AN: Hey! It took me a bit longer to finish this chapter but now it is here: the third and final chapter of 'I'm sorry'!
First I want to say thank you to all of you who have read this, and big thanks to those who have put this to their favorites or alerts. Also my special thanks to prongsof221B, Kelsey. writes. fanfiction, animexluva13 and theavengers4ever who have reviewed this story! You are all truly amazing!
Hopefully this final chapter is worth the wait. It took me a while because I couldn't decide how I wanted to finish this but finally I got this one idea at work and decided to go with it. Feel free to tell what you think. :)
Enjoy!
''I could have done it father!''
Hope.
''I could have done it! For you! For all of us.''
Hope.
''No, Loki.''
No,no,no,No,NO,NO-!
''Loki, no.''
There was nothing anymore. No reason to stay. He let go.
''No!''
He was falling.
Was it ever going to stop? The fall just continued and continued, on and on, not slowing down or showing signs of an end. What was the distance between life and death? How long would it take to regain consciousness after dying? Or was he going to wake up at all? Maybe he was wrong and he was actually dead, not able to return and only momentarily caged in between life and death. What a cruel stab of fate would that be?
There was a slight tingling starting to form in Loki's chest, not anything like an ache and absolutely not something what you feel when you are tickled by someone; it was just tingling. A bit warm kind of sensation that spread slowly all over his chest, moving outwards to his shoulders and arms, abdomen and legs.
Was this a sign that it would not take long anymore? That he would wake soon? Oh, how Loki hoped that this would mean it. He wasn't ready to die yet; he needed to wake–
Heart giving a strong beat, the green eyes flew wide open as well as his mouth that greedily took a gasping breath that filled his lungs with the most wonderful way that the trickster god had probably ever experienced. It was soothing, slightly cold but not too much and, most of all, it made Loki know that he was alive. The narrow chest rose high and fast as the God of Mischief breathed deeply in and then out, his arched back falling down to the ground, breathing in the sweet air of life and out the bad taste of death.
The trickster had no clear vision before his eyes, no clear sounds reaching his ears and no idea of his surroundings but he didn't care at this point. The only thing that mattered was that he could breath, get air into his lungs even though taking deep breaths still hurt his lower chest where he had been stabbed. But breathing was the main point now and everything else would have to wait until their turn would come.
Closing his eyes again, seeing no reason to keep them open before he would regain his senses, Loki relaxed himself. Every limb, every cell in his body; he made himself go completely limp on where he was lying. The sensation of his heartbeats and blood flow through his veins were the only things that he couldn't slow down but they kept him conscious. The constant echo of his heart in his ears and slowly spreading warmth as blood started to flow normally again were actually quite pleasant; so there was no need to stop them. Loki didn't want to fall back into darkness when he couldn't know for sure that he would also be able to return again. He didn't want to test it. Not now.
Unconsciously Loki's right hand rose and placed itself against the place on his lower chest where the spear had gone through, feeling those rough edges of his torn shirt that held the only visible evidences of his stabbing. Normally smooth leather was now stiff and hard in some places because of dried blood that had bled and caked before the wound had been healed by Loki's magic. The blood loss wasn't a subject to be worried for since it hadn't been enough to permanently kill him; but feeling, how much it had soaked the clothes he wore, Loki could tell that it had been quite much. Still, it was nothing his magic couldn't fix.
The hand fell down and back to the ground beside Loki's form. As it touched the ground, the long and pale fingers curled and pressed themselves into sand that covered the hard ground. It felt harsh under the trickster god's fingertips as sharper grains of sand stabbed against his skin hard enough to leave imprints. Still, as his fingers sank deeper, it started to feel almost soft and the coolness of sand was soothing against the imprints caused by the same matter.
Curling and uncurling his fingers, Loki's mind moved closer and closer to its normal functions. Like pieces of puzzle that are slowly brought together, everything started to return to the god. How to make his limbs move, how to reach for the magic that flowed through him, how to listen the surroundings and make sure that you are alone.
Yes, he was alone.
No breathing, no steps, no speech; it was all quiet except for wind and sand that swirled around and over the surface of the realm. Loki felt light touches as grains of sand brushed against his face and hands that were the only parts that were exposed.
Sand, wind, Svartalfheim; yes, that's where he was.
Asgard, Aether, Malekith; that's what started all this.
Frigga, Thor, Algrim; that's why he was here and why he had died.
