as if Odin, Frigga, and Thor were truly his blood. He could have made it once more the way they were supposed to be. But no longer. Despite his nearly successful plans for the good of Asgard and the good of his family, Loki was only shown disappointment, disregard, and disownment.

His betrayed eyes finally tore from Odin to look at Thor, whose hand he still firmly grasped, their grip the only thing keeping him from falling with the debris of the bridge. He expected to see Thor, ever his supporter, to be understanding, to realize that he did all of this for a reason, but the God of Thunder's eyes were deadpan, emotionless. Loki frantically searched for something in his gaze, but he found nothing but blankness. "Thor, please!"

Loki saw the decision in his older brother's eyes, and he immediately tried to cling tighter to his brother's arm just as Thor began to loosen his grip. Pure, unadulterated horror settled in his bones as he realized what was going to happen. Panic struck him hard, nearly paralyzing him as he screamed, "No, no, no! Thor, you can't do this! Please!"

Not even flinching, Thor completely let go and threw Loki from his arm, sending him spiraling into darkness.

Into his own personal Hel.

Loki jolted awake from his horrifying vision with a searing pain in his mouth that took his breath away. His chest rapidly rose and fell in an attempt to calm his pounding heart and clear his clouded mind. As he fully came to from the vision, he realized his breathing was still labored, and that it was only through his nose. He went to open his mouth, but it remained locked shut. He tried again, and again, and again, and nothing but searing pain all around his mouth. His heart began to pick up speed as panic creeped up his spine.

"The Silver-Tongue has nothing to say?" the Other asked, his sudden presence making Loki flinch all while he continuously tried and failed to open his mouth. The raspy cackle that stabbed through the darkness assaulted Loki's ears as his ever-building panic completely took over. He went to scream in horror, but only muffled whimpers sounded. A heavy, painful dread hit his stomach and icy tears started streaming down his cheeks in his terrifying realization.

His mouth had been sewn shut.

They truly had taken everything away from him.

"Gunnvarr, this is…absolutely stunning! It's exactly as I wanted." Aemilia exclaimed, delicately touching her new custom-made armor. It had taken only around three weeks for Gunnvarr to order and procure it, but the end result looked like the product of months of work. She turned to the handmaiden who looked almost smug, "How did you manage to get it this soon? I've only been training with the Queen for a couple of weeks!"

"Oh, dear, it was fairly simple. I'm old friends with one of the best blacksmiths in Asgard…he owed me a favor," she said with a mischievous wink. "I do hope I got the colors right. I had initially ordered it in green and gold, so I had to change it when I got your message."

"It's perfect, thank you."

"If I may ask, child, why did you want violet instead of green?"

Aemilia sighed, knowing that she would eventually be asked that. "I had initially wanted green and gold, as a way to honor Loki, but… But I realized that despite my desperate wish for him to still be here, he's gone. I need to accept that and become my own person again. I still love Loki and I will always miss him with all my heart. He'll always be a very large part of who I am, but I need to move on from this all-consuming grief. Thus why I chose my own colors rather than Loki's." She paused with a thoughtful look at the dark purple tunic. "Violet had always been my favorite color as a child, so I thought violet and gold would be fitting."

Gunnvarr got an almost teary look in her eye and Aemilia's reasoning. "I must say, my dear, I'm very proud of you and your strength despite your misfortune. I know you have had a very difficult time, but you will rise out of the ashes victorious, I'm sure of it."

Aemilia smiled widely at her before looking back down to the armor, her hand delicately tracing the metal work and designs. It was true artistry, and it would be an honor to wear it. Hopefully one day, with Frigga and Fandral's help, she would be worthy enough in skill to don it like an actual warrior. Or at least someone who had somewhat of an idea of what she was doing.

"I made sure that it was made with the strongest but lightest metals, and that it was the most protective design possible. So now I won't have to worry about you every time you go to meet Lord Fandral in a bloody dress." Aemilia couldn't help but laugh at that. It was certainly a sight to see. Attempting to do anything that physical in a floor-length gown was not as easy as Frigga made it out to look. No wonder Sif hardly ever takes off her armor.

"My genuine thanks to you, Gunnvarr," she said, embracing the older woman who accepted it whole-heartedly.

"You're very welcome, child. Now, with caution, put it to good use," she said with a smile as their embrace ended.

"Just in time for my lesson with Fandral. Help me put it on?"

"Of course, dear."

