AN: An update at 3 am! Woo! Thank you so much everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I cannot thank you enough! Also, thank you for new follows and favorites! You are seriously the best!
Here is the next chapter. ONE MORE LEFT. I hope the ending will leave everyone satisfied!
Enjoy! :)
Chapter 39: The Infinity Gauntlet
It felt wonderful to win for once. Losing an army to mere mortals was humiliating, and entrusting the safe return of the Tesseract to a mentally unstable Asgardian prince was beyond foolish. Now, however, as yellow eyes cast themselves over the destruction, Thanos couldn't help but smile. This time, his plan had gone without a hitch. This time, he had gained something far more valuable than the Tesseract.
Laughing to himself, Thanos started to walk towards the paralyzed Thunder God. Blue eyes were fixated on the bloodied, horned helmet that had scattered across the rocks, and with each passing moment Thanos could see Thor's face twist into a deeper misery. The girl next to him had long passed, and Loki's body now laid motionless across the gardens—a pool of blood trickling down the cracks of the elaborate stonework like ink.
"Look at him." Thanos ordered, twisting Thor's face in the direction of his brother. "He hardly held his own."
Tightening his grip on the prince's cheeks, Thanos smirked when the motionless man clenched his eyes shut—seemingly not wanting to stare upon his fallen kin.
"What will you do now, Odinson?" he asked wickedly. "What good is a king who cannot protect his own realm?"
Looking at the destruction, Thanos decided to amend his statement.
"What good is a king who cannot protect his own family?"
Letting go of Thor's cheeks, the Titan smiled into the golden gauntlet and started an agonizing trek towards the fallen jotun. He had destroyed worlds, he had left Asgard in rubble, but nothing compared to the satisfaction of seeing Loki's lifeless form. Death was a sucker for poetic endings—she loved beautiful demises—and Loki's was truly one she would relish. Some of his limbs were contorted in frighteningly grotesque shapes, the bones underneath obviously shattered, and the bright flash of his blood was loud against his pale face. It was one of the more stunning things he had ever seen. Death was like a canvas—and he had painted a beautiful picture.
"Your gatekeeper may have saved Midgard, but there is no one left to protect them now." Thanos added, casting one more glance towards Thor. "Perhaps I should pay them a visit?"
Deciding that he wanted nothing more with the favored prince of Asgard, Thanos kneelt down towards Loki's body and eyed the elegant dagger in his hand. Already, his mind was racing at the thought of ending Thor's life with Loki's own blade. It was a delicious thought, but when his large hands finally met those of the fallen prince, he was met only with stone—his hands passing through the corpse as if it were a phantom.
Eyes widening, Thanos could hear the distinct sound of sticks breaking and leaves rustling. Everything had suddenly gone dark, the alien only able to see the faint silhouettes of corpses against the multicolored sparkle of the gems, and he was suddenly left with a sick feeling. Though he could not see movement, he could hear the footsteps and the breathing. Though he could not see, he knew one thing for certain: he was not alone.
"Show yourself!" he bellowed, his voice seemingly echoing on for an eternity in the crisp air. "Do not be a coward!"
Wishing it, the surroundings lit up once more. Without the darkness hindering his vision, the alien started to trek through the dense vegetation and stumble over the uneven ground. His enemy was still invisible, and each time he felt like he was closing in on his challenger, another sound would echo from a different direction. At times, though he knew it was impossible, Thanos thought himself surrounded.
From the corner of his eyes, the Titan saw a small vial roll towards him. It was unremarkable, the top tied in a dainty, feminine bow, and it appeared empty. Growling, Thanos took his mighty foot and crushed the small glass container—a cloud of thick smoke instantly surrounding him.
Coughing, the alien cursed as the poison entered his system. Running from the smoke as quickly as his legs would carry him, the man followed the slight movement of flowers in the distance. On the soft earth, he could see the faint trace of blood, the small droplets bright against the ground, and he knew that Asgard's greatest trickster could not hide for much longer.
"Your schemes grow old, Loki." Thanos yelled into nothingness. "Show yourself, and I will make sure your end is painless."
Finally, in the distance, he could see the form of the limping prince. Loki's leg was shattered, dragging behind him like some useless baggage, and the pain on his face was tangible. It was scrunched in pure misery, his green eyes looking desperately for some means of escape, but it didn't exist. He had left the maze of a garden and exposed himself in an open field—no magic or luck could save the prince now.
