Visitation

by kalimecat

Loki has returned to Asgard and is imprisoned for his crimes. While in prison he has the occasional visitor, will the love of others bring back the fallen prince or is he truly too far gone?

32. Counter Attack

A/N READERS! Hello! How are you? Dear Readers I thank you so much for your continued patience. I don't always have the time to write like I wish I would, but I appreciate each and everyone of you so much. All your reviews, favorites and follows mean so much to me. I wouldn't still be writing this story if it wasn't for you, so please give yourself a round of applause. I am very excited to present this chapter to you. This is one of the first scenes I envisioned when I started writing this story, so it is exciting to have finally written it. Hopefully you enjoy it. it's not perfect, but I worked on it as much as I could. well without further ado Chapter 32. Happy reads and writes and as always GOD BLESS!

A dark and ominous cloud descended upon the Imperial City of Asgard. It loomed over the city, thick and heavy like a ghastly, deadly fog. The terrible T-shaped shadow of the Dark-Elf mothership revealed itself. It perched itself atop the Bifrost observatory, big and bold in all its' wicked glory, an evil monument erecting itself as an omen of the horrible events that were soon to come to pass.

The Aesir noblemen, soldiers and citizens who milliseconds before were celebrating the triumphant return of their prince froze in their tracks. The songs and chants that joyously bubbled forth from their hearts fell silent and became caught in their throats. The dances that had taken over their feet were soon made still and their hands instantly lost the ability to clap as they beheld the hideous, black ship positioned proudly on top of the Bifrost. Gasps replaced laughter and jubilation gave way to distress. "What is that?" some in the crowd cried pointing with horror and the gruesome T-shaped ship.

"A dark-elf ship," a response was heard.

"I thought Prince Thor destroyed the Dark-Elves?" panicked questions broke out among the crowd.

"Lord Algrim, do you see this?" asked Prime Minister Audric turning to his friend. The Light-Elf couldn't bring himself to respond. His eyes scrutinized the sight. His white eyes were wide with horror and his face was devoid of all pigmentation. "What is going on?" Lady Dagmar's father demanded of the speaker of the council as they looked on the terrible scene.

"It can't be," Lord Algrim finally whispered but his voice was so low that it could scarcely be heard even by those who were standing right next to him.

"Where is Prince Thor?" a frantic healer questioned.

"Has he abandoned us?" questioned a young serving wench with tumbleweed colored hair. She put her hand to her head and cried out in fear.

"We are all going to die!" his friend shrieked in horror grabbing on to her shoulders and shaking her. More and more anxiety began to break out amongst the group. Frantic mutterings and mumbling could be heard. Everyone was in a panic and a quandary.

"There, there, there! Is that not Prince Thor?" cried a hopeful noble. He pointed down below toward the rainbow bridge. "Is that not the son of Odin leading our enemy back in chains?" he exclaimed. Many of the other congregants present rushed toward the railing and leaned over desperate to get a good look at what was transpiring.

"Surely, it tis! Surely, it tis!" insisted another as he hand clapped down on his fellow councilman's shoulder, "Huzzah!' he called out enthusiastically as he leaned over his friends shoulder to get a better look. "Come! Come!" he called over his shoulder to the people. He turned around and raised his might arms. "Three cheers for the Valiant Prince Thor!" he attempted to rally the rest of the delegates, soldiers and palace staff once more.

He started to lead them, but before another round of cheers could escape the Aesir's lips a palace guard announced, "Look again, that's not Prince Thor,"

"Then who is that?" demanded Lord Audric, the Prime Minister of Vanaheim. His purple eyes squinted trying to make out the ant like figures marching toward them across the colorful bridge.

"It's…it's," the soldier standing beside Lord Algrim muttered as he tried to decipher the small forms on the Bifrost bridge.

"Loki," the Light-Elf minister to the king hissed vehemently as he made out a slender, tall body cloaked in evergreen vestments and an intimidating golden horned helmet crowning the head.

"Loki!" the Prime Minister of Vanahiem echoed behind his friend, but his voice came out shrill and angry. He leaned over Algrim. He leaned so far over that he nearly sent himself toppling over the balcony. "Loki!" Dagmar's hissed the name again as he saw the despicable creature striding ever so proudly across the Bifrost. "That monster dare show his face here again!" The Vanir nobleman railed. He shot a fist in the air to vent his vehemence at the sight of the animal he held responsible for his daughter's death. "What is he doing with them!" Lord Audric spat in disgust. He saw the each on of the Dark-Elves the very sight of each soldier in a white washed mask made his blood boil. Although their faces were white as tombs the dignified Prime Minister of Vanahiem saw red. He let out an instinctive growl. It was a sound that he could only recall making a few other times in his life. The other time had been when he'd found his wife, face down in the courtyard. Death by poison. Both his wife and child had been taken from him by enemies. Enemies that he'd never forget nor ever forgive.

Dagmar. His precious jewel of a daughter murdered in her youth by that long forgotten enemy. His wife and daughter had both been taken from him. The Vanir nobleman felt so alone. He was a wealthy man, with rank and power and yet now he had nothing. He'd been brought lower than the lowliest best. When his wife died he'd felt his world shatter around him, but he'd had to be strong, he'd had to go on for Dagmar's sake. She was young and innocent and she needed him. She had lost her mother, but she didn't deserve to be fatherless too. Now, his beloved Dagmar was gone...taken from him so violently and he truly had nothing. He was an older man and he was now orphaned. He had no real family to speak of without his daughter. His only motivation for living was now fueled by his need to see every last remnant of that abominable race who slaughtered his child without pity be eliminated.

A new rage filled him as he saw the slim, porcelain skinned monster who donned the appearance of a prince of Asgard walking side by side with Malekith. Loki. Loki who had played in his gardens as a child, played with his daughter when she was a girl, studied with Dagmar, held her hand, he'd watched the two of them dance together at banquets...he'd claimed to be his daughters best friend. He'd heard the young man say that he loved his daughter. He'd heard his daughter say she loved him. His stomach turned. How could that monster have ever have claimed to care anything about his daughter? He should have known. Loki was a liar. He'd lied to Dagmar and had brought about her death. He felt the hot heat of vengeance bubbling within him. It was hot and heavy and intense like a fire from a raging inferno. It was strong and powerful like molten lava, desperate to ooze out, overflow and destroy. In that moment the normally calm, and dignified Prime Minister of Asgard felt as if he wanted to take a sword, leap off the balcony and charge straight for Loki swing the sword and sever his head from his slim, little neck. "AHHHHHH! LOKI!" He raged. The prime minister of Asgard shot his friend a glare. He tried to grab his hand to quiet him, but it was too late. Lord Audric's voice bounced off the dome shaped ceiling of the vestibule. The name of the vile traitor hung in the air thick as the heavy dark clouds that loomed over the Imperial city.

The very mention of the rogue, ex-prince's name was enough to make any patriotic Asgardian's skin crawl like they'd seen some disgusting insect. It was enough to set their teeth on edge like they'd been sucking on lemons. His name was enough to make stomach turn like after a night of a victory feast when the mead was over flowing from ever tankard and the wine was pumped into the fountains instead of water. At first the name was murmured in a cautious whisper as if to speak of him was taboo. In some circles it was. His name fluttered from mouth to mouth and ear to ear. The more it was spoken the more and more frantic the people became. "Calm yourself, Audric," Algrim chastised.

Lord Audric snatched his wrinkled hand from Algrim's bony fingers. "Don't tell me to be calm!" The white-bearded dignitary snapped. "How can I be calm looking at that animal!" He point viciously at Loki. "He is the reason why my daughter is dead," he claimed.

Lord Algrim's expression softened as his pointed ears drooped at the tips. "I know your pain, my friend," he said sympathetically as he patted his friend's shoulder. 'But you must try to keep your voice down!" Lord Algrim warned, but his warning came too late. It was one thing for the councilmen and the palace guards to be aware of the fact that Loki had been sprung from jail by prince Thor, but it was not something that Algrim had ever intended for the populace to know. Many of the people in the congregant were civilians, healers and servants. This news would spread like wildfire among the citizens in a manner of minutes. It would cause mass panic in the city and it would be a matter of hours before all of Asgard was privy to such knowledge. Mayhem and pandemonium would run ramped in the streets. Although even austere Algrim could admit that this was enough to give every citizen cause to panic. Lord Algrim had hoped to quietly be able to launch an ambush and capture the villainous ex-prince of Asgard and the Dark-Elves.

Lord Audric slapped his friend's hand off of his shoulders. He turned to him snarling his purple eyes welling with new tears, "Do not tell me you know my pain!" he growled. "You don't!" he barked. "you don't," his head dropped and so did his voice. The gray-haired Vanir's head snapped back up, his violet eyes continued to glare at Algrim, "You don't have any children! So you can't possibly imagine the pain of losing one," he accused. His finger pointed violently toward Lord Algrim's sharp nose. The Elfin prime minister through his hands up in an apology.

Audric huffed for a minute, the Vanir noble's cheeks were soon damp. 'it is unnatural to bury your own child!" he continued to vent. "it feels wrong to live without her," he confessed, his huffing giving way to weary sigh. His body started to tremble. He could feel himself ready to give way to all the grief that still whirled inside him. He shook him, bit his lip and stood proudly before his fellow prime minister. "Well I am sorry, Lord Algrim," The other prime minister apologized as he felt bony fingers dig into his forearm near the elbow. "I cannot keep my voice down at that sight of that scoundrel," Lord Audric's voice rippled with anger. "He is the reason my darling child is dead!" the politician spat once again. His purple eyes filled with fresh tears. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist tightly around the golden bar of the railing. Lord Audric had never been a man of war, but seeing Loki alive and well, completely unscathed sauntering across the rainbow bridge with such pride leading a whole battalion awakened something with in him. Something primordial, a deep seated rage. If looks could kill the elderly Vanir nobleman's glare would have shot an arrow right through the black-locked mages heart and skewered him mid stride leaving the Bifrost bridge to be soaked in Loki's blood. Lord Audric felt his hands heating up to the point where he felt that his hands would have melted the gold coating over the railing clean off and then melted the iron, too.

"Loki!" several voices hollered out in abject horror at the very mention of his name. Suddenly, the people stampeded. They all rushed toward the front of the balcony, pushing and shoving, anxious to get closer to the balcony to get a better look at the group of people coming up from the Bifrost. They nearly shoved the two prime ministers out of the way so that they could look and see what was going on.

Likewise, the crowd almost trampled Lady Sigyn. She was bowed down over Lady Sif body, she worriedly tended to the fallen shield-maiden. Sif had fainted immediately after she caught sight of Prince Thor bound and chained and gagged and being lead like a dog on a leash behind the fiendish Dark_Elves. It had all happened so fast that fair-haired maiden hardly had time to process everything that had just transpired in the few moments since she and Sif had been standing on the balcony awaiting Prince Thor's arrival. She was doing her best to protect Lady Sif, the Einherjar's body lay limp and listless sprawled out on the marble floor, the whole in her side still oozed blood and the crimson life juices covered the white marble tile. Sif had fainted right by the railing, it was a sheer miracle that her head and not collided with the banister when passed out. It was fortunate for the warrior woman that the guardrail had been there though or else she would have rolled clear off the palace balcony.

"Please! Please! Be careful! Watch out!" Sigyn cried out from the ground desperately as the frantic, pounding booted feet of the delegates of Asgard's High Council and the officers of palace guard raced forward eager to see if it was true. The needed to know if it was true that Loki was out of his cell, out of control and somehow marching across the rainbow bridge. The Aesir were so frantic that they didn't both looking down. Sigyn tried to swat the crowd off as she was caught in see of swirling skirts, gowns and tunics. Sigyn doubted that her swats and cries made any difference to the members of the council or the guards or healers or servants who hurriedly raced about. They would have easily stepped on Lady Sif. In a desperate attempt to protect her friend, a fine and fearsome warrior of Asgard Lady Sigyn tossed herself over top of Sif's body, she attempted to shield the shield-maiden from the onslaught of furious feet. She didn't have the time to try to move Sif's body and no one seemed to hear her as she cried out anyway. Sigyn bent her whole body over Sif's. It was funny, she'd never known Lady Sif to ever need anyone to defend her. She winced as she moved the newly bruised parts of her body, but once she shook herself out of the kinks that the kicks had left on her body she was glad of the move she made. Her round, soft amber eyes looked down at the shield-maiden. Poor Lady Sif whose skin tone was even more bronzed than hers had grown nearly milky white. Her face was beat and scratched, her lips were cut up and chapped looking, her body was drenched in her own blood. Sigyn felt panic start to grip her. "Sif! Sif!" Sigyn called bending over the shield-maiden and fanning her frantically. She propped the woman up and positioned her on her lap so that her head could rest there. "Oh Lady Sif! Lady Sif," she cried desperately as she patted the woman's cheek in an effort to revive her. "You must wake up! You simply must wake up!" she called worried. "Oh my goodness," she muttered as her eyes rolled over Sif's limp and bloody body. I knew I should have taken you to the healer instantly," she chided herself. "Oh this is all my fault," golden locked hand maiden muttered to herself. "This is terrible!" Sigyn went on to exclaim. "Terrible! We've got to get you some help," she assured Lady Sif. Sigyn tried to smooth Sif's hair back as her hands anxiously darted about seeking someone who could help her. She wished that she was stronger. If it would have been the opposite. If it would have been her lying on the palace floor bloody and unconscious, Sif would have been able to carry her to the halls of healing easily, but alas she wasn't Sif and she surely wasn't strong enough to pick up the other woman.

More and more guards seemed to come running in from every corner. Sigyn cringed in fear, nervous that their ironclad boots would end up stomping on Lady Sif and further injuring her side. She continued to flutter, her tanned and manicured fingertips across Lady Sif's brow. With each passing second the Einherjar general became more and more feverish. Her skin was glazed over in shiny, slick perspiration. Her cracked lips quivered as she moaned from pain in her unconscious state. No doubt the poison was taking root in Sif's system. If she didn't get help soon. Sigyn truly feared for how long she had.

"Help! HELP!" Lady Sigyn screamed from her seated position on top a puddle of fresh blood as she cradled Sif's head. All the palace guards seemed to rush by her. How could they not notice the blood that their feet splashed through. Naturally, they were preoccupied with the welcomed arrival of Prince Thor. Perhaps the couldn't hear her over the way their feet clanged and banged as the stomped into the vestibule. It was possible that they couldn't hear her pleas for help over the rattling of their metal armor, swords and shields. Or maybe it was the cacophonous hum of the delegates and council members and servants chattering anxiously that drowned out her desperate cry. Sigyn's breath hitched in her throat. She would be heard. Sif's life depended upon it. "HELP!" she called out at the top of her lungs once more. The scream was so loud and strained that the golden-eyed handmaiden to Queen Frigga's voice ached afterward.

