AN: Thank you so much for all your reviews and your favorites/follows! You guys are the best! I am so sorry for the delay and the slightly disappointing chapter length...but the original was too long and didn't flow right. I also apologize for my terrible battle scenes!
There should be 2 more chapters left! I leave for Japan in a couple weeks, so I will endeavor to have it all finished by then! :)
Enjoy!
Chapter 38: Hnefatafl
Sif noted that the stars were particularly bright that night. Being a warrior, she had never taken time to stop and appreciate the celestial wonders that hovered over Asgard, but as she lay motionless amongst the royal gardens, she didn't have a choice but to admire them. She supposed if this place were to be her deathbed, it was an awfully stunning one.
Her legs were thoroughly broken, and she was fairly sure she had been stabbed sometime during the ordeal. Thanos had not played nicely; his brute force and skills with the gauntlet had overcome them both swiftly. By some magic, the Titan had stripped Thor of Mjolnir—leaving the Thunder God to fight like any other Asgardian—and now there they were. Smiling sadly to herself, Sif watched as a shooting star streaked across the night sky. Somehow she knew wishing for help would go unanswered.
"I am sorry, Sif." Thor's voice called out from another place in the gardens. "I have failed you."
Turning her head, the woman gave a small smile towards the incapacitated man. Though he looked unscathed, Thanos had rendered him immobile. Thor's legs had failed beneath him, and his body had crashed towards the ground like a wounded animal. Truly powerless, the prince had no option but to watch her take on the Titan alone. She had been the failure.
"For what, Thor?" She asked quietly. "Tis an honor to die for Asgard."
Thor was looking at her through saddened eyes now, the blue that she had grown to love held a little less light, and his dirtied face lacked the smile she yearned to see. Besides her was not the strong warrior she had grown to know; replacing him was a man looking like a helpless child.
She supposed it was a fitting face: Asgard had been destroyed and the elite Odin had trusted had all been maimed. Who was left to save them now? The mortals were probably dead, and Loki would only save his own skin. It was an overwhelmingly hopeless situation, and Sif wished she could fight a little longer. She wished she wasn't dying next to the man she loved.
"I never wished for you to die for me." Thor remarked simply. "A life without you would be torture never-ending."
Blinking a few tears away, Sif sent a confused look towards the Thunder God.
"Milord, I—"
"I love you, Sif."
Sif was never one to cry, she had always thought it was something weaker women did, but she was now. She was mortally wounded in the middle of the royal gardens-they were amongst the most beautiful flowers and under a perfect glittering sky—and Thor was telling her that he loved her. There were so many times she had wished to hear those words; she had wished so long that he would see her as something other than a warrior.
Going to grab the gem around her neck, Sif felt her chest tighten when she realized it was gone: added to Thanos' collection. This time she knew Thor's words were not just some desperate wish made real through magic.
"And I you."
Thor smiled towards her.
"Perhaps in another life, Sif."
But before she could say anything else, Sif heard the loud crash of a door. Straining her neck towards the palace, her eyes widened when a figure came into view—his large horned silhouette marching angrily from the gilded building.
When his face finally came into view, Sif felt her heart race in panic. Loki was wearing a mask of pure madness, and his green eyes were lit with a fire that scared her. She had seen him in his prison cell, she had seen him crazed and animalistic, but never like this; this was something else entirely.
"Brother!" Thor called out, his voice straining. "Brother, please. Where is father?"
To her surprise, Loki stopped his violent march. His green eyes locked on his immobile brother and a wicked laugh left his lips. When looking into Thanos' eyes, Sif had thought she had seen the face of evil, but she had been wrong. It existed on Loki, and when his dark glare finally reached hers, she felt a shiver slither down her spine.
"Father is dead." He spat. "I killed him."
Not able to contain her anger, Sif cried out.
"Why would you do that?!" she screamed, her chest bleeding with each word. "Did nothing change?!"
Thor's brother sent her a purely venomous look.
"He destroyed my life!" Loki screamed. "He could never offer me the power Thanos can."
To her side, Sif noticed Thor's face twisted in misery; he was devastated, having to watch his brother fall into madness once more. Thor had been so optimistic—had fought so hard to get Loki the help he needed—and he was watching his wishes crumble before him. His brother had returned to the monster that attacked New York. Loki had once again turned into the prince who longed to see those he loved burn.