"A valiant effort." Thanos remarked, impressed. "Perhaps I underestimated you."
Raising the gauntlet towards the broken man, Thanos concentrated with all his might. He thought of a painful death for Loki, one that would rip his soul and body apart. The destroyer thought of a death that would be irreversible, one that would send every remnant of the prince scattered across the realms never to be recovered again. And as the bright beam of light raced towards the injured figure, Thanos prepared himself for what should only be a brilliant display of destruction.
But it never came.
Instead, a cold breath danced across his neck, and a sharp pain rushed from the base of his skull.
"Perhaps you did."
When the blade entered Thanos's neck and the warm blood pooled over his hands, Loki couldn't believe he had actually done it. Death had finally come to claim the titan, his body falling towards the ground with an ungraceful thud, leaving the prince to take the glittering gauntlet on the tyrant's hand. Lowering his hands towards the infamous artifact, Loki sighed as the cool metal kissed his skin.
Many legends spoke of its power. If one were to obtain the six mysterious gems, the owner would be granted omnipotence. Taking an exhausted breath, Loki slipped the glove on his own hand. Almost instantly, he could feel an immense power course through his veins—almost instantly, he felt as if anything he wanted was a reality.
It was a heavy feeling, knowing the universe was at your fingertips. Loki knew the gauntlet could finally give him the life he wanted. He could use its power to make himself the favored son—he could use the power to wipe out any remnant of his Jotun heritage, erase the monster from his blood, and actually make him an Asgardian. The gauntlet could give him the grand adventures he had always wanted; it could give him the power he constantly sought out. He could write himself a perfect love story, instead of the broken one he was given.
He could take back all the horrible lies he told.
He could stop himself from making all the mistakes he made.
"Brother, please." Thor begged from afar. "Do not do it."
Looking towards Thor, Loki ran his fingers over the gems in the glove. Each stone had belonged to one of Asgard's finest—each had belonged to people who were, or once were, his greatest friends—and it made him sick to think of how Thanos had acquired the set. To use the stones for his own selfish needs would make him no better than Thanos. To use the stones for himself, would make their death's meaningless. Limping towards his fallen brother, Loki could only give him a smile.
"After all this time, brother?" he asked, an air of mischief to his voice. "You still cannot see through a lie?"
And in the corner of his eyes, Loki could see the final piece to his elaborate war game. Thanos may have attempted to wipe out all the pawns, he may have tried to fight his way towards the king, but he had failed. The true king was hidden all along.
"Take it." Loki urged, handing the golden gauntlet to Odin. "Before I change my mind."
For the first time in so long, the Allfather smiled at him. It was a smile filled with gratitude and respect—it was filled with apologies and goodbyes. Though he was initially blind to Odin's plans, Loki had found out quickly what the Allfather had planned to do: When his father had locked himself in the bowels of Asgard, he was not trying to save himself—he was preparing to save everyone else.
"Is the gauntlet truly powerful enough to fix this?" Thor asked from his place on the ground. "Father, don't—"
"There are lives far more worthy than mine." Odin remarked, placing the ancient artifact on his hand. "It is the duty of the king to protect his people."
Before Thor could protest, Odin did it. Sparing Thor the agonizing goodbyes, Odin played his final card. The Odinforce was bright—it burned the eyes and seemed to suffocate the surroundings—but it didn't last long. Almost like a wave of magic, it descended over Asgard in a thick blanket. It nourished the realm, revitalized it, and springing life anew. But in its wake, it also left an empty gauntlet and lonely ceremonial armor.
Like a true captain, Odin went down with his ship.
Where there was once darkness, there was now color; where there was once only sound, image now existed.
"Goldie." Tony smiled. "Good to have you back."
Sitting up from his place on the Bifrost, Heimdall gave a bright smile towards the armored mortal. He could see everything again—he could see the spiral of color return to Asgard, and he could see the veil of evil melt away. Towards the gardens, he could see Thor finding his footing once more—his hammer firmly grasped in his hand. The prince looked both happy and sad, and when he picked up Odin's empty helmet, Heimdall instantly knew what the cost had been.
In the palace, the Warriors Three embraced each other and exchanged smiles. The mortals rushed over to one another, tears in their eyes and their shock tangible. One by one, the bodies of Asgard sprung back to life, needy gasps echoing through the expansive halls. Shaky on their feet, the handmaidens rushed to one another and gave each other desperate hugs. Heimdall could see the joy on their faces when the queen exited her room with a stunned look on her ageless face. On earth, the mortals started to cry when a voice echoed through one of their computers.