The sound of the distressed soprano voice somehow made its way over the frantic whisperings and mutterings of the anxious Asgardians and buzzed into the ear of one of the guards who was dashing onto the balcony with his battalion. His troop moved swiftly to get a better look at what was happening on the rainbow bridge. They roughly pushed through the crowd of civilian spectators. But he fell behind unable to move as the urgent tone took root in his ear. He'd recognize the voice anywhere. Her voice was a high soprano, a heavenly twittering sound, it was always gay and light full of mirth and youth, it was never biting or degrading like the tone of some noblewomen. Some noblewomen talked with such an air of sophistication that it came as though they were looking down on others. But not Sigyn. It was easy for him to pick up on her voice now, even in the midst of such a great and loud crowd. He'd always recognize Sigyn's voice.

Her voice conjured pleasant memories in his mind because it made him think of her pleasant face. Her tanned face, puckered pink lips that formed a perfect smile and the beautiful gleam of her gold eyes. How he longed to hear her sweet voice laughing in his ear as he told a joke or to hear her whisper a sweet nothing to him while they lie out on a picnic blanket on the hillside while the warm Asgardian sun shined down on them. He wanted to hear her talking to him, endlessly, non-stop all day and night. He wanted to hear her talk about anything and everything that was on her mind. The inflections in her tone would be so endearing to him. But that wasn't the sound he was hearing. Rather, he only heard a desperate cry for help. His feet were paralyzed and so was his heart. Sigyn was in trouble! His brown eyes immediately started to scan and survey the room. The balcony was in such an uproar. Everyone was pushing and shoving and screaming it was hard to see anything. People were moving all about, rushing everywhere. He didn't see Lady Sigyn anywhere. A woman of her extreme beauty was impossible to hide a crowd. After a moment of surveillance, his simple brown eyes landed on a bright, scarlet liquid making a trail across the floor. It trickled through the legs of the mob.

He took off running, fast as his legs could carry him a full off sprint. His strong hands covered in his iron gauntlets pushed through the thicket of the multitude, he didn't even bother with pleasantries or courtesies like "excuse me or pardon me" words of etiquette that had been drilled into him since he was a small boy, by his mannerly grandmother. "Sigyn! Sigyn!" he hollered out as he shoved another soldier out of the way. He was like a bloodhound following a trail of blood until it led him to his desired target. "Sigyn!" he panted breathlessly once he reached her. For a moment he felt his heart stop as he noted the large amount of blood around her. Her lovely pink dress was completely drenched in red. He hated to admit it to himself, but he was relieved to see that Lady Sigyn seemed unharmed and that it was someone else lying in her arms bleeding.

"Sigyn!" he called to her once more, stumbling through the crowd. The delegates and council members would not even budge all had swarmed so thickly around the balcony. He managed to take her by the shoulder. She turned around gasping and gawking as she looked up at him her golden medallion eyes were trembling and filled with moisture. "Dyson!" she gulped and swallowed the thick lump in her throat. He nodded unable to form words. In all the time he'd known her he'd never been so privileged as to see her upset. It hurt him to see the beautiful smile that should have always been written so plainly across her face replaced with tears. "Oh Dyson, Dyson," she moaned and her arms stretched up to him like an eager child looking for comfort. His heart crumpled and his back bent so that he could hug her and wrap her in a secure embrace. He stooped down to one knee, his armor covered arms wrapped around her tightly, protectively. "How-how did you find me," she hiccuped.

He shook his head, "Your voice, I heard it," he explained simply. A kind smile wiped across the young soldiers face. He chuckled slightly.

"But it's so loud," the lady-in-waiting countered. She too, shook her head, baffled and overwhelmingly grateful his miraculous appearance.

"I've been trained to listen for sounds of disturbance and distress in a crowd," he explained.

"Oh,".

"But I needed no training to recognize your voice," he confessed. "I've been training myself to recognize the sound since I was a boy following behind my grandmother as she did her chores," he stated his gentle brown eyes looking up at hers with longing. Sigyn's cheeks reddened at the words from the palace guard. She wanted to say something. Her lips wiggled, but words escaped her. Dyson seemed to notice her floundering. He shook himself from staring at the enticing sight of her soft pink lips. "I'm glad you're alright," Dyson stated his hand moving from her shoulder to stroke the soft blonde tendrils atop her head. His hand had not the time to linger or savor the soft curl of her mane and the delicate feel of each strand on his fingertips for Sigyn began to move and turn her head.

"Sif! Sif!" she sputtered out. "Sif's not alright," she finally pointed out. Her eyes darted down to show the injured woman.

Sir Dyson's face twisted as he beheld the shield-maiden whose skin was gray as a cloud. Clammy as an oyster and cold as a fish. "What happened?" he asked.

Lady Sigyn grabbed her head and shook it. The gesture left blood on her golden mane. "She was attacked, by Oddvar and the soldier who were with him at the Bifrost Observatory. Oddvar stabbed her clean through and…and…and…and," Sigyn sputtered, her breath getting caught in her throat. "He poisoned the sword," Sigyn explained and she looked up at the palace guard with bewilderment. "She wanted to see Prince Thor... she wanted to see Prince Thor so bad! She refused to go to the healer! You know Sif can be very stubborn," Sigyn stated. Dyson bobbed his head in confirmation. In all honesty he didn't know Lady Sif very well at all, but he had heard enough talk about Lady Sif and had observed her enough to guess that she could be a mule of a woman. Any woman who had enough grit to become an Einherjar had to be stubborn. Dyson was pulled out of his thoughts about Lady Sif's stubbornness and brought into the moment as Lady Sigyn's bloodied hand gripped his. "She needs a healer! She needs a healer. Dyson please take her down to the halls of healing! I can't carry her," Sigyn asked.

Dyson knew that he should not break ranks with his troop, but as a palace soldier he felt it was his responsibility to protect and defend all in the palace. Lady Sif was a person who needed his help as was Sigyn. He looked into her liquid amber eyes. He couldn't say no to her even if he tried. Without one more thought or another moments hesitation, He maneuvered his arms over Sigyn's laps so that he could scoop up Lady Sif in his arms. "Oh, be careful with her!" Sigyn cried out as young Dyson started to lift the female Einherjar off of her lap. The warrior woman's body was limp in the large, soldier's capable and steady arms. Sigyn's shaking hands delicately lifted Sif's head so that it wasn't jostled or rattled in the transition from floor to arm and so that she wasn't thrown into shock.

Once Sigyn was convinced that Lady Sif was safely positioned in Dyson's arms she allowed Dyson to take off with Lady Sif. The palace soldier took off rushing Sif toward the palace infirmary. Many of the healers were gathered with the mob of those eager to greet Prince Thor. "Help! Help! We need help!" he shouted as he ran. "She needs a healer!" he called. His voice was louder and stronger, but it did seem to catch the attention of some of the healers. A few of them started to turn around, for the first time in several minutes their eyes were drawn away from staring intently, with laser focus at the happenings below.

The young healing apprentice somehow managed to slip away from standing by Lord Algrim's side. She was a particularly petite young woman and it was easy for her to weasel her way through the crowd. "Lady Sif?" she gasped and covered her mouth, questioning Dyson as she jogged beside them. Dyson informed her of the same things that Lady Sigyn had informed him of. "Follow me," the young apprentice urged Dyson, she flagged him over her back. "She needs immediate attention."

Queen Frigga's lady-in-waiting followed right behind Dyson, Lady Sif and the healing apprentice. She walked as swiftly as she could, but her legs were numb and stiff from the time she'd been supporting Sif on her lap. Her normally free flowing gown clung to her as it was wet from the blood. Somehow she lost them in the crowd. More and more guards were called into the vestibule and after a while she could not distinguish Dyson's brass helmet from the helmets of the other palace soldiers who came marching in. For a moment Sigyn stood lost in the multitude of officials and noblemen and delegates, soldiers and chambermaids who were trying to figure out what was going on. She spun around like a top. She kept trying to find Dyson, but she was unable to trace him. She wrung her hands as she continued to spin around in a circle searching and searching, but she could not find them. "Oh dear, oh dear," Sigyn muttered to herself. "they'll be alright, they'll be alright," she told herself. "Lady Sif will be alright," she stated aloud. It wasn't as if there was any that she could have really done for Lady Sif. She wasn't a healer, she didn't know how to treat her, but still she felt like she should be there. Sif was her friend and she'd promised that she would take her to the healers.

More resolutely, Sigyn determined to go to the healing ward with Sif and Dyson. She knew the way there. It wasn't as if she needed the apprentice or Dyson to take her there. She made her way through the forest of bodies. She tried to part the crowd politely as she could by saying me pardon me and excuse me to people as she passed by. Alas her gentle, soprano voice could not be heard above the hubbub of the mob. The multitude around the balcony had started to work themselves into a frenzied uproar while she tried to fight against the current and make her way to the halls of healing. She walked away from the balcony while it seemed all who were still in the palace were pressing their way toward the balcony. It seemed as though the crowd would have trampled her in their great haste to rush toward the balcony and see the march on the palace.

A few panicking handmaiden rushed pass Sigyn and knocked Sigyn to the ground. The Queen's lady-in-waiting fell to the floor and found herself nearly pounded into the polished marble tile by the stomping, running sandaled and booted feet. The spiked, heeled soldiers boot came bounding for the blonde-haired woman's face. In a quick reaction Sigyn rolled out of the way. She avoided the boot aimed right toward for her, but in the process tripped several other soldiers racing in to observe the matter. The guards fell over, one by one tripping and falling over one another like domino pieces. "Oh I am so sorry," Lady Sigyn muttered an apology as she pulled herself to her feet. The palace soldiers looked around in bewilderment. "I...I'm so...so sorry," Sigyn quickly apologized once more as she inclined her head toward them. Sigyn started to reach her hand down to help the soldiers up, but as she looked around she saw that her little roll had caused a dozen guards to be knocked to the ground. Her cheeks grew rosy. She couldn't help all of them up. She gathered her skirts, they were tattered and red with the blood of a friend, she started to once again dash off, still wanting desperately to fulfill her word to Lady Sif and make sure that she got to the healers safely. Sigyn continued to try to forge on against the current of the influx of the crowd.

. "Loki! Loki!" she heard the hushed murmurs of the crowd. They spoke his name as if they spoke a cursed. It was as if the Asgardians barely wanted to let the ex-son of Odin's name escape their lips. "What is he doing out of the dungeon?" many questioned amongst themselves. The anxiety mounting along with their voices. The faces of men and women looked stricken by the very thought of the war criminal being allowed to see the light of day.

"How did he escape?" a female voice amongst the crowd questioned.

"The Dark-Elves must have set him free during the attacks!" answered back one loud Viking delegate.

He must be in cahoots with Malekith and his hoard!" proclaimed one of the members of Asgard's High Council.

"No!" Lady Sigyn gasped immediately. Her hands dropped her bloodied skirt and strayed to cover her delicate, glossy, pink lips. The words froze her in mid step. Her foot came down ever so slowly upon the ground. For a moment she stood unmoving. Her bright, golden orbs blinking as more and more people raced pass her. After being pushed and shoved and hit by shoulders and bumped by hips Sigyn finally managed to turn herself around to face in the direction that the crowd was rushing to. She tried once more to look on the scene of Loki marching ever so proudly across the glittering, rainbow bridge with that savage Dark-Elf, Malekith by his side. She was too far back in the crowd to be able to see the image once more. To some extent Lady Sigyn was thankful for that. But it was a short lived relief. It only lasted a few seconds because what her physical eyes couldn't see her mind most surely could recall.

Fear seized Sigyn. It gripped her like a cold hand around the throat constricting her windpipe and making it impossible for her to catch her breath. She could feel herself physically gasping. Her bronzed hands strayed around her neck as if she intended to pry the cold grip of fear's slimy tentacles from around her throat. It was the first time since Lady Sif had fainted that she had recalled the terrible sight she had just witnessed. She groped at her chest to make sure her heart was still beating. It was, but it was pounding in her chest and drumming against her rib cage. She felt as if her heart would explode.

Just a few minutes ago she had been so happy to see Loki. Her heart had swelled at the sight of him. She hadn't known what to expect. Honestly she hadn't known if she would ever see him again. She knew that Prince Thor had gone back to look for Loki, but she hadn't known if he'd found him or not. If he did find him she hadn't known if he'd find him alive or dead. And even if he was found alive what type of state would he be in. Would he be injured, battered and abused at the hands of the Dark-Elves. She hoped for the best, but she'd feared for the worse.

In those first moments. Seeing him striding ever so gallantly across the rainbow bridge had meant everything to see Loki, alive and well. He looked completely unscathed and she was glad of that. She had truly been so worried about him. Since she'd left the Imperial City with Lord Theoic she'd thought of little else, but Loki and a way in which she could return the letter to him. She knew that it was wrong. She was a soon to be a married woman and her mind should not be wandering to focus on men other than her husband. But she couldn't help it. She thought of him suffering with the burden of his grief all alone in the dungeon, her heart crumpled. He hadn't even Frigga to comfort him. Although, the last she'd seen of him Loki seemed fairly healthy, his powers had been restored, but still she was ever so concerned for his well being once she found out that he had joined Thor and the other Einherjar on the Battlefield. Loki was not as fierce as the typical Aesir soldier, not to say that he wasn't skilled in combat. She knew he was. She'd never actually seen him, but he had fought with Thor and Warriors three in many a battle, but still she couldn't help but worry for him. The Dark-Elves were as formidable a force as any Asgard had faced. They killed so many fine, brave and strong warriors of Asgard anyone's life was in grave danger facing them. She'd feared so for his life. Seeing him come home to Asgard whole with his head held high, his back straight, his black mane wafting in the breeze, why it was just as times before. So many times in days that seemed so long past Loki and Thor and the warriors of Asgard would ride through the street in triumph. There'd be great celebration during the day and feasting and banqueting during the night and in the wee hours when the carousing had ended she'd wait for the dark-haired prince in his chambers.

It seemed so much like before, but there was one dramatic difference, Loki wasn't returning to Asgard riding victoriously beside his brother leading a troop of brave Einherjar into the Imperial City. No, rather, Prince Thor, Loki's own brother, Asgard's golden-boy and Asgard's future king was bedraggled and chained and dragged across the Bifrost Bridge like a fisherman's fresh catch being dragged across the docks. The Einherjar weren't parading proudly behind the two princes, singing and shouting with their banners held high and flags unfurled, but instead a silent, soulless, white-face, black-eyed, heartless army stamped across the luminescent rainbow bridge. The sight of them didn't bring joy, but terror. And at Loki's side was not his brother, but an enemy. He and that loathsome white-face demon, Malekith strode side by side and in perfect step with one another. They didn't speak to one another nor did they look at one another, but both of their faces held the same expression: cold, cruel and smug.