Loki's eyelids fluttered slightly before they opened and revealed those bright green orbs that were now focused but still a bit confused. Above they saw the gray sky that was decorated with almost black clouds. A small frown crossed on Loki's pale features as his eyes moved from side to side as they observed the surroundings, or the part that they could see at least.
Move.
He moved, and even though it was just a small motion of his head, it felt like it released him from chains that held his body still. The small twitch breaking the spell and Loki raised his head up a bit, enough to look at himself and see more clearly where he was. However, after actually coming back from the dead, it wasn't a miracle when the God of Mischief noticed how tired his neck was getting in that position.
Even though it was tempting to just lay back down and rest, the trickster god decided to be stubborn, and with a small hiss leaving his mouth, he maneuvered his arms under himself. Now having something to lean on without falling back to the ground, Loki let his head fall backwards and hang in the air like that for a moment, not caring how undignified it looked.
There wasn't anyone around. And even if there was, he had risen from the dead and couldn't care less right now, if someone saw him. No one would say a word; end of the story.
Blinking once and twice before starting to raise his head slowly back up, Loki let out a breath. The movement was stiff and slow but it was at least something; better than being dead at least. Supporting the upper half of his body against his elbows, the trickster god breathed deeply in, eyes closing a bit in concentration as he gathered his energy. He needed to start moving soon.
Loki couldn't tell how long he had stayed there like this. Was it hours, days, weeks? How long had he stayed there like this? He needed to know, he had to start moving. It wasn't safe to stay.
A frown increased on Loki's forehead as he tensed his arms, telling them and making them to start to raise him up. Even though his arms protested, shaking under the weight and pressure the trickster god put on them, they didn't fail him. Slowly and calmly, while Loki pressed his teeth against each other because of the pain the movement caused to his lower chest, his arms were able to raise him into a sitting position. Well almost, since he leaned still quite heavily against his hands that were pressed against the sandy ground.
As his right hand stayed steadily pressed against the ground for support, Loki brought his left hand over the part where he had been stabbed, green eyes following his hand to see the damaged part better. It wasn't a beautiful sight, not at all, but neither the worst one that he had seen.
There was a darker spot on the normally black fabric; something like a mixture of brown, black and maybe dark red. It was quite a mess but at least the wound wasn't bleeding anymore. Well, something positive even in this situation.
And now...
What now?
What should he do now?
In everyone's eyes he was a criminal; the former prince of Asgard, a cold blooded killer, an outcast and, possibly, a Jotun. A murderer who not only killed Jotunheim's king and a great amount of the realm's citizens but also tried to take over Midgard with the help of one of the most dangerous beings in all nine realms, the Chitauri and Thanos.
And lets not talk about how many Midgardians died during that time, during the time of madness, because even though the invasion failed and even though the Avengers were there to protect the citizens of New York, the number of the dead was big.
Claiming that it was merely a handful of what Odin has killed, wouldn't help anymore. Because the Allfather did only good choices and even when he lost a lot of soldiers, it was always because of the greater good. Sacrifices must be made and blah blah.
Loki had meant good too.
By killing Laufey and trying to destroy Jotunheim he had wanted to protect Asgard from Jotuns and the problems Thor had caused when they had traveled to the realm of ice with Sif and the Warriors Three.
Before that, yes, Loki had helped those two Jotuns into Asgard without being seen by Heimdall but it only happened because he knew that Thor wasn't ready to be a king. Thor had still been childish and arrogant but no one else seemed to have seen it; not the Warriors Three, not Sif, not Frigga and especially not Odin who was offering the throne on a silver plate.
Loki hadn't spoken a word against the coronation. If he had, everyone would have thought that he only wanted the throne himself, that he was jealous of his strong and powerful older brother. No one would have taken him seriously, so he needed to act alone and in silence.
Just like always.
Jotuns had wanted the Casket of Ancient Winters back ever since it was taken from its original place from Jotunheim and brought to Asgard. They wanted it back but still respected peace, bitterly but still. Though if they got a chance to get it back, even when it would mean stealing, they would have taken it.
And that's what Loki had used against them: their own willingness to get the Casket no matter what.
However, he hadn't planned it to go that far.
He had wanted to stop Thor's coronation ceremony, and that would have been it. Loki knew that Odin would not be the one to start a war with the ice realm since it was not the first time Jotuns tried to get the Casket back. But it all had gotten out of his hands when Thor decided to go to Jotunheim and get some answers himself.
''To protect the realm from his idiotic rule for a while longer,'' he had said to Laufey, and he had spoken the truth. That was what he planned but the plan didn't succeed. And only because that one guard was so slow.
