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?

40. Darkest Hours

HEEEELLLLOOO READERS! Omg I know it has been sooooo long and honestly, it has been far too long and I do apologize for that, but please know even when I haven't published in a while I am still thinking of you and this story. I appreciate each and everyone of your follows, favorites and reviews soooo much. If it wasn't for your suppot this story would have been long ended. THANK YOU SO MUCH! Now this chapter has been particularly hard to write and for as long as it took me to write it I must admit it isn't my finest chapter, but I did my best. I tried to edit it, best I could but this site now longer provides the editting feature helper feature I downloaded wasn't working right. So its not fully edited, but I couldn't bear not posting any longer. So know that any typos you may find were submitted in love. Well I won't be labor the point. Happy reads and writes and most of all GOD BLESS YOU! Without further ado:

CHAPTER 40

When the Dark-Elves arrived in the dank holding cell where Prince Thor had been placed they attacked him, mocked him and beat him, then they dragged his beaten, unconscious body through the mud of the prison floors, up endless flights of steps and down winding hallway after winding hallway until they came to the room where they had been ordered to discard his half-dead body.

Prince Thor gasped as his bruised and broken body was slammed on to a cold, sterile, steel table. The cold metal sliced through his lacerations and cuts. It burrowed its way into his wounds. It made his muscles tighten and it made his blood freeze. It chilled him to the bone. The room was dreadfully chilly and there was a slight draft. The temperature made the prince shiver. He was practically naked and had already lost so much blood that he could do nothing but lie on the table teeth chattering and body shaking with shivers.

The painful cold kept Thor alert for a time. He could hear the shuffling of shoes across the floor and the movement and he heard the movement of objects. For all the movement, Thor dared to hope that maybe there was someone who would be so kind as to drop a shawl or sheet or blanket over him. But that was not the case. Thor had lacerations all over his forehead, chest, and arms, His collarbone was broken and his shoulder was dislocated. His left leg was broken and his right was so busted and bloodied that it might as well have been. He had puncture wounds in his lungs from the brutal beatings he'd suffered at the hands of his tormentors. His breathing was labored. Despite his agony, his captors took no pity on him. Instead, they seemed to only delight in inflicting further pain on him. They strapped Thor down to the metal table. They strapped his wrists and his ankles and even put a rough leather belt around his forehead. They made his binds so tight that the blonde-haired Asgardian could scarcely even shake his head from side to side. The metal rings that the hooked across his ankles were so tight that they cut deeper into his flesh and just created another gash.

Thor's aching body desired sleep more than anything, for sleep was the only escape from the nightmare of discomfort that he was in, but those who had him wouldn't even afford him that courtesy. They manhandled him. They didn't care about his bruises, cuts or injuries, they strapped him down roughly and mercilessly. Thor would twitch, gasp and moan as they poked and prodded him. He was too weak to scream, too injured to struggle. The Dark-Elves were pitiless creatures. The cries of an enemy awakened no compassion within them rather it only prompted their endless savagery.

Thor tried to take him mind off the intense pain that his body was in. He felt like he was fodder for bilgescnipes to feast upon. His thoughts were jumbled and muddled. He tried to think of where he was and how to get out of this predicament. He tried to think of Asgard and his parents and his people and how they were fairing, but every time a lucid thought seemed to creep into the crevices of his tired mind he was hit with another bout of terrible pangs.

While his body was being assaulted at the hands of who he knew not his nose was also being attacked with bitter fragrances. The stench of formaldehyde, alcohol, and astringent filled his nostrils. As he inhaled the pungent odors it burned his lungs and caused him to cough. The smell was also coupled with a twinge of blood and bile. Somehow the smell was familiar to the prince and even in his delirious state, the prince recalled the noxious fumes. He knew he was in one of the healing rooms.

He'd spent many days in those rooms as a lad. He was a rough and tumble child always climbing trees and hills, practicing his skills for war, he had so many broken bones he was sure that he worried his nursemaid, Helga half to death. Helga was a strict nursemaid and at even the slightest sign of a sniffle, she'd send them straight to bed. Loki didn't seem to mind. Actually, Thor thought that Loki rather looked forward to being stuck in bed. He had always preferred indoor activities as a child, taking ill was a way for him to enjoy his favorite pastimes without facing the criticism of their peers. Loki loved a day when he could sit in bed and get lost in the books, or practice his craft or he'd practice his calligraphy, sometimes he'd draw or sculpt. If they were both sick they'd play cards or chess together. Loki was so talented, he could always think of things to do to keep from being bored, he on the other hand always felt bored and restless being stuck inside for so long. No the halls of healings had never been the most comfortable or exquisite place or lavished of rooms in the palace, but they were still a wonder. The walls were flawlessly painted a color that was somewhat a kin to sunshine reflecting off a silver armor, the floors were made of sparkling white marble, there were crystal chandeliers and flowers to brighten the atmosphere. Then there were the pools. Oh, the lovely pools and fountains. There were great big fountains with statues of nymphs and dolphins and whales with water spewing from their blowholes and mouths. The healing, tranquil waters that were infused with minerals and the power of the healing crystals. People from all over Asgard and the Nine Realms would come to bathe in the healing pools. Then there were the harpists some of the best bards and minstrels in all the realm would come to the palace and hope for the opportunity to show their skills in the halls of healing. Their entrancing melodies to provide an atmosphere of ease, relaxation, and healing. This chamber was different. There was no cleansing bath in the fresh springs, no beauty and the healers'' hands had never been so cruel or rough.

Finally, the prince felt thus inclined to open his eyes and take a look around. He may have been stripped of his powers and they may have beaten him to a bloody pulp, they may have left him weak as a kitten, too weak to fight back against their torments or even to scream out in protest, but he refused to be so helpless as to know at whose hands he was suffering.

Prince Thor panted and moaned as he struggled to even pry one eye open. Thor's eyes were swollen shut, black and blue, he could scarcely open them a sliver, but through his peephole vision, he tried to look around and observe what was happening to him. He could not make out the face. The Dark-Elves pigment less skin blended in perfectly with the white washed walls. But their pitch black eyes stood out. It sent a shiver of vulnerability up the thunder-bearers spine. It made him feel as if the walls had eyes and they were staring him down. It made him feel as if the walls had hands and arms that were reaching out for him and yet he was powerless to even turn away from their evil intentions. It was only the murmuring in a distinct and foreign language that alerted Prince Thor that he was in the presence of the Dark-Elves. With their strange tongue making utterance in his ears Thor finally was unable to stay awake any longer. His body went limp against the cold, steel table.

"He is half-way dead already," the Dark-Elf medic expressed. His callous hands picked and pricked at Thor's bleeding flesh. He unlatched one of the manacles that were secured around Thor's wrist only to check his pulse. It was barely there. He lifted up his arm and then dropped it. Thor's arm fell on the table and made a clunking sound as it plopped down.

"Ah, we should finish him," one soldier said greedily. He rubbed his palms together, his tongue dangled out his mouth. "Let us finish him! Let us finish him!" He said while clapping his hands.

Some of the other warriors started to applaud the notion. "To kill an Asgardian has been a dream of mine since I was a lad," he explained.

"To kill a son of Bor," another started to chuckle. "'twould be glorious!" "Knock it off!" The Dark-Elf medic ordered. "No talk of such glory should belong to the likes of you. It belongs to are most venerated general, Lord Malekith," he expressed.

"Aye, but Lord Malekith isn't even going to kill him," another grumbled.

"It shall be King Loki," one of the soldiers stated. He squeezed his features, elevated his nose, pursed his lips and pointed to himself daintily. The warriors laughed.

"I don't mind the soft-skin king," one shrugged. "He is powerful, Thanos trusts him and he has led us this far toward our victory."

"And look what he did to this poor slug," the medic laughed. He then took the opportunity to slap Thor across the face. Thor groaned, thrashed and whimpered. He pulled a little against the bands, but they were too strong and with his dislocated soldier such an attempt was excruciating. The Dark-Elves continued to laugh at the expense of the crown prince of Asgard. "Wait for Lord Malekith to come... I'm sure he will have a word of what to do."

When Malekith arrived his examined Thor's body. He looked his up and down and noted the severity of the royal's wounds. They pleased him. "You men did well in showing him the might of our people," he stated and dusted his hands off. The Dark-Elf soldiers stood poised and at attention as Malekith's eyes sized them up. He offered them a nod before he turned his gaze back to Prince Thor's listless form. He sneered and gagged as he got a whiff of the son of Odin. It had been several days since he'd been afforded the luxury of a bath and his oozing wounds and festering sores stank.

"Get him cleaned up!" Malekith barked.

At his word the medic jumped and moved closer to the examination table where Thor lay unconscious. "Yes, my liege," he nodded.

"Repair him just enough so that he is of use to us," Lord Malekith explained. He breathed harshly down the medic's neck. Malekith's breath was icy and he cast long shadows. "I want Prince Thor's final moments of this life to be filled with nothing but misery, despair and humiliation. Tonight the Crown Prince of Asgard, the Son of Odin, the defender of the Nine Realms, future all-father, he shall be the honored guest at our little banquet," he stated and smirked. The black eyes of his men looked curious, but they didn't speak a work. "As our slave!" He decreed and clenched his hand into a fist. The elfin warriors cheered.

Amidst all of the hoopla, the Dark-Elf medic had to confess that he could not properly treat all of Thor's injuries. Not in such a limited time. "My lord," he bowed. "I can most certainly clean him up...but,"

"But?" Malekith's voice rumbled.

The medic kept his head down, "I am sorry, but he has internal bleeding, He has a concussion and without his powers his own ability to heal itself if compromised," he explained. Though the Dark-Elves had healers, their healers had never been the best. They practiced rudimentary medicine. Perhaps it was because of their homeworld was so harsh. The barren landscape of Svartalfheim offered few resources. They had managed to learn something from their distant kin the Light Elves. They could treat certain ailments, patch up wounds, reset broken limbs, but for more complicated matters of the body, they were useless. The Dark-Elves were not a culture of mercy. Survival of the fittest had always been their motto. The Aether need healthy and strong vessels to channel itself through and do its bidding. If one was not fit then they were considered dead weight often left to die and suffer alone. The Dark-Elves were an isolated people besides spreading the impenetrable darkness and stealing the light they had little contact with the other people of the Nine Realms. They took no prisoners in the wakes of their wars and so their healers never learned the workings of the bodies of any of the other races.

Malekith growled at this confession. He gripped the medic around the throat. "Don't give me your excuses," he ground out. The Aether swirling through him. Making him strong enough to lift the medic off the ground and toss him clear across the room. "I don't want to hear them!" He yelled. The medic scrambled to get to his feet. He rubbed his neck as he panted. "Can no one do this?" He raged at the soldiers.

"Temper, temper, General Malekith," Loki stated as he sauntered into the healing room amongst the Dark-Elves. He watched as the medic soldier scrambled to get his feet. There were fresh burns from the Aether around his neck. "I can," he expressed crooked smile on his face.

"You?" Malekith scoffed.

Loki dusted his nails on his surcoat. "Don't sound so surprised," he shrugged. "I am versed in many arts, including healing," he explained his eyes intense while his lips still held a cocky grin. The Elves murmured to themselves.

The leader of the army of Svartalfheim stomped toward the new king. "Are you sure?" He gave a scrutinizing gaze.

"But of course, general," Loki grinned

"And no tricks," Malekith qualified as he raised a finger.

A Sly smirk on his thin lips. He then blew breath out the side of his thin lips. "I always play tricks Malekith, the question is on who." Malekith turned away as if he was considering his alternatives. Just before Malekith could give an answer he received a command "Go." The self-ordained king ordered. "Leave us," Loki said as he turned his green eyes to the man he had once called his brother. "When he is fixed up and ready to serve I will bring him to the dining hall," Loki stated his voice growing softer.

"No," Malekith countered. "My men will stay stationed outside of the door. They will be listening to everything that is going on in here," Malekith warned. "When you are done with your, healing session they will bring him up to the banquet hall," he qualified.

"What, Malekith? Still, don't trust me?" Loki's inky brows quirked with fiendish delight.

The Dark-Elf general growled and cracked his knuckles. "How long is this going to take?" He asked.

"It'll take as long as it takes," the king of Asgard replied.

"If you intend to heal him fully..." The Dark-Elf Warlord started to rail.

"To heal him fully would take all night," Loki responded. His green eyes roved over Thor's injured body. He thought of a simple trick that allowed him to see through things. He could see through Thor's flesh and he could see the internal damage that had been done.

"We don't have that type of time!"

"I know," Loki uttered. "Now go! The longer you stand here gobbling and asking questions the longer this shall take." Hesitantly, Malekith did as commanded and his men followed suit.

Loki slowly walked toward Thor. His black boots slowly padded across the stark white floor. He stood at his once brother's bedside. He sized him up. His eyes glowed with a vivid, electric green ring around them as he used x-ray vision to see through Thor's body. Thor had puncture wounds in his lungs and it was causing his lungs to fill with liquid. He had too many cracked bones to count. He had torn ligaments, busted arteries and bruising across his skull and spine. Loki jerked. He shook his head and allowed for the x-ray vision to disappear and his normal vision to come back. He placed his hand over his thin lips.

Loki rocked on his heels and took a slight step back. He'd seen the blonde in many a predicament. He'd seen him severely injured and wounded, he'd seen him sick with a fever before. He'd dragged Thor from the thick of the fight often time against his will. He'd carted his sorry body over the battlefield and out of the clutches of vile creatures and all the way to safety. One time Thor had led a platoon across the deserts of Musepelheim, there was a terrible sandstorm. Thor's platoon became lost, some days later, he, Sif and the Warriors Three went to search for them. They found them each one sun-baked and fried, dehydrated and delirious with heat-stroke. Never had he seen anything comparable to this.

Maybe it was because Thor was bereft of his powers. Mjolnir was more than just a hammer for Thor it was part of him, part of his very life source. Maybe it was because the Dark-Elves were about the most heartless people in all the Nine Realms. They tormented their prisoners worse than any people in the Nine Realms. Most of the people of the Nine Realms had some code of ethics to which they treated their prisoners of war, but not the DarK-Elves the brutalized and humiliated and mutilated their enemies in a manner that was simply animalistic. Thor was barely living proof of what they could do. His body resembled freshly chopped mutton joint, primed and seasoned for the skillet.

Loki heard Thor's labored breathing. The blonde behemoth wheezed and then gasped for air. Even when he gasped it seemed as though he could hardly suck in any air. He was indeed a pathetic sight. There was a time not so long ago when Loki would have been in this same position with a completely different stance. He'd often taken this position standing by the bedside of a wounded Thor. In times past he would be the last person to enter Thor's chamber when he was sick. It had always been hard for him to see Thor as anything less than the epitome of health which he always was, but he would force himself into the room to be of comfort to his mother if for no other reason. He'd stay for only a few minutes and at first, but then when his duties were done and his studies were finished he would slip back into his brother's chamber and sit with him. He'd say he was doing it to relieve his mother. Frigga was so vigilant she would never leave the side of any ailing family member, but he would insist. He'd say that she looked weary and that it was unfitting for the Queen of Asgard to have bags under her eyes. She would laugh, a gentle sweet laugh, then she'd tap him on the cheek and relinquish her duties of watching over Thor to him. Once their mother would leave, he'd pull up a chair next to his brother's bed and he'd sit beside him. Sometimes he would stay quiet for a time just watching Thor. He'd observe the pained scowl that would be on his brother's face. He'd hear his labored breathing and it would pull at his heart strings. Instinctively he'd reach his hand out and take Thor's. He'd give it a strong squeeze only so he could feel his older brother's strong, sturdy hand squeeze his back. Once he felt Thor return the hold, he'd smile and read to him. Sometimes he would read Thor books of silence and magic. "Ha, I am taking advantage of this time brother while you are sick and unwell and unable to protest against such scholarly pursuits to educate you," he would inform him as a smile would dance across his lips. He'd read for a little while, but then

he'd soon close the book. "I suppose all that has put you to sleep has it not? I better stop reading or you are likely to never wake up," he'd tease. 'We can't have that. Asgard needs her Crown Prince healthy and strong," he proclaimed sticking out his thin chest. "I need you healthy and strong, too" he'd whisper low against Thor's ear. His voice shaking ever so slightly, "Please, brother," he'd entreat. One hand would stray to brush back Thor's sweat-soaked blonde locks from his face while the other hand carefully reached to hold his. He'd sit there in silence desperately clinging to Thor's hand until he'd feel the familiar squeeze. Then he'd finally relax. "Well shall we get back to reading then?" He'd ask. "I know...I know," he'd laugh and wave his hand in the air, "the answer is no if I read anymore books of science, right? Well luckily for you I brought something with a little more octaine," he joked and winked at Thor's slumbering form. He'd use his magic to call the scroll to him and then he'd start to read an ancient legend that he knew was one of his brother's favorites. He'd read until he too fell asleep.

The new king of Asgard smiled, had it been so long ago that he and Thor shared such a bond. He could not trace the single moment when brotherly affection turned to such hatred. Loki mashed his lips together as he felt something flicker deep with inside himself. It was like the sudden strike of a match. All of a sudden the shadows that surrounded his soul were driven back for but a moment. Long enough for him to feel the reflexive inclination to reach his hand toward Thor's busted fingers. Then all at once, he caught himself. The tiny match that brought illumination to the gloomy crevices of his soul was extinguished. It was quickly snuffed out by wet fingers. The bars and iron doors around his heart were locked once more and no glimmer of kindness seemed to be able to escape from him.

