I know, I'm a horrible person. But it was necessary! You all started this story knowing that there would be character death (you read the prophecy and the summary). I swear it will have a happy ending. Just hold on a little longer, please. Thank you to all of you for sticking with me so far. I'm planning to finish this by the end of the month so you'll get the happy ending soon enough. Another big plot twist in the next chapter, so fair warning.

Song of the Chapter: Remember Everything ~ Five Finger Death Punch

I heard this song on the radio the other day and immediately thought of Freyja. If you look at the lyrics (and switch 'sister' and 'brother'), it's a near-flawless representation of what she feels.

Chapter 18

Irrational Expectations

"'Did you really want to die?'

"'No one commits suicide because they want to die.'

"'Then why do they do it?'

"'Because they want to stop the pain.'"

-Tiffanie DeBartolo

Pain.

Loki had thought there would be no pain in death. But then, he had been wrong many times before. When he opened his eyes, he realized the truth of the matter. The smooth metal ceilings above him were familiar and he realized he was in the Healing Rooms. Turning his head, and wincing as his muscles protested, he caught a glimpse of Freyja lying in the cot next to him.

He felt as if his strength was renewed and he immediately moved to stand, only to slide off his own cot as his legs gave way. There was the sound of sleepy muttering as someone awoke at the crash. Loki was pulling himself up when Thor came around from the other side of his bed.

"Loki!"

The elder prince grabbed his brother under the arms and pulled him up. Loki would have normally snapped at Thor for giving unwanted help, but he was too busy trying to reach Freyja. He writhed in Thor's grasp, trying to get free.

"Would you remain still?" Thor demanded in exasperation. "The Healers said you used too much energy saving Freyja and should remain in bed unti-"

"To Hel with the Healers!" Loki snapped. "Three steps isn't going to send me to my grave, now let go of me."

The golden prince pulled back, a mix of relief and resignation on his face. Loki reached out to Freyja, only to stop as he caught sight of his own hand. His skin was still a deep blue from when he removed his Æsir appearance. He turned to Thor, surprised to see his brother not even so much as flinching as he looked upon him.

"Are you feeling well, Loki?" Thor asked, frowning at his brother's expression.

"How are you capable of it?"

"What?"

"Seeing me in this form and not turning away," he clarified. "You've always loathed the Jotuns and yet you do not so much as bat an eye at me."

Thor's frown deepened, "I have told you before, your blood means little to me. You are still my brother, Loki." –the elder prince then gave a smile- "And you do not greatly resemble the Jotuns, even wearing their skin."

Halfway satisfied with the answer, Loki returned his attention to Freyja. He pressed his fingers to her wrist, if only for the closure he needed. A sigh escaped him as he felt the steady beat. He brushed the back of his over her cheek and gave a relieved laugh.

"Gods, I thought I had lost her," he muttered.

"I thought I had lost both of you," Thor said. "I should have known you would not give in so easily. You should see how all of Asgard has reacted."

"With disgust, I would assume."

Thor shook his head, "Most of Asgard was surprised, yes, but the Vanir were different. You've become a hero in their eyes."

"Are you certain?"

"You saved their princess from death," Thor chuckled. "There is no doubt in my mind that they have made you an idol. They will tell stories of your magic for centuries-"

"Are those bandages?" Loki asked, cutting Thor off mid-sentence.

Thor leaned forward for a better look. What he had taken for a chemise before was actually bandages wrapped over Freyja's torso and chest, most of them hidden under her dress.

"Yes, but I do not see why that matters. She was wounded, after all."

"When have you ever seen a Vanir dress their wounds?"

"I don't believe I have," Thor answered.

"Why do you suppose that is?"

"I always assumed their aversion to conflict kept them from harm."

Loki shook his head, "The Vanir do not use bandages because they use magic to heal. The only reason they would use them is-"

The younger prince broke off with a sharp intake of breath. Thor blinked in confusion as he saw what his brother had done. Loki had pulled back the bandages closest to Freyja's neck to reveal a long, thin scar trailing further down and into the rest of the cloth.

"They must not have been able to seal the wound," he muttered.

"What are you doing?"

Both princes jumped as a young Healer came running towards them, a look of horror over his face. His silver eyes flashed with worry until he finished checking over Freyja and found nothing wrong. He then looked up at the two, eyes widening as he saw Loki.

"Forgive me, Prince, I did not realize you were awake. Are you feeling well?"

"I am fine," he answered quickly.

The Vanir boy took Loki's hand, transferring some of his energy to the prince, "I'm afraid the magic within Sorsauctor caused the Princess's wounds to not respond to our attempts to heal her. You know of our ways, so she will need to come to terms with the restrictions."

The Healer let go and turned to walk away, but stopped one last time to glance at Loki, "And, Parlator, thank you for saving her. She is our final hope after all."