Shivers ran down Lady Sigyn's spine. Her palms coated in a newly formed cold sweat. "No," she mouthed once again. She shook her head and gripped at the curly gold tendrils in the front of her head trying to calm her nerves, but failing miserably with every attempt. It couldn't be true! She inwardly refuted the notion. NO! Loki couldn't truly be in cahoots with the like of Malekith and his band of cutthroats. Could he? Sigyn physically started to shiver, her teeth chattered. Loki wouldn't do that? Would he? He had gone with Thor, he'd gone with Thor to avenge Lady Dagmar's death. Why would he then assist the very creature that had murdered her? It didn't make any sense. Surely, there had to be a more logical explanation, Sigyn rationalized. Loki was rational and wise. The youngest daughter of Admiral Arn could feel her breath hitching. She pressed the tips of her manicured fingers into the sides of her temples. She tried to force herself to remember the events that had transpired in Loki's cell the day when his powers had returned. Her mind became so foggy and fuzzy whenever she tried to think about it. It was similar to what used to happen to her when she was a girl in school during her math lessons. As soon as the professors would tell the students to place their abacuses upon their desk her mind would simply draw a blank.

Suddenly Sigyn's ears were ringing once again. She was drawn to the shouts that were starting to fill the balcony. They jolted her out of her cloudy thoughts. "Where is Prince Thor?" she heard the voices of young servant girls questioning.

"Yes, yes, yes, where is Prince Thor? Responded an old woman who was one of the healers who had stayed behind in the palace to help tend to the wounded soldiers. "Surely, Prince Thor will save us," she announced, but there was nervousness in her tone.

More scared voices began to ring out, They all simultaneously wondered where was the crown prince of their fair Asgard. They all looked on in horror as steady stream of black cloaked bodies with pasty, colorless faces and soulless black eyes continuously marched over the rainbow bridge. They never seemed to stop. They just kept coming. They marched endlessly from the crooked, twisted gnarled , metallic ship and through the platinum gold observatory of the Bifrost. But finally when the procession of Dark-Elf soldiers ended another body was made evident. "Look there!" cried one of the council delegates, one who was standing very close to the golden plated banister and who was using one of the spying glasses posted by the balcony to overlook the city. "OUR PRINCE COMETH!" Northbyrt hollered jubilantly. He raised his hands in triumph as if signaling a great victory for the people of Asgard. He was not a member of Asgard's High Council, but he had come to represent his small community which was nestled in the mountains. He was from a wealthy, noble family, but had little experience at court. He had just come of the age where his uncle, who was truly one of Odin's trusted Council members would allow him to represent their small community in his stead. He had been so eager to go to the Imperial City and sit amongst the High Council, but he had wished that it was under happier circumstances that he was there. He turned around with a wide grin spread across his face. Northbyrt was a handsome young man with dark hair and dark eyes and although he proudly sported a traditional Viking beard that was still very popular amongst those Asgardian who lived in the mountains his eyes and smiled expressed how juvenile he really was. His exclamation rallied the men and women who had just moments ago been panic stricken on the balcony. Upon hearing his words those on the the balcony atrium immediately began pressing in, rushing in, desperately scrambling to catch a glimpse of the golden prince of Asgard. Northbyrt turned around enthusiastically wanting to behold Prince Thor once more. The broad smile was still stretched across his bearded face. He knew that Prince Thor would not fail them. He knew that they could count on the son of Odin to keep them from the disaster of Ragnarok. The mountain village where he'd grown up was small and fairly isolated, but tales of Prince Thor's unquestionable valor and exploits reached him. How many times had he dreams of riding into battle along side the might Thor just as his own uncle had ridden by King Odin. He wished that he was helping Prince Thor lead those villains into Asgard to face justice. By that he thought of a quick and merciless execution.

Northbyrt could hear the feet pounding behind him. He turned back around to face the Bifrost. He looked past the procession of Dark-Elf soldiers. He pulled the spyglass up toward his youthful eyes and peered out them once more. Then he immediately yanked the telescope away from his eye. Northbyrt was a brawny young man, but all the color drained from his face. He shook his head. His mouth hung open. What he gazed upon was not what he thought he saw at first. He spoke too soon and too eagerly. His hands fell by his side and slowly he allowed the spyglass to slip from his fingers and crash against the marble. The council members and other delegates and soldiers and even the average citizens were all made privy to a terrible sight. They watched in abject horror as they squinted to make out the form of a figure broken and batter, clothes ripped nearly to shreds leaving the body exposed to the point of almost obscenity, They saw a man bound hand and foot and neck his body so heavy laden with chains to the point where he could barely stand and couldn't stand for the marching hoard would not give the chance to find his feet of his footing. Instead, they dragged him. He scuttled behind them as he was lead by the neck like a dog. His knees scraped the ground as he crawled. Sometimes he would try to offer resistance. He'd pull back, buck try to fight against those who had him tethered by it was useless. Any resistance that he gave such a trying to pry his thick neck from the bounds of the strong iron manacle was only met with a stern yank that sent the blonde-haired son of Odin hurling face down against the bright bridge, so that the elves could drag him face down and helpless toward the city.

There was an earsplitting scream that arose from one of the handmaidens who had unwittingly observed the terrible sight. "Somebody help him! Somebody help him! Somebody do something!" she screamed. As she pointed the Dark-Elves below the palace balcony who now were rushing toward the city gates. They were running at full speed as if they intended to take the palace by force. The fury of the army's pounding feet enough to rattle the foundations of the Imperial Palace.

"Guards! Guards! Attack them! SEIZE THEM!" yelled out Lord Audric. The Vanir was nearly red in the face as he let the roar rip from his throat.

"Guards! Guards!"Lord Algrim echoed behind his friend. They were the ones at the front and center of the balcony. They were the ones who were pressed against the banister overlooking the city and the rainbow bridge. They shouted and jeered and beckoned forth the guards signaling for the soldiers with their hands. The palace soldiers pressed in and encircled the balcony with their swords and shields and staffs and weapons in their hands, heeding the call of the court officials.

Almost instantly the guards of the Imperial Palace had pushed back the citizens and had encircled the balcony. They had their swords drawn high and their shields up to protect them and a chosen few even had crossbows. "Guards on my signal I want you to fire at those savages with everything you've got," declared the skinny light-elf Prime Minister of Asgard. "Aim specifically for the head of the monster, Loki" Lord Algrim announced. His voice low and intense.

Sigyn took off. She ran full-speed-ahead, pushing and shoving the other Aesir men and women out of the way trying to reach Lord Algrim. She didn't even bother to utter such pleasantries as excuse me or pardon me this time. She reached the Elfin lord and gripped his by his lush purple tunics, "Lord Algrim! Lord Algrim" she panted as she held fast the his smooth velvet robe.

The Light Elf turned toward her his face was a compilation of several emotions when he first laid eyes on her: Fear, panic, dread, confusion, anger, astonishment. Lord Audric spun around as well. His eyes though a though a beautiful and rare shade of violet only showed violence swirling in his dilated pupils. The two pairs of eyes settled upon her. Lord Algrim's white eyes settled upon her he was left with one very distinct and apparent emotion: Disgust. "Sigyn!" He barked back snatching his shoulder from the tight grip of her petite bronzed hands. "What are you doing here?' He demanded.

Lady Sigyn Arndottir shook her head as she stared into the face of Asgard's Prime Minister and the Vanir Prime Minister. "Don't do this," she entreated them. She clasped Lord Algrim's hand in her own simply because he was the one closest to her. In disbelief the adviser to the king looked the queen's lady-in-waiting up and down. She looked quite a disheveled sight. Her face was covered with visible white tear streaks and her face paint was smeared and smudged. Her dress, which had been a lovely gown of baby-soft pink was now tattered and torn and almost unrecognizable as the garment that a noblewoman of Asgard would have worn. It looked like something a began would have dug out of gutter. It was covered in mud and stained, with bright red blood. It was ever so grotesque. The young maiden looked as if she'd been fighting in some kind of great battle. Lord Algrim shook his head. Sigyn's haggard appearance was of little concern and he hadn't the time to inquire about it. He attempted to yank his snowy white hands from Sigyn's warm grasp. "D-d-don't do it," she stuttered out a gasping protest.

Lord Algrim's eyes widened. "What are you talking about girl?" He demanded roughly. The polished and refine elfin dignitary was beginning to lose his patience with the intrusive lady-in-waiting. He had always liked Lady Sigyn. In fact, it was he who had initially suggested that the blonde-haired daughter of Admiral Arn along with a few other respectable women be thought of as suitable companions for Prince Loki when Odin broached the subject with him Naturally, he had been disappointed to hear of her harlotry, but still he'd tried to champion her in court when she was reintroduced as a member of Queen Frigga's entourage. There were many who did not approve of such a woman being in service to the queen. He'd tried to reserve his judgment about the matter, his early days in court had been met with similar speculation. Many wondered how an Elf could be raised to the position of Prime Minister of Asgard. here she had forgotten her place. Still, Sigyn was stepping completely out of line. She was a woman of ill-repute who floated around on the queen's good graces she was meant to provide services to the queen, but she was in no way ever meant to voice an opinion in the political sphere. She was title-less and penniless and certainly in no position to try to persuade him on any matter. "Loki is leading the Malekith and the Dark-Elves into the city!" He declared pointed a quivering finger down at the sorted scene below.

Please!" Sigyn begged not knowing what else to say she uttered clumsily, "Don't strike at them." She once again grabbed hold of Lord Algrim's cloak.

Lady Dagmar's father rolled his eyes in disgust. "Enough!" He fumed at Sigyn. He roughly pulled her tanned hands off of his friend's regal robe. He'd had just about enough of the blonde-haired bimbo interfering in matters of state. He didn't know Sigyn well. Most of what he knew of her had come from Dagmar. Dagmar had always kept him abreast in the affairs of the Court in Vanahiem and abroad. He had to admit in the past few centuries he'd been more of a politician that a courtier and he was not intimately involved in any social circles. Dagmar had spoken often of her. She pointed her out when they attended functions in Asgard. There were far too many noblewomen for him to keep up with. He'd noted her a charming, light-heated creature who frittered about the banquet hall snickering and giggling like some fluttering butterfly. When she wasn't laughing with another gentlewoman with a drink in her hand she linked to Prince Loki's arm like a ball and chain.

Sigyn's body began shaking at the mere sound of Lord Audric's abrupt tone. Lord Audric was not a big man. He was tall and lean, although he did have a rounded abdomen. It was slightly distended from mead consumption throughout the years, but there was a ferocity in his voice that seemed to belie his slight frame. Sigyn's breath hitched, her gold eyes darted back and forth between Lord Algrim whose upper lip twitched and chest heaved as he pointed toward the rainbow bridge where an unrelenting, steady stream of creatures in black armor stomped across the Bifrost bridge and Lord Audric whose eyes were glared daggers into her soul. The look in the eyes of the two prime ministers was unnerving. She couldn't hold either gaze. She looked down at the Dark-Elves quickly making their way across the bridge. Their numbers so numerous and their darkness of their clothing and shadows was so thick that they nearly obliterated the bright, brilliant colors of the bridge. The sight of which filled Sigyn dread. Her knees started knocking. Her eyes continued to look between the bridge and Lord Algrim, Lord Audric, the Dark-Elves and finally to Loki.

Somehow her golden eyes were able to scan through the battalion of Dark-Elves and find Loki. Her breath got caught in her throat as she looked down on him. She couldn't understand the sight she was seeing. Indeed, it was as Lord Algrim described. Indeed, he was leading them right to the city. He was at the forefront of the army. He marched proudly and strongly and determinedly, like a general leading his troops into the greatest of battles. He was walking side by side with Malekith! Malekith! That dastardly scoundrel. Sigyn didn't understand. She knew that there were many things in life she didn't understand. Actually, there was quite a lot that sometimes she could just not comprehend. There were probably more things in the world that were beyond her scope of grasping than things that she would probably ever be able to say for certain that she had clear grasp on, but this...this was simply incomprehensible. Even the most learned and wisest scholars in all of Asgard would have stood just as dumbfounded and baffled as she at the very sight of this. It made no sense. How could Loki be working in conjunction with this crazed Dark-Elf Malekith. Loki knew it was Malekith who rammed his crusted, rusted ancient sword through Dagmar's side spilling her blood across the marble floor of his mother's bedchamber. She knew more than anyone how deeply he loved Dagmar. He would never betray her this way. Sigyn confirmed to herself as her eyes continued flickering and darting all around. "I...I...I.." She choked. It must be a trick. It couldn't be as it seemed she confirmed to herself before she spoke it audible. "Perhaps it is not what it seems," she muttered a feeble argument to the adviser to the king. She dropped her head.

"Not what it seems!" Algrim bawked at Sigyn's suggestion. "Look around, girl!" He scolded her like she was a fool. "We are under attack!" He yelled in her face.

Lord Audric shoved Sigyn aside, "we have not time to argue with this foolish woman," he declared. "Give the signal," he commanded.

"No!" Sigyn interrupted again. She leaped to the forefront and grabbed Lord Algrim's hand.

"Sigyn!" He shouted at her. "What is the meaning of this?" The pointed earred Light-Elf demanded. He would have called the guards on her, but he wanted every guard available posted around the balcony rail and the outpost towers and surrounding the castle perimeter, with a firearm in hand ready to open fire at that league of monsters.

"Lord Algrim, please just hear me out," the honey-hued handmaiden to Queen Frigga entreated. She batted long, golden eyelashes as the Light-Elf. "May...Maybe...Maybe it is a plot or a trick that Loki has devised to capture them. Loki is very clever," she nodded along with herself.

Lord Algrim's eyes flashed with rage. His pupils were white, but Sigyn could have sworn she saw them turn blood red as if a blood vessel was about to burst in the eye. "The only trick trying to be pulled here is by you, Lady Sigyn!" The Light Elf insisted as he hurled a condemning finger toward Sigyn's button nose.

Sigyn's hands started trembling as she pointed to herself. "Me?" She questioned with a gulp. "Lord Algrim, no!"

"Yes," the Prime Minister of Vanaheim proclaimed as he took hold of Sigyn's slender wrist. "What is this?" He demanded. "You insisting that Loki and the Dark-Elves be allowed into the city? Are you crazy, girl do you want to see us all dead?" He yelled and shook her.

"No, no. No" Sigyn muttered helplessly, miserably as hot liquid escaped her honeycomb pupils and cascaded down her cheeks. "Please," the golden locked lady-in-waiting to Queen Frigga whimpered as Lord Algrim's skinny had closed tighter around her wrist and pressed on the bones.