With a pained groan, Fandral said, "You know, I feel as if the presence of Mjolnir gives me a slight disadvantage, Thor."

The God of Thunder gave a hearty laugh as he extended a hand to Fandral to help him to his feet. "Even without Mjolnir, your fate of defeat would not change."

Fandral chuckled, well-aware that he would never get the upper hand where Thor was concerned. "You're most likely correct in that assumption." He dusted off his armor and sheathed his sword. "Now, I'm sorry I cannot challenge you to a surely fruitless rematch, but Lady Aemilia should be here any minute for her training, and I would rather her not see me knocked onto my ass. I have a reputation to uphold, you know."

Thor laughed again and clapped Fandral on the back, "Of course, of course, Fandral. Nothing is worse than a teacher getting humiliated in front of his student." The two warriors walked over to the side of the arena to get a drink of water. It was a particularly heated day in Asgard, the sun bright and beating down onto the training area. Both Thor and Fandral were drenched in sweat from sparring for so long, but it had been so long since Thor had even been to the arena that Fandral had wanted to thoroughly take advantage of it. Of course he understood Thor's absence during his mourning of his brother, but he had missed their friendship just as he had missed Aemilia's. He was happy that—despite it never quite being the same without Loki—everyone was falling into a routine. Fandral had known true mourning in his lifetime as well, and he knew that routine was the quickest and healthiest way to heal.

Thor pulled him from his thoughts by saying, "How Is Lady Aemilia faring with her training so far?"

As Thor bent over to splash water on his face and the back of his neck, Fandral answered, "Well, she has only been training for a couple of weeks, so naturally we're still in the most basic of stages."

"Still, a master of combat such as yourself would know within two sessions of her potential."

Fandral contemplated this for a moment. "I feel she has great potential, yes. She has always held herself with dignity and grace, and that bleeds over into her fighting stances. She's a very fast learner as well, it's just a matter of building her instinct and physical stamina for it, since she has no previous training of any kind." It was true, Aemilia had immediately impressed Fandral with her ability to pick up techniques quickly. She was also incredibly disciplined, a sure product of her years of tedious music practice, and she held a deep dedication to it. Not once did she complain of exhaustion or pain or the heat, and she would keep going until Fandral adjourned the session. He was, suffice to say, proud to be her teacher. Of course, the Queen was her primary mentor and he was the one to solidify everything Frigga taught her that morning.

"Well, with both you and my mother training her, I can't imagine her finding a better education," Thor said with a smile. "This is good for her. She was so devastated about Loki—and reasonably so—that she hardly left her chambers. Training is giving her new purpose. I can see her vibrancy for life slowly returning with each day."

"I'm glad of it," Fandral replied.

"Glad of what?"

Fandral immediately recognized the melodic ringing of Aemilia's voice. He turned around to answer her, but he stopped in his tracks at the sight of her.

An ornate, golden breast plate sat atop a sleeveless, dark purple tunic that looked as if it had been custom molded to her body and trim waist. The tunic extended to her upper thighs that were covered in purple leather pants so dark they almost looked black. Black leather boots rose up to her knees, with just slight, stable heels that still managed to make her already fairly long legs look even longer. On her arms were golden bracers to protect her forearms and on her right sat an armband the shape of Loki's helmet. Then, her hair, that was normally always up with intricate braids and knots, flowed freely down to her waist in dark auburn waves.

If Fandral hadn't known, he would have assumed Aemilia was a shield maiden of Sif's caliber. She still had a very long way to go, but she definitely looked the part now.

When Fandral didn't answer, Thor answered for him, "Of how well your lessons are coming along, my Lady! Fandral has told me all about it."

Aemilia gave them both a small smile, "I assure you, he's exaggerating."

"I see you have acquired your first suit of armor! I must say, you look as if you were born to wear it, right, Fandral?" Thor inquired, bumping Fandral with his elbow.

"It's perfect, my Lady," he said.

She beamed at them both, "Thank you very much."

"Well, I would love to stay and observe, but I must be off. I was supposed to meet my father ten minutes ago." With a grin and a mutual nod to them both, the Prince left the arena.

"So," Aemilia started. Fandral looked back to her with a grin. "When do we start?"

Frigga had been searching for weeks and had absolutely nothing to show for it.

She had scoured galaxy after galaxy, hanging onto what minute hope she still had that her son was somewhere out there, alive. As the days went by, though, Frigga slowly began to realize that the chances of finding Loki alive were incredibly slight. But she kept looking, because until she found his body and she knew for sure, that slight chance was enough to keep her searching for the rest of her days.