The Healer walked out of the room, leaving Loki to stare after him in surprise. Thor turned to his brother, confusion clear in his face.

"What did he call you?"

"He called me 'parlator'," he answered. "It means fighter of fate."

The second Freyja's eyes fluttered open, she knew something was off. By all rights, she should be dead. But she knew she wasn't. If she was, she wouldn't feel ridiculously sore and her mind wouldn't be so hazy. And she could feel cool fingers wrapped around her left hand. When she turned her head, she saw Loki.

He was sitting in a chair beside her bed, though he was slumped forward so that his head rested against the edge of the mattress. But his skin was blue and lined with raised markings that formed patterns she could not name. She slowly removed her hand from his and brushed a few strands of hair out of his face.

"Loki," she said softly as he stirred.

His eyes opened slowly, the red irises focusing on her as he woke up. He smiled as he gripped her hand once again.

"I told I wouldn't allow you to die," he whispered.

The noise that escaped her lips was halfway between a sob and a laugh. Though her body ached, she sat up and threw her arms around him. He nuzzled her neck, relieved that she was awake and alive despite what had occurred. When she pulled away, her expression was serious once more.

"You altered the course of fate," she said.

He smiled, "My greatest act of mischief thus far. Surely you didn't expect me to let you go so easily."

"How long has it been?"

"Three days, according to the Healers," he replied, smile fading. "There's something you should know, love."

"What is it?" she asked, wondering what could be wrong.

He sighed, brushing his hair back and away from his face, "When you were…stabbed by Sorsauctor, something in the metal blocked the Healers' magic in a way that kept them from completing their task. The wound left a scar behind."

"I am trapped within this form," she finished.

"There is something else, as well. None of the Healers could explain it completely," he continued. "The Jotun magic I used to save your life, it reacted strangely to the Tesseract energy within your blood. It is almost as if it caused the energy to destroy itself."

"What?"

"Here," he said, picking up a hand mirror from his own bed and handing it to her.

Freyja took the mirror from him, examining herself in search of what he wanted her to see. Though her face was pale and her appearance bedraggled, she noticed nothing out of the ordinary. It was then that she noticed her eyes. They were the same shade of blue that they had been since the Tesseract was used to save her, but they were not quite as bright anymore. Though still an impossible shade of blue, they didn't glow as they did before. And her pupils were ringed with gold.

"How strange," she muttered. "Is that why you sit before me in your Jotun form?"

He grimaced, "The Healers refuse to allow me to revert back. They claim that I need to reserve my energy."

"I imagine so," she replied, smiling at him with a shake of her head.

He looked up at her, "Am I missing something?"

"You are the most brilliant fool I've ever met," she laughed. "A reckless, troublesome prodigy in magic that I'm in love with."

He chuckled softly, "And here I thought you were aware of that fact before."

She smiled, "Indeed. Do you have news of Freyr?"

Loki sighed, the mirth leaving the conversation quickly, "He has been confined to his chambers. The guards attempted to remove any weapons, but there were none to be found."

"Of course not," she sighed. "My brother's weapons of choice were his mind and his magic. I have taken one of those two, which can sometimes mean I have taken both."

"You did what you must. I am certain not even Freyr can blame you for that."

She nodded, "Right. That leaves one option."

Loki jolted into action as Freyja stood up, using her cot as leverage. He worried that she might fall as he did, but she remained standing. She shook her head at him as he hovered about her, waiting for her to slip.

"I'm not made of glass, Loki."

He didn't reply, but kept his eyes on her as she made her way shakily towards the doors. They ran into a few Healers along the way, though none of them were willing to stop Freyja. Loki supposed most of them knew what she was doing and the ones who didn't were deterred when she gave them a pointed look.

It was a relatively short walk to Freyr's chambers but it proved no trouble for Freyja. The further she walked, the steadier she became. The palace was almost empty of people, no doubt most were working on repairing the damage to the city. When they reached the door to Freyr's rooms, Freyja turned to face him.

"Perhaps you should find Thor," she suggested. "This conversation may be best held between only Freyr and me."

Loki opened his mouth to protest, but hesitated. The brother and sister had gone through much in the recent months and not allowing them privacy would have been cruel. He nodded slowly, taking a step back.

"Give my best to Freyr," he said before turning away and walking off.

Freyja watched him go until he turned the corner and was lost from sight. She sighed sadly, wondering if the tattered remains of her family that Thanos left behind could ever be stitched back together. Returning her attention to the door to her brother's chambers, which were locked securely with magic, she knocked softly. She sat down, back leaned against the smooth wood, when there was no reply.

"Freyr, will you allow me in?"

Still, there was no answer and she felt her heart drop. She wondered if he had felt the same helplessness when she locked herself in her chambers so many centuries ago.