"Have you thrown in your lot with Loki, child?" Algrim interrogated her through clenched teeth. The grip he had on her never slackened, rather it only grew more intense. Bone-crushing pain shot through her petite wrist and it seemed to spread throughout her whole arm and it nearly rendered her helpless. Sigyn's gold eyes closed as she tried to pull her wrist free of Lord Algrim's clasp. "Did you plan this? Did you know about this?" He asked his voice low and gravelly and dangerous sounding.

'It is she who has been talking of Loki since she arrived in the city!" Lord Audric accused. "Dragging us down to the dungeon, using the memory of my only beloved daughter against me only for us to see he wasn't there!" Audric railed.

"A clever decoy!" Algrim thought aloud.

"Decoy? No! No, no, Lord Algrim, no!" Lady Sigyn Arndottir sobbed, "Please,' she shrieked. "I...I...I..I would never..." she stammered. "I don't know how to be a decoy?" Sigyn insisted.

"Lies and deceits that she has learned from that backstabbing, forked tongued, Loki!" Audric proclaimed his lips snarled.

"Lord Audric! NO!" Sigyn protested she reached out to grab his royal robe. "No! I only came to find Loki because it was Lady Dagmar's final request," she explained to him her eyes pleading for him to understand. The Vanir Prime Minister looked as if he wanted to rage and fume at her. She'd seen the same look in her father's eyes. Lady Sigyn braced herself for the impact of knuckles cracking across her cheek. She closed her eyes and mashed her lips together and took a deep breath. By the time she counted to ten it would all be over she figured.

Lord Audric's hand were wrapped securely around her shoulders. His thumb and forefinger placed perfectly so as to dig into her skin. He was poised to shake her brains loose, but that would do no good, Sigyn was already a few apples short of a bushel. He let go of her right shoulder blade and let his hand rise into a clenched fist. He wanted to hit something, punch something, destroy something with his bare hands. It was uncivilized, uncoothed, juvenile even. He was a man who in Midgardian years would have been in his mid 60's. Surely, he should be beyond such childish responses. And yet he wasn't. Not now. Not on the eve of his daughter's untimely death. He had nothing to lose, no name to uphold, no one to impress, why shouldn't he release the steam and frustration on Sigyn, Loki's feeble minded whore. Perhaps he would have had he not started to feel her shoulders shaking beneath the weight of his hand. Lord Audric looked down and saw Sigyn, she was frightened and vulnerable. he saw her like Dagmar. They were the same age, attended functions together, had the same social circles. Apparently, they had loved the same man. He couldn't have imagined striking Dagmar so. He didn't want to imagine how her eyes would have looked had they witness him strike the queen's lady-in-waiting. He couldn't only imagine how her starlit orbs would have filled with tears and disappointed, perhaps even horror and shame if she would have seen him carry out such an act. She'd never seen him hit anyone. She never would.

Lord Audric, the Vanir Prime Minister released Lady Sigyn. His hand gently smoothed down the area of her gown where he'd been holding on to. He shook his head. He still thought that the young woman was a twit and he'd not let her stay him from firing at Malekith, but he'd not strike her. He'd had a daughter once and any man who would have dared to strike her out of his own frustrations would have been a coward in his eyes and a dead man in the eyes of the public. He shook his head and moved away from the blonde-haired Aesir noblewoman.

Once she felt Lord Audric's hand no longer pressing into her shoulder blades, Lady Sigyn Arndottir cautiously opened her eyes. She opened her mouth and panted finally able to breathe. Just as her body started to relax she was confronted with the elfin adviser to King Odin. "Let me tell you something, Lady Sigyn Arndottir," the Prime Minister warned her. He twisted her arm around her back and drew her in close. Sigyn's whole body was shaking like a leaf and her arm was twisted in an uncomfortable position. Her eyes trembled with fear as she gazes up at the elfin member of the High Council. She's always considered Lord Algrim a good kindly and respectable man and a dear friend. He nudged her chin up at a sharp angle and held her face in place so that she had no choice but to look him in the eye. His white eyes frightened her for the first time in her life. They looked like a blizzard; cold and harsh and merciless. "If I find out that your had something to do with this," he spoke, his voice threatening. Lady Sigyn had no choice, but to let out a soft, pained moan as she felt Lord Algrim dig his nails into her cheeks squeezing her face. "If I find out that you have somehow brought the disaster of Ragnarok upon us..."

"N-n-n-noooo! No, Lord Algrim. No," Sigyn cried

"Trust me when I say, milady that I will make sure you have a swift execution and you will be the first of our people to fall!" He declared to her. He let go of her wrist and let go of her face and practically shoved her so that she went hurling to the ground.

Sigyn struggled to get back to her feet. She watched Lord Algrim wave his arms over the side of the balcony. She saw as some of the soldiers near him echoed the motion. Soon it seemed all the guards were doing it. She rose to her feet she started to go back to Lord Audric, "Lord Algrim, please," Sigyn entreated once more as she gripped the slender elfin adviser by the elbow. "Please," she whispered close to his pointy ear. She heard Lord Algrim growl and he shook his arm vigorously trying to push her off of him. This time she would not let go. If only she could think of something to say to convince Algrim to stop and hear Loki's plan. She just knew Loki had to have a plan of some sort. She couldn't "What about Prince Thor?" she inquired breathlessly as the idea struck her. She inhaled deeply, she knew no one would care for her dear Loki's life, but Thor. "If...if...if you strike...if you strike now, he could be injured," she tried to explain. "Killed even!" Sigyn nearly shrieked. Her voice came like a shrill alarm in the Light Elf's ear. Sigyn gasped and covered her mouth with her hand as she saw Lord Algrim's ear's twitch at the sound of her voice. "I'm sorry," she murmured, immediately averting her gaze to the floor and dropping her head. "If the all-father doesn't wake, then Prince Thor is the future of Asgard, please" she begged.

Sigyn watched hopefully as she saw Lord Algrim draw back his arm. His face pinched with worry and concentration. The dim-witted lady-in-waiting did make a point. Could he really allow the blood of Asgard's future king, the future all-father to be on his hands. He would leave Asgard without proper leadership for the future. If Ragnarok did pass over them the realm would surely be thrown into civil unrest as parties vied for the throne. Still, civil war was better the holocaust. What Sigyn was suggesting was simply absurd. He need give no credence to the silly child's babble. Yet, he couldn't completely ignore it. Asgard needed a king. Odin would never forgive him if he killed his son. He didn't know if he could forgive himself if he committed such an atrocity. He had known the prince all his life, he tutored him until he was old enough to receive proper schooling. He supposed he'd always taken himself as a surrogate uncle to Thor. Algrim's white eyes flickered back and forth. Every second he hesitated the Dark-Elf army drew closer and closer to the drawbridge. He was a surrogate uncle to Prince Thor. He knew the crown prince of Asgard well enough to know that even though the young man was reckless he was not foolhardy enough to ever want to put the lives of the innocent people of Asgard in jeopardy to save his own skin. The Prime Minister of Asgard closed his eyes and mashed his lips together in concentration.

"Algrim! What are you waiting for?" Demanded Lord Audric who was just standing to his side. Algrim remained silent, his brown furrowed with thought. "The guards are waiting for your signal?" He pressed upon his friend. He looked to the Captain of the guard who was standing poised and in position his arms tautly stretched ready to draw back his arrow. "Algrim!" He called. The Light Elf's eyes finally popped open revealing the shocking white irises. But before the Prime Minister of Asgard and Speaker of Asgard's High Council could voice his decision he heard the his friend from Vanaheim scream out, "FIRE!"

---

Simultaneously, Lady Sigyn and Lord Algrim cried "NOOOO!" But it was too late. Their shouts of objection fell short and did little against the eager and approving roar of the congregation gathered on the balcony. The voices of every Asgardian present raised in a defiant battle cry as immediately a counter attack was launched against the invading army.

"FIRE!"

"FIRE!

"FIRE!" Echoed the captains of the guard at their troops as Asgard began their counter attack.

"Show no mercy men!" A Einherjar Lieutenant encouraged his battalion stationed on the outpost.

Suddenly, 1000 flaming arrows were launched from the balcony, outpost tower, palace gate and drawbridge. The fiery darts soared through the air and torched the gray clouds that hung over the city. The arrows rained down upon the heads of Malekith's invading arm in a steady stream. Some of the congregation started to hoot and holler and cheer as if the victory was already won. They watched as the battalion of dark-Elves started to scatter like ants across the colorful bridge fleeing from the flaming arrows that were being hurled at them. There was no where that the Dark-Elves could flee to for the arrows came from ever side and never ceased. The Asgardian's not only had teams of excellent archers, but had hundred of militarized, machine tanks that could shoot out flaming arrow upon flaming arrow for hours without end. Those machines were strategically planted on every outpost tower around the palace gate. The force-field wall around the palace was still in disrepair, but there was no way that Malekith's troops could make it pass the assault of arrows without being set on fire.

So many arrows should have been enough to put an end to any enemy, but the Asgardian's were taking no chances. They'd not be prey to the Dark-Elves again. The Dark_Elves had caught them by surprise before, but the High Council had prepared for the worst case scenario. They knew that Lord Malekith and his band of soulless warriors would return, but they'd taken every precaution to make sure that Asgard was ready. As soon as the mass funeral had ended the High Council convened and sent forth word to every major city, every province and shire throughout the realm calling forth every able-bodied warrior to come to the Imperial City and prepare to fight. They'd taken all the measures necessary to prepare for another attack and they were by no means caught unaware. As the flaming arrows sailed across the sky, the sound of cannon fire immediately followed. Rapidly, the heavy boom of the artillery was fired onto the Bifrost Bridge. The cannons were powerful, made of plasma and titanium they hadn't been used in centuries, not since the great wars against the Frost Giants. The power of the cannons was that which melted palaces made of ice and turned buildings of solid stone into piles of rubble upon impact. 100 bombs or so was likely to completely destroy the Bifrost Bridge. Travel between the Nine Realms would no longer be an option. The worlds would remain isolated, but the worlds would survive. The cannons peppered the rainbow bridge and the impact caused the bridge to shake so much so that its rumbling could be felt from the drawbridge of the palace to the smallest gypsy caravan on the outskirts of the city. The noise was ear splitting. No one in the city was left able to stand the horrible sound of bombs being shot forth and bursting in air without running and covering their ears. The trajectory of each bomb was true and accurate to a fault. The cannons were fired precisely into the hearts of the Dark-Elf ranks and it was meant to blast the bloodless beings into eternity.

The Asgardian's kept firing plasma cannons. The never ceasing the impact of the weapons was enough to cause the ground to quake and if it was enough to cause the Bifrost Bridge to collapse and give out and send the Dark-Elves swirling into the abyss of stars below so be it. The warriors of Asgard were relentless. They'd not allow such destruction to destroy their peaceful realm again. They'd not allow Malekith and his lot to win and spread darkness and chaos throughout the Nine-realms and obliterate the very trace of light and goodness so the set off catapults. Huge boulders made of volcanic rock and plasma erupted from the top spires of the Imperial Palace. If the size and weight of the boulders didn't crush the white faced demons the boiling hot lava contained inside each bolder would be sure to filet them. Even still there were more measures taken for the boulders were encased in plasma shells that when it made contact could incinerate the closest object.

Guards and Einherjar and Valkyrie took to the skies in armed flying, fighter skiff's. 200 Longboats were deployed from all across the city. They came whizzing in at alarming speeds. The shot like torpedoes through the air. They darted in an out weaving and dodging one another in elaborate patterns displaying kamikaze style warfare. They sprayed the rainbow bridge in bright, red blaster pelts all the way from the front gates of the palace drawbridge to the Bifrost Observatory. The citizens of Asgard hear the horrible whizzing sound of the pelts as the were shot and took cover thinking that it was the Dark-Elves again raining down disaster upon them. The entire Bifrost Bridge seemed to be drenched in a torrential downpour of blaster bullets. The shots were so heavy that it looked like blood shower. All across the Bifrost as far as the eye could see was only red. The sight was horrific no Asgardian had lived through a time when they had seen such war brought to their soils.

Before long the Bifrost Bridge was an inferno. The gorgeous, glittering rainbow bridge was now nothing more than a scorched gangplank. Its beauty marred and covered in flames, ash and smoke. Smoke that was thick and hot and gray. Smoke that rose up and mingled with the thick heavy clouds that hung over the Imperial city like a funeral shroud. Until all was covered in a murky and unnatural fog. The smoke and ash and fire that was a result of the Asgardian's preemptive strike against their enemy rose up and swirled about in the air. It wafted about and saturated the atmosphere making the eyes of the palace soldiers, Valkyrie and Einherjar, who were fighting over head in their solar skiff, water. The male and female warriors choked on the substantial amount of gray smoke that was constantly rising. Some of the warriors fell off of their skiffs, no longer able to breathe through the thick veil.

"Do you think we got them all?" Asked the valiant Valkyrie general, Brunhilde. She and the Einherjar Lieutenant who was positioned with her on the lead solar skiff. It was a larger vessel, it was equipped for both defensive land and air strikes. The Lieutenant General a rough and cantankerous Viking warrior named Njel simply scoffed at the shield-maiden's concern. Njel had the true build of an Einherjar he was massive from head to toe. His skin was the color of burnished bronze. He body looked like jagged mountain cliffs from the scars that had been chiseled there in the heat of battle. He was a specimen. He was of years, his hair was graying, but he had the fighting spirit of a youth.

"As much fury as we released on them," he laughed, "Their ancestors are rolling in their graves," he announced proudly as he squared his broad shoulders and folded his arms across his chest. He inhaled deeply, but the thick smoke was soon caught in his lungs and sent him into a dreadful coughing spasm. He waved his massive, hairy hands in the air vigorously trying to fan the clouds of dust and smoke and ash out of his face. The clouds were relentless though, they seemed though they were rising with the very intent to smother her. "Pull back! Pull Back!" The Lieutenant General of the Einherjar ordered the ordered. He gagged, scarcely able to breathe through the thick clouds. "Less we suffocate to death," he explained.

The skiffs attempted to climb in altitude, but the smoke chased them. The smoke kept rising and it continued to obscure the Valkyrie and Einherjar from being clearly able to assess the damage they'd done to the Dark-Elf forces.

"Tis no use, sir," stated an Einherjar on board the same skiff, "Tis no escaping this fog," he expressed as he saluted his superior.

Lieutenant General Njel snorted desperate to clear his lungs, "Then retreat!" He ordered. "Fall back to the palace," he insisted. The younger Einherjar nodded and started to give the signal to inform the rest of the soldiers of the commands.

