AN: I don't know what happened. I couldn't sleep, so I wrote this one. I imagined Tom Hiddleston throughout the whole ordeal, though this is a Norse mythology fic, not an Avengers one. I'm sorry for any inconsistencies, but that is why it's called fiction - authors get to play with the facts :)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. It's just my take on the Ragnarök.
As the world balanced on the edge of the abyss, the first thing Loki saw was red.
Sound of the soot-red rooster crowing was the final sign, and Loki was prepared. The Twilight of the Gods came unexpectedly for some, but he knew it was about to happen. He put all his power into instigating the marvellous event that would lead everybody, including him, to their doom. He murdered Baldir in order to prove to the Allfather and all the other Gods than no one can escape the Fate.
Loki smiled viciously.
He wanted so badly to receive the praise he was entitled to, and he quarrelled with all the Gods at the feast of Aegir, mixed their mead with malice, and got tied down to await on this moment.
Ragnarök.
Fate of the Gods.
The poison dripping from the venomous snake tied over his mouth caused him to convulse, setting every single nerve in his body on fire. The grounds moved as he shook violently, agony mixing with satisfaction into a merger of diabolical pleasure.
He sat through three winters, observed the people praying and begging for the sun to appear, their cries fruitless in their desperation. The wolf swallowed the sun, his brother the moon, and the stars were bygone.
Three roosters crowed, and Loki was mad with anticipation. He roared at the sky, and the world seemed to come to a halt. With another uncontrollable tremor, all the restraints vanished.
Loki could feel his children's awakening, and the heavens turned crimson.
Jörmungandr trashed forcefully, and the seas of Midgard wept as they arose to their fate and surged the grounds.
The great Wolf Fenrir burst free of his chains, ripping them in half, and charged for the world with his jaws wide open.
Hel, the black Goddess, smiled in Niflheim, and gathered her dead to assist her Father.
It was time for the circle to close.
The restrains that held him in three places on top of the three stones were no more, as Loki disintegrated the remains of his son's organs. The smile never left his bloody lips as he marched to meet with his offspring.
The sky split in two.
Vígríðr was ablaze with fire as he arrived with Hel and her own. The Fire Giants crossed the Bifröst, and encountered the Frost-Jötnar, and they all awaited for him. As Loki observed the immense troops that were his own, sound of the Gjallarhorn roared through the night sky.
Yggdrasil shuddered in terror, as fear spread over the Nine Realms.
The Gods awakened, and the War began.
Fenrir charged for Odin, the great Wolf and the great God caught in battle in the middle of the battlefield. Thor swung Mjölnir and produced thunders, coming to the rescue of his Father, yet Jörmungandr engaged him in a fierce battle of their own.
Garmr, the worst of monsters, caught Tyr, God of Glory, in his jaws, yet nothing in that fight resembled grandeur. Surtr, leader of the Fire Jötun, son of Muspell, was fighting fiercely against Freyr, who was lacking his wise sword.
Mayhem exploded everywhere, and Loki let delight course through him, before he let out a barbaric roar and crossed swords with Heimdallr.
One by one, the Gods perished.
In one move, Fenrir swallowed Odin whole; Víðarr then gripped his jaws and clawed them in two, ending the beast's life with an inhuman cry.
Watcher of Hel's gates Gramr devoured Tyr and was killed in the process. Jörmungandr was slaughtered by Thor, alas, not before poisoning the God of Thunder. He gathered his strength, cursing Loki, but as their eyes met on the field of fire, Thor fell dead to the ground.
The end was near.
The God of Mischief laughed madly as he battled his arch-nemesis, Heimdallr, whitest of the Gods. Chaos surrounding them was the main strength behind Loki's blows, and clangs of metal as the Gods danced the dance of death was equally marvellous and terrifying.
»You shall not win, Loki Laufeyson!« Heimdallr yelled through haze of battle, as he dove the point of the Doom of Men into his enemy's heart.
Loki's smile was chilling.
»I know,« he said, falling to his knees. As Heimdallr towered victoriously over him, God of Lies and Mischief summoned his fallen sword, and with a final jab he pierced Heimdallr's eye, causing him to fall next to Loki.
»But then, neither should you.«
Tear rolled down Heimdallr's cheek, and the God was dead. Loki took a final look around him, and laughed maniacally. Death and destruction surrounded him everywhere, and he never felt more content in all his life.
As Surtr set the world ablaze, and the seas opened to annihilate the universe, the last thing Loki saw was red.