"Will you at least hear me out?"

She took his silence as a confirmation, though he could have been ignoring her. Either way, she was determined to speak her mind.

"What has occurred recently, everything that has been done, no one blames you," she started, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "The fault is mine for not seeing what was truly wrong and for dismissing your ailments as simply a product of – of torture. If I hadn't been so blind, if I hadn't forced myself to push you all away, I would have realized sooner. I could have done something. And perhaps everything would return to…well, things have never been exactly 'normal' with our family, have they?

"I tried to distance myself from you to keep from hurting you when I died, but in doing so I have done exactly what I hoped to avoid. It seems as though we can have nothing that remains unchanged, that no matter how many times we try, we fall into the same traps and make the same mistakes. We'll never learn. That is our curse as immortals, I suppose. The wheel of time continues to turn and we a dragged through yet another repeat of what has already happened. But perhaps we can find a way past this."

Freyja paused, glancing at the door as if she might be able to see her brother through it. Tears ran down her face but she could not tell whether they were of grief or longing.

"I never wanted to take away your magic, Freyr. If there had been another way, I would have taken it. But I always have the same choice, I must always choose between loved ones. And no matter how I choose, I simply cannot win. But I refuse to stop fighting, brother. No matter what needs to be done, no matter what the cost, we will push through this. I only ask that you forgive me. I have failed in so many ways but I do not want to fail you.

"Do you ever wonder what would have occurred had I not left Vanaheim?" she asked, smiling wistfully. "Had I not been so selfish as to leave everything behind? I'm not going to do so again. Will you accept my aid, after all I have done?"

She turned to face the door fully, a sense of worry creeping through her. Her brother may have kept quiet at first, but she had never known him to be fully silent. It was unlike him. Freyr, he spoke of ruling by the people's choices and speaking out for what was right, had held his tongue for the duration of her visit.

"Freyr?" she asked again, getting to her feet. "Freyr, please speak to me."

Only silence greeted her request and Freyja felt herself growing cold. Forgetting her courtesy, she removed the spell from his door and turned the knob. The wood refused to move and she shook the handle roughly.

"Freyr?" she called, voice rising in anxiety.

She gave the door a shove and the sound of splintering wood met her ears. Cursing, she let her energy gather in her palm and directed it at the wood. The door flew off its hinges, the sound of it crashing to the floor echoed off the walls. The sitting room seemed to be deserted.

"Freyr!" she yelled, her nerves failing as anxiety overwhelmed her.

A thousand thoughts flew through her mind as to what could have occurred. Though all of Asgard knew he had been under Thanos's control, some may harbor ill will towards him. Could one of the guards decided to take justice into their own hands? Perhaps-

Her mind went blank as she threw open the door to his bedchamber. A noise somewhere between a scream and a cry left her lips as her knees gave way. She was left staring up in horror at the sight that awaited her.

One of the bedposts had been broken so that it bent away from the bed but did not fall away. Freyr hung suspended from the post, a golden chain wrapped around his neck as his head tilted at an awkward angle. His wrists were bruised and marked from where the same chain had been wrapped around them. Blood dripped from rune carved into his chest, staining his white shirt. She recognized it immediately. It was the final of the five offenses: caedis, murder. Thanos had found his final victim, if indirectly.

Freyja called to Loki through his mind, though she barely spoke above a whisper. It was the voice of a dying woman. And she was dying within. By the time she lowered her brother's body and placed it carefully on the sheets, Loki had arrived with a handful of guards. His eyes widened as she turned around to face them, the golden chain in hand. It was one she had seen many times on the prisoners of Asgard. She raised it so that they could see it clearly.

"Whose idea was it to bind my brother's hands?" she asked quietly, her voice empty of all emotion.

One of the younger Einherjar stepped forward and fell on one knee, "Forgive me, Lady Princess, the chain was my idea. I believed the Prince was likely to harm himself after what he had done under Thanos's control. They must not have been properly secured. I offer you my life, in recompense for Prince Freyr's."

She stared down at the young man, not a thought crossing her mind as he bowed his head in shame. No one moved, everyone waiting to see how the Princess would react. Instead of moving to harm him, she dropped the chain before the guard. He barely flinched as it landed mere inches from his face.

"Look at me," she commanded.

He looked up hesitantly, blue eyes fearful.

"It was nothing more than a foolish mistake," she continued. "Learn to bind someone properly so they cannot slip from their restraints. An enemy would have waited for you to return so that he might kill you with your own shackles. Count yourself lucky that my brother was no enemy of yours."

She then picked up the parchment envelope which had sat on the floor below her brother and left the room. No one dared to follow her, too unsure of how fragile her temper might be at the moment.