"Wait!" Brunhilde called out. "Belay that order!" She yelled.

"What?" Lieutenant General Njel countered still gasping for air. "What is wrong with you Brunhilde trying to have us all die in this cloud of doom," he demanded of her.

Brunhilde, looked defiantly into Njel's eyes, at least she tried to the fog was becoming so thick that she could scarcely see two feet in front of her. 'Not so fast," she spoke up, her strong, weathered hands wrapped around the Einherjar private's arm and held him in place. We'll not abandon our post until the job is done." She declared.

"Don't be a fool, Brunhilde," Njel continued to cough. "This day is won!" He insisted. 'We need not sit here and wait to pass out for lack of clean air. Once we return to the palace we will send the fire-squad to put out these flames and then we will see the damages," he explained. He thought nothing more of it. Surely, they'd vanquished their enemy. There was no way that the small battalion of Dark-Elves could have survived that type of sustained bombardment. The wicked elves had not even had a chance to fire back. The fools probably had not come prepared for a fight. They probably had thought they could easily over run Asgard's forces again. Well they had been wrong.

Lieutenant General Njel listened intensely. Now that the attack had ended the rainbow bridge was coated in an eerie sort of silence. He loved it. It was the silence after battle. He knew it well. He'd experienced this perfect silence time after time. The chilly, calm solemn moment of peace after battle when blades no longer clacked, clanked and clattered together, when warriors no longer wailed from their wounds, when bursting bombs no longer broke the sound barrier and busted ear drums. It was the victory calm and it settled him. The only noise was the distant and indistinct murmuring of Einherjar and Valkyrie soldiers talking amongst themselves on the various flying long boats scattered over the bridge and the hum of the boats as they hovered in the air.

They did not even hear the Dark-Elves crying and screaming and begging for mercy in anguish. Doubtless, they were all dead. The warriors hoped they were. The bombs and cannons they had dropped had not simply been meant to kill their enemy, but to obliterate them. 'Is that how a victory is won for you, Master Njel?' Countered the Valkyrie General. "You so easily scamper off the battlefield without evidence," she shook her head pityingly as she hacked the fog swirling thicker around them.

"Aye, this fog is the evidence," Njel argued back bristling. 'it'll take hours to clear and when it does their will not be a one of those miserable soldiers left," he informed her.

"FA!" Unlikely the warrior woman spat. She literally spat to rid her mouth of the taste of the noxious fumes that were in the smoke clouds. "When a battle is done it we, Valkyrie who bring back the heads of our enemies to our king," she protested. "It is we who bring back the bodies of fallen Einherjar to their families," she went on. The shield-maiden pointed in the face of the Einherjar. "Never forget that when you, Einherjar could not find the body of Loki, Odin called upon we, Valkyrie," she expressed proudly.

"You failed to find the body as well and now look that slimy creature was working with them!" Njel voice raised above the silence as he pointed downward into the still raging flames on the bridge.

'That is of no consequence!" The Valkyrie general snapped back.

"isn't it?"

"The point is, that we do the jobs that you fail to do," Brunhilde declared as she pointed her finger boldly in the Einherjar's face. She squared hand stood to her shoulders and stood to her full height. Brunhilde was a handsome woman who stood an impressive 6 feet tall. In her bright gold armor she could have easily been mistaken for an Einherjar. Only her flowing silver locks betrayed her femininity beneath the Viking horns she wore atop her head. "and we don't stop until we have proof of death," Brunhilde added placing her hand on her hips. The original sacred oath of the Valkyrie was to follow the warriors onto the battlefield and collect the bodies of the fallen. Although the shield-maidens had become mighty warriors in their own right and no longer needed to trail behind the male warriors they had never forgotten their original duty to the king and to Asgard. It was a badge of honor that every Valkyrie still wore..

The Einherjar Lieutenant Njel, curled his mustached lip, "You will sacrifice your own warriors to death if you send them into that," Njel curled his nose now as well as the terrible fumes from the still burning flames along the bridge rose into his nostrils He looked down at the inferno below as the flames leaped in the air they nearly were rising as high as the smoke. He hoped that Lord Algrim was observing this,. They would need to send the fire squad out soon if they hoped to contain the flames from spreading into the palace gates. The palace shields were still down despite the fact that the engineers had been feverishly working to repair them.

Still, the famed warrior couldn't deny what he felt. He hoped that the bodies of their foes had not simply just been burnt up by the plasma bombs and evaporated. He wanted to see their colorless bodies splayed across the bridge. He wanted to see them dead just as he had been forced to see his own loved ones and friends dead bodies lying on the marble floors of the palace. The palace floors normally shined like starlight, but just a few days they had been tainted with crimson stains. The golden cobblestone streets of the Imperial City had been overflowing with the dead bodies of the innocent. Simple citizens just living their lives enjoying another fall morning in Asgard had been shot down mercilessly by stray blaster bullets for no real reason. One of those innocent people had been his niece. A young woman, very bright and beautiful, she had a lovely singing voice and was enrolled in the Academy of Music, Asgard's premier university for young bards and minstrels. She was actually from a small island town far from the capital of the realm. It was quaint and provincial and had a university there, but it wouldn't compare to the education she could receive at Asgard's Academy of Music. Anyone who truly wanted to be a performing minstrel studied there. Her mother, his sister, had been very nervous about her traveling so far from home for schooling, but he'd guaranteed her that he would look out for her and make sure that she was able to get a good home cooked meal. he offered to have his niece live with him. He had plenty of room in his villa, but the young woman was eager to become apart of the Academy and opted to live at the university. He was also sure that she was eager to meet some gentlemen. Her formal education on the island had been in an all girl school. She'd been at the university when the Dark-Elves attacked. The watchers in the towers rung the gong signaling for the citizens to take cover. That gong hadn't been rung in more than two thousand years. So few even knew where the city shelters were anymore. The streets had been full of horrified pandemonium. Most people just ran for the nearest shelter. She'd been running, trying to get to one of the shelters when the attack started. She was shot down brutally. Herr body was retrieved by the city constables and he'd been asked to come identify it. He recognized her. The nasty sprays of blaster pelts had ripped through her body, but they hadn't marred her angelic, young face. When he saw her lying lifelessly on one of the hundred of tables in the makeshift infirmary that the healers had formed all he could think about was the fact that she'd never gotten to eat the home cooked meal she'd been promised. Njel clenched his fist and slammed his eyes shut. Maybe the sight of just one Dark-Elf's lifeless body would be enough to burn the imprint of his young niece's out of his mind. He looked to Brunhilde her eyes were cold and steely, they betrayed little emotion, but the emotion that they did reveal was one that matched his own. They wanted the same fate for their foes.

"My warriors aren't afraid of the heat of battle," Brunhilde responded after the silent exchange had passed between them. The tough looking Viking grunted, crossing his arms over his chest.. "Besides," she said removing her helmet tossing her hair back. Her hair was long and curly in luminous silver clusters. She had been a Valkyrie since before Lieutenant General Njel was old enough to wield a blade. She tossed the Einherjar warrior a roguish smile. Her gray hair was the only indicator of her age. Her vim and vigor on the battlefield had not waned in centuries of warfare. Her cocoa skin hadn't cracked with a wrinkle and her tom-girlish love of teasing men was the same as it had been in her youth. "never send a man to do a woman's job!" she winked.

Brunhilde called to the shield-maidens under her command. She told them of her plan. She ordered her warriors to investigate the outcome of the nebulous gray fog below them. The mighty female warriors did not hesitate to obey their general's command. Each one of the female warriors pulled out tiny whistles and blew into them. The sound of the instruments undetected by any man present, but in the ears of each woman warrior of lovely tune that could be heard by their horses. Immediately, the beautiful winged pegasi took to the skies. They flew from the castle stables where they had been held by the palace stable hands, but when the beasts heard the melody they soared their riders. They gray skies were soon filled with the mighty wing spans of the magnificent creatures.

The Valkyrie took to their winged horses and launched their golden lassos into the thick clouds of billowing smoke below. Their golden lassos were aimed straight and true. Each Valkyrie had honed her skills in precision so that her accuracy was nigh impeccable. When a Valkyrie aimed her lasso she didn't miss her ringer. Brunhilde wanted her warriors to lasso up the bodies of the fallen Dark_Elves. If she couldn't have all the bodies she'd settle for just one and if she could have one body she'd settle for just one head. Even just one head would have been something to show the people of Asgard that the suffering that had come to them from the hands of the Dark-Elves had not been in vain. One head that could be displayed as a trophy for the wives that had lost husband and for the children that had lost father. One head that could stand as a monument of remembrance for their fallen sisters and other women who had been working in the market place and died for no apparent reason. Those mothers and wives who had been snatched from their families. One head to be mounted for the mother's who lost their children and who would carry the heavy weight of that loss for all time. She longed for her own rope to wrap around that slimy snake, Loki. He'd avoided the aim of her lasso before. She'd scoured all the territories she could think of, but she'd not produced the body that the king longed to see. She took it that he was dead, but it had not been so. Like all serpents he'd managed to slither somewhere secretively and bode his time and waited to strike. Well this time he'd not escape. This time she'd have proof of his death and all of Asgard would rejoice instead of mourn for that cowardly not-prince.

On Brunhilde's signal, the Valkyrie let their lassos unfurl into the smoke. The cracked like whips into the fire consumed bridge. Each lass cracked against something, but when the warrior women reeled them back in they found their lassos empty. Nothing. Nothing at all had been caught on the end of any of their golden ropes. It made no sense. The shield-maidens exchanged bewildered glances with their comrades as they beheld such a spectacle. The ropes were designed to latch on once they came in contact with something. Each Valkyrie had felt the end of the lasso make contact with something. Meaning they should have produced a catch. There should have been something. Even just a piece of debris would have been something, but each solid gold hoop came up empty. Surely there must have at least been splintering of the broken Bifrost Bridge. Perhaps the bridge was completely destroyed and the Dark_Elves and the treacherous ex-prince of Asgard had plummeted to their doom. The thought was satisfying enough, but it left a bad taste in the mouth of the Valkyrie General. The bridge had been destroyed before and all had thought that the youngest prince of Asgard had been destroyed with it, but that had not been the case. All had thought that the Dark-Elves had been destroyed millenniums ago, but that hadn't been true. The relentless warrior wouldn't have any more such miraculous resurrections of the dead take place. Not on her watch. They had to be sure.

Brunhilde wrapped one end of her lasso around the side horn of her pegasus' saddle. She tied it in a tight secure knot and gave it a firm tug to make sure it was secure. With that she dismounted the back of her white-winged mare and slid down the rope descending into the smoldering cauldron. "Hold yourself steady, Queen." She commanded her horse. The horse treaded in the air. The rest of the Valkyrie followed suit and did as their general. Scores of female soldiers started to climb down their golden lassos and into the smog below. General Brunhilde shouted for her women to put up the shields on their helmets. By pressing a button on the sides of their horned headdresses each Valkyrie was able to produce a protective plexi-glass covering. The shields were infused with an infrared substances which enabled the shield-maidens to see in the dark. It also could serve as a barrier between their lungs and the smoke, but not forever the smoke was too thick and before the tips of their heeled battle boots could skim the surface of the heated, black smog most of the warrior women were coughing uncontrollably.

No sooner had the warrior-women started to slide down the ropes to pierce the veil did all the clouds burst forth. BWOOSH! They exploded in the faces of the Valkyrie. The sound was like a rushing, mighty wind as the clouds broke apart. The smoke was immediately dispersed in a gust of hot air. The burst of wind from the smoke explosion was so strong that it felt like a tornado. It shot the female warriors right off of their ropes. Their bodies careening through the air like human torpedoes. The fortunate ones were caught by their horses. Other were slammed against the bottom side of one of the flying longboats. They were the fortunate ones as many of the Einherjar plummeted to their deaths. And some, not as lucky, were catapulted fifty feet away beyond the city limits and over the rainbow bridge..

When the cloud of smoke had completely dissipated, the Einherjar and the remaining Valkyrie gazed down in horror at the sight beneath them. Somehow the Bifrost bridge had remained in tact despite the heavy fire that the armies of Asgard had released upon it. And so had the Dark-Elf army. Beneath the hovering battle skiffs was a protective, green force field encircling, Malekith and his whole army.

---

Lord Algrim, Lord Audric and all the lords and delegates from Asgard's High Council along with the other citizens who stood on the deck of the balcony shielded their eyes from the blinding green flash that was emitted from the glowing lime-green force field. Even from one hundred feet away the light was so bright that all were left momentarily without sight. Their vision obscured by white and purples spots and splotches blinking and fluttering in front of their confused and overly dilated pupils. Screams and shouts of horror and agony were echoed from the balcony of the palace as the onlookers rubbed their burning retinas. Some fell to the ground, frantically rubbing their eyes screaming like mad men and women. Other hysterically and sightlessly through the palace bumping into podiums and statues and one another as they fled.

"W-w-what was that?" Asked Lord Audric, nearly deliriously as he rubbed his leaking eyes as some of his sense began to return. No longer was his vision he only able to see the blaring white light after the green flash and flickering splatterings and splashes of formless color, but he was starting to see the world go back to its normal tone. He looked around him, but was hardly even able to make out the form of the people who stood around him, but he could detect the color of their robes.

Lord Algrim's white hands clenched at the golden banister of the balcony, desperately groping as he tried to steady himself. His eyes ached and burned and his head throbbed. The banister was the only thing that kept him from sliding to the ground. He shook his head trying to clear his vision. The first attempt at opening his eyes proved futile. He could see nothing and was forced to slam them shut once again as the residue brightness of still glowed before him. He opened his white eyes slower the second time. Carefully, peeling back each the eyelids centimeter by centimeter. He brought a trembling hand up to shield his white eyes. After a moment of allowing his eyes to adjust, he was able to make out the form of the shimmering emerald force field that surrounded the Dark-Elves. He managed to take his left hand which had been bracing him against the banister and move it to did in his pocket. His hand fumbled to find the deep fold within his cloak, the flash had left his decidedly disoriented. He gripped the spying glass that he had lodged there and brought it to his eye. Gingerly, he forced his left eye to open just wide enough to peak through the spyglass lens. There, in the center of the green shield he saw a distinct, tall and slender figure standing in the midst of the sea of white-faced and dark armored creatures. His arms outstretched, long alabaster fingers spread apart with mystic, jade energy freely flowing from them and into the force-field. The figure looked imposing, long tunics of ebony, emerald and gold billowing out around narrow legs energy encapsulated the figure. Algrim gasped as he witnesses an all too familiar horned head rose to hold its head high. The creatures were crouched down around him, some were lying flat on their bellies, their arms covering their head while others were standing at attention. Through the spyglass Lord Algrim could see that not a one of the vile beast seemed injured. The Light-Elf adviser to Odin's mouth dropped open and his hand fell and he released the spyglass allowing the instrument to roll away from him on the floor.