The raven haired enchanter steeled himself. He snorted, grunted, bared his teeth and raised his nose at his brother. "Sentiment," Loki muttered. "That is your curse, not mine," Loki reminded Thor. With that, he recalled to himself everything that Thor had ever done to make him hate him so. He remembered every idiotic thing that Thor had ever done. Every time that Thor stole his moment in the sun, every time he had stolen his thunder. He thought of every argument they had ever had, every time it had escalated into a physical altercation. He thought of all the times Thor had been applauded and he'd been jeered and ridiculed and scorned by their peers. He could remember often times when Thor, his pretend brother was the leader of the pack in mocking his gifts. Loki's breathing became ragged. It filled him with the rage he needed. He roughly gripped the edge of the examination table. He scrutinized the son of Odin. The Pride of Asgard, Hero of the Nine Realms, Avenger. Loki sneered now he was a helpless lamb for the slaughter. Completely at his mercy. He would heal him just enough...just enough as Malekith desired for he desired it too. Loki started to raise his slender white hands over Thor's weakened body.

With his hands outstretched, Loki could feel the fresh heat rising over him once more. The flood of fire was awful. Unbearable. From the crown of his head, he could feel his insides boiling. His mouth became dry and his heart raced. He looked for a window to open, but there was no window in the white-walled healing chamber. He searched for some way to relieve his discomfort from the scorching heat which consumed his body. His green pupils darted back and forth all over the room. Finally, under the table, he found a small basin filled with water. Desperate to escape the fire that raged within, the self-proclaimed king of Asgard plunged his hands into the basin. The water wasn't cold, only room temperature, but it felt like ice to Loki's flaming hands. He sighed as the liquid washed over his sweaty fingers.

Loki took the time to wipe his brow with his freshly cooled hands. Then he went back to glowering at Thor's helpless form. His anger kindled once more that he had even felt the fire in that moment. With determination, he rolled up his sleeves and set to work. He carefully unstrapped Thor's wrists and ankles and forehead. Thor's head flopped to the side. Loki felt his head and it was beyond feverish. He shook his head and clicked his tongue. "There, there, dear Thor," Loki said with a sigh. He mashed his lips together. "You've had quite a hard go of it, have you not," he acknowledged almost pityingly. He allowed his hand to caress Thor's grizzled, dirty cheek. "I'll make sure you're at least comfortable," he stated his head hung as he removed his helmet. "After all, it's the least I can do for you, brother," he grinned sinisterly. He took Thor's chin and turned it toward him.

THor's eyelids started to bat. His lips trembled as he tried to make out the face. He jerked expecting to see several pairs of black, soulless pupils staring back at him. The white room was still spinning and swirling and it was like being caught in some terrible snow storm. His bloodshot blue eyes scrambled to get their bearings. He'd not be taken off guard by his captors again. Slowly, it came to him. Shiny emeralds came into focus in the blur of white."L-l-l-loki," he stammered. His voice, not even a croak, barely a whisper. His lips parted, his mouth folding into a weak smile. A moment of joy flooded his heart. It seemed so much like the old times. How often had he found himself wounded on the battlefield and Loki by his side? There were so many times when he'd been bruised and banged up and taken to the infirmary on the battlefield. After the sweet faces of the gentle healers who took care of him Loki's face would often be the first, he'd see. He'd demand news of how the battle was going. Loki would report dutifully and he'd all at once be ready to charge back out onto the field with his arm in a sling and his gaping wounds not properly stitched. He'd attempt to swing his feet from the bed, but then he'd feel Loki's strong, cool palm bracing him against the shoulder. And Loki would give wise counsel telling him to wait and rest up. Sometimes he'd heed Loki's wisdom, but most often he'd did not. He'd rush back into the fray careless and reckless as ever. He'd exacerbate his wounds and frustrate his healers. But on the times when he did heed Loki he'd suspected it was more by friendly persuasion than by his own ability to accept good advice. Thor's cracked lips continued to form a grin, but then he remembered that it was Loki who had put him here.

Thor shook violently. His eyes tried to grow wider but they were unable to do such because the were so swollen. Thor screamed out. He thrashed and bucked and raged something terrible. He convulsed on the examination table. Thor gasped for breath and started to hyperventilate. Loki looked on Thor's pitiful display with satisfaction. He nearly snorted. He waited for Thor to start foaming at the mouth at the sight of him. His mere presence seemed to send the son of Odin into a fitful rage. And yet though the Thunderer was as mad as a bilgeschnipe bull he was powerless to do anything to stop him. Loki started to cackle.

His cruel chuckle was interrupted by the sound of Thor's labored breathing. Loki growled ravenously than turned to face the prince of Asgard, his cold, narrow fingers gripped Thor roughly by the jaw. He twisted Thor's head to face him. Thor neck cricked and he groaned. Loki wagged his finger at Thor. "Now, now, now," Loki pursed his lips and clicked his tongue, "Don't worry brother dear, I'm not here to harm you, per say," the raven-haired enchanter explained. "Oh the contrary," he expressed as he slapped Thor's cheek. To which the crown prince could only reply with a wheeze and a whimper. "I'm actually, here to heal you," the king informed. Loki flashed a devilish smile.

"Nnnnnooo," the moaned.

Loki's lips pursed with worry and confusion. "Never fear... this won't hurt... much," he stated and exhaled. The feeling of being set on fire once again engulfed him. Loki did his best to maintain stoic composure. All the while his insides were screaming. His chest was tight and he felt as if he couldn't breathe like the room was filled with smoke. Nevertheless, Loki let the terrible burning sensation fuel him as he set his hands a glow with a mystic lime-colored light. He placed his hands down on Thor's body. The light touched down on Thor and moved across his body. The lime-colored light touched him, but Loki's hands did not. The light was warm and almost pleasant feeling and that scared Thor. He could feel his bloody wounds dry up and he could feel his broken bones snapping back into place. His pain was starting to be eased. Thor's heart rate dropped and his breathing deepened. "Better?" Loki inquired. He gave an almost debonaire smile to the blonde stretched across the table.

Thor's head reeled. He couldn't help but nod. "w-w-why?" The golden-haired prince inquired. The swelling in his eyes had gone down. He was at the point where he could actually see. He could see how pale and haggard and worn Loki was, he could see how he was covered every inch in perspiration, he could see the dark circles formed under Loki's eyes and he could see into Loki's eyes. Those wondrous green gems that he'd once known so well. Those emerald eyes that had danced with boyish mischief and had glowed with a scholar's delight. Those jade pupils that had once housed such shrewd understanding and sensitivity. He'd taken those eyes for granted once. He's thought that they'd always be there staring back at him. He'd thought he'd always see the corner of Loki's eyes crinkle with laughter as he played pranks, but that was not the case. Loki's eyes seemed just Loki the Dark-Elves, they were soulless, heartless, merciless eyes without any pity. They were monstrous.

Smirk crisscrossed Loki's face. He crossed his arms and shifted his weight from foot to foot. "You should know that this wasn't necessarily my idea," he explained.

"W-w-what?"

"Not that I was against the action," he admitted with a shrug. He crossed his arms as he rested his shoulder blade against the corner of the wall that jutted out. His face was directly about Prince's Thor's, but the angle at which he held it left his features obscured. "Not that I don't want this," Loki qualified, "But nonetheless, knowing you, you'll take some comfort in knowing that what is about to happen was not of my invention," he dusted his fingers on his tunics. "It's a cultural ritual of the elves. A Skurge...I think they call it," the dark man shrugged once more. "Or Blister," he threw in. "They've been doing it for centuries. It's a way of them breaking the spirits of their enemies. After the poor conquered people face such degradation they have no spirit left to try and fight back. "Anyway, It had nothing to do with me," the king stated. His arms were crossed and his hands were shoved under his armpits to keep them from shaking. Loki breathed deeply the shaking in his fingers turned to a rattling that was spreading throughout his body. He growled as he pushed himself off the wall. He leaned over into Thor's face, "Does that cheer you to know its not my doing?" He demanded as he pointed to himself. He leaned both of his hands over onto the sides of the metal examination table. Thor's face was still filthy and all though Loki had taken the time to heal some of Thor's injuries, Loki was no true healer. It was a patch job. He'd numbed the pain and set a few bones. He'd closed up the cuts, but none of it was permanent. He used to use such incantations to help soldiers on the battlefield. He'd keep them strong and healthy enough til the fight was one or until they could get one of the healers, but the spell easily faded and within a few hours. In a few hours, Thor would be back to his original half-dead state.

Thor immediately felt strength returning to his body. Loki's serpentine smile and glaring green eyes enraged him. The son of Odin roared like thunder and it shook the very walls of the white room. Loki merely chuckled a low and breathy chuckled. His breath like ice on Thor's face. Limbs free, Thor lurched forward, his fists swinging. Loki somehow managed to dodge the first few of Thor's wild and erratic blows, but eventually, the champion of the Einherjar managed to wrap one of his might meat hooks around Loki's thin, porcelain neck. The maniacal new leader of Asgard continued in his mad cackling until Thor's weathered thumb pressed tighter into his windpipe. It stopped the mage mid-guffaw. "I'LL KILL YOU!" Thor screamed in the face of that venomous viper who wore his brother's skin. AS Thor's eyes welled up with tears, Loki disappeared from his grasp. The prince looked around bewildered. His eyes wide as he searched for the horned king. Loki was standing back by the farside of the room. He continued in his mocking laughter.

Prince Thor's blood continued to boil. Loki had caused this. All this devastation and suffering. He was causing the destruction of all of Asgard and the Nine Realms. He recalled when he had entered into the temple of tribute so many centuries ago and they posed a question to him. They asked him would he kill Loki if he were a threat and he'd foolishly, believing that such a thought were impossible, like a gullible child he'd said no. Well now that it was all laid out in front of his face. Now that he'd seen with his own two eyes that LOki's heart was just as black as his locks the answer had completely changed. Thor started to swing his legs off of the table, but as he did so he felt a forceful wind hit him and knock him flat back on his back. Thor grunted and strained against the wind. He looked at Loki who had his hand outstretched as he summoned the wind energy. Thor's body felt much improved, but even still he could not withstand Loki's magic especially not without Mjolnir. "LOOOOKIIII!" He screamed into the wind.

In a flash, the dictator arrived at his sides. He clapped the iron manacles back on Thor's wrist. Try as he might Thor couldn't break free. He was sweating and straining and having a fit. After a few seconds of struggling he set himself back to huffing and puffing. He could even feel some to the deeper gashes that Loki had healed started to retear. "Ah-ah," Loki chided and wagged his finger in Thor's face. "If I were you I'd save my strength," he said as he walked closer to the table. "You're going to need it," he winked and looked down at the blonde smugly.

With that, Loki called for the Dark Elf soldiers stationed just outside the healing chamber door. They marched in, blasters dangling from their belts and all. They barged in reckless, kicked down the door and accosted Thor right off of the examination table and dragged him out the door. Thor tried to resist, with some strength in his body he was able to toss a few of the guards off to the side. But with each exertion of physical strength the son of Odin and Frigga weakened. Soon the Dark-Elves were able to overpower him the wrangled him and wrestled him like a hog. He offered as much resistance as he could, but despite himself he found his knees buckling and his body being forced out of the healing chamber and into the hall.

Loki watched. He stood straight. His back proud and there was a distinct snicker clear as day on his thin mouth. But when Thor disappeared down the hallway with the Dark-Elves and Loki paced the floors. He muttered to himself and shook his hands like he had just burnt his fingers on an open flame.

All the while, from above, in cramped ventilation pipeline, a pair of gold eyes gazed on what transpired through a crack in the wall. A dirty hand tightened around a golden arrow.

---

Jane was restless. She'd tried to busy herself with some of the other women and help in the kitchen and in the storage rooms. She'd done as requested of her. She'd served the injured food and drink. She'd washed linens and changed blankets. She'd cleaned dishes. She'd even taken to helping some of the city watchmen look for the missing. The watchmen had names of individuals who were not accounted for. Jane walked around asking people for their names and family names. She managed to find a little girl and unite her with her aunt and uncle who had been beside themselves looking for her. Seeing the family reunited warmed Jane's heart. The little girl's legs started kicking as soon as she saw her aunt and uncle and the man and woman rushed to greet her. They scooped her up and showered her with kisses. In the moment she thought of Thor. Would she had a moment to share such a reunion with him?

But despite all the work that she had found to do, Jane still felt like she wasn't doing enough. Everything that she had ever known and loved was about to be destroyed in just a few short hours and all she was doing was sitting around helping a bunch of elderly women wash dishes. No, there had to be more that she could do! And she was determined to find it.

It wasn't that she despised what the older Asgardian women were doing. They washed dishes and made meals and brewed tea because it was all they knew to do. They sang songs and prayed, they hugged and consoled one another and wept on one another. It reminded her of after her father died. Their house had been crowded with friends and family frantically cooking away and bringing over boxes of Kleenexes. Their gestures were kindly, but they did nothing to help. One hundred pots of soup couldn't bring back her father. Her father had died. No matter what nothing that anybody could have done could have brought him back. But Asgard, the Nine Realms...they were still alive. Granted Asgard was crippled possibly beyond repair and the rest of the worlds were blissfully unaware of the chaos that was about to ensue, but still, they weren't dead. This wasn't a funeral. Not yet at least, but sitting around scrubbing dirty pans wasn't going to keep anyone alive. She had to do more. She had to become part of the solution. After all wasn't that what science was all about... seeing a need and filling a need.

Jane vigorously continued to scrub a big brass pot. She scrubbed so hard that she broke into a sweat. When she was done she wiped her brow. She turned to one of the older women who seemed to be heading the cleaning committee and expressed that she was going to leave the room. The woman, was strong looking, with curly, silver hair. He skin was covered with dirt, grime and dried blood. Her brows were furrowed and her face was painted with a severe frown. Not that Jane could have suspected that anyone could be smiling at a time such a this. When expressed her need to leave, the older woman simply rolled her eyes and tossed her hand up. The female scientist almost recoiled at the rebuff. She hugged herself tightly and they looked back at the wash basin where she was stationed. She almost felt like going back to it and keeping her mouth shut and scrubbing until her fingers bled. She could just imagine what the woman was thinking of her. Dirt human, weakling mortal, pitiful earthling, no help at all. And those were the kindest remarks she could imagine the woman thinking. She was sure that the Aesir thought much less of her. They probably saw her as some type of cursed temptress, but she couldn't blame them. They probably wished Thor had never met her. She did too. She loved him, but their love wasn't worth all this pain and destruction. She seriously considered going back to all those pots and pans. Then she got her wits about her. She was a scientist and somehow, someway she was going to find an answer.

Jane quickly left the kitchen. She started wandering through the shelter. She hugged herself tightly as she wandered through the underground bunker. She peered in at different rooms. There was talk and chatter, but it was all nervous and anxious. Screams and cries would break out. There were howls of pain from the injured in the healers' rooms. Jane hurried pass those rooms. It made her feel even worse. She couldn't even help the injured to feel comforted. She felt worthless.

She kept her hands clutched around her shoulders as she disappeared down the torchlit halls. In some of the rooms, she found men and women practicing. They fought and sparred against one another with fury and passion. Shields clashed against maces, javelins flew across the air, swords flashed and iron took on iron. It was beautiful, poetry in motion. The people were bloody and bandaged, bruised. They'd lost everything. Their government had been destroyed, their homes had been blown to smithereens, their family members had been killed and they were the only ones standing in the wake of total cataclysm and yet they were still going still fighting. Their moves were like a dance. Her old boyfriend, Donald Blake had been all all-American wrestler in high-school and boxing star in college. He always invited her to boxing matches and wrestling tournaments. She tried to come, tried to support, but she'd never really understood what was so great about it. Watching men, granted well-built men participate in a sport where they tried to beat each other up for sport. But this was different, they were fighting for their lives and for the lives of others. Maybe that is why the ancients had told such illustrious stories of them. Their power and strength; it was truly a marvel. Jane felt her insides sink. She had no skills to go out and wage war with the Dark-Elves. She wished she did. She wished she could have though. She wished she could fight for the ones that she loved.

Guilt continued to cripple Lady Jane Foster. She kept her head down. She didn't want to see anymore. She didn't want to see anymore old women running around desperately asking about their loved ones or to see anymore young women clinging to the bodies of their dead. It was all because of her. It was all because of her. All because she had been stupidly looking for Thor. Searching for anomalies in space readings trying to find him. She'd meddled in things she'd never been meant to meddle in. She'd gone too far. She never believed science could go too far. She thought it was the great purpose of man to go and explore and find answers and discover and understand all they could. But she was wrong. She was so wrong. She loved Thor. Admittedly, she loved Thor with all her heart, but she wished to God that they would have never met if she would have known that it would cause all this calamity and destruction.