"I thought you cured!" Thor bellowed. "What became of your mind!?"
Though it was exceptionally brief, Sif thought she saw the faintest of changes in Loki's face. For a second, the fire in his eyes dimmed and his lips dropped ever so slightly. It was a face of pain, of true heartbreak, and it was masked as quickly as it appeared. Loki was a talented liar—the very best in the realms—and part of her wondered if this was all an act.
Every ounce of her prayed it was.
"Do you hear that, Thanos?!" Loki screamed crazily towards the sky. "I killed the Allfather! Slaughtered him!"
With his words, the air around them became uncomfortably thick. It felt like magic, the tingly pin-prick of electricity running along Sif's failing body, and when she heard a low laugh she knew who had entered the scene.
"A task I could have done myself." Thanos' voice remarked. "You are worthless."
Loki's face hardened a little with the Titan's remark.
"I stand before you now when the rest of Asgard's elite have fallen." Loki countered, his voice hitching ever so slightly. "Perhaps you should reassess my worth."
To this, Thanos simply laughed.
"That was by my design." He smirked, finally coming into view. "I wanted a…special kind of end for you. Something truly brutal after your unfortunate farce on Midgard."
Thanos was walking towards Loki now, his yellow eyes glowing with a new kind of rage and his laughter was sporting a new element of evil.
"I can tear apart your mind." Thanos offered, pointing to the blue gem. "Or trap you in a faulty dimension."
Next, the Titan moved a finger towards the yellow gem.
"I can give you the life you desperately want." He added. "And take it away."
When Thanos moved his attention to the green gem, Sif noted a marked change in Loki's presence. Though his stance remained strong, his eyes looked empty. It was the same face Thor was wearing, and when the destroyer of worlds ran his fingers over the bloodied facets, Loki looked disgusted.
"Strip you of whatever soul you have left." He continued. "Or age you in mere seconds."
Thanos was wearing a bloodthirsty smile.
"Choose."
Loki looked lost in a thought; to Sif, it looked too much like a man that had accepted his fate—accepted that his plan to team up with Thanos had failed. Like she had thought, Loki had only been looking out for himself all along. She was absolutely delusional for thinking that he had changed; she was absolutely daft to think for a moment he had come to save them. Her wish had gone unanswered.
Loki had always been after the throne, and now that Asgard was in ruin he had nothing to fight for. Whatever power he spoke of was gone, and his face reflected that. It was a hopeless expression; it was a mask men wore when they were ready to meet Death. Perhaps it was what he truly wanted.
"Fight me like a true warrior." He requested. "No magic. No gauntlet."
Thanos gave him one final smirk.
"As you wish."
Closing her eyes, Sif cringed as sounds of metal on metal echoed through the chilled night air. Screams sliced through the surroundings like haunting songs, and when she finally gathered the courage to look towards Thor, he was crying. As much as she hated him, Loki was Thor's brother. Once again, Thor was left to watch a battle he couldn't win—he was going to be forced to watch his brother die.
Biting her lip, the woman jumped when the sounds of leather ripping and bones breaking cut through the gardens. There was the sickening sound of a cracking jaw, and when she heard Loki's animalistic scream her stomach turned. Catching sight of the forgotten prince, Sif felt her heart drop at his tattered appearance. Despite the situation, he limped on like a true warrior—his face twisted in misery. For a second, she had forgotten all the horrid things he had done. For a second, she forced herself to see the man Thor did.
Why Loki had asked to battle was beyond her. He was a master sorcerer, not a warrior. For as long as she had known him, he preferred intellect to brute force—he preferred to have his nose in a book, and his hand out of war. Yet there he was, fighting like the bravest of Asgardians. Though illogical, she still held onto some hope that he was fighting for them.
Feeling heat rush across her face, the woman closed her eyes as a large magical blast raced through the air. Every ounce of her hoped it was Loki who had won—every ounce of her prayed that it had been Loki who betrayed the Titan and used magic. But when his bloodied, horned helmet came sliding towards her, she knew it was over.
Asgard had been lost.
Silly her: the prayers of gods never went answered.
