Steve walked a few paces behind Thor and Loki as the gods moved softly through the crowd of well-wishers. Every few steps, Loki paused as another courtier, or childhood friend, or visiting dignitary came forward to shake his newly minted hand, congratulate him on his victory...stoically wish him well in the afterlife. With every interruption, Steve tried to catch up, but he just kept falling further behind as more and more aliens milled around and filled the space between them. Steve eased around a portly giant who seemed to be made of stone and looked for Loki again. His face fell. He saw Loki, but no Thor. The crowd pressed close all around the younger prince, and Loki looked back, dead in Steve's eyes. In his face, Steve saw no tiredness or sorrow, only sheer and utter terror. Yet still, admirers swarmed around him, clutching at his clothes and metal limbs, chattering their compliments, ignoring his distress...

Steve stood between the Warriors Three and a vaguely familiar portly giant who seemed to be made of stone. They stood in the third row back. Thor stood in the first row directly ahead of them. Steve was shaking in his boots, longing to be anywhere but here. On the steps before the high throne of Asgard, Loki knelt before Odin, and Odin held a long, glowing knife to his throat. Odin spoke some ritual phrase, and Loki responded. Steve could not hear either of them over the rushing in his ears. Then Odin lifted the knife, only to stab his son over and over again a moment later. Loki screamed but was soon cut off as the crowd roared its approval. Only Thor stood silent, watching with shoulders hunched. Steve felt his knees buckle. This was so, so ghastly...

Steve could see Loki, maimed and bleeding, falling, falling, falling. Another figure fell next to him through infinite space, also tall and dark haired. It was his old friend Bucky, Steve realized, his stomach turning over. Bucky was injured too, battered from war. His left arm ended in a slick shower of blood that had streamed around him like a grisly veil in the endless abyss. Ever the protector, Bucky reached out his whole arm to Loki, gathering the broken god to his side. His lips moved, though Steve couldn't hear him. Loki smiled. Another figure came into focus behind them: Agent Phil Coulson bleeding from a belly wound with his eyes closed. Behind him was another of Steve's old army buddies, who had died in a land mine explosion. And there was a woman Steve had noticed during the original Chitauri attack, her chest caved in. And there was a Wakandan warrior with not a mark on him but the unmistakable aura of death, victim of some alien weaponry that left no traces... A lake of fire like the Pit of the Book of Revelations yawned before them, and all were consumed.

Author's Note: Have you ever listened to the Shastakovich violin concerto No. 1? The third movement is very appropriate to this story.