The auburn –haired scientist's hazel eyes filled with tears. She pressed her back against one of the walls and rested her head against a pillow as she sank to her knees sobbing. She knew that the Asgardian's blamed Loki for Ragnorok and he was every bit to blame. He was a heartless mongrel. Lower than a dog. Even a dog didn't bite the hand that fed it, but Loki, the varmint. He turned his back on his family, he betrayed his own people, he set everybody up for death and for what? For a throne? All because he found he was adopted? She shook her head as she wept in her hands. Thor had tried to defend him in her eyes. All he'd done was try to kill Thor. Loki may have been to blame for the grand architecture of this wicked scheme, but she provided him with the tools to build it. She would never forgive herself.

Jane cried for a little while longer. Finally, she wiped her eyes and snuffled under her nose. One of her professor's once told her that scientific breakthroughs all started with blood, sweat and tears, but they didn't in there. The blood, sweat and tears had to lead to something, they had to further research, further desire, further hours in the lab.

With that, she pressed herself up from the seat she had taken on the floor. "I have to do something!" Jane said as she slammed her hand into her palm before wiping her face. "Something! There has to be something,' she muttered. She walked on. She thought of trying to find one of the Warriors Three or even Lady Sif and asking them to show her some weaponry. Yes, that was it! She would get the warriors to train her. She only had a few hours. She was sure that she wouldn't be mastering sword play in a matter of hours, but at least she could know something so she wouldn't be a sitting duck or a cowering mouse when it came time to fight the Dark-Elves. In Svartalfheim, she had been completely defenseless, she didn't know what to do or where to go. At least she would be of some use. She could protect herself and maybe even avenge a few of the fallen.

Jane turned back around to go look for Thor's friends. She hoped that they had returned to the healing rooms and that they had been properly patched up. On her way there, Jane happened to pass by of the war room chamber. She thought that the council and warriors and those who had just escaped from the palace had disbanded to rest and eat and regroup mentally, but still there were a few people remaining in the war room. She saw that the Council members and the generals were still holding conference. The young scientist crept closer to the door. The people within the war room were talking in hushed tones. She couldn't really make out what they were saying. They were all huddled together and pressed toward the back of the chamber. Although she couldn't understand what they were saying, she could make out some of the Council Members. She recognized Lord Audric and Lord Algrim and even Commander Frell, they seemed to be in the center of the huddle. She could also see some of the generals who were members of Odin's High Council, she didn't know them by their names, but she'd seen them before. But there was also a third party involved in the huddle. Jane squinted. She didn't recognize any of them, but several of them were women.

They didn't seem like military personnel. They weren't decked in resplendent armor like many of the Asgardian's who she had met. They had on long sweeping robes with long draping sleeves of various colors. The colors were marred and dampened by the disgusting soot and debris from the Aether attack. The regal looking garments were completely tattered looking. They were cut up and scratched and there seemed like their may have been some fur on the fringes of the robes, but it appeared to have been singed off. Despite the ordeal that those men and women had been through in just the past few hours. Jane could tell that they were obvious high ranking and well to do Aesir. Though their garments were tattered, the finery was still revealed. Jane could make out the beautiful hues of rich purple and royal blue and sparkling silver and robust red hidden beneath the dust and dirt. The robes were decorated with stars and moons and various other emblems that reflected the wonders of the galaxy and nature itself. Many of them had beautiful talisman's dangling from their necks. The necklaces were illuminated. Some of the men were bald with long white beards, others were younger with full heads of hair, goatees and mustaches. The women were silver-haired and they wore ornately woven turbans atop their heads.

They reminded Jane of the 3 magi from her nativity set at home. Then it dawned on her. They were magi. These were the learned men and women of Asgard. Jane recalled Thor saying how magic and science were closely linked in Asgard. She wondered why the generals and leaders of Asgard were holding conference with these master scholars. Intrigued, Jane drew closer.

"The truth of the matter is, we cannot truly expect Lady Sigyn to be successful in her little quest?" One of the mage's shrugged.

"He's quite right, the young woman's heart may be in the right place, but she lacks the knowledge to truly do anything about the matter," one of the female scholars stated.

"I would not dismiss her skills so quickly, my friends," warned Lord Algrim. "I too doubted Lady Sigyn, but she knew her way around the palace well enough to free us," he expressed pointing between himself and the distinguished Lord Audric.

"Besides," Captain Frell chimed in. "We are already taking every precaution we can. We are not putting all chips on Lady Sigyn. "We still plan on rescuing Prince Thor. We need our beloved prince to wield the sacred weapons in order to put the Aether in stasis," he explained.

"That is well taken, Captain. It is certainly a better plan than relying on the sheer force of our men to take on the Dark-Elves," the elder mage nodded.

"We would love to fight our way out this matter, but it is obvious that our troops our far too weak to truly believe that we can overwhelm the Dark-Elves," Captain Frell informed them regretfully.

"The healers are doing everything they can to tend to our wounded and we have also assisted offering our services to help our soldiers and people," a young enchantress went on.

"It is no slight against you, Lady Tiponi," began Lord Algrim as he reached out his hand toward the woman. "We are all overwrought and stretched beyond our reach and that is why we need as many plans as possible to ensure that Ragnarok does not befall the Nine Realms," he expounded.

"Your lordships have taken great care in making plans. I think that the attempt to rescue Prince Thor is one that will work," the elderly scholar assured the generals and members of Asgard's High Council.

"Yes, but that plan is not full proof," one of the general's remarked gruffly. "Prince Thor could be lost before we have time to reach him. Loki is treacherous and Malekith and his horde have no honor about them. For all we know they have tricked us by saying that they will keep Prince Thor alive until dawn," he spat and started to pace. The man tossed his large hands in the air. "They could have already killed our good prince," he remarked bitterly.

One of the female scholar's gasped. She covered her mouth with her hands, placed one hand on her head and one upon her heart. She clutched at the talisman that dangled about her swanlike neck. "Norns forbid!" She exclaimed.

"I'm not saying that they have done this my lady, but I'm saying that we just cannot be certain," the general qualified.

"Not until morning light, that is," Lord Audric interjected.

"Even then, there could be some form of ill-conceived trickery," one of the scholars mentioned. He was a balding man, round in body, but pleasant enough in face. Jane could tell that he had a kindly face and probably a chipper disposition to match, but his face was smudged and his lips were cut and frown lines now pinched his brow. "Norns!" he swore, turning around and stomping his feet. "I curse the day I ever had Loki in one of my classes," he growled. He slammed his fist into his palm. Once the traitorous prince had been his prized pupil. Too few young people took an interest in alchemy in Asgard. Usually, the ones who did were young women of middle class. They saw the mystic arts as a way to elevate their social status, but to have a young Prince of Asgard so such an interest well it had seemed like a dream come true. Prince Loki had been so eager and bright. His eyes would light up when he was able to learn more. He'd been such an earnest pupil and he had been more than willing to teach. Loki was far superior to any student he'd ever taught before. And even though he had taught an advance standing class, within a few years Loki had outgrown his hated himself for pushing the young prince the way he had. He continued to encourage Loki to pursue more and more knowledge. He encouraged him to master as many forms of the mystic arts as he could making himself student to his own apprentice. But now look where it had led them. Loki's powers far surpassed any mage in the realm. Although the generals were coming to them for advice for another plan, he knew that if Loki chose none of their tactics and tricks would be able to catch the evil enchanter off guard.

"Loki could easily form some illusion," he expounded. He waved his hand wildly. "He could make it appear as though Prince Thor was still alive and then when we reached him, he could cause the illusion to dissipate before our eyes," the wizard snapped his fingers. Then he shook his head. "He could have Thor hidden in some secret bunker somewhere, where none of us could find him," he expressed still shaking his head. "The bastard is far too wily," he went on.

"Loki's magic may be more powerful than ours, but he is certainly not skilled enough to hide from Heimdal. Surely, the Gatekeeper knows whether our prince still lives," a female scholar pressed.

The Prime Minister of Asgard shook his head. "Unfortunately, Master Hiemdal has been away from the Bifrost for far too long," he hung his head.

"Also," added the Prime Minister of Vanahiem, "it is becoming quite obvious that Hiemdal's powers have weakened." He crossed his arms in front of him.

The generals and sages alike looked quite taken aback by the Vanir man's blunt statement. One of the general's a rather pinched, red-faced officer cleared his throat. "Now see here, Lord Audric there is no need to insinuate anything against Lord Hiemdal."

"Aye! Isn't there?" The Vanir Prime Minister railed. "How do you say that General Soren?" He demanded. The general bristled and started to answer but the Vanir Prime Minister's tongue was too quick. "Heimdal missed when the Jotun's snuck into Asgard and interrupted Prince Thor's coronation day," he pointed out. "He could not find Loki when he fell from the rainbow bridge," "I thank the roots of Yggdrasil for that!" Stated the eldest of the female mages as she fanned herself.

"He let the Dark-Elves slip right over his head and invade Asgard!" He yelled. "Causing your pupil and my daughter to die!"

At this, all remained silent. The Vanir Prime Minister broke into one quick sob. He choked on his words and was unable to say anymore. "My friend," Algrim stated cautiously as he approached Lord Audric once more. Algrim's bony hands reached out the clutch his friend by the shoulder, but Lord Audric recoiled at the touch.

"No! NO!" he screamed. "Try to console me no more! Nothing can console me!" He went on. "My daughter is dead. Taken from me in a flash of light," he clutched his purple tunic. "I had not even the chance to say goodbye," the elderly man's voice cracked once more. His purple eyes glistened, but he refused to shed a tear before the spectators. He wiped his eyes. "I will blame whom I see fit for her death, do you hear! Do you hear?" He railed as he gripped Odin's chamberlain by the collar. Lord Algrim did not attempt to even pry his friend's hand from around his fine golden embroidered collar. "I'll blame Malekith, I'll blame Loki and so help me, I will hold Lord Heimdal responsible for the part he had to play in the death of my sweet daughter," he explained through gritted teeth. Lord Algrim simply nodded and took a firm grasp of the Vanir nobleman's shoulder. He could feel how much his friend was shaking. Lord Audric's eyes were trembling as well and his lip was starting to quiver.

Finally, the Prime Minister of Vanahiem seemed to remember the decorum that his high station called for. He released his grasp on his fellow prime minister's tunics. He nodded and collected himself, he patted Lord Algrim's shoulders and stroked his face. He then started dusting off his own hands before folding them tightly to keep their dreadful trembling from being too obvious.

As Jane Foster listened to the grieving father's exposed heart she too was set with a frightful shaking. She had to bite her lip to keep her teeth from chattering and giving herself away. Lord Audric hadn't mentioned her name, but she knew in her heart that she was to blame. She was even more responsible than Heimdal, she was sure. If she would have just listened, then Lady Dagmar wouldn't have had to go back for her. If she could have only fought and defended herself that the beautiful woman would have never had to put herself in harm's way by fighting that monster. It was her fault. She needed to make it right. She didn't really know how to or know if she absolutely could. What could she do to bring back those that had been lost? Nothing, but she had to try to do something. Jane tried to calm her wildly beating heart and quiet her frantic, racing mind so that she could further listen to the conversation.

"Naturally, we are at the services of your services, my lords," stated the elder mage. He gave a sweeping bow toward Lord Algrim, Lord Audric, Captain Frell and the other generals present. "What is it that you would commission us to do?"

"Quite right!" A younger woman echoed. "We are all in this fight to save Asgard. It is up to every one of us to do something," she echoed Jane's sentiments exactly.

"Very good them," the elfin Prime Minister nodded. He tried to sound chipper, but his face remained grave. "We realize that trying to rescue Prince Thor will require careful timing and precision. In short, it is a long shot," the elf explained as he straightened his collar.

"But it is a shot that we are well prepared to take," confirmed one of the high ranking officer's from the council.

"Yes, but of course," Lord Algrim went on. "But we must be prepared for a worst-case scenario," Lord Algrim hung his head. His prim and polished façade was starting to fade. His face was worn and haggard looking. His clean, pale face was caked with dirt and debris from the terrible day. He hung his head and his whole bony body sagged with defeat. "I know that is what Odin and Thor would want," he explained with a deep sigh that rattled in his chest. Lord Audric reached his hand out and patted his old friend on the shoulder. With that Algrim managed to straighten himself up. He fixed his shoulders so that they were square. "They'd want us to go on. They'd want the Nine Realms to survive." He nodded. All of a sudden memories of his childhood flooded his mind. Alfheim had always been a peaceful land. The Dark-Elves had hated them for their advancements. When the Dark-Elves started trying to spread their terror and evil throughout the cosmos they started with an assault on Alfheim. His home village had been nearly burned to a crisp. People fled for the larger cities to seek refuge. But the forces of Svartalfhiem were too great for them. Without Asgard's help, Alfheim would have been disintegrated into a wasteland. He had been young, barely more than a toddler. The kings decided to send the children away. He had been playing around the villa provided for his family and a few other wealthy families by the royals. His mother and father come to him and took him by the hands. They dropped to their knees and wrapped him in a tight embrace. His mother told him that they loved him and they would send for him as soon as it was safe again. His father told him that he was going to go on and live a good long life and no matter what happened he would be safe. He and the other children had been spread out across the Nine Realms. Some were sent to Vanahiem, even Midgard and of course Asgard. The war between the Dark-Elves only lasted a few more years after that, but his family had been destroyed in the process. Many children returned to Alfheim, but he stayed in Asgard. The family that had fostered him became his family. The Dark-Elves had destroyed his home once he had been but a boy, too small to do anything to prevent what happened, but he wouldn't lose a second home to them.

"Here! Here!" One of the members of high council echoed.

"A good king will always put the life of his people before his own," Lord Audric explained.

"Our sovereign, King Odin is great," stated a young mage, by Bardok.

"Just like a good father would put the survival of his children before himself, " expressed another one of Odin's councilmen.

Algrim's white eyes glistened as he wiped his long strands of hair out of his face. "That is why he has been granted the title, All-father," the elfin prime ministered expressed.

"Prince Thor was shaping to be just as good a king as Odin," proclaimed the elderly female sage.

"Norns!" She cried and glanced upward. She held her chest. "Do not let this be the end for our great king and prince," she pleaded.

Algrim cleared his throat once more. "In case we cannot rescue Prince Thor we need to manufacture some type of tool that can cause the Aether to go into stasis," he explained.

The wisemen and wisewomen of Asgard gasped. "My lords," the elderly Aesir man began. He worried his hands and looked to his fellow mages. They all had the same flabbergasted and worried expression. "My lords, my lords," he started again. He bowed his head and pulled his turban from his head and worried it in his hands. He shrugged. "We would do anything we could, but..."

"It can't be done," interjected a proud looking enchantress. "The Aether is an ancient element. It was made from the first materials of the universe. It is an infinity stone, after all," she went on to explain. She started to walk about with her head held high and her finger in the air. "Even the ancients don't know how the infinity stones were created,"

"Of course there are theories," added a regal looking plump woman. The talisman she wore was purple in color.

The prouder, slender enchantress turned to her long time friend and frowned. Her harsh stare pinned the fellow mage into silence. Once she had quieted all interruptions, she tried to dust some of the dust and debris from her rumpled robed. She cleared her throat, "it was made to be invincible. That is why only the mighty weapons of Gungnir and Mjolnir are strong enough to put it in stasis... that is only because they are also made out of the materials that were building blocks for the universe...and even they cannot destroy it," she stated.

"What are you saying?" Asked Algrim his already pale face grew transparent.

"That without Gungnir and Mjolnir... are hands are tied?" She shrugged.

"What? What!" Captain Frell balked. "No," the military strategist stated firmly. "No." He raised his hand in the wisewoman's face. She was a tall and proud woman. She had copper skin, intense chocolate eyes and pronounced cheekbones. Her lips were full and painted a cranberry red. It would have probably been noted that she was a beautiful woman, but she looked so haggard and filthy that it could hardly be pointed out. "We cannot accept that answer," he went on as he started to march about. "We cannot accept defeat. "I have served as one of King Odin's heads of staff for more than four centuries. The all-father never allowed me to say that the odds were insurmountable. He pushed and challenged me in every way to find strategies and ways out for our troops no matter how dire the circumstances and that is what I am going to do for you," the retired captain hollered.

"With all due respect, Captain Frell there just may not be another alternative," the tall enchantress responded sorrowfully.

"Not acceptable!" Frell barked back. "There are always alternatives. There's always options. Even if the percentage of their success is slim, there is always an option!" He reminded her.

"Of course, my lord" bowed the elder mage. "It is only that Ragnarok has already been foretold and it may be..." His voice trailed off. He didn't want to say. He just looked down and sighed.

"Don't you dare say inevitable!" Captain Frell raised a trembling, mud caked finger toward of the master mages of the realm. "Don't you dare say it, Master Alvis!" Captain Frell shouted. "Ragnarok may be foretold, but the day and the hour which Ragnorok is to rain down on our heads has not been foretold," the captain pointed out snappily.

"Although all signs seem to point to the hour of our destruction being high noon tomorrow," mumbled one of the mages.

Captain Frell turned toward the mumbling mage and growled. "We will not give into this we will not accept defeat," he pointed out to the mages.

"We can't," echoed Lord Algrim "We won't," the Prime Minister of Asgard confirmed. His voice was strong at first, but then it warbled. "We can't," he repeated with steel in his bones. "We can't let our kingdom be extinguished, we can't watch the Nine Realms be plunged into Darkness. Not on our watch," he declared to them. "Not without a fight. Everyone is doing everything they can to prepare to help us defend ourselves from Ragnorok. You are the best and brightest minds in our realm. You are some of the most powerful enchanters in the cosmos and we need you to pull all your resources to think of an alternative plan for us now," the elf adviser nearly begged.