Because before they had started to make their way to Bifrost, Loki had told one of the palace's guards to go and tell Odin what was happening. Only the Allfather could have stopped Thor at that point. But no. The guard had taken too much time, and Odin arrived only when it was already too late. They arrived to Jotunheim which was not supposed to happen, Thor started to argue with Laufey which was a second thing that was not supposed to happen, and then that idiot started a fight.
And only because a Jotun called him a princess.
Loki let his eyes fall shut, leaning slightly and carefully forward, being careful to not stretch his wound as his right hand rubbed against his temple. He remembered it all very clearly. Even though he was younger than Thor, sometimes it didn't look like it. When it came to things that included thinking and patience, Thor was never the first one on the line. And that moment in Jotunheim proved it. Thor wasn't ready then.
Everything that happened after their visit to Jotunheim was a pure coincidence. Actually everything after the Jotuns' failed attempt to take the Casket and Thor's halted coronation was a coincidence. None of it was planned and yet it all went straight to Hell.
And because of that, Loki was now here; sitting on the black surface of Svartalfheim, dead to the rest of the world.
How can such small deeds turn everything so upside down?
The bowed head with black hair that was hanging down and covering Loki's face hid the God of Mischief from his surroundings, from the dark wasteland and its haunting past. The wind blew and Loki's shoulders shook a little, shaking away the sand that landed on his shoulders.
Such small deeds turn everything upside down.
The shaking of Loki's shoulders increased, and if someone had been there and thought that the man was crying or shivering from coldness, what Loki did next would have proven the one to think that wrong.
The slightest tugging on the corners of Loki's mouth made a grin form on the God of Mischief's face, widening into a form that was wider than it probably ever had been. Hand still pressed against his temple, the green eyes stayed shut as a sound started to pour from Loki's mouth.
At first it was chuckling, then sniggering that slowly got deeper and deeper. Like it was getting more energy to use, the sound became stronger, and when it finally reached its final level, it was almost an unfamiliar sound coming from Loki's mouth. A laughter, deep and sounding almost like it was coming from a maniac.
Maybe it was.
All he ever wanted, was to be an equal to Thor. A son who wouldn't always be just a shadow, the second best at everything. But of course he would never have gotten to that, never would have and never will have.
Always the second best.
Hand pulling away from his temple, Loki's head fell backwards and he let loose his laughter, letting it fill the silence that had fallen on the realm, letting everything, every small object and being whether alive or not, know what he thought.
Stinging pain erupted from his lower chest but he ignored it and just continued to laugh, eyelids shielding his green orbs as his white teeth shone in the dark world. He was alone, no one would see nor hear. He was alone.
All he ever wanted, all he ever needed; would never be in his arms.
He was alone, and that couldn't be changed anymore. Not back to the way it was those years ago.
But.
Future was always something that could be changed.
The laughter ceased, calmed down as Loki's head fell forward again, chuckles still getting their power from his lungs and leaving his mouth, flowing out between his lips like air that he breathed. Shoulders still shaking as those small bursts of mocking laughter continued to form, black hair around the God of Mischief's face falling onto his narrow cheeks, those short strands tickling the upwards turned corners of his mouth.
''You fool,'' came the first words as Loki collected his breath. ''I'm sad to say that you didn't get rid off me so easily, Odin, the mighty Allfather.''
Hissing the last three words out like he had been a snake that was threatened, Loki sneered silently and raised his head. Despite all those words, yelling and so-called grieving, Thor had still left him alone. His dear brother that he had almost begged to stay with him when life had been draining away from the trickster god. All those words and still Thor hadn't even bothered to send his body back to Asgard or at least somewhere else. No, the thunderer had left him here.
To the useless wasteland and home of Frigga's killers!
It seemed like Thor was even greater liar than Loki himself had been. Speak of honor and then leave your brother's dead body to the enemy's realm like he would have actually meant nothing to Thor.
''I'll show you honor, Odinson.''
The green orbs looked around the field, only hills made of black sand and solid ground meeting the gaze that he let wander over the view. Though, one hill caught his attention as a memory, including the small aircraft they had taken from Asgard, came to his mind. On that one hill, slightly behind the top of it but still visible; there it was. The silver colored ship was shining like a diamond in the middle of dark view, a sight that surprised Loki.
Why hadn't they taken the ship to-?
The Convergence.
It must have been it. Somehow they had been able to find another way out of this realm, whether the Convergence or some other pathway between realms, it mattered not. What did matter, was that they had left the ship behind and, without knowing it, offered him a chance to leave.