"What do you see?" Tony asked seriously. "Is everything going to be alright?"
What he saw was truly beautiful. It often took a tragedy for people to realize things they were too afraid to admit, and in wake of this miracle, nothing was left unsaid. Over the earpiece, Heimdall could hear the young mortal admitting that the Warriors Three were her best friends—idiots, she pointed out—but her best friends. Throughout the confession, she couldn't stop sobbing.
On Asgard, the gatekeeper could see the banished prince rushing towards the palace. His large horned helmet long discarded, Loki raced through the twists and turns of elegant hallways—raced passed his revived comrades and even his mother—all to make it to a location deep in the palace. Looking in on the scene, Heimdall couldn't help but smile.
"Yes, Stark." He decided, his golden eyes matching the mortal's brown. "Everything will be alright."
It had felt like being thrown in an ocean, only worse. Eir felt like she was drowning, but not quite; the heavy waves of magic were crushing, and though she tried to catch her breath, the magic suffocated her. The pain seemed to crash down all at once, its unbearable torture leaving her with a scream trapped in her throat. She could feel her hands clawing at her neck, her body desperate to extract an imprisoned breath, but she found little success.
But as soon as it had started, it stopped. A hungry gasp echoed through the hallway, and a scream of pain followed when dried blood pulled on long, dark locks. The woman could feel herself shaking, and her breathing was rapid—her body suddenly a glutton for air. Hearing distant voices down the hallway, the woman started to panic—her mind racing with memories of a vicious army and a terrifying tyrant. But when she tried to move, her body denied her.
Cursing under her breath, she forced her stiffened arms to push her off the cold floors and for her body to fight past the pain. Everything smelled metallic, and as she rose, the sound of ripping hair made her sick. The voices were getting louder now, and still her body would not move. Whatever magic had hailed her from Valhalla, had not yet overcome all the physical limitations from Death. She was recovering too slowly, and the enemies were closing in.
Reaching towards her medical satchel, the goddess growled when she realized it was no longer at her side. Whatever poison she could have used to defend herself was long gone, and any chance she had to avoid the terrifying experience of death was stolen from her. Closing her eyes, the woman let a silent prayer dance on her lips. To whoever would listen, she hoped that this time would not be as painful as the last.
But the enemies she remembered never came; instead, her body was pulled into another—a familiar voice warm against her ears.
"It worked." It said, the voice muffled against her. "Oh Allfather, it worked."
Not able to hold back tears, the Goddess of Medicine held onto Loki tighter. She could feel his hands on her, not wanting to let her go, almost questioning to himself as to if she was real. She didn't know how he had done it; even the best healing magic was often insufficient on her, and yet there she was.
Somehow, he had saved her.
Smiling into him, his voice reached her once more.
"I promised I would get you better."
Looking at him now, Eir smiled again—tears falling though she was far from sad. He looked at her like he did long ago; despite the exhaustion on his features, there was a spark in his eyes and a tangible sense of relief in his smile. Loki was never one to voice his feelings, believing that actions held a truth words never could, and he said nothing now. But when he grabbed her tight and brought his lips to hers, she knew exactly what he meant.
As far as kisses go, it wasn't elegant; she was covered in blood and his leather was caked in filth from a hard fought battle. She wasn't draped in some expensive gown, and he lacked his emerald cape. They weren't under some glittering sky—and she was fairly sure her hair was a mess. It was desperate and heartbreaking, but of all the times their lips had met, it was by far the most beautiful.
Eir didn't care who watched. She didn't care if Frigga knew; didn't care of Sigyn saw. Asgard had been torn apart by the desolation of war, and their best abilities had been pushed to their extremes. Death had claimed her—and some force had brought her back. Loki had almost been lost in every sense of the word, and yet there he was. He was the man she remembered once more.
Actions did tell a truth words never could; she hoped that hers screamed out that she loved him.
Thank you so much for reading! Reviews are always very much appreciated and loved! :)
There is one more chapter left of Pathology, and with the posting of the last chapter I will also be posting the first chapter of the One Shots ( Actual title to be determined soon...hopefully ). I think I have managed to come up with story ideas ( of various lengths ) to incorporate all of your suggestions-so keep a look out for your suggestions! :)
They will be posted in chronological order so, even though the stories themselves can exist on their own, the group of them will be cohesive. The first "shot" will be called The Editor.