"Yes, my lord," replied the elderly enchanter. "It was just a moment of doubt," he explained on behalf of his friends. "We will do everything we can to think of something we can do to aid in this matter. Please just allow us a short recess to put our heads together and think about the matter."

"We don't have much time. Every second that passes brings us closer to Ragnarok," one of the generals stated.

"We only need an hour or so and we'll think of something," a younger wizard confirmed.

"Very well," Lord Algrim stated. "Bring us a report in one hours time." With that Lord Algrim, Lord Audric, Captain Frell and the other generals started to disband.

Jane Foster pressed her back against the column and prayed for invisibility as Lord Algrim, Lord Audric, Captain Frell and the other esteemed members of Asgard's High Council exited the hollowed chamber. Jane's mind reeled as she heard the news. She listened as she heard the mages begin to talk and argue amongst themselves once more.

"What are we going to do, Master Alvis?" Asked Bardok. Bardok was one of the youngest master mages in Asgard.

"We are going to work, Bardok, my boy," Master Alvis assured him. He raised a wrinkled hand to touch the young man's shoulder then he leaned on his cane. "You heard Lord Algrim," he expressed. "The Council of Asgard is counting on us," he declared.

"Our families and loved ones are counting on us," stated another one of the mages. She was a middle-aged looking woman with long hair, mixed with red and white hair. She was called Lady Leoma, she was one of the leading enchantress versed in elemental magic in all of Asgard as well as a professor at for Asgard's premier horticultural university. She was also a mother of six. She had seen none of her children this morning and now she feared she would never see them again. What was worse was that she feared that after today her children would never see the light of day again.

"Prince Thor, Queen Frigga and King Odin are all depending on us as well," another sage commented. "The people of Asgard are counting on us, " added female elder of the mages as she came and stood by Master Alvis' side.

"The whole of the Nine Realms are depending on us," added the proud, tall enchantress. She threw her hands in the air. "The Nine Realms are looking to us!" She mumbled out loud, "still that doesn't change the fact that we are unable to do anything to prevent Ragnarok! What weapon could we possibly devise to stop the Aether?' She demanded of her fellow magicians.

"Calm down, Mistress Chamira," explained Master Alvis. "Cooler heads are what we need to think of a plan for this matter," the older man advised. He found a seat on one of the stone steps and stooped down so that he could sit on it. He removed his turban from his bald head and wiped his brow, it was sweating profusely. "Lord Drek," he started wearily as he looked to another enchanter. "You are a master of alchemy," he expressed as he pointed his cane at the younger Aesir. "Surely in your studies, you have read workings of the Aether before."

Lord Drek was a strong and hearty looking man of the Aesir. He was not born into the life of a courtier as many who became great scholars were. He was the son of a mason. He spent many years working the mines with his father, he harvested white lime and crystal quartz and learned to hew them into fabulous designs. The work had been hard labor. The pay had been very little. His father was a fine craftsman, but with little education it was easy for the merchants and noblemen who he traded with to take advantage of him. His father was always hopeful that one day he would strike it rich working in the mines. His father had always had big dreams. He dreamed that one day he'd find gold in the hills and then the family would be able to move out of the hill country and into one of Asgard's finer cities where he could start a proper business for his craft. One day his father's dream came true. They had been mining and mining for weeks at a time in the quarry, they'd found no useable limestone or granite, many of the miners and masons were starting to complain, they begged the foreman to let them move on to different mines because if they found nothing they made no commission and got nothing but a days wage, less than a 6 pence. But finally they struck something. He, his father and his two cousins. They struck gold. The mine went up in ecstasy as the glittering, yellow substance was revealed. There were shouts and hollers. All celebrated, his father cried and he and his cousins started running around the mines hugging and kissing the other masons and quarrymen yelling "we're rich! We're rich!" The foreman came down to see what all the commotion was about. He congratulated them and said that they simply had to make a report to the mine owner and they would be living the life of kings in no time. They worked over time for the next few weeks making sure that they got out as much gold as possible. Finally they held conference with the foreman and the owner asking to collect what they had harvested, but they received nothing. Not even a percentage. His father had been a trusting, ignorant man. He signed a contract that he could not even read. He signed a deed that said everything mined was property of the landowner. They were devastated. The foreman tried to appease them. He gave them top commission. Top commission may have meant living comfortably for a year, but it was a dead end. In little to know time they would be back to living like paupers, scraping the bottom of the barrel, toiling for endless hours just to make ends meat. His family, they were humble and conventional people. They took the big commission. A year to feast upon meat, wine and cheese sounded like heaven to them. A year to make repairs to their broken home and to buy new clothes and shoes and a year for he and his siblings and cousins to go and receive schooling seemed like a miracle. Somehow he knew better. What was a year in the span of the centuries that they would most likely live in poverty. He was determined to find away to get significant wealth for himself and his family. Somehow, there had to be something he could do. He'd had friend growing up who were pickpockets, but he didn't want to steal. Stealing could only ever get a person so far.

He supposed he should have been grateful, though. It was that year of schooling that had afforded him the chance to learn a thing of enchantments. He was fascinated by it, it was such a stark contrast from his bleak etched in stone world of masonry for with enchantments he realized nothing was as it seemed. Most mysticisms had to deal with illusions, but alchemy was different. Perhaps that was why he had been drawn to it so. It was about finding the properties within earthen and clay vessels and turning them into gold, it was about transforming the plain, everyday and ordinary into the extraordinary, it was about making the worthless priceless. It was a technique that few could master, but the power was worth it.

It was true that in his study to become an alchemist he'd had to learn of the intrinsic properties of the Aether. He'd read much about the ancient crystal. It was a dark-force. It could take matter and turn it into dark matter. It could tap into the atoms of any substance and mutilate them. It could take something beautiful and make it horrid, it could take something benign and make it a cancer. The principles of matter transformation were the same although the outcomes were drastically different.

"All the work I ever did with the Aether was theoretical, Master Alvis," explained the alchemist. "I never actually worked with the infinity stone."

"No, of course not, son, but you can tell us of the substance. You know more than many of us about the crystal."

"Yes, Master," Lord Drek replied. His eyes darted down. "Although I do not rank my wisdom over that of any of yours," he bowed humbly in respect to his fellow mages. "Even so, there is no proof that the theories are true," he expressed.

"This is not the time for modesty, Master Drek," pointed out Lady Leoma. "You are truly a great alchemist and have served in the courts of even some of the royals of Musepelhiem," she expressed.

Lord Drek started to blush at the remarks. the other sages patted him on the back and encouraged him as well. "I thank you all for your kindness, but there may be some who know more than me," he admitted.

"Who could possibly know more than you?" The young mage, Bardok asked as he laughed.

Master Drek hesitated for a moment. "Loki," he snorted and then spat to the stone floor. All the mages started to curse and mutter amongst themselves.

"Curse Loki!" Bardok swore. "May his soul rest in the deepest pit of Helheim," the young mage lambasted. Bardok could feel every fiber of his being start to ache as he thought of Loki. He hated him. He loathed him. He wished that he could kill him himself. He didn't even wish to fight him in a wizards duel. No. He wanted to kill the once prince with his bare hands. He wanted to strangle him, smother him, drown, ram him right through and then leave his body lying in a field for the vultures to come and pick over.

How could he? Loki had been their prince. They'd all honored and respected and acquiesced and bowed low to him. They'd trusted him. They believed in him. His skill and prowess as a mage had been a source of great pride for all enchanters throughout Asgard. Maybe some had felt that a son of Odin being more of a scholar than warrior was a disgrace, but Bardok surely hadn't. For him, it was a source of inspiration. Now that Loki had committed all the heinous crimes, Bardok felt humiliated. He thought of all the times he'd argued with his father. He was a well-built boy growing up. He was athletically inclined and certainly in his early years no one would have suspected he'd have the brains to become an enchanter. His father wanted him to join the naval academy. His father had called the second son od Odin every name in the book. He'd called him a coward and a liar and a trickster, but still, Bardok had defended Asgard's younger prince to his father. He had trusted and believed in Loki. He felt foolish and he hated being made a fool. He...he...he had looked up to Prince Loki at one time. How could he not, after all, he'd been Loki's student.

Bardok bowed his head, closed his eyes and clenched his fists. He swallowed thickly. The lump in his throat was so large that it made his throat throb. He could still remember the first time saw Prince Loki in person. He had been a young boy, still in grammar school. He might have been just a little over 300 years old. The Prince had visited his class at the Imperial School. The headmistress, His teacher, Mistress Sigrid had told his class that today they were going to meet her favorite and smartest and brightest pupil. The whole class was instantly excited, he was going to come in and talk to them about the mystic arts. Most of the children had hardly been able to contain their seats or keep their voices down. Whoever he was, he must have been someone very great for Mistress Sigrid was the most respected professor in the school and they knew how well celebrated she was throughout the Nine Realms. They couldn't imagine how she could describe anyone as being more powerful and astute than her.

The children had all been murmuring and talking who it could be. They all imagined it must have been someone very old. Maybe a dwarf or spiritling of some kind. They were all amazed and speechless when the person who walked in the door was a young, thin, regally dressed young man with a flowing green cape and gold plated armor. Prince Loki himself. They went wild with squeaks and squealed. They bounced up and down and shouted. Mistress Sigrid had to settle them down and tell them to address their prince formally as young nobles should. Prince Loki had been so astounding with his feats of mysticism. He displayed rays of light, made power orbs out of thin air, he levitated and disappeared, he transformed himself right before their eyes into all sorts of amazing creatures. All of the students applauded and hooted and hollered at the young prince's displays, but Bardok was dumbfounded.

He sat on his knees, leaning over, eyes wide and his mouth hanging open so wide he surely could have caught a fly. He was completely captivated. He had never seen magic like that. Of course, he'd seen magic before. Mistress Sigrid was a wondrous mage and sometimes if the class was very good she would perform some acts for them. He had been to a few sage duels and competitions with his classes, but this was somehow different. Whenever his professors talked about learning to work enchantments he'd always rejected it. It was fascinating and all, but it seemed like far too much work. It seemed to require so much reading and writing and studying. There was complicated math and sciences involved just to manufacture the elixirs. He liked school, but he preferred to play outside. And besides, it seemed like most of the enchanters talked an awful lot. He had a terrible stutter. There was no way he could ever possess the skills to become a mage. He liked books alright he supposed, he liked when his grandmother read him the legends of old, but he actually wasn't a very good reader. He stumbled so much over the words that sometimes he would lose track of what he was reading.

Furthermore, he doubted that his father would approve very much of him becoming a mage. His father was a wealthy man of warrior status. He was a Viking through and through. He was a great seaman and a naval officer. He protected the Forever Sea from the ruthless, villainous pirates and sea dogs who made their ways across the seas of the Nine Realms. He made his riches by taking back the treasures that the pirates had stolen. He was hardened by years at sea. His father believed in education, but he knew he wanted a son who could grow up to be a Viking just like him.

Still, from the moment he'd seen Prince Loki's enchantments, he began to devote himself harder and harder to his studies. If a son of Odin could be an enchanter then why couldn't he? Surely if his father knew that a prince of Asgard was a mage and a scholar surely he could not disapprove of him becoming one as well. He'd work hard. He'd train, he'd study, he'd do whatever he needed to do so that he too could become Just like Prince Loki.

Sometime later, maybe a century or two, after his studies had much improved, Mistress Sigrid had recommended him and a few of his classmate for a chance to study at one of Asgard's most prestigious universities for a few of the summer months. It was an opportunity for the best and the brightest youth from all over Asgard to have opportunities to study under the masters of every field. There were even young people from across the Nine Realms who came to study there.

He'd been working in a laboratory practicing his mixing and concocting of brews in his chemistry class. Prince Loki taught classes at the university and oversaw lectures and labs. Naturally, Prince Loki only taught the most advanced courses for young scholars. But one particular day he happened to stop by and see what the junior mages had been working on.

One day the prince had come in to observe the laboratory experiments. He had graciously talked to many of the students asking them of their experiments and projects. Finally, he stumbled across his own working station. "And what is it that you are working on, Pupil Bardok," the distinct, articulate voice of the prince said breaking his concentration. Loki curiously leaned over the young man's shoulder looking into his black boiling pot. Whatever the child was concocting has a sweet, but strong odor. Yet the smell was vaguely familiar to the prince.

Bardok turned on his heels. His brown eyes wide as his gaping mouth. He bumped right into Prince Loki's chest and accidentally dropped all the vials and bottles from his hands. The ingredients spilled into colorful puddles on the floor. The spilled on Prince Loki's expensive leather boots and pooled at his feet. Prince Loki's feet. "Y-y-y-your Highn-ness," he stuttered and squawked.

Loki raised a curious eyebrow at the boy's display. He took a step back from the place where the glass was shattered and puddles had formed. He shook his foot distastefully to rid himself of the chemicals on his shoes. Bardok, thinking that the prince's quizzical facial expression was one of disapproval immediately sank to his knees. He kept apologizing profusely as he started to wipe the prince's shoes with his handkerchief. His efforts seemed to be useless. It seemed as if the puddles were spreading. "p-p-please forgive me, my p-p-pr-prince. I'mmm...t-t-terribly clum-s-sy," he muttered.

'I can see that," Loki responded as he crossed his arms over his decorated chest.

Bardok looked up, his mouth slightly a jar. His cheeks flushed. He could feel the eyes of the rest of the students on him. He could even hear a few nerve-wracking oohs in the distance. He was sure all were just as nervous as he was about what Prince Loki's response would be. He had had little interaction with the second son of Odin since he was a little boy, but he'd heard the rumors. Most people said that Loki was mean and spiteful. He had a reputation as a notorious trickster throughout the Imperial City and probably all of Asgard, maybe even the Nine Realms. Loki had been known to turn a person into a crow for less of an act of disrespect than spilling their bottles and vials all over his feet. When He saw Prince Loki around the campus he didn't see the cruel, spiteful spoiled prince that others described. He had always encountered a rather conscientious and wise man. Who had a mind sharper than any he had encountered and keen wit? Prince Loki often made jokes in his lecture halls and performed tricks that would keep the young pupils engaged and giggling. Bardok shook his head, he didn't suspect he would be giggling after Prince Loki was done with him. He could only hope that Prince Loki would freeze him or turn him to stone. He wanted to say something, but he found his tongue flapping in the most inarticulate way and he was sure that Prince Loki was tired of hearing his gibberish. He managed to clap his trap and stare up at Prince Loki helplessly as his brown eyes pleaded for mercy.

The raven-haired royal's green-eyes were piercing as he glared down at him critically. He closed his eyes. He braced himself for impact. He was prepared to face the brunt of Loki's wrath for the disrespect he had rendered him. He supposed he deserved no better for soiling the prince's garments the way he did. He squinted his eyes back open momentarily. Loki's pointed face was still pinched in the sternest of scowls as he waved his hand over him. Bardok was still crouched on his knees cowering. He'd never had magic worked on him. He wondered if it would hurt. Would it tingle? Would he feel himself transforming into some beast of the field or would he feel his arteries freezing over as his body turn to ice or even feel his organs harden as he was morphed into stone. He waited, with his eyes closed for a few seconds more. He didn't feel anything. Honestly that scared him more. The thought that in this very moment he could be a tiny, hairy eight-legged critter about to be squashed by Loki's boot and not even know it, well that was truly cringe worthy. he supposed cowering with ones eyes closed was not the way of the Aesir. he hated to think he'd look like nothing more than a sniveling weakling in front of his peers or his prince. If he had to face a punishment than he supposed he should open his eyes and face his punishment like a man.

He did so. He opened his trembling brown eyes well expecting that his could have been the last thing he saw before his world went black. Rather was he beheld had been dazzling. Bardok watched as all the crystal and glass fragments acted against gravity and magically drifted back up into the air. They floated mystically around and he could hear them tingling like bells as the tiny pieces drift back together. He watched with amazement as the liquids elevated off of the ground. The puddles disappeared and the bottles and vials were back together and the liquids for the potion were in them. It was like the accident had never happened.

Bardok shook his head back and forth to see if the others saw what he saw. "I can see that?" Prince Loki said with a wry and devilish grin plastered on his youthful face. His eyes danced and crinkled with laughter.

"I...I...I...I" Bardok couldn't seem to stop stuttering.

"Well, no harm done," the prince smiled and held out his two hands offering the chemicals back to Bardok. Bardok managed to rise to his feet. His hands were somewhat shaky as he took the vial from Loki. "Now you still haven't told me what your project is," he pointed out.

Bardok looked down, licked his lips and fumbled with his tunic. "Well...well...well, it-t-t-tss nothing that important," he admitted.

"I will be the judge of that Pupil Bardok," Prince Loki stated.

Y-y-yes, my prince of c-c-course. It-t-t-tss a remedy tonic," he spat out.

"Remedy tonic?" The black-haired son of Odin inquired. Bardok nodded to keep himself from humiliating himself further by stammering in front of a member of the royal family anymore. "And what would this remedy be used for? Is it an antidote for some curse?" He pressed.