Freyja walked steadily to her chambers, the envelope grasped tightly in her fingers. She felt numb, as if she had not just found her brother dead by his own hand. It was as if she was walking in a dream. Nothing could be seen, heard, or felt. When she reached her door, she locked it behind her. No one would open it after what had happened. She made her way to her desk, opening the letter with a knife which sat on the surface. Her eyes ran over the words twice before they made coherent sense to her mind.

Dearest sister,

I am sorry to leave you in this way, but I cannot risk harming any of you again. My heart broke when I saw you lying in the Healing Rooms, Loki bent over you as he waited for you to wake. Now that Thanos is gone, I can remember everything done while he held control. I can see the horror in the eyes of my victims. I can feel their pain while we had shared one vessel so briefly. I can hear them screaming. But worst of all, I see you in pain at having to face the possibility of killing me to save Asgard. I was too weak to fight Thanos and I will never forgive myself for the pain which I have unknowingly put you through. What kind of brother cannot protect his own sister?

Do not blame yourself for my actions, by my choice or not. You have the terrible habit of blaming yourself for the worlds' wrongdoings. Do not grieve for what could not be helped. You have never been anything less than a warrior fighting against fate. You are so much stronger than me, Freyja. You always have been. And when I could not aid you, you found another with as much strength as you. No matter what Father claimed, he knew you and Loki were well-suited. You two fight the worlds, and that gives me hope that you can find the fire to continue without me.

I only have two requests for you now, sister. Never let yourself believe that you could have done anything differently. You made all the right choices, no matter what anyone else may say. Do not let any grief for me blind your choices. And do not make my mistakes or our father's. You were always much wiser than him in many ways. Do not lose that wisdom, or your courage. You will need them both for what lies ahead of you.

And please be happy. For me.

Goodbye, Freyja.

Freyja's hands shook as she finished the letter a final time. She wished she could claim not to understand what drove him to his final decision, but she could relate completely. A broken sob fell from her lips as the ink on the parchment smudged under her tears. She hung onto the desk as if it was a lifeline, a rock to grasp amidst a storming sea. How could he have thought she was strong enough to handle his death as well as everything else that had occurred?

Her head snapped up at the soft sounds of footsteps approaching her. She opened her mouth to ask the visitor to leave, but fell silent when she saw a mirror image of herself standing before her.

"Who are you?" she demanded, though her voice was barely louder than a breath.

"We have met once before, Freyja," the copy said.

"Verdandi," she snapped as if the name was poison in her mouth. "What do you want?"

The Norn cocked her head, "You feel rage towards me."

She stared in disbelief, "You lead me to believe that I am destined to die, take my sister just when I have made amends and steal away my brother when I believe all can be made right once more! What more do you want from me? Are you here to take Loki, or Thor, or Sif? Here to tear out what little remains of me and toss it away?"

Freyja's voice had risen to a screech as she her agony grew, her words breaking every so often. Verdandi watched the princess carefully.

"I am not here to end another life. Far too much blood has been shed since Thanos found a place in these Realms."

"Then what do you want? I have no love for you and your sisters after what has been done."

"I understand your mourning."

"With good reason!"

The Norn nodded, "But not everything can be controlled."

"What do you mean?" Freyja demanded. "You are a Norn! You weave fate from the happenings you wish to occur. How could you not control what has occurred?"

Verdandi sighed, "Fate, like time, cannot be controlled at whim. My sisters and I can only alter it so much. Some things are taken from our hands. The Prophecy of Renascentia, of the Children of Njord, was one such instant. It relied solely on you."

"On me?"

"You and your siblings."

Freyja blinked in surprise, "You're telling me that the prophecy which foretold the very rebirth of the Realms was dependent on our actions alone."

She nodded in reply, "When Kenna died protecting you, she died for the peace of the Realms. Which, in turn, gave you the strength to become a warrior for Asgard. Your choice to spare Freyr proved you worthy for what is to come. And he could not find the strength to watch the product of his actions. Renascentia brings change to all. You were never excluded from that."

"But that does not – I've proved myself worthy of what?"

Verdandi pulled a silk pouch from her belt and placed it on the desk, "I can offer you this only. When you feel your determination waving and the strength to continue fading away, break it underfoot. I pray that you need no more than that."

"Wait!" Freyja yelled as the Norn began to fade away.

"Farewell, Princess."

"Verdandi!"

Her hand fell through empty air as the Norn disappeared completely. She was left with her arm extended, feeling more hollow than she had before. As she dropped her arm, her attention returned to the pouch Verdandi had left behind. Dropping the letter beside it, she pulled the drawstrings back. The fabric fell away to reveal a crystal bell the size of her thumb. She picked up the object carefully, a clear tolling resonated from it every time it moved. Freyja wondered idly what it meant and what she could possibly face now that would cause her to lose any more hope.

After all, she had lost almost everything else.