"What? What do you see, old friend?" Pressed Audric as he took a fierce grip on the other prime minister's shoulder. "Is that the after shock of our attack?" Audric asked hopefully. Algrim did not answer right away. "The Dark-Elves have they been destroyed?" He continued to question. Still, he got no response from his fellow prime minister. "Algrim? Algrim, can you hear me?' He started to demand. "Can you see anything? Malekith is he dead?"

Stymied for but a moment Lord Algrim could do nothing back shake his head and bat his translucent eyelashes over his white eyes. 'No! No! No! NO!" Lord Algrim muttered miserably like a toddler on the verge of a terrible tantrum.

"What is it?"The Prime Minister of Vanaheim went on.

"They're all there," Algrim mumbled in astonishment.

"Who's all there? The soldiers and the Valkyrie?" Asked the elder Vanir nobleman hopefully.

Algrim bowed his head and his pointed ears drooped. "No," he confessed. "The...the...the Dark-Elves."

Lord Audric inhaled so sharply that he gagged on his own breath. "How? How is it possible?" The Vanir gentleman questioned. "We were prepared for this," he pointed out. "There is no way their small band could have withstood such a force," he protested.

Algrim shook his head for a moment. The stoic and proper elfin leader let forth a most wild growl. He pulled away from his friend's contact. "AHHHHHHH! LOKI!" He hollered slamming his fist against the solid gold railing.

"Loki!" Lady Dagmar's father echoed the horrified sentiments. "Damn the bastard!" He swore.

Curled up in a tight ball, still trying to protect her eyes was Sigyn. She was at the feet of the two prime ministers and heard every word. He heart was already pounding from watching the attack. But upon hearing the words of Lord Algrim and Lord Audric Sigyn felt as if her heard would give out. Automatically, her gold eyes shot open. Her vision was bleary, but she was able to see enough to crawl toward the balcony. She found Lord Algrim's spyglass and pulled roughly at it trying to open it up.. Confounded thing would not open. Frustrated and desperately needing to see truth Sigyn struck the instrument against the marble stone of the balcony floor. The impact should have caused the spyglass to break, but rather it jostled it enough so that it opened for the lady-in-waiting to Queen Frigga. She was still on her hands and knees as she used the spyglass to get a look out onto the Bifrost bridge. She took heard and comfort when she saw that the rainbow bridge still stood. But all the comfort drained from her person as she felt the tight grip of dread wrap around her neck as she observed the hideous green force-field cocooning the army from Svartalfheim. In the midst of the shield she too could make out the figure that was protecting the Dark-Elves. 'Loki, no,"

Lord Algrim pushed pass the few dizzy and blinded people who were still gathered in clusters on the balcony. He was racing toward the captain of the guards. The captain of the guard was also rushing toward him.

'Captain!"

"Lord Algrim," the captain of the guard stated as he pulled himself to halt before the dignitary. His chest was heaving, but immediately saluted. "The tower dispatch reports they have lost contact with the Einherjar and Valkyrie we sent out," the guard reported nervously.

Algrim pinched the bridge of his nose. "The ships are still there," Algrim pointed out.

"Yes, my lord, but they do not to our frequencies," the captain informed. "Perhaps the Dark-Elves have jammed their systems with that flash."

"Yes, perhaps," Algrim uttered. "Or worse," he stated sharply.

"Sir." The Captain of the guard stood at attention. "The lookouts report that our attack did little against the enemy."

"Our attacks did nothing!" Lord Algrim corrected. Once again he pinched the bridge of his nose and slammed his eyes closed for a moment. He tried to concentrate on the tension rising up through his neck and across his skull and down into his nose.

"The arsenal is still loaded, sir and we have plenty of Einherjar we can still dispatch," the captain explained.

"Very good then," Algrim nodded. His voice was less assuring then his words. "We need to fire at them with everything we have, Captain do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," the captain nodded.

"I want every Einherjar, Valkyrie, guard. Militiaman and Viking going out there and attacking the Dark-Elves with everything they have got," he explained. "We will overwhelm them with numbers and break down their defenses."

"There is no shield that the Dark_Elves could possibly have had that should have been able to withstand the amount of fire we subjected it to, unless it was infused with magic. If that is the case we would need a squadron on mages to breech it," the captain of the guard reasoned.

"It is infused with magic, Captain. Loki's," Lord Algrim elaborated.

The Captain of the Guard looked distinctly baffled. "Loki's," he shook his head. "Loki faced magic extraction months ago...how could he possibly..."

"it matters not how, Captain, it is," Algrim flicked his white hand before the guard and silenced him. "But Loki's magic is not inexhaustible. He won't be able to hold that shield forever and when the force-field falls, Malekith and his elves will fall on 1000 of our swords and I want Loki's head to roll," declared the Light-Elf prime minister as he slammed his white fist into his white palm.

"At your command, Lord Algrim," the captain saluted before he darted back through the crowd to relay the instructions.

---

The bright electric green blaze had left the warriors of Asgard completely incapacitated. The terrible flash blinded the pegasi sending them wildly flying about in crazed patterns. They flew into the solar skiffs over and over again unable to see and change their directions. They bucked and kicked and knocked their riders from their backs. Many of the Einherjar blindly, fumbled around their ships, trying to get hold of the helms and cannons and weapon systems, but sightless as they were they only ended up tripping over themselves and causing themselves damage. Many of the ships shot rounds of blaster pelts at one another, accidentally. The rounds damaged the other ships and ships went whizzing by in wrong directions ramming into one another.

Meanwhile, beneath the turbulent skies full of friendly fire, Loki's shield started to falter. The green-eyed mystic had been holding up the force-field for nearly an hour and he could feel his own energy buckling under the strain. His arms trembled as he kept them stretched wide and allowed more and more magic to ooze from his being. The enchanter gritted his teeth as he continued to exert himself on behalf of Malekith and his army. He closed his eyes concentrating deeply and focusing his powers on maintaining the shield. He knew that this was but the first wave of Asgard''s attack. Loki inhaled and exhaled sharply and rapidly as he put his all into holding up the magic shield.

Loki's back started to bend under the immense weight of holding up such a massive force-field for so long against such battery. The assault had subsided, but so had his smokescreen. When the Einherjar saw the shield he'd created they'd begin to attack it again. The Aesir were relentless. He wouldn't be able to sustain another energy barrier against the same magnitude of force again, not without respite. His mind was lost deep in the concentration of his incantation when he felt Malekith's leather coated hands tap him on the shoulder. Loki turned to the Dark-Elf general, his eyes glaring daggers and shining with a lime green light around the edges, revealing the amount of power that he was using. Loki's breathing was becoming more and more ragged and labored. He wanted to snap at his new found ally for breaking his concentration.

The stocky leader of the Dark-Elves puffed out his chest and looked around with pleasure. His long, white ponytail swinging as he surveyed their surroundings. He had walked up and down the stretch of bridge covered by Loki's energy field and was pleased to see that it had done the trick, not a one of his men had been injured by the bombardment that the Asgardians had unleashed on them. When the Aesir mage had told him to leave it to him, he'd had his doubts. Malekith wasn't quite convinced that he could trust Loki, yet. He was in no position to question The Other. He was in no position to question, Thanos. But he didn't trust the enchanter. Loki had proven that they shared the same goals, but there was something about the enchanter that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He was shifty like sand and unpredictable as the wind. How could he trust the very man that had slaughtered the Kursed. The Dark-Elves had been using the power of the Kurseds to win victories for centuries. It was how they had dominated their enemies for years. No army had been able to withstand the power of Kursed. It had rained destruction down upon all who opposed the power of the Aether. It had decimated armies and brought kingdoms to their knees and he had destroyed such a powerful being all in the name of a woman.

Malekith had been appalled by the sentiment that Aesir seemed to possess. Sentiment was weakness, sentiment was what caused armies to lose battle. Victory didn't belong to bleeding hearts. For when one knew that any enemy bled they knew that they could be slain. Loki dripped of sentiment. He'd annihilated the most powerful warrior that their army had all to avenge a woman. The woman although lovely was dead and could offer him nothing now. He wondered if when Loki had done so did he expect him to sorrow over the Kursed as he had over the woman. Kursed had been a potent weapon in his hand. At one point he had been his friend and he was his right hand, but more than anything he was a weapon to use at will. Friendship was nothing next to the goal. The only goal was Ragnarok. To unleash the Aether and see himself rise to power once more and for the universe to be plummeted back to its original state of chaos and catastrophe and darkness.

Despite Lord Malekith's wariness of the once prince of Asgard, he could not deny that he'd given him results. The lie smith had made good upon his word thus far. He'd abolished the Kursed, but he'd made away for him to attain the Aether. He'd provided him with the capture of Prince Thor, grandson of King Bor his ancient nemesis. He'd given him a means to strip Thor of his power nearly ensuring that they'd have no opposition in unleashing the Aether when Convergence began. And now he'd shown that his magic was truly as powerful as he claimed. Perhaps The Other had been correct, perhaps the Asgardian was the one he needed.

"Impressive," the Dark-Elf general nodded toward the emerald-eyed enchanter, his lips pursed slightly in a queer grin of satisfaction as his colorless eyes looked up at the Asgardian war ships that were aimlessly firing and ramming into each other. He watched with pleasure as one of the skiffs caught on fire in midair. "I'll take it from here," the elfin leader announced, his hand still rested on Loki's shoulder.

Loki straightened himself, he inhaled deeply and thoroughly. He tried to maintain of sense of dignity and composure. He didn't want to allow the force-field to collapse to quickly, nor did he intend to show Malekith the relief that it caused him not to have to hold up the shield any longer. Loki slowly and methodically lower his arm the shield fell at the rate his arms did. The protective, shining lime colored dome placed around them fizzled away slowly.

Once the magic force-field was down the Einherjar immediately began their assault again. The troops came stampeding down the Bifrost bridge. They had their swords and spears and clubs and battle axes drawn and ready for attack. They sent more warships out and overhead they immediately started to spray their enemy with fire. The Dark-Elves assumed a defensive position. They formed a protective circle around their leader Malekith and the ones in the back started to drag Prince Thor forward. They'd put him in the forefront of the battle. If the Asgardians wanted to kill them they'd have to take out their own prince first.

Thor tried to resist their efforts to drag him along. The burly, blonde prince hunkered down allowing his body to fall as dead weight on the rainbow bridge. It wasn't an act. The son of Odin couldn't manage to stand on his own two feet. His body was still weak and suffering from the potion he'd taken. And also the unnatural binds of the Aether ooze that were strapped around his neck, wrist and ankles worked their dark magic to sap him of all his strength. Thor was powerless to do anything, but lay their as a lump of convulsing flesh. The elfin warriors cared not. They would have carted him to Malekith's feet by his ankles while his face scraped across the luminescent bridge without a care, but time was against them.

The Dark-Elf warriors took taser staffs and stabbed at the golden prince of Asgard sending electric currents through his body forcing him to jerk and gyrate and convulse and give into the way they wanted to bend him. Thor could merely groan. His mouth was covered in the thick licorice colored goop of the Aether. He could scarcely breath. Finally, they gathered him under the arms and carried him to Malekith. The valiant Viking prince offered no struggle as his bloodied, bruised, muscular arms twitched in the hands of his enemies while his busted boots scraped across the Bifrost bridge and his exposed and dirtied toes curled under him.

The Dark-Elves formed a protective perimeter around Malekith and Loki. They dropped down on their knees and pulled out their shock blasters and readied themselves with their evaporation grenades. These Asgardian warriors pounded their way toward Malekith and his malicious band. Their footfalls so heavy, hard and fast as they charged in that the bridge felt as though it would cave in beneath them. The battle cry of the Einherjar, Valkyrie and the guards rushing into the fray rang out like thunder. It could be heard all the way through the city.

Once against the skyline of the Imperial City was set on fire as flaming arrows sliced through the atmosphere. Blaster pelts of red and gold spit off and teemed down on the Dark-Elves. Plasma bombs burst and the screams of the Dark-Elves as they were shot down intermingled with the war cries until it was all sick symphony of slaughter. It was music the the wicked general's ear. The white-faced elves fell by the wayside as they were hit with flaming arrows and sharp javelin thrust from miles away. Malekith's forces started to fire back at the Aesir army. They hurled their evaporation grenades into the wave of Asgardian warriors. The terrible weapon detonated; it's explosion caused a massive suction, a spiraling, sparking vortex that sucked up several Einherjar at once leaving large pockets in the line of attack. The Dark-Elves hurled grenade after grenade into the line of attacking Einherjar. There were no doubt 1000 soldiers charging in, but the grenades sucked up sometimes ten men at a time.

The Dark-Elves shot their blaster rifles at the army. The dreadful weapon released a powerful bullet that could dissolve a man into ash upon impact. The Asgardian's were prepared this time. As the soldiers rushed in they put up special shields that were impervious the such an attack. The The laser shield were made of a glowing blue light and were easily able to deflect the blast.

Loki looked on the new defensive weapon that was being employed by the soldiers. He'd never known of any weapon in the Asgardian arsenal. Although he could scarcely recall a time when he was young lad. He'd been studying strategy under one of the great Einherjar generals and he had suggested such a tool being used. His drawn up the schematic for the shield. It was simple enough. They had the technology, it was the same magic that they used to create the cells in the dungeons and further more he could easily instruct a team of mages to construct them. He was eager to show his professor his schematics, but when he spoke with the Einherjar. The elder rebuffed him. He laughed and scoffed at the idea of needing to use magic on the battlefield. That was not the way a real Asgardian or a real man fought in his opinion. Loki had to admit he was almost pleasantly surprised to see his idea being employed. He was curious as to how the military strategist a weapon forgers had gotten a hold of his schematics though. He had kept that hidden in his lab for centuries.

The Einherjar were able to push past the blasts and soon they were fighting furiously with the Dark-Elves. With a mighty swing of the sword the warriors of Asgard were easily able to slice right through the elves. Before the Dark-Elves had caught them off guard, but they'd find that a prepared Einherjar was nigh impossible to overcome. They brought down their swords and axes of their foes and slaughtered them in cold blood. All the rage and anger of a berserker was released upon the bloodless elves. They skewered them through the stomach, chopped off their heads and watch head and body topple off of the bridge into the water. All of them driving and pushing toward Malekith and Loki.

No, I've come to far to be stopped now. With that, Loki raised up shaky hands once again read to conjure an energy shield that the Aesir warriors would not be able to penetrate.