"Umm...uh...well...n-n-no my p-p-prince, it is mmmoresssooo for...for...for the p-p-purpose of ch-changing something about oneself," he said

"Changing something about oneself?" Loki raised an inky eyebrow at the young student. Bardok stood still not knowing what else to say. "And why do you feel that this is an important study?" Loki continued. He nearly yawned.

"I...I...I...I suppose w-w-we all have something about ourselves w-w-we w-w-want to ch-change, my lord," Bardok shrugged.

"Perhaps," Loki said reservedly.

Young Bardok's brown eyes went wide he threw up his hands. "N-N-Not th-that y-y-you n-n-need to change anything about yourself, sir," Bardok expressed.

Loki held up his hand up and silenced Bardok. "Quite," Loki agreed. "You certainly seem to have a fascinating project," Loki said as he dusted his hands off, "so fascinating in fact, that I have to say, I would be keenly interested in supervising your project," the prince offered and turned the left side of his mouth up at the corner ever so slightly.

Bardok heard the shocked sighs and gasps coming from his classmates. He too sucked in a sharp breath of and forgot to exhale. He started choking. Once the sounds of shock had passed over the crowd silence replaced it. Bardok tried to find his tongue, but as usual in the times when he needed it, it was a lazy and useless muscle numb and dumb and unreliable.

"What say you to that, Pupil Bardok," asked the second prince of Asgard.

For a moment Bardok still stood gawking and gobbling. His lips were moving, but he found himself unable to make any intelligible sound. He was only able to produce a squeaky whistling noise. he sounded like a mouse. He willed himself to bob his head. He bobbed his head eagerly so much so that he thought he would give himself whiplash. Finally, he managed to find his stammering tongue. "Yes!" He practically yelped.

Loki flashed a quick grin, "Good then. I will look for you to report first thing to the palace tomorrow morning," Loki instructed. With that the enchanter disappeared in a puff of swirling green smoke.

After that Bardok became Prince Loki's personal assistant during his studies at the university that summer. Mostly it involved him running errands for Prince Loki. He would fetch books from the university library for the prince, take dictation for him, or report to the apothecary to get the things Loki needed for his experiments. On the hardest times Loki would actually cause him to go on wild scavenger hunts and hunt for certain items from around campus grounds like roots and herbs. He worked him hard in his own studies as well. The second son of Odin forced him to submit more thorough research reports on similar elixirs and look for the areas in which those potions had failed in order to improve his own. While working with Prince Loki he had been able to study other areas of enchantment as well. Prince Loki taught him several incantations to perfect his illusions. He even had the chance to learn some combat magic. Prince Loki even sparred with him. He was pushed further in his illusion casting than he'd ever gone before and prince even encouraged him to pursue combat magic. Over the course of the summer in which he worked as the son of Odin's assistant he came to admire him more than any one he'd ever met. Including his own father. His father was a drunk with a raging temper. He had been no stranger to a backhand. Prince Loki was wise and learned, he was quiet and refined and eloquent. He was far from affectionate, but he at least treated him with respect. His knowledge was incredible. There was no question that he ever presented Prince Loki that he was unable to answer. He was indeed a marvel.

"Pupil Bardok," The emerald eyed prince said calmly as he came into his study to find Bardok already busy with his readings. The tall and lanky Aesir strolled casually over toward the dest where Bardok had his nose engrossed in a book. LOki's arms were in a relaxed manner behind him.

"Y-y-yes Prince Loki," Bardok jumped to his feet then bent at the waist in front of the royal clad in beautiful forest green robes. The youth beamed. He'd been studying most of the morning and he was excited to tell his master of his findings.

"It has been brought to my attention, that you have not registered to represent Asgard in this years Wizard Tournament?" Loki accused sternly.

Bardok felt a shiver go up his spine and his face went white. He fidgeted anxiously with the tome in his hand. "W-w-well, n-n-no, my l-l-lord...I...I...I dddid not," he sputtered.

Loki seemed perturbed as he marched closer to his assistant. He leaned over onto the frame of the desk and drummed his porcelain fingers into the chestnut countertop. While his left hand continued drumming with his left hand his right hand took time to massage his temple. Bardok could see the way Loki's jaw was clenched and how the vein in his temple was to throb. "Why, pray tell?" He demanded his green eyes glaring daggers as he looked up at him.

"I...I...I..." Bardok began, but he was stuttering so profusely that he could scarcely even get out a word before his prince.

"Will you stop that confounded stammering!" Loki yelled as he slammed his fist on the table. It was first time that Prince Loki had raised his voice at him in such a way. It reminded him of when his father would come home from months out on the Forever Sea. He'd always stop in his favorite tavern or pub before he made his way to their manor. The action made Bardok jump and drop the book in his hand. Bardok was a tall and strapping lad as most in Asgard were. But he was shaking in his boots. Loki almost felt bad for his eruption at young Bardok. In some ways Bardok reminded him of his brother, Thor in his physical stature. He thought of the times when he and Thor would fight and he would yell and say something particularly injurous to his brother's ego and Thor would shrink back. Loki managed to calm himself. "Say what you mean, Bardok," he said quietly.

Bardook swallowed. He was determined not to stumble over his words in front of his prince anymore. "I...I didn't think that I was ready, your highness...I...I...I didn't want to embarrass you," he said dropping his eyes and folding his hands in front of himself.

Loki straightened himself up. He adjusted his collar and smoothed back his ebony locks. His sharp features softened a bit as he pushed himself off of leaning on the table. He sighed and picked up the book that Bardok had dropped at his feet. With ease the enchanter levitated the book back to the shelf. "I appreciate your concern for my vanity," Loki said as he cocked his head to the side and offered a slight grin. "But did you consider that it could be more of an embarrassment to me by you not registering?"

Bardok looked down and dragged his foot across the ground like a child. "N-n-no Your Highness," he gulped.

Loki began to pace about, "In order to be considered a master mage, Pupil Bardok it is important that I show that I can train a student. Surely you can see that," Loki explained exasperatedly.

"Y-y-yes, m-m-my p-prince," Bardok still kept his head down.

"Stand up and address me properly," Loki fussed. Bardok immediately lifted his head and stood stock still and erect like a soldier. He started to open his mouth to say more to Prince Loki. "Take your time and speak to me and for heaven's sake don't you dare stutter," Loki warned.

Young Bardok mashed his lips together. His jaw started to tremble, but finally he managed to swallow down his nerves. "You...you..j-just see, Your Highness...it...it's j-just that, I...I am surely not the best and you have so many apprentices and assistants...those who are far better than me and well..."

"I haven't taken on an assistant in many years nor have I take an apprentice...I find teaching tedious and dull," Loki expressed cantankerously.

Bardok scowled deeply. He had heard Prince Loki grumble about teaching classes with youngsters in the orphanages, but he had secretly hoped that Prince Loki enjoyed they time they spent together. He surely did. "Prince Loki, I surely wish you didn't feel that way," Bardok said with a little more confidence. "I...I...I feel so honored to be your assistant...and...and...and"

"As you should," Loki replied stoically.

"Of course...of...c-c-course, sire...it...it's j-j-just that...well, what I was trying to say Your H-highness is that...that...th-that I have grown much under your tutelage, sire."

"Naturally," Loki exhaled and chewed his jaw. He liked Bardok but he could find it tiresome to wait for the young man to spit out his words.

"Y-y-you are a good teacher my prince," Bardok esteemed.

"Good? Just good?" Loki inquired as he raised an eyebrow.

"W-w-we-ee-llll," Bardok started to stutter fiercely. "W-w-when I...I...I say g-good...I...I... mean... g-gr-great!" He exclaimed. "I mean that you are the very best teacher I have ever had," he admitted.

Loki turned around, his face softer now than before. "Thank you, Pupil Bardok," Loki said as he placed his hand on his shoulder. "You trust me, then, yes?"

Bardok nodded. He didn't want to talk anymore. He knew that Prince Loki found his constant stuttering annoying and he didn't wish to humiliate himself even further. "Then you should trust my judgment. Do you think I would suggest that you enter into the competition if I honestly thought that you weren't ready?" He asked still holding on to Bardok's shoulder and looking at him fondly.

"No...no...I suppose not, sir, but...but... but what about Lady Dagmar...she's so much better than I," he expressed.

"Lady Dagmar is far from my apprentice," Loki said his cheeks washing over with a certain rosy grow. "She has been my partner for years and is a very much accomplished enchantress in her own right, but much like you she sometimes lacks confidence," he pointed out. "Do you think I would have chosen you if I saw you as talentless and incompetent?" The prince asked.

"No...I suppose not," he shrugged.

"You were highly recommended by your professors. You showed extreme dedication and had worked your way up from being a struggling student to having better than average markings," Loki went on.

"Yes, my prince...b-but...I w-w-wasn't the b-b-best," he countered.

"Perhaps," Loki remarked slyly.

"W-why? Why did you chose me, my prince?' Bardok questioned.

"Why indeed?" Loki elevated his nose. "I was intrigued by your project... you wanted to change something about yourself... it showed humility," Prince Loki shrugged his shoulders. "That is a trait that is surely lacking in most Aesir these days," he explained. "I also wanted to help you gain confidence," Loki stated.

"My prince?" Bardok's eyes were wide and amazed. "But why?' He inquired.

"I know that feeling, Pupil Bardok."

"Y-you, Prince Loki?" He shook his head in disbelief.

"Yes," Loki averted his emerald eyes for but a moment. "As a child magic too became a tool for me to gain confidence. It was a way I could manipulate the world around me and make up for my short-comings," he expressed taking a deep breath. Bardok wanted to ask more, but he dare not. "I know you feel as though your stuttering is a weakness," Prince Loki stated flatly. He now looked at Bardok square.

T-t-tisn't it?' Bardok squeaked.

Loki shrugged and scraped his knuckles across the front of his tunic. "It is no more of a weakness than being of slight frame on the battlefield," Loki stated. "You have already developed a fine remedy to cure what ails you Pupil Bardok," Loki pointed out as he reminded him of his project. "You could take it and rid yourself of your stammering tongue. Why haven't you?' Loki inquired his gaze was scrutinous and it made Bardok twitch.

"it m-m-may n-not work," Bardok countered. "Oh rubbish," Loki's porcelain hand flipped in the air. "We have gone through all the necessary calculations and proofs to test it." Loki criticized.

"I...I...I..."

"Perhaps you don't truly want to change as much as you claim, young one," the raven-haired enchanter scratched his pointed chin.

"N-n-n-no I...I...d-d-do, sire...I truly do... I h-hate th-this tongue of mine...it doesn't work right," he pouted. "My own father...he...he h-h-hates it t-t-too. He says he doesn't know w-why...I...I...I w-waist time trying to be a mage...w-when I c-c-can talk well. He ssssays I'm better off being a f-farmer." Bardok confessed.

"And you want to please your father don't you lad?" Loki inquired.

"Y-y-yessir, I reckon every boy wants to please his father."

"Indeed," Prince Loki nodded. He looked at his own smooth hands for a moment, then balled them into tight fists. "indeed," he repeated with a soft almost sad sounding voice. Loki shook himself and turned his attention back to his young assistant. "Then once again I ask, why don't you take your own brew and be done with it? You could make your father proud," the prince argued. Bardok didn't say anything, but his young shoulders slumped in defeat. Loki waited for a moment. He carefully studied the lad. He was tall and handsome and strongly built. A true son of Asgard on the outside, but on the inside he was meek and mild and timid in nature. Those were qualities for which the Aesir had little tolerance especially for sons of noble birth. Loki's long fingers slipped on the boy's shoulder and his cool thumb nudged up the crestfallen child's chin. "I believe you want to be accepted for who you are, Pupil Bardok," Loki said with a kind expression on his face. "Look at me," Loki explained with tenderness. "I could be any form I wanted to be," He said and he flashed a debonair smile and began to transform right before the boys eyes. He transformed into all sorts of characters such as riftraft and pirates and guards and farmers and elves. Loki's displays kept the young man giggling. "I could even look like a Frost if I wished," he winked.

Bardok put his hands up, "P-please! Not that my prince...I'll surely have n-n-nightm-mares," the child said through chuckles.

Loki laughed as well, "the point is, I could change who I am as well but I don't chose to and you don't either because your want to recognized as being worthy in your own right. This is your chance to do that. You should compete, not for me, not for your father, but for yourself," Loki advised as he tapped the young man's nose.

Bardok'd brown eyes shined. "Is th-that an order, my prince?"

"It is a strong suggestion," Loki admonished. He grinned fondly at him as he held him by the shoulders. Loki took a deep breath. Then let his shoulders go. "Well," he began clearing his throat, "I do have some business that I need to attend to today. You may have the day to yourself or take the time to study," Loki suggested as he began to gather some things. "When you come in tomorrow I expect you to give me an answer on whether or not you intend to participate in the tournament,"

He did register and compete in the tournament after all. He competed and he surpassed even his own expectation. It was all because of Prince Loki's tutelage, but nevertheless Bardok managed to perform with flying colors in tournament. He took home first place trophies and blue ribbons in all areas. None were surprised. How could they be? He was being trained by Asgards most promising enchanter. And after that, once he had gained the respect of his father and had finally seen the man glow with pride for him for the first time since his birth, he found his voice. He no longer possessed his stammer. He'd been amazed he hadn't had to use his concocted elixir. He was amazed by this, but he remembered the wise words that the Prince of Asgard has taught him during his brief appointment as his assistant, while they trained for the tournament. "The greatest power does not come from without, Pupil Bardok, but from within." It was unbelievable that the young prince who he had worked so closely with as a child had turned into this atrocious and despicable creature.

The longer Bardok overturned the matter in his head the more and more nauseated he became. He could feel his mind reel and his stomach roil as he became lost in his thoughts. He'd always thought he'd known Prince Loki well. Shortly after the summer when he competed in the tournament Prince Loki had left Asgard for a time to study magic in Alfheim. During his time away Bardok had often written the prince, he shared with him matters of his life, they talked of his schooling of enchantments, Loki would give him advice on which books to read or what experiments to try. Sometimes it were seemed their correspondences were full of nothing but nonsense, like talk of the weather in Alfheim. Still, the fledgling mage had relished in having a chance to write the prince. He felt lucky and special that austere and reserved Prince Loki took time to still communicate with him. Prince Thor was always jovial. He was usually out among the people, he frequented the taverns and pubs, he was congenial and easy going and personable despite his arrogance and sense of entitlement. Prince Loki was different he spent so much time focusing on his studies and he kept to himself more often than not. Few ever claimed to have a genuine friendship with the younger son of Odin. Bardok counted it a privilege to share such a relationship with the powerful enchanter. He'd never have said it out loud, of course, but he truly considered the young prince a brother of sorts. Loki had been a member of the Mage Council when he'd taken his Mage Trial. And Prince Loki had gotten him an appointment working in one of Asgard most prestigious universities. It had been for this very reason that Bardok had always defended Prince Loki to those who criticized him. He said they didn't truly know the prince and his good hearted scholarly nature. Now he could see that the only person who truly didn't know Prince Loki's real nature had been him. He was nothing but a trickster. A gutless, spineless coward. He supposed one thing was true about Loki, he had been a master of disguise and illusion until the bitter end; a shifter through and through. He'd been their prince, he'd been his mentor and now he was nothing, but a traitor. No he was far more vile than a traitor, he was the grand architect of their demise.

"We cannot focus on, Loki now," admonished Master Alvis. he stomped his cane on the ground softly commanding the attention of the other scholars. he patted Bardok's shoulder and then moved on. He was walking slowly with a profound limp. "He will have the same fate as all those who are wicked," the wiseman assured the youngest of their company. "What we need to be concerned about is our own fates and the fate of all of Asgard and the Nine Realms," he proclaimed. "Now think," he told them. "Let us combine our efforts into thinking about how we can stop the Aether from spreading its darkness," he encouraged them.

All the mages looked severe. Their faces were grim. They were weak with fatigue and worry for their own lives as well as their friends and loved ones. They were famished and dirty and many had sustained injuries and wounds that needed looking after as much as any other citizen of Asgard who had been exposed to the terrible brunt of the onslaught of the devastating attack that the Dark-Elves had just unleashed. Still they had pressed pass their own feelings of pain to aid others. They'd used their powers to keep the pain they felt to a minimum. They'd used their energies to help the overwhelmed healers try to keep up with the influx of injuries. Now once again their wisdoms and knowledge was needed to help save as many lives as possible. It was a daunting task.

Their brows furrowed as each and every last one of the enchanters present wracked their brain trying to think of something that they could do to stave off the effects of the Aether. Their eyebrows knit together, their lips pursed. They worried their lips and bit into their jaws. They scratched their heads and chins.

"The Aether is created of dark matter," Lord Drek finally spoke up after what seemed like an eternity of ignorant silence. "It is essentially created by the combined forces of destruction in the universe," he expounded.

"Aye," agreed Lady Leoma. Her face brightened just a bit. "That is essential, darkness and death," she snapped her fingers.

"And what dispels darkness more than the power of light," chimed in Mistress Chamira.

"Yes! Yes! Tis true," applauded another one of the leading mages of Asgard. "Gungnir harnesses the power of light and energy," he explained.

"Indeed, is it not said that when the first sun arose, the Norns channeled the first beams of light into the rods of Gungnir," Bardok reminded his fellow scholars.