The light was impossibly bright; it permeated everything, it wrapped him up and suffocated him, but it didn't burn. It was the whitest of white—like a soft new snow atop a mountain—but it wasn't cold. Instead, he felt an otherness, a lightness and a clarity he had not felt in some time. It was a feeling he couldn't quite place; he felt like he was both here and there, like he was both physical and ethereal, and it shook him. His whole body felt tingly, and when the light finally subsided, he didn't find himself smashed against the rubble in the gardens.
He was in the palace, and the sun was shining through the towering stained glass windows in the halls, their colors scattering against the intricate carvings on the wall behind him. It smelled like autumn, the crisp fragrance of apples and a welcoming feast dancing across his senses, and in the background he could have almost sworn he heard the slight beat of music. Quite simply, it was not the palace he had only just seen—it was not the one with bloodied etchings and a banquet hall filled with bodies.
Taking his first cautious steps, the prince started to walk down the empty halls. His footsteps screamed in the seemingly vacant halls, and when he caught his reflection in the metallic flooring, his gasp echoed endlessly. No longer wearing his heavy leathers for battle, his war-torn armor had been replaced with a loose green tunic and light leather jacket. Where there were once lacerations, clear skin now glowed. Every part of him felt healed: body and soul.
"Tis rude to keep a lady waiting."
Recognizing the voice, Loki's eyes widened when he saw a figure sitting alone in one of the many drawing rooms. Eir was seated at a small table, the cascade of sunlight kissing her face and making her already bright eyes even brighter. Like him, she had traded in her battle wear for something decidedly more elegant—the willowy white fabric of her dress pooling against the golden floors. Her painted lips twisted into a smile when he entered the room, and as he walked closer he noticed that her fingers were playing with game pieces made of ivory and silver. In front of her was a half finished game of hnefatafl.
"It is your turn, you know." She smiled brightly. "I'm winning."
Taking the seat across from her, Loki couldn't articulate the range of emotions he was feeling, and he couldn't find the words he most wanted to say. There was relief, and there was genuine happiness. He wanted to grab her and never let her go; he wanted to just touch her and convince himself she was real. He wanted to get lost in her voice, and he wanted to drown in her until her dying image was erased from his memory.
But another part of him told him this wasn't right. The scene was one he couldn't place, and his logic told him that it was all a likely illusion. Perhaps he had finally started hallucinating? The effects of exhaustion and distress could have finally taken their toll on his health. Or more likely, maybe this was all an elaborate trick by Thanos' hand. As the woman smiled at him, though, his eyes caught sight of something that told him this reality was neither of those:
There was bright scar across her neck.
Feeling a shiver rush down his spine, Loki looked down at the game board. He was losing badly—his king exposed and her pieces closing in. It was very much like the living world; Thanos was moving in on him and his moves were just as limited. With his thoughts racing, he chose the most obvious move.
"Predictability, Love." Eir said almost warningly, "Be mindful."
Her golden-painted fingers moved one of her ivory pieces towards his king.
"I win." She decided, finally picking up his piece. "Tis unwise to play the same tricks against one who knows you so well."
And as her small hands took his, he suddenly realized she wasn't speaking of herself. She was speaking about Thanos, who—much like her pieces—far outnumbered his. The Titan was winning this game of strategy, taking out each of Asgard's elite systematically, so that he might have a chance to take the king. Just like the game, his tricks had been obvious.
"Am I dead?" he finally asked, his hand gripping hers tightly. "Because if so…"
He wanted to stay. If this was to be his afterlife, he never longed to return to the cruel living world. He didn't want to return to a world where he was second best. He didn't want to return to a world where he felt so completely broken—he didn't want to live on an Asgard that was burned to the ground. But most of all, he didn't want to return to a world where the woman across from him was dead.
"That is entirely your choice." She interrupted, her face showing the faintest signs of sadness. "But if you ask me…"
Her gold eyes met his one last time.
"Choosing to stay would be far too predictable."
Weirder things have happened on Asgard, right? Anyway, thank you for reading! Reviews are always appreciated :) If any of you are going to FanExpo, try to find me! I will be dressed as Lady Sif!
Also, thank you all again for your suggestions on the One-Shots! Like I said, the first chapter will go up with the last one of this. I have been slowly plugging away at all of your suggestions, and I love where this is going! I hope you will all enjoy them.
Next chapter: Loki has some final tricks to play.