"Malekith!" Called the two soldiers who were carrying Prince Thor's limp body toward their leader. They called to him hurried. In their language they expressed to show the Einherjar Prince Thor and make them cease in their attack. The Dark-Elf general smirked at his soldiers. He clicked his tongue as he considered their suggestion. His dark, soulless eyes beheld the blonde prince, his limp head hung and bobbled against his chest as the elves carried him. His dirty golden locks slapped him in the face while his head jostled from their movements. He was such a simple bargaining chip. Surely, the Aesir would put down their weapons to spare their prince's life. But that would only take away from their victory. He didn't want the Aesir nor any other race to think that they had somehow chosen their fate. He didn't want them to believe that they had had the power to defeat him and had made the choice to surrender. For the choice wasn't theirs. Ragnarok was upon them and there was nothing they could do to stop it. He wanted them to remember this day not as the day they allowed the Dark-Elves into their realm, but as the day that their hope was extinguished.

The general flicked his hand and dismissed the presentation of the prisoner, "Leave this to me," he muttered to Loki. The raven-haired trickster looked quizzically at the Dark-Elf leader. Malekith stood stock still as the Einherjar drew closer and closer. Their blades and battle axes were raised high and their voice rang out in bloodthirsty shouts, their arms bent in positions meant to kill an enemy. The ancient enemy clenched his hands into tight fist, shot his head back and emitted a powerful Aether blast. The liquid dark-crystal shot forth out of the center of Malekith's chest. It zoomed forth in a thick inky, rippling wave of licorice and crimson. The blast was powerful like a leak in a dam springing forth and causing the whole dam to burst. The impact of the Aether pushed back into the heart of the army, knocking the warriors down, the sharp shards of the dark gem broke through magic barrier shields that the soldiers were carrying and punctured through the gold, bronze and silver armor that the warriors were wearing. Malekith began to move his hands and arms in a rapid motion like a meastron conducting a symphony. More and more sick black and red energy started to ooze forth from him. It pumped out and started to swirl about him all of a sudden it took the shape of a terrible twister. The sound of the shards of the gem scraping against each other at the frantic speed sounded like nails on a chalkboard. A tornado made of the Aether whipped about sucking up, spitting out and wrecking everything in its path. It took the battle skiffs and flung them about like they were twigs. The skiffs went spiraling down and were rammed into the sides of the palace. They crashed into the towers breaking them and crumpling them. Before long a whole wing of the palace was on fire as ship crashed through the hall. The Aether twister picked up speed and the few remaining Aesir Warriors ran for their lives back toward the palace, but the palace could do nothing to withstand this force.

The once- prince of Asgard watched the mystic dark red and black wave wash over the Asgardian army. His brilliant jade eyes beheld as the power of the infinity gem crashed and thrashed and against the metal of the flying war boats and ripped through them like they were parchment. He gazed upon the bodies of the Einherjar and Valkyrie hurtling through the air as the force of the Aether was displayed in all its terrifying glory. Bodies were thrown and flung all about. Many were flung into the Forever Sea which surrounded the Imperial City. Other bodies were tossed like dolls against the walls of the golden palace. The might with which they were thrust caused some of the spires to collapse. The Aesir were a strong people. They were capable of surviving much, they were naturally stronger than several other races, mortals and Light-Elves and Dwarfs particular, but even an Einherjar was unlikely to survive such a smattering. He saw the bodies of the brave warriors of Asgard lying on the ground like dominoes as Malekith shot pulse after pulse of the dark crystal out of his chest. He heard the tortured cried of the soldiers as the Aether crashed into them and ravished their systems. The Aether's power was that of conversion, It took energy and transformed into something dark. It took the life-force and harnessed it for its own power, leaving those it came into contact with incapacitated. Those who didn't die instantly upon the contact of the liquid crystal were left bereft of all strength to simply writhe in agony on the Bifrost Bridge. The twitching, screaming bodies of broken warriors was hardly an appealing sight and yet, he barely winced.

His thin lip may have curled ever so slightly, but at the moment he wasn't surely it was curling into a pleasured sneer or a disgusted frown. The Aether was even more powerful than he had realized. The stories he'd heard as a child about how the Dark-Elves stole the light from the kingdoms who opposed them seemed so far fetched and fantastical, but having witnessed this he could see that it had been quite possible. The horror stories that he'd grown up hearing in the ancient text within the temple were all manifesting right before his eyes and it was glorious.

He'd expected guilt. He'd expected that shrill sniveling voice that loomed dangerously in the back of his skull to rear its pitiful head and speak. He waited for it to tug on that small, desperate part of him and try to reason with him with old feelings and sentiments. He waited to hear the hushed murmurs trying to lull him into weakness with mention of home and family and peace and loyalty and honor and love and all other manner of dreadfully sickening affections. He was prepared. He was prepared to steel himself. He was ready to guard his heart against the invasion of old and outdated convictions. He'd thought of such things once. But what had those thoughts ever done for him. They'd never brought him the glory and honor that he'd sought. He'd tried to be the honorable prince that Asgard wanted, but he wasn't honorable and they didn't want him. Instead, those notions only left him disgraced and weak and blind a foolish. When he'd valued such things he'd merely been a pawn in Odin's elaborate game and a lap dog for Thor's foolish amusements. Those hopeful ideals hadn't gotten him anywhere in the realm of the Void. His eyes widened and he shuddered as the thoughts ran across his mind. The beatings and humiliation and all the while he'd held out childish faith that his loving family would come find him. They didn't and his boyish daydream crumbled into a monstrous nightmare. Those things hadn't been real then and they weren't real now.

Loki waited patiently, smirking to himself as he anticipated the commentary of his dear little conscience. He had a retort in mind for ever measly little argument that his mind could have concocted and he was prepared to turn his silver-tongue against himself and use it to beat his conscience back so far into his psyche that it dare not rise up again. No old, pesky attachments would keep him from his destiny. Odin had prophesied to him all his life that he was born to be a king. He was simply fulfilling the old king's words. His own natural parentage had afforded him the right of kingship and he'd take it now, by force if he jolly well had to and no false brotherhood, pretend friendships or misguided happy memories would keep him from his moment of glory. Never again.

He waited for his conscience to strike, but it never did. He never heard the berating reminder of long forgotten emotions trying to pull at his soul. He never felt desperate tug on his heart strings trying to get him to cease and desist. Nothing. His eyes flickered. Amidst the carnage of the Aether rolling over the bridge and trampling and defeating all in its path he searched the haggard sight of himself. He waited for the apparition to flicker before his emerald eyes play with his mind and try to confuse him about his wants and desires. His emerald orbs darted left and right up and down, looking all around, searching high and low, but all the beheld was the horrible burning ash and slimy liquid of the Aether gushing out all around him and extinguishing the light. But his inner-self never appeared.

The ebony coiffed mage good feel his pulse quickening, his breath racing as it escaped his lungs, his hair standing on edge on the nape of his neck, his fair flesh filling with goose-pimples, palms started to sweat, his blood raced, his heart thrummed against his chest, his silver-tongue was dry for a moment and then the next moment he salivated like a hound at the sight of a steak in the butchers window, his head reeled, he was dizzy and faint and a lived and energized all at once. What was it? Anxiety? Fear? He'd felt it before. He felt it the moment the scepter, Gungnir was placed in his hands or when Thanos had bestowed upon his the scepter. He felt something very, very similar when he stood on Stark Tower in Midgard watching as the first wave of the Chituari broke through the atmosphere. Loki tossed his head back, his arms stretching forth embracing the rapturous feeling that was overtaking him. He started with an irreverent snort. He jerked himself out of his embarrassing guffaw and than began wildly, maniacally, manically cackling as chaos shaped around him. The dark blob swirled about in a deadly twister of terror running straight toward the palace. Oh yes, he knew this feeling well. Fiendish delight.

In the midst of his incessant and demented cackling, Loki noticed a few of the Dark-Elf soldiers carrying Thor's rag doll like body toward Malekith. His armor had been stripped from him, his tunics torn and tattered like those of the prisoners who paid their debt to society toiling in the quarries. The Aether binds had drained his flesh of most of its color. Thor actually looked pale. Loki could only recall one time before when Thor looked so unnaturally discolored. That had been maybe 4 or 5 centuries ago. When they'd traveled to the temple of tribute. Then, Thor had been knocking on death's door. That had been Thor's own fault though. He'd failed his own test. He'd been warned about the penalty for failure, but never the less he'd failed. Pitiful. Thor never completely divulged his experience in the temple. It had been surprising, Thor wasn't particularly secretive. He'd always suspected that it had something to do with him, but it seemed to have mattered little then. Loki started to give a nonchalant shrug as he watched the ruthless elves roughly gripping the son of Odin. They dragged Thor right pass him and the big, blonde warrior offered little struggle. He couldn't even scream. The gag made of Aether goop, made sure of that. A twisted smile played on Loki's face. Thor had seemed to show little qualm about forcing him into that ghastly muzzle. Like some mindless, rabid beast. He was all too happy to offer his dear brother the same sweet accommodations and conveniences that he'd been afforded. It was only fair, after all. As they dragged Thor right by him he could hear Asgard's golden prince let out muffled groans. The grunts were like listening to his favorite part of his favorite ballad. He'd waited so long for this proud moment. Thor's groans were not protest or demands, but pathetic pleas for help. Loki started to laugh louder, wilder, freer. Thor, had another thing coming if he truly thought he'd find any help out of this. The Dark-Elves and their leader were not inclined to be creatures of mercy. They'd slept for a millennium or two the last thoughts on their mind were those of spreading the Aether. They'd dreamed of nothing else since and would take no pity. And if his brother expected some strain of fidel piety to still exist between them, well that was hysterically comical.

Thor had moaned faintly, his limbs only able to make slight jerks and tugs, but nothing substantial enough as to ever cause the elves to lose their control of him. His attempts were only met with torment. One elf mercilessly directed a tasing staff toward his side every time he tried to pull away from them. Before long, Thor was too concerned with the pain of the electric currents being directed through his system to even attempt to pull away from his captors. Thor's head lulled back falling onto his shoulder's like a slung knapsack. His neck was covered by a black liquid shackle that constricted tighter around the windpipe every so often. Thor could hardly breath, consciousness was slipping from him like water through his fingers. The bound thunderer almost welcomed it. He'd rather not see the destruction that was befalling his fair kingdom. He'd rather not know of the calamity that awaited the Nine Realms because of his unspeakable failures. With the last reserves of his strength he struggled to keep his dirty eyelids open. It hurt to even move his blood-shot blue eyeballs, but he did so. He rolled them around searching until the landed on Loki. The trickster had been howling with glee when his bright emerald eyes met with hurting sapphire blue pupils. Thor looked at him in confusion and horror. He could not see the blonde-haired prince's face for it was obscured by the gag, but his eyes were screaming as if he'd seen a ghost and in that, Thor gazed at him as if he had no idea who he was.

The enchanter's laughter died down like a wind after a storm. He wore a taunting smirk on his face as he allowed himself to regain some composure. He thought his gleam would rile Thor up, bait him a little, but Thor didn't take the bait. He didn't look angry or wrathful, just scared and confused. He'd never known Thor to be frightened. Even when they were lads Thor hadn't ever shown much fear. He was sure there must have been times Thor was afraid, but it had never been made so apparently manifest to him. He could recall a time when they'd run away from their nursemaid in the marketplace. Thor was a young child and he hardly older than a toddler. At first it had seemed fun, but then it became very frightening. There were so many people and there had been no sign of mother or Helga. He started to cry, but Thor had been so comforting and reassuring, he took him by the hand and smoothed his hair. He told him that they were going to be alright. He'd been so brave and strong, he hadn't seemed scared, it was only when they found Helga and Thor leaped in her arms and kissed her on the cheek that he'd realized that Thor must have been somewhat scared.

The only time he could ever recall his brother having this petrified look in his eyes was when the went to the Temple of Tribute. He'd pulled Thor out from under a pile of rubble, but Thor was wide awake, his eyes open and unblinking he stared with terror at something Loki could not see and despite the fact that he called to him Thor never shook from his horrified trance.

Loki blinked and rubbed his eyes and in that blink Thor's own eyes slid shut. His mouth once again was dry. His heart once more beating furiously and a tickly feeling creeping into the pit of his gut. Loki shook himself. He marched toward Malekith. "Are you through?" He asked the Dark_Elf tyrant.

Malekith growled, "You stand unimpressed, Asgardian?" He rumbled in the ancient tongue. "I could extinguish this entire city without the Convergence right now if I so chose."

Jade eyes rolled, "Let us not get ahead of ourselves," Loki articulated crisply. "That serves little purpose."

"That served every purpose to me," Malekith proclaimed thumping his chest

"What good is conquest if no one sees it," Loki replied. "If you eliminate everything and everyone you will have nothing and no one to rule over. Bor defeated you publicly. Your defeat was known throughout the Nine Realms. Many history books go into a great deal of detail about it," the silver tongue stated. "Don't you want your vengeance upon the house of Bor to be known to realms?" He arched as inky brow.

Malekith was still for a moment, "Very well, Asgardian," he spat. "We will do it your way," he said. He clicked his tongue and sucked the explosion of dark matter back inside himself. "For now," he noted under his breath, "Pick up the prisoner," he ordered the four guards holding Prince Thor, The son of Odin may have been weakened by the serum, but he was still heavy, "Dragging his sorry form shall not tarry my return," Malektih announced. "We go to the palace," He stated and pointed his finger In the direction of the royal household that already had part of the wall torn down.

Instantly, the Dark-Elf soldiers followed Malekith's commands and hoisted Thor's unconscious form between them. Loki watched the elves carry Thor behind Malekith, a prized boar fresh from the hunt, The skinny enchanter, felt his chest swelling with a new found pride. It was like beating Thor at some sport when they were lads. It was so rare that It happened so rarely, but when it did it was all sheer joy and ecstasy. The biggest joy was in the hope that Thor would actually acknowledge how well he'd done, but Thor never did. He'd never let any victory be truly his. He'd stomp and, fuss and bluster, blow-up like a toddler, accuse him of cheating, not playing fair. Loki grimaced. Sometimes it was just easier to give into Thor's demands to be the constant winner than to try and fight against him. Well he'd not give into Thor this time. Thor would not still steal his thunder this time. Oh the contrary, he'd stolen his. The irony was enough to send Loki madly crowing once again, He greedily rubbed his hands ready to let out another harsh cackle, he tossed his head back, but soon caught glimpse of Thor's enormous body bouncing off the shoulders of the white faced animals that had been responsible for Dagmar's death. The cackle that was bubbling in his throat got caught there, he choked on it and swallowed it down. A shallow smiled barely was able to tug on his thin mouth as he took his place marching next to Malekith.