"Yes, but how could such a thing be duplicated?' Inquired Lady Leoma

"Truly it cannot," Master Alvis stated.

"There must be something that we can do bend the light," Bardok demanded.

"What about firebending," proposed Lord Drek to the group.

"Even if we had an entire army of firebenders it would not be powerful enough," Master Alvis concluded.

"We would need something closer to solar energy," Mistress Chamira announced.

"But remember it is not Gungnir's powers alone that can stop the Aether. It has to be combined with the Mjolnir as well," pointed out an elderly enchantress.

An elderly, female mage hobbled forth excitedly, she raised her wrinkled, but elegant finger. "Well the powers of Mjolnir are nearly boundless," she thought out loud.

"Though they mostly consist of natural elements," expressed Lady Leoma. "With Mjolnir, Prince Thor has always been able to control the weather."

"Yes, Mjolnir does have the ability to manipulate the elements," a middle aged Aesir gentlemen with a pleasant face and a bald head stated. he started counting on his fingers, "He could make it rain, create a tempest at will and summon the powers of thunder and lightning," he continued. He smiled. "That is essentially just the four elements!" He snapped his fingers. "This could get us somewhere. Perhaps some type of combined elemental assault would be enough to put the Infinity Stone into stasis," he rubbed his hands together.

"If anyone can think of a solution using the might of the elements it will surely be you, Master Einsmyth," encouraged the sage woman. She patted her fellow council member on the shoulder. Master Einsmyth was a true wizard of the elements. He had studied botany and had even managed to hone the ability to touch a plant and take on its characteristics. He could touch a cactus and grow spikes or simply reserve the ability to go days on end without water. He could touch a tree and grow as tall as said tree.

Einsmyth ran the calculation over in his head. "Well, yes...of course it could...I suppose that there is a possibility," he thought and thought.

"We can mount a massive force. If we surround the Aether with more than a hundred enchanters each of them manipulating the element we know best..." Suggested Chamira.

"No, no," the bald headed botanist raised his hand. His shoulders slumped in defeat. "I doubt that it will work."

"Why, my friend," Master Alvis' crackly voice broke back into the conversation. He played with his beard a bit as he studied Master Einsmyth's grave expression. "Surely your ideas seemed solid," the elder among them stated.

"The idea may be solid enough, master, but we don't have the man power to sustain that type of attack," he elaborated. "We would need a whole host of master mages. "

"There are a number of us here in the city," Bardok stated firmly. "Several score in fact and most of us have apprentices of some kind. Likewise there are those who are young, who have yet to take their trials to become true enchanters, but I'm sure these young people are skilled and would be willing to help."

"Bardook, you can not possibly be suggesting that we risk the lives of Aesir children as we prepare to fight against the Aether. It is too risky!" Lady Leoma argued.

"What other choice do we have?' Bardok shot back. He threw his hands in the air.

"It is not the Aesir way to risk the life of child," she continued to fuss.

"Their lives are already at risk, Lady Leoma," Bardok admitted as his shoulders fell. He placed his hand on her shoulder. "All of our lives are," he said in a hushed tone. "It is just the way of it now. Minutes tick away and with each passing minute Prince Thor remains a prisoner of Loki and Malekith and the Dark-Elves grow strong and their plans and cause come closer and closer to being realized and all of us get one step closer to death," he grumbled.

"Or become slaves to the Dark-Elves," Lord Drek confessed with shudder.

Bardok, spat to the ground. "I'd pray for death before I would allow myself to become one of their slaves! Don't you see," he turned to Lady Leoma. She as a beautiful and gentle woman. She was kind a charitable, she taught at the orphanages and had many children of her own. Of course she couldn't bear the thought of any child being hurt. "You know as well as I, that any Aesir worth their mettle be they elder or babe would relish the chance to fight for Asgard."

Lady Leoma pressed her lips together and tried to suppress a cry that was deep with in. Her chin started to quiver. Hot tears rushed to beautiful eyes. She reached her hand back and touched Bardok's hand. He was a young man as well. He had so much to live for. He had an illustrious career as a conjuror a head of him. He had just recently found love and was due to be wed soon. But even knowing all this did not make him hesitant to do what needed to be done to save their people and the Nine Realms. Perhaps that was the true mark of bravery. Or maybe it was just the sign of one who was wise. Trying to fight against the Aether could be exhausting; it was certainly possible that even the strongest of enchanters could be completely spent to the point of death if they used their energies against the Aether, but it was certain so that if they did nothing than all would perish. She took a deep breath. She continued to pat Bardok's hand until she finally squeezed it tightly then brought it to her cheek. Feeling his skin against her skin, it was soft young and smooth and reminded her of her son's flesh. "I know you are right," she chocked out, 'but...my son," her words were caught on the lump in her throat. Her eldest son had been training as mage since he was young. She had trained him personally. "I know he would be willing," he finally confessed as she let Bardok's hand fall to his side.

"Fear not, Lady Leoma; for it matters not," stated Master Einsmyth. He threw his hands in the air then shook his head and crossed his arms.

"What do you mean?" Demanded Lord Drek.

"I mean we do not have enough mages. It would take nearly the powers of every major enchanter in Asgard," Einsmyth continued. "We don't have enough. Many mages aren't even in the Imperial City," he shrugged and pressed his fingers to his temples.

"What then? We just accept that we perish?' Questioned Bardok.

"No," Master Alvish answered. The elderly man had a firm look in his clouded eyes. He stamped his cane on the ground. "There has to be something that we can do. We know too much about these artifacts to be able to think of nothing," he proclaimed. "Think harder, my friends," he encouraged and slammed his wirnkled fist in his weathered palm.

"Perhaps, master there is nothing that we can do," lamented Lord Drek. For a moment all of the master mages looked sorrowfully at each other. At one time or another each of these Master's of magic had held high positions as scholars in Odin's court and some had even been emissaries in other courts throughout the Nine Realms. They'd been the heads of universities of Asgards and they'd presided over many matters and respected for their wisdom. Now they stood baffled. A moment passed and all stood in somber silence. Perhaps it was their combined fear and heaviness of heart that made the solution so hard to see.

"Come," the sage woman's soft crackly voice spoke. She moved slowly through the group placing her hands on their shoulders. "Let us see if we can try to enter into a trance all together," she admonished the younger enchanters. "Perhaps then illumination will come to us. Each of us can see a piece of this puzzle, but none can see the puzzle at large. If we share our visions and knowledge completely in a trance we might be able to figure this out," she advised.

The rest of the members of the Mage Council nodded. "it's worth a shot," shrugged Mistress Chamira. She didn't seem convinced.

"Come," the wise old lady said as she tapped her on the shoulder and then took her by the hand. Jane watched curiously as all of the enchanters joined their hands together. They curved themselves into a circle. They started to speak all together in a mystic dialect that she did not understand. At first they were saying different things, though Jane had no idea what they were saying, but soon they were all saying the same things. They were in unison chanting the same phrase over and over. At first their voices were very strong and steady, but as they continued chanting their voice grew weaker and softer although the voices started to blend more. Soon it sounded like one singlular voice. Then the voice grew so quiet that no one was saying anything at all. They were no longer making any audible sound, but their lips were moving all together. Eventually, even their lips stopped moving. They no longer mouthed the chant, but their bobbed their heads in time with one another. They nodded their heads as if there were a beat or a rhythm, but there was none. Jane dared to draw closer to the crowd of enchanters.

No sooner had the scientist dared to draw the tiniest bit closer to the chamber where they were did something incredible happen. She heard a loud gasping. It was so loud and fervent that it made her heart skip a beat. Had she had something in her hands that was valuable it would have shattered on the floor into a thousand tiny pieces she was sure. Jane composed herself and tried to stop her hands from trembling as she patted her frantically beating heart. She finally gathered her wits about her enough to once more draw closer. She half expected to find all the mages passed out on the hard stone floor. Amazingly enough, they were still standing. Jane batted and rubbed her eyes and beheld as one by one the eyes of the enchanters popped open.

They all looked as if their eyes were made out of the high-beams on a car. They were all a glow with brilliant, bright golden light. As their eyes popped open their heads tilted upward and faced the roof of the chamber. The light reflected off the stone ceiling and shined like a crystal chandelier. When all the eyes were focused upward they seemed to cast a projection of a shared image into the air. The imaged hovered above their heads. Jane had to shield her hazel eyes from the intense light. Her eyes burned and watered as she continued to stare up at the vision that they were projecting into the air. She knew that she should look away. Like the way a person should never look directing into a solar eclipse, but she simply could not look away. It was far too wondrous.

At first in the midst of the light there was only blackness. It was just a blank, black empty space. Then out of nowhere, a tiny flickering, blinking, frail white light appeared. Slowly, the miniscule shine seemed to draw closer and its glow burned brighter. Before long it had burned up most of the blackness and it was at the center of the image. In the midst of the light Jane saw the most marvelous sights in all the universe. She beheld as she saw light and energy rushing and swirling about is hazy, but brilliant clusters. She knew what the sight was immediately for she had seen it many times in her classes. She had even had the opportunity to study the images recorded from the Hubble Telescope, but even those high definition satellite images seemed like old fashion polaroid pictures in comparison to glancing at the image that was projected from mages.

Jane could feel her eyes welling up with tears. She watched as vast different colored lights rushed together and then a solar flare was emitted and it was a glorious sight full of splendid hot white light light with even some blinding blue and ultra-violet. "A star," the astrophysicist muttered in astonishment to herself. She was captivated as she watched the birth of a fresh newborn celestial body. She had seen many display in her classes and had even been charged in assignments with making models to represent such wondered, but each time it moved her to tears. "A star is born," she breathed. She placed her hand on her lips.

She watched as all manner of asteroids and debris and dust clouds started to form around the baby star. They seemed to form a protective cradle for the infant star. She watched as these entities started to orbit the star. "It's forming it's own gravity," Jane stated. Her eyes transfixed and unblinking as she beheld the marvelous spectacle. It gave way, it ebbed and flowed and surged. Heat pockets exploded into great flames. Shooting might fire into the dark vacuum of space. "It's a sun," she declared. As the light formed into one radiant ball of fire she watched as flames shot off into a distance. Out of one of those flamming outburst something that looked like a magma rock floated out into space. Once more colorful gas and dust particles started to gravitate toward this sun off shoot. They formed around it and orbited and and somehow started to take on the form of a splendid scepter.

As soon as Jane saw the outline of Gungnir forming in the heavenlies. The projection flashed and changed. It transformed to a scene that was the complete opposite. In a space that was full of life and energy, where cosmic clouds swirled about and the flickering of a million stars twinkled in the distance representing what seemed liked millions of galaxies, in the center there was a large dying star. She watched the star heat up and rage and fume. The star was a most beautiful shade of vermillion. It shot off sparks like rockets. It puffed, expanding and shrinking many time in rapid succession. Then all at once the star went supernova. It exploded in one of the universes, most brilliant and exciting displays. Jane was left breathless by the sight. She'd seen images of supernova's before. She had studied them for years. She had done dozens of research projects on them at one time. She'd even submitted a thesis on them. The astrophysicist felt like she'd known everything about the phenomenon, but all her research was nothing in comparison to this mind-boggling spectacle. The magnificent pigments and colors of the supernova danced before her eyes and filled them. There were electrifying sapphires. Riveting ruby reds, brilliant silvers and golds and glorious greens, marvelous magentas. There were so many colors. It was like a prism and there were colors in their that Jane couldn't even put a name to. She watched with full amazements as all the gorgeous light started to swirl and rotate into a black hole. The light was moving so fast the hole was forming it was large and gaping and ever expanding.

It was all at once astounding and dazzling and dreadfully horrifying. To see all that radiant light being sucked into that deep pit, that inescapable vortex it was spine tingling. Somehow Jane felt as if she was being transported there that very minute. She felt as thought she was being sucked in the black hole herself as she saw the colorful lights get whisked away into the wormhole and then all manner of other space objects get sucked in. Then all of sudden as the space all around the black hole was getting darker and darker and just as it seemed that the expanse would be swallowed up by the black hole, something...something though it appeared to be moving very slowly, but in reality must have been moving fast than even the speed of light jettisoned forth from the dark hole. Jane squinted. She tried to reckon what it could possibly be. Nothing could escape a blackhole. Whatever it was it came out with a loud zap and crackle like thunder. It whizzed by like a flash of lightning.

"Mjolnir!" Jane surmised aloud. Her voice echoing in the silent war chamber. She clapped her hands over her mouth. But it didn't seem as though her outburst broke the concentration of the sages. Well it might not have been Mjolnir proper, but it seemed to be at least the substance of mjolnir. It was some type of hot, liquid metal. It was silver in color, but formless otherwise. It was a peculiar element. She couldn't identify as anything other than the substance of stars, stardust...

Illumination struck the astrophysicist brain. She gasped and then was finally able to blink. Her face was washed with tears from starting too long at the projection of the mages. Quickly she swiped her hands over her eyes removing the tears. She looked down at her hands and noticed that they were shaking profusely. She tried to calm them, but was no use even if she balled them into fist they could not be stilled. Her teeth were chattering and her lips were quivering. She could do nothing, but stare and blink, dumbly for a few seconds more, but then Jane Foster shook herself. As all great scientist must when they have just been struck with a moment of sheer genius. "I've got it! I've got it! I've got it," she mumbled to herself. Her voice somehow had half way escaped her. It was just a squeak and a whisper. "I...I...I" she muttered to herself as she patted down her chest and thighs and stomach.

Jane cursed inwardly. The Aesir had taken her clothes. The chambermaid had called them vulgar vestments. She chuckled to herself. She nearly thought that the woman was going to throw out all her clothes. She debated and argued with the woman for sometime. They even began to get into a tug of war over her outfit. Finally, the chambermaid gave up. The middle-aged woman with a streak of gray hair in her long brown tresses simply threw her hands up in the air and flopped back on the sette. "I will not throw the garbs away, but you must promise not to wear them," she said exasperated as she fanned herself and dabbed at her perspiring forehead. "I have been assigned to you. Know you that I was the wardrobe manager, to Lady Idunn, the keeper of the sacred apples... that was before she left Asgard mine you. I have a reputation here at court. It would be a disgrace to me if the woman that Prince Thor is courting would walk around looking worse than a troll hag," she went on squealing. "No I'll not have it. You are courting royalty and you should be dressed like royalty," she expressed rising up from her seat and giving a well practiced curtsy to the human. "My goodness, even if you are a mortal," she blustered.

"Fine," Jane said with a hush, she tossed her clothes on the rose colored carpet. "I'll dress in a gown," she signed and then smiled, the pudgy chambermaid clapped her hands and bounced up and down on her toes. "But you won't throw away my things?' She qualified raising her fingers.

"On my honor, my lady" she said and once more gave one of her elaborate and perfectly practiced curtsies

That in mind Jane had managed to keep her jacket. She didn't know where the chambermaid had taken the rest of her clothing, the woman must have cleverly hidden it, because even when she asked Lady Sigyn about her clothes the queen's lady-in-waiting couldn't manage to find them, but she did keep her jacket. Truth be told she had insisted that she keep the jacket. She decided not to let the jacket out of her sight she was sure if she did that the pudgy chambermaid would have returned and snatched it up and hidden it with the rest of her things. It was the most important article of clothing that she had in Asgard. For in that pocket she had hidden her book. It was the very same book that S.H.I.E.L.D had stolen from her after Thor had arrived on Earth. It was the same book that Thor had stolen back for her. In it she had jotted down many things: observations she made in his studies, notes from listening to other scientists' lectures, she many schematics for contraptions and devices that she'd built for her own laboratory over the years. That was just what she needed.

Quickly, she bolted from the chamber where the meeting of the minds was taking place and she dashed down the corridor. Her heart was pounding in time with her furious feet. She knew she had to have her jacket. She was more than sure of that. She had brought it with her on the ship when she and Thor and the Einherjar escaped from Asgard. She could vaguely remember Thor draping the old jacket across her shoulders as she fell asleep. She was sure she must have had it on when she ran for the shelter. In all honesty, she'd hardly been paying attention. How could she have been concerned about what she was wearing when a magical whirlwind was whipping through the city and tearing the roofs off the buildings, and ripping up the golden bricks from the street or tossing warriors left and right. But she had to have brought it. It had to have been on her back right?

Jane continued at her hurried pace through the hallways. She ran into people as she raced through the shelter. "Excuse me, excuse me," she said as she ran into them. She raised her hands in apology but never slacked her pace.

"My word!"

"I say!"

"Watch where you are going, I am carrying vials for the sick," shouted some of the people that Jane bumped against as she scurried through the halls.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Jane apologized as she shoulders and chest collided over and over again with other people. Still she did not look back or stop running. She could feel her chest tightening and it wasn't just from her shortness of breath from running so fast and so hard. She was starting to panic. She had to have the jacket. She was desperate to get back to the cot that the healers had provided her with and see if it was there.

"Umph!" Jane groaned as she felt her body slam against something rock hard, the she felt her backside hit the ground in a large thump. It knocked whatever little wind was in her right out of her.