''I'll show to all of you.''
One hand placed against the ground behind his back tensed momentarily as Loki prepared himself, breathing deeply in and out, ready to accept the possible pain that his next move would undoubtedly bring. And then, he proceeded.
The hand pushed Loki slightly forward as in the same time his legs that had been unmoving this whole time, bent a little from the knees, moving and allowing the trickster god to put some of his weight on them.
Pain didn't flash behind his eyelids much to his luck and it was more like a slight stretch around the wound, healed skin around it protesting, telling that it wasn't completely healed yet. Though, right now he didn't have time to worry about that. It had healed enough to not bleed and that meant it was enough for Loki. The rest of it would be healed by his magic as time passed.
The change of position still made Loki to press his teeth together as he placed his legs under him and pushed up; hands rising off the ground, back and head bowing a little, hiss leaving the pale lips, informing that another protest was made by the wound.
But it wouldn't stop him. Didn't stop him.
Feet placed slightly apart from each other to create more stable stance, sand and dust fell from the leather tunic and coat as the trickster god's back straightened, causing the gravity take hold of the clothes, making the heavy material straighten itself as well. Except for the stabbing holes in his shirt and coat, the God of Mischief's clothing was intact; the elves hadn't been able to stab him second time.
Pathetic beings that they were.
Coldness of the wind felt wonderful; hitting, tickling over the pale cheeks as Loki raised his head, green eyes opening and focusing on the view that awaited him. Even in this hideous and hateful place, the wind was calming, soothing. A simple thing that now felt like one of the best things in the nine realms. It eased the burning stretch on his lower chest, making it easier to breathe as well as think.
Who would have thought that wind could feel so good?
Loki's right foot rose off the ground, taking a step forward, slowly and carefully, testing if they already had the strength to keep him upright. There was no fear as he made the move, only cautiousness as he prepared for any possible outcome from nothing to painful fall.
Never had he taken such a wound, never had he actually come so close to death; that's why anything could happen now, every possibility was open, and he needed to test himself slowly.
But nothing happened.
A slight stretch around his wound was still there but nothing more; he had a chance. Another step and there came no pain, only the slightest discomfort on his middle was there but otherwise he felt fine. Well, as fine as someone could be after returning from dead, but anyway.
One step, second, third, and so Loki started to walk to the aircraft's direction. There was nothing to stop him now, not anymore. Nothing to stop him from reaching his goal. So long he had been ignored and looked down on with gazes of mock and hate but not anymore.
A small smirk rose onto his features, raising the corners of his mouth before golden light started to climb up from his feet. Something to surprise Asgard and the Allfather who couldn't be prepared to meet his younger son so soon and without Thor. It wasn't much, just a small illusion that made him look like a common guard of the golden realm, but it was still something that would give him a straight path to the throne room.
He knew this was the end.
The end of one era but also the beginning of a new one.
Odin would see what he has done, what he took under his wings all those years ago when he found a Jotun baby from the temple of Jotunheim. The Allfather would now see what his actions unleashed. He would pay the price.
Because Loki knew that he was no longer son of Odin and he would never be son of Laufey either, there still was something that he was and always would be. Something that couldn't be taken away from him. For that right was given to him when he was born, the proof of it running in his veins even at that very moment.
His birthright to have the throne.
But it would not be the throne of Jotunheim like it had originally been; for the centuries he had spent in the golden realm had taught him to hate the ice realm and the home of Jotuns. Even though they were his kin by blood, Loki didn't see himself as one of them and never would. The murder of Jotunheim's king was a proof of that.
But neither could he see himself as an Asgardian, not by actions, not by mind, simply not by anything. He wasn't one of them, no matter how much Thor claimed otherwise. It just wasn't true and calling himself one, would be cheating, a lie that even he could not believe.
Still, there was something that would not be taken away from him.
It was his name, his title: God of Mischief and Lies. For that's what he was and would always be. That name belonged to him and only to him, it was his destiny and a guiding hand that would lead him forward even in the darkest places of nine realms, his silver tongue saving him from danger that physical power would never be able to do.
Now, it was time. Finally, after a long wait, it had finally come.
Odin would fall before his feet and the throne of Asgard would finally be his, those words and promises that the Allfather had so many times spoken to him when he'd still been a child, would finally become true. For he was born to be a king.
And he would show it like he himself saw fit. No matter how much Odin would fight against him, he would show honor only to himself and only to his name. Because he could.
Because he was Loki.
The one and only God of Mischief and Lies.
The End.