Of course, Frigga had not been prepared to find her youngest son in a state worse than death.

In her last attempt of the day, she stood before the fire and closed her eyes, summoning the visage of an old, dark, forgotten world. As the picture formed above the flames, the Queen opened her eyes.

And just like that, like some sort of cruelly ironic miracle from the gods, she found her son.

Loki was in his natural Jotun form, suspended between two pillars by his arms, with his legs collapsed and his head hanging as if he had passed out. However, his strained, hesitant breaths told that he was still clinging onto some sort of conscious. In horror, Frigga noticed the marks of torture that Loki had endured. Burn marks marred him everywhere, and his hair had been destroyed, as if it had been set on fire and extinguished over and over again. Deep gashes of a whip had flayed his back open so deep that, despite his healing abilities, the wounds still looked fresh. The blue of his skin and the red and black of his blood had commingled in a disturbing image that Frigga feared would never leave her mind again.

Tears unknowingly streamed down Frigga's cheeks as she realized with dread that it would have been better for Loki if he had not survived the fall. The worst part of it all, she had no idea where he was. It was too dark for her to see any landmarks that would give away his location. It truly looked as if he was suspended in nothing.

As she continued to search, weak murmuring pulled her eyes back to Loki's disfigured form.

It was a quivering noise, as if he was struggling to find the air to support it. At first she thought he was attempting to say something, but then Frigga heard something familiar. A melody. Feeble and barely discernable, but she did hear it. At some point, he slowly started to lift his head, which proved to be an immense difficulty. Frigga wished with every part of her being that she could help him, touch him, comfort him…but she couldn't. She could only watch and remain concealed to her son.

Frigga would not reveal herself to Loki until she found a way to save him.

Loki finally managed to lift his head, which he immediately rested on his raised arm. Frigga audibly gasped at the sight, and her hand clamped over her mouth muffled the sound. His half-shut, hopeless eyes were a fiery red with heavy tear tracks trailing down his blue cheeks. But what made Frigga's tears flow once more was the sight of his mouth. His lips had been brutally sewn shut with thick, black thread that caged his voice in a jagged, evil, grin-like shape. Blood from the needles puncturing his skin had seeped down to his chin and had dried black.

All the while, Loki continued to pitifully hum in between labored breaths of air through his nose. Frigga listened closer, trying to place the broken melody coming from her son. Her heart dropped to her stomach when she realized what it was. She had heard Aemilia sing it once before.

At Loki's funeral.

Everything had been taken from him. His family, his magic, his identity, his speech. The only thing he had left to keep him tethered to some semblance of sanity was the memory of Aemilia and her voice.

Frigga could only hope that Loki could continue to hold onto that memory until she could find a way to save him.

Unable to watch anymore without breaking down herself, she waved the image away, and the visage of her battered and dying son faded.

*creeps from behind corner* Hi, guys. *hides*

I know it's been a really, really, really long time since Ruin was updated. I am ashamed. I really am. All I can say is that I was dealing with typical freshman-in-college problems while managing an incredibly high-demand voice and performance major. And also, I was just pretty stumped on how to go about this chapter.

Obviously, Ruin is still in a transition period, hanging between the events of Thor and The Avengers. There's a lot going on right now with Aemilia's and Loki's separate POVs, and know, that to keep this part of the story from going on for 18372948352 chapters, there's going to be quite a few serious time jumps, just to keep things moving and from being dull. So, as of the end of this chapter, its around 4 months (ish) after Loki's fall. It's not specifically stated how long the time period between the two movies are, but Team Damon and I have just assumed that it's somewhere around a year to 2 years, give or take.

But anyway (wow, rambling), a HUGE thank you to Team Damon (she always so graciously thanks me for everything, so I get a particular joy in finally getting to publicly thank her) for all of her love and support and encouragement and particularly contributing your talents in writing certain parts of this chapter. My dear, you are an amazing human being. You have no idea how happy I am getting to work with you. :D *hugs you for eternity*

We have now found a very good system in how to write Ruin now, so hopefully that will help crank out chapters faster!

Again, my deepest apologies for taking such a long time to update, but know that this story will never be abandoned. I will see it through to the very end! And do drop a review and let me know what you think! I really hope you like/love it! :D

Much love,

Midnightwings96