"Lady Jane?" the cool and husky voice of the female Einherjar asked as she noted the petite human sprawled out on the floor. Jane's chest was heaving as she pushed herself up off the floor. Lady Sif offered her a hand. She bent down to help the astrophysicist to her feet. As she rose Jane noted how strong and rough Sif's hands were. They were full of callouses and marred with cuts, they were brown and tanned, her nails were short and stubby and caked with dirt and blood underneath them. Lady Sif's hands were far from pretty, but they were capable and always willing to help. Jane took the proffered hand readily and felt like nothing but a child with how easily the shield-maiden managed to hoist her up. "it is a good thing that I ran into you," she said. "I was just coming to find you."

"You were?" She tried to get her auburn hair out of her eyes as she addressed the taller woman. "Lady Sif, you should be in the halls of the healing, " she stated looking at Sif. The healers of Asgard had much technology that Jane found could probably do wonders. They placed people in these giant tanks filled with a blue gooey jello like substance, but even still healing the body, even an Aesir body took time.

Sif looked at herself. She was sure she looked quite a sight. She had bandages tied around her abdomen and she had a brace around her shoulder protecting the area that had just been dislocated. Her tunic and tights were ripped terrible and her knee was swollen. "I am fine," she said flatly. "I came to see how you are fairing." She inclined her head. "The healers were concerned for your welfare," she explained with a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

"They should be more concerned for you and Frandal and Volstagg, Hogun and all the warriors and everyone. Everyone has suffered more than me," Jane insisted as she point the dark-haired warrior.

"Yes, but...you...are...mortal,"

"Well this mortal isn't dead yet," the female scientist reported. She squared her shoulders somewhat defensively, but they immediately slacked. Jane coughed up a small smile and to her surprise Lady Sif's dry lips crinkled into a slight laugh.

"No, you're not," Sif proclaimed as she clapped her hand on Jane's shoulder.

"And if the rest of us intend to remain the same, then there is something that I must retrieve," Jane stated.

"What do you mean?" asked the female Einherjar. Sif's brown eyes looked curiously at Lady Jane. She was sure than nearly all were verging on nearly two days without sleep and it was effecting all.

"In...in...in the war council chamber..." Jane began panting. "The...the...mages...I don't know," she shrugged and shook her head. "They had some shared vision,' she explained waving her hands vigorously in the air.

"What?" Sif asked. Her lips were curled and her eyes were wide.

"I don't know, what it was exactly. By all logical and scientific accounts I can't explain it. It was like their eyes became projectors," Jane shrugged. There was a frazzled expression to her face. "Is this a normal part of Aesir physiology?" She inquired.

"No. No it's not," Lady Sif stated flatly.

"Interesting,"Jane mused aloud and scratched at her messy auburn tendrils.

Sif put on a half smile. She gave a patronizing grin, before her strong hands made there way to rest calmly of Jane's slender shoulders. "Right," Sif nodded very slowly. "You know, Lady Jane, I think that the healers are correct. You do indeed need to rest," she expressed. The shield-maiden's arm was wrapped securely around her shoulder by now and the warrior woman was beginning to usher the female scientist down the hall. "You sustained some injuries in the blasts did you not?" She asked as she still marched her down the corridor.

Jane looked around dizzily, she tried to catch her feet and stop herself from moving, but Lady Sif was quick and strong and could not so easily be deterred from her mission. "Uh, I only had a few scratches a few, bumps and bruises," Jane explained as she tried to grab on to the wall to stop herself.

"Yes. But you are a mortal," the Einherjar woman continued as she quickened her steps and pressed for them to return to the healing chambers.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Asked Lady Jane Foster as she whipped her head back and forth. Her auburn mane swinging with her head. She was craning her neck trying to Lady Sif's face, but the Aesir warrior towered over her. Her head was in a completely different altitude. "You know I've have injuries before, Lady Sif," Jane stated.

"Of course," Sif continued to nod in a way that was like a parent talking to a small babbling child, "But those were injuries on Midgard. Your mortal form was not meant to sustain injuries meant for Aesir," Sif rationalized.

It was finally then that Jane somehow got enough inner fortitude and strength to twist herself free of Lady Sif's grasps. Admittedly, the Einherjar wasn't holding Jane very tightly. Jane spun back around and squared her shoulders. She tried to puff out her chest. "I survived with the Aether inside of me, didn't I?" Jane countered. Lady Sif pursed her lips and slightly cocked her hips to the side. She had to admit that she was impressed by the thin, little human's passion and fire. In some ways she too possessed a warrior woman's spirit. She had a fight with in her. She had obviously been underestimated before. Sif recognized the look in Jane's hazel eyes. Under the cool there was a raging fire and a fierce determination. There was a firmness on the edges of the irises and gleam that housed a mighty determination and iron will. She had come to realize that there worlds were different yet exactly the same. In her world the sciences were a field for men mostly. Same as it was for women who wanted to warriors in Asgard, but Jane was no stranger to discrimination of this sort. She hadn't settled for it then, she hadn't let it deter her from becoming respected in her field. Respect. "Besides," Jane cleared her throat. "These aren't the first injuries I've sustained in Asgard," Jane likewise cocked her hips to the side and pursed her lips while folding her arms. Lady Sif, just chuckled softly as she mirrored the movements of the astrophysicist. A warrior always recognizes their fellow warrior. Even an adversary if they were a worthy opponent you had to show them some respect.

"Touche," Sif mouthed. Then she sighed. "In all honesty, Lady Jane you are not making very much sense," the chestnut-haired shield-maiden confessed. "We are all exhausted and overwrought. I truly think it is best that you take some time to rest," she expressed.

"No!" Jane snapped. "There can be no time for resting! You of all people, Lady Sif should know that. All of the Nine Realms are about to be destroyed!" The mortal woman started to scream. "And I know what I saw! And I believe I have a way in which I can help us stop Loki and Malekith and the Aether and save our lives" she huffed. Her face was turning bright red and tears were pooling in her eyes. Her hands were balled up into tight fists. "And Thor's," she whispered as one tear trickled slowly down her smudged cheek.

Lady Sif gave an exasperated sigh. "well what exactly did you see?" the female Einherjar finally asked. Jane's mouth fired off like gun and she poured out almost every single detail of the wonders of the universe that she had beheld.

When Jane was done she found Sif staring at her wide eyed with her mouth ajar. Finally, Sif shook her head and batted her dark-brown eyes. "But...how... how could you have even seen the vision?' Lady Sif questioned.

Jane shook her head. "I don't know," she mumbled and dropped her head. "I have studied astronomy most of my life, maybe that's why...I don't know," she continued shaking her head and her hands furiously. "Does it even matter?" Jane demanded back.

Sif chuckled, "No, I suppose it doesn't" she laughed loudly and clapped her hand over Jane's shoulder. "We all have to do whatever ever we can to keep this calamity from coming," Sif quickly removed her hand from the human woman's shoulder and slammed her fist into her palm. "So what do you need?"

"I...I...I need the find...I need to find my jacket," she panted as her head swung back and forth. Instantly, Jane took off running once again down the hall.

Sif stood impressed. In that moment Sif was convinced that Jane possessed enough speed and agility to rival any Valkyrie. She darted and whizzed past the sick and injured and bereaved, she weaved through there numbers dodging and dipping, not running into anyone as she raced down the corridor.

"Jane! Wait!" Sif called as she chased after her. She raised her hand in the air as she called to the mortal. Just as she started after Jane Foster many of the citizens of Asgard came thronging after her. They rushed up to the shield-maiden and bombarded her with questions.

"Lady Sif, what is to become of us?

"What are we going to do?

"Shall we perish?"

"What is the plan, Lady Sif ?" They pressed her.

"Lady Sif," a man with a freshly mounted peg-leg called to her as he cleared his throat and hobbled over to her esteemed presence on a crutch. The remaining part of his lower limb was bruised and discolored from the strain of the new attached prosthetic. He was a robust man, with large muttonchops. He held a butcher''s cleaver in his dirty hand. "I'm ready for the fight, sir," he stated and saluted. "I fought on Midgard during the Ice Wars," He explained. "I was drafted, but I received a medal for valor," his chest stood out a little, "I know, I'm not a whole man now," he shook his peg-leg. His fat fist tightened around the handle of his cleaver, "To Helheim with the bloody elves!" He growled. His eyes refocused on the shield-maiden. "Just you point me at the Beserker Staff," he was practically panting. "Let me get my hands on the power. Let me do my part and I swear I will not stop til I have slain every last one of their race."

Soon words of agreeement followed the butcher's brave speech. Many were proclaiming how they wanted to fight for Asgard. They wanted the chance to protect their family and friends who were still living and avenge those who had fallen. The warrior woman with nerves of steel could feel her temperature rising. She hated the uncertainty of it all. She hated looking into the eyes of her fellow citizens and seeing the fear there. Fear was not something that Asgardians embraced. Each and everyone of them must have been so dreadfully uncomfortable with the emotion. Even as children they were taught to face their fears and to master them. That is what they were trying to do now. Their brave fronts were greatly appreciated, but their masks wore thin. She could see it in their eyes. The emotion was blatantly written on the faces of all around her. She wondered if she had that same expression written so plain on her face. She wished she could give them words of comfort. Wasn't that her role as an Einherjar. To protect Asgard and all her citizens at all cost, to defend the down-trodden, the fatherless and the widows, to fight the good fight against evil? Yet in one day the numbers of widows and orphans had tripled and evil had flourished. She wanted to tell the good people of Asgard that they would win the day, but she wasn't sure. Nothing was certain everything was a chance, a gamble and a fool's chance at that. "Take heart good friends, take heart," she spoke her sultry voice stilling the clamoring tongues for but a moment. "For all who want to fight for our lives will very well have the chance to do so." It was all the assurance she could render. With that she escaped the masses and made her way to follow behind Jane. She caught up to the human woman. She was in one of the sleeping rooms. She had practically overturned the cot in her desperate search but finally she found what she was looking for. "Ahhh here it is! Here is it is!" Lady Jane exclaimed as she beheld the brownish cargo coat. She squeezed it to her chest.

"A cloak?" Sif scoffed.

"Not a cloak," Jane shook her head, but she could not shake her grin. "A book!" She beamed and revealed the tattered, frayed-edged, wrinkle-paged, worn leatherbound notebook.

"A book?' Sif couldn't help but roll her eyes. Jane's elation reminded the warrior woman of a young Prince Loki. In their younger days when their schoolmarms would invite them to bring in items from home to present to the class, Loki often brought a book. The rest of the children would bring in weapons or toys, some would bring in pets. Loki's fascination with literature was enough to make all the children roll their eyes and point and jeer. Even though he was a prince, but still a prince should have known better. Perhaps they'd been cruel and scalding in their ridicule, but their taunts surely were no justification for who he'd done.

Jane leaped up. She scampered over to Lady Sif. She was breathless as she flipped through the book. She was muttering to herself, but her words were simply gibberish to Lady Sif. "Not, just a book," Jane shook her head. "All my work...all my research...maybe it has been leading up to this," she went on. Her finger landed on a page. Facts and figures, numbers and equations had been scribbled down feverishly, they were smudged and smeared on the waterstained pages. She pointed to a picture. It was hand drawn, but extremely detailed. It looked like some type of conducting rod.

"This?" The Einherjar questioned. Jane nodded. "But what is it?" The brunette warrior wondered aloud. The astrophysicist shook her head. "No time to explain," she spoke swiftly. "At least not until we know it will work," she snapped her finger and slapped the book shut. She almost caught Sif finger. "Come on," Jane motioned. "We don't have a moment to lose." Jane once more took off running back in the opposite direction.

Lady Sif tossed her head back and wiped her brow. "That is the first thing you've said, mortal, that has made any sense to me," she chuckled and took off behind Jane. Before long Sif's long, strong strides were matching the scientist's.

"Masters!" Lady Sif called as she ran into the council chamber where Asgard's most astute scholars were convening.

The heads of the mages swiveled as the beheld the tall, proud and beautiful female Einherjar. All of their faces looked greatly strained, though pale and dazed to the same extent. "Lady Sif," Master Alvis greeted as his knees cracked while he rose to his feet. "Are Lord Algrim and the High Council ready for are report?" He asked with a gulp.

"No, Masters," she shook her head. "I am here to present to you, Lady Jane Foster of Midgard," the soldier stated.

"Jane Foster of Midgard?' Bardok muttered.

"The mortal," Lord Drek whispered back in his ear.

"Prince Thor's wench, more like," Mistress Charmira, remarked out the side of her mouth.

Out of breath, a moment later, Jane finally appeared. She was bent over on her knees huffing and puffing. "She has idea to help stop the Aether," Sif explained.

"Yes...yes..." Lady Jane said as she caught her breath.

Lord Alvis slowly made his way to the human. He studied her. She hadn't even a gray hair. Young as she was she would still be but a babe in Asgard. "Greetings, milady," he bowed stiffly. Jane inclined her head. "You say you possess some answers?" He questioned. His voice came out slightly amused.

"Indeed, I believe I do, sir."

"But she is a a mortal!" Bardok pointed out. "How could she possibly know the ways of the Aether?"

"Calm yourself, Young Bardok," the eldest sage, flagged the young enchanter. "The Aether was inside of her. She has been closer to it and had a chance to understand its workings more than any of us, perhaps she has gained some valuable insights," the old man smiled at Jane. "Now child, tell me, do you know enchantments?"

Jane shook her head. Her auburn hair flapping in her face. "No, sir, I do not," she answered.

"Aye! This we need," scoffed Lady Chamira. "A mortal that knows nothing of enchantment," she laughed. "But after all, how could she? She is mortal!" The enchantress practically shouted in Jane's face.

Jane Foster stiffened. "I may not know, 'magic,'" she extended quotation fingers to the group of doubting scholars, "but I do know science," she folded her arms across her chest. "And I was told this is a place where they are one and the same thing," she stated smugly.

"Who told you this?" Lord Einsmyth asked.

"Prince Thor."

"Prince Thor is not a scholar," remarked another one of the enchanters.

"How could a mortal possibly know enough on this matter to even think to make a suggestion?" Lord Einsmyth said with laughter as he turned to the elderly female sage. Even the old wisewoman had to snigger at the thought of a mortal comprehending such matters.

Jane clenched her jaw. Sif watched as she saw the thin scientist's tiny hands from tight-balled shift. She noticed that the young woman was starting to shake. Lady Sif smirked. She'd been in the same position many a time as a young woman. People underestimated her skills as well. They'd said a woman couldn't train as hard has a man, couldn't be as strong as a man, couldn't possibly managed in the heat of battle the way a man. Norns, she'd hated being talked down to, but talk was cheap. Proof was worth everything. She'd proved each one of her doubters wrong. Maybe Jane had done that on earth, but she wasn't sure that Jane could prove herself to these astute and most learned men and women of Asgard.

"I am astrophysicist and I've been studying the stars and physics since I was old enough to read," Jane defended herself.

Mistress Chamira snubbed her nose up in the air as she circled around the mortal. She tossed back her head and laughed. She looked Jane up and down was thoroughly unimpressed. "That is mere childsplay," she remarked. "You cannot exceed 3 decades," she dismissed. "Maybe your knowledge impresses your fellow Midgardians, but here I'm sure even our children learn more," she pointed and laughed.

Jane growled. Her fist was clenched so tight that her nails were digging into her palm and causing her to bleed. "When Prince Thor fell to Earth I noticed atmospheric changes before even NASA did," she proclaimed. "And it was my equipment and research that led me to noticing gravitational shifts that allowed me to find the Aether."

"And that is suppose to mean something to us?" snapped Bardok. "By the Norns!" he spat. "You are the very reason for the calamity!" he accused pointing a brazen finger at Jane.

"He is right!" Proclaimed Lord Drek. "Had this mortal wench not be meddling in affairs to great for her mortal comprehension she would have never come into contact with the Aether!" He pointed out.

"Then none of this would have ever happened," Lady Leoma rationalized.

"Quiet," Master Alvis stated gently. He waved back to hush his league of scholars. " Let her speak," he said and then offered her a hand. "Go ahead, my child."

Jane Foster smiled, she started to part her lips, but before one word could escape her lips there was an interjection, "Master Alvis, please you can't be serious!" He exclaimed.

"Don't you get it?" Jane screamed out. "I want to help!" She howled in a ragged voice. Her throat was throbbing as she could feel fresh, hot tears starting to burn the back of her hazel eyes. "I know! I know! I know all of this is my fault," she hollered. The shrill sound of her voice stopped the mages from bickering. The female scientist burst into a puddle of tears. Lady Sif came to her side. She stood behind the auburn haired astrophysicist and simply put a hand on her shoulder. She patted it with a firm and steady rhythm. Jane continued the shake and hyperventilate. After a little while she settled. Somehow knowing that she had this strong and powerful female warrior of Asgard to stand behind her gave her some courage. She managed to pull her hands away from her flushing damp face. Her lip was trembling and her nose was running as she stared into the faces of the esteemed wizards and enchanters of the realm. Their critical gazes had seemed to vanish and they were replaced looks of deep embarrassment and woe. "I never...never wanted any of this," she gushed through her weeping. "D-d-do you think I wanted to do this to your world?' Jane asked as she gestured wildly about. "Nononon," she mumbled as she tried to wipe the tears that were rapidly flowing from her eyes. "I wish I would have never met Thor if I would have known it would lead to this," she sniffled. Sif immediately stopped patting and quickly, quirked her dark brow and looked down at Jane. "I never wanted this," Jane repeated. "But I do want to help," Jane admitted her voice getting firmer. "Do you all understand that?' Jane demanded of the mages. "I want to help!" she practically screamed.