---

"Put guards around the door," directed Lord Algrim as he marched rapidly down the gilded corridor. A troop of palace guards fell in toe behind him.. "I want as many men as we still have available to set up a perimeter around the throne room," he went on to explain.

"Yes sir," the guards echoed behind his command. The captain of the guard gave orders to the soldiers and placed them in their various positions.. Immediately, with alutes and shouts the guards splintered off. Some running down the hall, others taking the stairs, while a few scurried up the columns in ambush position. The rest of the palace household was also on defense. Every able bodied man and woman was expected to take up arms and fight. Even servants, stable hands and chambermaids were rushing to their rooms and grabbing whatever weapons of war they could manage to find. They grabbed decorative spears and javelins of the walls, took knives and daggers out of the kitchen, many of the of figurines in the hall of the coat of arms were stripped of their glorious blades as all sought to find any means necessary to defend themselves. All of the Council members were armed right along with the Einherjar and other palace soldiers and stood protectively around the throne room

All, besides the healers as a massive wave of freshly wounded soldiers poured through the back gates of the palace. The healers readily waited within the palace ran to the gates and carried the wounded warriors in and rushed them to the healing rooms. They had their potions, tonics, salves and healing crystals on hand to aid all they could. Male and female soldiers poured in. Some crawling on their hands and knees others being carried in by their fellw warriors or on the back of a faithful war horse. Their bodies were drenched in blood from head to toe. Others had disgusting third degree burns, Several had some of their limbs blown clean off. The severed body parts left to litter the rainbow bridge. Those who were strong enough to carry themselves in came in frantic and feverish talking about how they felt something painful and burning on the inside of their skin, but they had no physical signs of of injury. Many fainted as they tried to explain to the healers what had taken place.

Lady Sigyn had been charged with leading some of the elderly serving women and the children through the passageways. The catacombs ran throughout the entire palace and had access and entrance points into most rooms, but were double reinforced within the walls. Even if the palace was to collapse on itself those in the passageways would have been able to safely make it out. Sigyn escorted the groups of the too young and too old and too injured through the catacomb. She showed them the exit point of where they could escape into the city. At this point they were safer outside of the palace walls. Although that safety seemed only momentary.

"We need to send men down to the weapons vault," expressed on of the Council delegates to Lord Algrim.

"We have few men to spare, now," another argued.

"Never send a man to do a job made for a woman," a coughing voice called weakly in the distance. Lord Algrim swung around to see who was speaking.

"Lady Brunhilde, you survived," the elderly elf exclaimed as he watched the warrior woman leaping on one foot being helped by a few other shield-maidens. Several other wounded female soldiers were being carried in by Einherjar and likewise many Valkyrie had Einherjar slung over their shoulders. Lieutenant General Njel had the bodies of several of his men on his back.

She coughed once more. "In a manner of speaking," she wheezed.

"The general needs a healer," the Valkyrie at her right arm cried.

"No I don't," Brunhilde protested. "I'll not rest with them on the loose, send me and my able ladies to guard the weapons vault, my lord," She insisted.

Lord Algrim knew the stubborn Valkyrie leader would go with or without his permission, "Go," he urged.

"We need soldiers to go out into the city, Lord Algrim and defend the people," Njel spoke rapidly as he made his way to Lord Algrim side. He was still supporting the unconscious Einherjar warriors on his back with ease. His breath hitched. He thought of his niece.

"There isn't enough time," Lord Audric took him by the shoulder to explain.

Njel ripped his massive shoulder out of the Vanir prime minister's hold. "We at least need to try to evacuate the citizens," he pressed upon Asgard's prime minister.

"Audric is right," Algrim stated grimly. "The best defense for the people of Asgard is to protect the palace and not let it fall. If the Dark-Elves are able to unleash the Aether then it matters not how far the citizens flee we are doomed anyway," he admitted as his pointed ears began to droop.

Lieutenant General Njel wanted to protest, but as a man of the Einherjar he knew that his first duty was to serve as needed. "Where do you want me and my men to go?" He asked dutifully.

"Come with me," Algrim offered. "We need all those we can to protect Asgard's throne," he expressed.

"Lord Algrim," spoke up another one of the head guards, "Should we not try to send word to her majesty, Queen Frigga and let her know what is happening here?" The Light-Elf nodded his head toward the concerned guards request. The queen had informed him of the state of the king, the least he could fo what inform her highness of the fate of the kingdom. There would be little that Queen Frigga could do for them at this point. Even if she got the message instantly, the retinue of soldiers and Valkyrie that she had taken as escorts would not make it back to palace before Convergence and by the time Convergence took place Ragnorok would surely be upon them. **************************************************

More and more wounded soldiers started to pour into the healing room. The healers were overwhelmed. "Ambro!" Dyson called to a companion as he saw the healers carrying him in on a stretcher. His friend was covered in blood, his arm completely blown off. It was so gruesome that the young soldier started to look away.

"Dyson! Dyson!" His friend shouted to him in a tortured cry. Unable to ignore the desperate plead the young brown-haired soldier rushed to his friend's side. The healer were relentless and kept moving him toward the operation table. "M-My arm...my...my arm" he gasped. "I...I...I can feel...i c-can-can feel it in my arm," he panted. His trembling, bloody hand reached up and grabbed Dyson by the collar," he soon dropped his hand back down only to point to the side of his body where the arm no longer existed. 'D-d-don't let it...u..uses me, d-d-don't l-l-let it tt-take me," he pleaded. Dyson reached his hand out to clutch his friend's shoulder to try and steady him. He looked to the healer in bewilderment.

"What has happened?" Dyson demanded.

"The Dark-Elves," The healer shouted. "They've breached the bridge," she shook her head and explained. "They were too much for us." Dyson didn't wait to hear anymore. He ran like the wind back to the balcony.

All the Einherjar, High Council members and soldiers were poised around the beautiful throne room. A true throne no longer sat upon the dais, as during the first invasion, Malekith had released one of the evaporation grenades and sucked up the lovely throne made of gold, pearl and opal. For millenniums the great kings of Asgard had reigned justly from upon such a throne. Now nothing was left but a stump of crumbling gold dust. Armed men were stationed throughout the room. A line of soldiers stood by the door with sharpened spears pointed and set to be thrown at the first intruder. There were guards around the columns and hiding in the corners. Archers were ready and waiting in the balcony, their arrows set to fire. The lords of the High Council had taken defensive stances near the windows, just in case the elves intended to attack from the rear. The troops waited, with baited breath; prepared for what could surely be the final battle for the lives of their very civilization and the lives of the Nine Realms. No one moved a muscle, all was quiet. Just moments before all that could be heard was the uproar of bombs, catapults, crashes and clatters, grating metal and the deafening holler of the Aether as it destroyed, but now the silence was screaming. It was so soundless and still that a needle could have been heard falling into a haystack.

"Take heart, Warriors! Take heart, men. Stand your ground," Njel proclaimed as he marched about the throne room. His rocky voice and forceful footfalls finally broke up the unnerving stillness in the atmosphere. He walked around he place steadying hands on a few soldiers' shoulders. Most of the troops were already badly injured. They were ready to fight on broken legs, dislocated shoulders and cracked ribs. Njel ran his rough hands over his beard and moistened his lips with his tongue. The stalwart lieutenant general was not a man given to flowery words. Poetry was made for minstrels. Minstrel's like his young niece, innocent girl, full of potential, killed for nothing at all. She had so desired to perform for crowds of hundreds of thousands, she'd wanted to record the tales of victory in song and have those songs immortalized in the hearts of the people. Now she would never get the chance. In the moment he felt himself wanting to wax lyrical and preach to his troops about their extreme heroism, their unyielding patriotism and how this was the day they'd waited for all their lives. His lips were poised to give a lengthy soliloquy and extol their virtues and encourage them with the riches that would await them in Valhalla, but he never had the opportunity.

There was a startling pop. The great, hallowed stone and granite doors were immediately sucked into a screaming vacuum. Nothing was left in the place where the massive doors had been save the cracked and broken pillars of the frame. Following came the loud explosion of firing Dark-Elf blasters. A few soldiers on the front lines were immediately pulverized by the deadly weapon. They took the fall so that the other Einherjar could fight. They charged in with loud battle cries. Their swords eager to draw blood from Dark-Elf corpses, but alas no one knew if the white faced devils even bled. They'd soon learn. They attacked with the fury of the Berserkers of old. Gleaming swords met with flesh and Dark-Elf guts spilled across the floor. The specialized, magic shields that many of the Einherjar had were impervious to the blasters and so the Einherjar were able to easily overtake the Svartalfhiem forces. A new group of Dark-Elves came rushing in. They shot their weapons, but they were no match for the strength of the Einherjar. Loki and Lord Malekith soon followed behind the soldiers. Malekith growled as he saw the bodies of his men on the shiny floors. His whole body started trembling as he felt an Aether surge swelling within him. He was ready to level the glittering royal edifice to the ground.

Jade pupils surveyed the battle. He was not surprised by the results. The Aesir had defeated the dark-Elves before and the only reason that Malekith and his men had gotten as far as they had was because they had the element of surprise in the first attack. Without it, Asgard was far to prepared in the art of war to be overcome by a mere force of arms. Lieutenant General Njel seized the first opportunity and cut down about three Dark-Elf warriors at once. He did not have up a deflector shield as many of the other soldiers did. He ran straight into the line of firing blasters. Blue lights from the shock-waves that the gun produced burst all around him, disintegrating columns instantly. He bobbed and weaved, ducked and rolled on the ground missing each blast. If a Dark-Elf tried to attack him from the side his sword would swing to his left just low enough to cut their legs out from under them. He was heading for Loki. His eyes never left staring at the snake who had once been a prince of the realm. He drew closer and noted the smug smirk, written on the keen, angular face. It drove him mad with a mighty war cry, he leaped into the air and flung himself toward Loki. His sword was set in front of his and he was ready to plunge it into Loki. He flew through air. His blade just inches from coming into contact with Loki's skull. Loki raised a flippant creamy hand and halted the lieutenant general in mid air. His other hand curled into a fist and stopped the Dark-Elves from firing. The warriors of Asgard froze, cautiously awaiting to see what would happen to Lord Njel. With an invisible pull Loki dragged Njel toward him, "Bravo," Loki whispered slowly in the warriors face. A cruel smirk held by thin pink lips. "Such a valiant effort, Lord Njel, and you still only rank as a lieutenant general among the Einherjar? Surely, you should be a member of Odin's war council by now. Perhaps you can be a member of mine?" Loki posed.

With steely eyes and gritted teeth, Lord Njel said, "Death first,"

The trickster's green eyes grew dark, he grimaced sharply, then almost immediately grinned at the Einherjar, "As you wish," Loki obliged and pressed a strong invisible choke hold on the man's windpipe. The troops watched as his legs desperately kicked in the air. His hands clawing at his own neck as he scrambled to breathe. "Such disrespect of Asgard's king is hardly tolerable from an Einherjar," Loki spat as he tossed a limp body at the feet of Malekith. Malekith's pit like eyes looked down at the unconscious body. He was disappointed to note it was breathing.

The ebony-locked enchanter allow his hands to fall by his side. He inhaled deeply. The scents of jasmine and ginseng still lingers on the incense lamps. He closed his eyes savoring the moment. His tongue darted out and swiped across his lips. "Being ever so humble there is no place like home," he finally spoke. He looked into the faces of the Einherjar soldiers. Most of whom he knew. His eyes fell on Lord Algrim, the frail looking dignitary had managed to brandish a blade. Loki nodded and a few Dark-Elves marched over the older light -elf gripped him up roughly and carried him to Loki. "Lord Algrim tis customary to greet a returning king with fire-works, a parade and perhaps a royal banquet, but all this fanfare for little ole me," he pointed to himself, the clever liar was able to make his pale cheeks blush, "it borders on the obscene," he teased.

The Light Elf Prime Minister wriggled uncomfortably in the hands of the Dark-Elves. "You are king of nothing, Loki. You are a traitor and a coward!" he spat. "Odin offered you more grace than you deserved. You deserved death!" Lord Algrim. "The only fanfare you shall receive from me is at your execution." he declared. Loki's cold hand immediately gripped around the prime minister's thin neck. "You won't win, Loki" Algrim coughed. "Kill me if you want, Loki," he challenged as he wheezed for air. "But you don't have enough men to overthrow all of Asgard."

Loki broke into a wild cackle. "What would killing you do, Lord Algrim? Nothing. I intend to hit Asgard and Odin where it hurts. I hope the all-father still lives so he can see this as he slumbers," Loki announced. "Bring me the prisoner!" he ordered and threw his hand back to command the soldiers of Svatalfheim. The guards lumbered forth, with Prince Thor's body bound and chained body out before the soldiers of Asgard. Prince Thor did not even have the dignity of walking before his subjects in chains. He was hauled forth with his knees scraping the ground. His leather pants ripped to shreads. His arms were held up uncomfortably on a pole held horizontally between his shoulders. All of the soldiers gasped. Murmurs and shrieks of horrors echoed as all beheld the golden prince of Asgard beaten to a bloody pulp and dropped before Loki's feet.

Roughly, the man Thor once knew as his brother, gripped tuffs of his dirty blonde hair and yanked him to his knees. Thor's body shook and he groaned in pain. Bleary, sapphire eyes blinked trying to stay conscious, but unable to. The blue gems rolled back in Thor's head. The raven-haired mage unsheathed one of his fine pointed daggers and brought it to Thor's throat that was still partially covered by the dark Aether ooze. "Kneel to me, Algrim and tell the soldiers to stand down or I will slit Thor's throat in front of you," Loki declared. Algrim hesitated for a moment. But watched as Loki cut away at the Aether and pressed the tip of the knife against Thor's dirty flesh. He heard the Crown Prince groan. Thor's eyes were blackened and swollen shut, his face red from fever and his whole body was starting to shake violently.

"Let him go, Loki," Algrim bargained. "Let him go" he pleaded. "You are even lower than the base earthworm I had supposed you as," Algrim ground out. "Throwing in your ilk with these monsters," Algrim's eyes shifted to look at the bloodless elves. "Now, let prince Thor go or..."

"You are in no position to give ultimatum, Algrim," Loki warned. Sick smile crawled across Loki's face. Loki's bony fingers clutched tighter around the thick clusters of Thor's golden hair, while his other hand traced a cold and cruel line around Prince Thor's cheek and jawbone. "Oh he's not going anywhere, but I will spare him if you kneel before me," Loki countered. Before the prime minister of Asgard had a chance to weigh all the options he heard the swords and axes of the Einherjar clank across the floor and watched as the bodies of the soldiers bent. He too followed suit. Loki dropped Thor's pathetic body to the ground and raised his hands triumphantly. "Sentiment is a virtue I do so much admire in the Aesir." he breathed.