Lady Chamira looked down. Her voice was low and raspy. "It is presumptuous to assume that you could help, let alone that we need it," the tall and stately enchantress folded her arms over her chest.

Jane fired back right away. "I saw the vision that you all shared," Jane said pointing to individuals in the band of mystics.

"How?" Barked at Lord Drek.

"Now that is enough, all of you," Lady Leoma spoke up sharply. She jumped in front of Lady Jane who was looking heated and flustered and wearied. She stood protectively in front of the mortal woman as if she was defending one of her own daughters. "What does it matter how she came to see the vision?"

"Lady Leoma, be reasonable this mortal could be lying," stated Lord Einsmyth with his lips snarled.

"I'm not lying," Jane shouted over Leoma's shoulder. "I know what I saw!" she railed. "I saw it all! Clear as day same as you," she barked. "I saw the new star forming and I saw the supernova that gave way to the creation of Mjolnir," she continued.

The knowledgeable mystics of the realm of Asgard looked puzzled and troubled by Lady Jane's inexplicable knowledge of the vision they had shared. They started to nervously chatter amongst themselves trying to find some reason that would explain why Jane had shared in their open dream. Lady Leoma listened to her esteemed colleagues ramble off about the implausibility of Jane actually being able to see such things. Some said that the mortal was simply lying while others based on her clear knowledge of what had actually taken place in the vision assumed that it had to do with her connection to the Aether. That even though the dark crystal had been extracted from her that somehow of its powers had still been left in her system. The infinity stone had the power to grant visions. Finally, the enchantress spoke up. "It is obviously a sign," Lady Leoma stated firmly. She looked around wildly and earnestly at her friends. "Perhaps the Norns have granted her the ability to see this vision for this very reason. It is obvious that she understand the stars and the inner workings of the cosmos," she explained.

"We have no more time to deliberate masters," announced master Alvis. "We have not come up with a solution on our own and each second brings us closer to Ragnorok. Who are we to deny any of the ideas that the fates may have provided us to save the Nine Realms," he stated. "Lady Jane, please pay no more heed to these enchanters. Tell us all you have observed and all that you know. For Norns only know if it shall be our salvation."

Lady Jane bobbed her head and swallowed hard. :Thank you, Lord Alvis," Jane said. Her voice was still and small. In trembling hands she took the book and presented to the elderly enchanter. "When I was gazing upon the vision a thought crossed my mind. Each one of the phenomenon that occurred to create the two relics had to do with events that caused gravitational shifts. When a new star is being formed it creates its own new gravity. Causing it to be a sun and enable planets to orbit around it," Master Alvis nodded along. "Likewise, it is almost the opposite when a star is dying and eventually turns into a blackhole. It is forming so much gravity, so fast that nothing can escape," she continued.

"Yes that is well and good, but what is the point, Lady Jane?" Asked Bardok as he actually yawned. "We know all this," he replied.

Jane narrowed her gaze and shot daggers through her hazel eyes. "The point is," Jane paused and made her "s" hiss and sizzle on her tongue, "That according to my calculations you might be able to put the Aether into stasis by disrupting the gravitational fields all around the Aether might be enough to keep the powers of the crystal at bay until the zenith of Convergence has passed," she expressed.

For a moment the small gaggle of scholars whispered to one another and seemed to come to agreement with the words of the female scientist. "The logic behind your theories seem sound enough, Lady Jane," admitted Lord Einsmyth. He said the words through his teeth and grimaced like he had a bad taste in his mouth, "but what are you actually suggesting we do about it. He stroked his gray and black beard. "Gravity is a force that is hard to overcome; even for the most learned of mystics. To manipulate the force around oneself if difficult enough in order to perform levitation, but to do something on this scale..." He mashed his lips together and shook his head. "well you'd need much more power than the few of us can generate." he explained pointing to the rest of the enchanters around him.

Jane allowed a small, sneaky smile to be displayed over her face. "Well what if the power that you need to conjure through magic could actually be simulate with science," the astrophysicist winked.

Master Alvis' white eyebrows were raised and his bald forehead was immediately filled with creased. "What are you actually suggesting?" He questioned.

There was an eager, desperate look in Lady Jane's eyes as she beckoned the rest of the mages over to her to show them her scientist's notebook. The Asgardian mystics quickly surrounded the mortal woman. Jane vigorously flipped through the pages of her notebook until she finally landed on the right page. "It's a prototype for a machine I made," she explained as she showed them the detailed drawing of a metallic conductor rod. She explained to them the nuances of her invention and how it worked. "I made it to detect seismic and gravitational anomalies," she explained. "While I was searching for," her voice cut off for just a moment. Her hazel eyes darted up to come face to face with the intrigues and curious looks of the scholars surrounding her. Jane's palms grew moist. Her breath hitched just a bit, her tongue felt dry. "Looking for Prince Thor," she whispered and immediately she dropped her eyes back to focusing on her notebook. "It is a good reader," she indicated. "It can cause brief disruptions in gravity," she went on. "It can make things levitate and cause things to shift in their positioning, implode, explode...well in theory at least," she breathed.

"In theory?" Lord Drek raised his head and eyebrow as he looked up from the scribblings.

"Well I haven't tested its complete capabilities yet," Jane shrugged. "I mean it is not like I had any reason to cause seismic shifts," she said defensively. "But I've done plenty of small tests in remote areas and its worked perfectly at detecting even small anomalies."

"Well this is quite a gamble," said Master Einsmyth as he rolled his eyes. "These our lives we are talking about," he started to shout. "The lives of our families and friends, of the entire universe!" He explained and it seems too much of risk to just go with some human scholars little conjectures," he sneered.

"Listen, you pompous windbag," Lady Sif said stepping from behind Lady Jane's back. She strolled over to the master mage as if she was leading a whole battalion behind her. Even though she was banged up and bandaged and stripped of a good bit of her armor Lady Sif was no less intimidating. She pointed her finger in the man's face. "I've heard just about all I'm going to hear out of you," she stated. "Out of all of you!" She threatened. "You squabble and bicker like a bunch of little children," she snorted. "Maybe you can get away with that in your debate halls and lecture circuits, but not here. Not in my presence. Not at a time like this," the warrior woman explained. She marched around and spoke to them like general preparing her troops for battle. "By noon tomorrow Convergence will be here! And if we all don't act... then Ragnorok will be upon us for sure It will be irreversible and our fates will be sealed. And all any of you have the gall to do is stand around trying to fight against the only one who has come up with some plan to combat the Aether. For shame!" She spat. "Well I've had enough!" She shouted in the enchanter's face. The older man shrank back. Sif voice was strong enough to be heard ringing over a battlefield and a blast from her was enough to put a fear in anyone. "Now let me make this very clear, masters," Sif said with a sneer as she faked a bow before the wisemen. "The next snigh, critical remark I hear spoken against Lady Jane, will be your last," she warned. Sif immediately pulled out a dagger from her belt and she stuck it directly under Lord Einsmyth's chin. "For I will cut out your tongue," she threatened. Sif's breathing was hard. "Do I make myself clear, Lord Einsmyth," Lady Sif asked she flipped the dagger from out beneath his chin to pointing it at his nose.

For a moment the enchanter could only bob his head. He was sure that if he uttered a word that female Einherjar would cut it off. Still he could see that Lady Sif had he hand to her ear so he mustered up the courage to speak. "Y-yes, Lady Sif," the burly man's voice came out as a squeak.

Sif's chapped lips pulled into a wicked smile. After all these years there was still little that delighted her more than humbling a man full of arrogance. "Good," she stated and quickly sheathed her knife. "And the rest of you?" The Einherjar general asked as she raised her eyebrow and gave a stern glance toward the council of mages. Instantly, the started to mumble their apologies and their agreements. The brunette shield-maiden's smug grin never faltered as she slipped back behind Lady Jane. Jane stood gaping as she beheld Sif slip back in her corner. She had to shake her head to clear the look of shock off of her face.

"Lady Jane, your math and figures seem sound enough," admitted Lady Chamira, "Based on the equation you have written here," she pointed to a long list of numbers that were written just so on the page. "It wouldn't take much to figure out how to create another to cause these rifts," she nodded. "But with all respect gravity on Asgard and Midgard are very different. Asgard is known as the realm eternal for a reason. It would take much more force than your machine could render to cause such shifts here," she stated flatly.

Jane was crestfallen. She had been so certain that her idea would work. It just had to work. She just had to be able to do something to help. She could feel new tears starting to form in her tear ducts. She couldn't bear the thoughts of having to watch everyone die and not being able to do a thing to stop it. In response the young scientist had all been able to offer a very dull, soft and unintelligent sounding, "oh."

"Wait!" Bardok called. He practically snatched Jane's book out of mid-air he saw it was starting to fall from her hands. "Lady Chamira is right, Master Alvis," he began showing the book back to the elder. "All of the mechanics are correct. It would only take some minor adjustments to refigure the equations needed to make this contraption equipped to manage the gravity and atmosphere of Asgard," he offered. "Besides, once Convergence is at its peak gravity, physics and the links between worlds will be in flux and weak. It wouldn't take much configuring to cause the shifts," he expressed.

"You're right, Bardok, my boy," the old, bald sage clapped the youngest member of the council of scholars on the back. He started to laugh. "By the Norns, I think we may be on to something now," he clapped his hands and then rubbed them together. "Merciful Ygddrasil, please let us be on to something," he put his hands together and prayed. "Lady Jane let me and the other enchanters see your rods and we will work with them. The calibrations should not take us long to figure," he turned to his fellow mages and they all nodded in agreement. "Now my dear, how many of these devices do you have?" Asked the sage.

"W-what? You mean presently?' The female scientist asked.

"Yes, presently child. Come, come," remarked Lady Chamira as she rolled her eyes.

Jane's lips fumbled and pursed, she fiddled with her book, "Well I have five or so," she stated her voice quite small

"Hmm," Lord Drek paused. "We'll certainly need more than five," he figured. "Your schematic is very well drawn Lady Jane, but quite frankly I would need to get my hand on the real thing to be able to duplicate it. We need enough of these post around the entirety of the palace. Only then will they be able to cause enough rift within the natural gravitation to possibly be enough to slow down the natural process of orbits created by the Convergence."

"Well, that is just the thing, you see," the auburn haired astrophysicist mumbled as she kept her head down. "I don't have them with me," she breathed.

"What?" Barked Bardok? "Well where are they?" He demanded.

"Earth," Jane responded. "In my laboratory back in England to be exact," Jane explained.

"Well of what use is that to us?' Master Einsmyth practically shouted.

"Calm yourself master," instructed the eldest female sage.

"I'll not be calm, my lady, not for even one moment more," he insisted as he threw his hands in the air and started to pace about. "This mortal," he snarled glaring back at Jane crookedly over his shoulder. "She comes in here spouting off theories and conjectures like she is supposed to be our savior," his voice was cruel as he pointed to her.

"Watch your tongue man or lose it!" Warned Sif in a dark, low and menacing tone. She quickly drew her hand to find the hilt of the knife she had before.

"I know how to build it!" Jane choked out. "I built all of them myself, but it took me weeks," Jane confessed. She looked around bewildered and lost. "I'm sorry," the sandy-haired woman's voice broke. "I thought I could help. I thought it would work...I'm so scared. "

"There's no need to fear," stated Lady Leoma. She put a hand on Jane's shoulder and then as she felt the young woman tremble she pulled her into a tight hug. Jane broke into miserable dry-heaving sobs. "Shh-shh-shh, now deary" Lady Leoma said. She pushed Jane off of her gently. Jane looked into the woman's sweet and pleasant face. She had a face that had a beautiful smile on it that stretched long and wide, plain as day. "What you've done is brilliant! It truly is." She encouraged. She grabbed Jane by the face and started to nod. "It has a chance of working. Well I supposed everything stands a chance of working, but this more than most,' she explained rapidly to Jane. "What may have taken you weeks to build on your own on Midgard will not take us so long here." She assured her. "Come Masters!" She called toward her friends and comrades in the mystic arts. "We must try," she pressed them. "For the sake of our king and queen and Prince Thor and Asgard and all that is good and beautiful in the Nine realms, we must" she urged.

"She's right," the elder sage woman agreed. "By all accounts we must." The old wisewoman's voice was soft and gentle like a prayer

"We'd never be able to build enough," Bardok said as he dropped his head.

"Not us alone," Lady Leoma began. Her earnest smile did not waver. "But if we got ever tinker, blacksmith, mage apprentice to help, well yes we most certainly could. "Yes, yes!" Master Alvis nodded.

"And not just them alone either," the chocolate tressed shield-maiden chimed in, "But all," she added. "The people want help. Every man, woman, boy and girl of true Aesir blood wants to do something to fight for our existence!" She spoke up. "As why should they not? Let them help. Even the children can run and get parts and scraps of metal to create the machine," she said as she walked about in between the mages.

"Yes," Master Alvis repeated once more. "We must utilize every person we can spare. Every person who isn't injured or caring for the injured must be used, he said declaratively.

"it is decided then," Lady Chamira stated flatly and all the other mages echoed their agreement.

Jane smiled and beamed as she heard the applause from the mages. She was smiling, but tears still freely gushed from her eyes.

It wasn't but a few minutes later that Lord Algrim, Captain Frell and Prime Minister Audric from Vanaheim quickly came stomping back into the war council chambers. "Masters," Lord Algrim's voice was curt and clipped as he greeted them. "I pray that your collective wisdoms have reached some conclusion of the matter and have concocted some brilliant scheme in which the Aether can be stopped," he questioned. The chamberlain tried to keep his voice even keel and passive. But everything about the man seemed to be fraying at the seams from the dirt and blood that he had never managed to find the time to rid or rinse himself of, to the way his silky, white strands of hair stood up on end like it was a windy day or the way his long, pointy ears kept twitching.

"Indeed we have, my lord," Lord Alvis stated. "But I am embarrassed to report that is was not our wisdoms which uncovered this," he chuckled.

Lord Algrim's expression was severe. He blinked his blank eyes dolefully. He thought he could muster up a look of curiosity to at least feign amusement, but he was too tired and their situation was too dire for any of that. "Really, Master Alvis, then who?" He asked as his white eyebrow raised.

"It was Lady Jane, sir," announced Lord Alvis as he gestured politely toward the human in their midst. The mages started to applaud Lady Jane. She stood shocked and smiling, her dirty cheeks reddening as she heard their claps. She could do nothing but blush.

The Prime Minister of Asgard tried to hold back his surprise. He cleared his throat, smoothed his rumpled collar and his staticy hair. "Well..." He went on, "Lady Jane, you have an idea there?" He asked as he pointed toward her little black book with his bony white fingers. Jane nodded vigorously and then rushed toward Lord Algrim. She and the esteemed scholars of Asgard all started talking at once and very excitedly. They each were in earnest to explain different pieces of the plan. The leader of Asgard's High Council tried to take in as much as he could of the elaborate scheme that had been hatched. "Well...well...well," Lord Algrim said as he shook his head. "This is quite a plan," he nodded.

"It is very extensive," said Captain Frell. "There are a lot of variables," said the military strategist," as he looked at Lady Jane's device. he didn't understand the mechanics of the machinery, but he understood the thought of using advanced weaponry in battle. Technology could certainly give an army an advantage over its opponent, but it didn't necessarily win battles. Their were many factors that could go wrong with technology. He was more old fashion than some of his fellow military experts. Perhaps that was one of the reasons that he hadn't been on Asgard's High Council for more than about a quarter of a century, but he knew that it was skill and the spirit of soldiers that won battles not fancy technology or new-fangled weapons. "Have you figured the percentage of risk?" he asked looking up from the book.

"We understand that it is risk, Captain Frell" said Master Alvis, "It's not full proof. A lot of things are unknown, but at this point it is the only plan we have that can make a counter measure to the Aether," he expressed.

"In battle nothing is certain," Captain Frell acknowleged.

"it is this or nothing. No one knows our fates, but I as a warrior would certainly rather die knowing that we indeed did try our utmost and that we did everything in our powers than to think we didn't give one plan a chance that may have worked," Lady Sif interjected.

"She is right," Lord Audric stepped forth. "It is worth it. No matter what the risk or how slim of a chance it provides," he advised.

"It is settled then," stated the Elfin Prime Minister of Asgard. "Under the instruction of Lady Jane and our wise mages we will prepare to build these...rods," Lord Algrim stated. "Wake everyone up," he instructed some of the guards that were around him. "Everyone who is not completely incapacitated we need working on this project," he proclaimed. "Wake them! Wake them!" He ordered clapping his hands. "Assemble everyone to the Great Hall," he commissioned the guard standing by his side. "No one will sleep tonight," he stated and started to chuckle.

"That is alright, sir" responded Lady Sif. "Tonight could be the last any of us see. Why wouldn't they want to live it to the fullest," she winked.

Prince Thor hobbled into the illustrious banquet halls of his palace home. The room was dimly lit. Malekith had breathed like a dragon and blown his Aether tainted breath on to the fires that normally glowed so brightly against the crystal chandeliers. Normally, when the warm golden fires were set a blaze against the crystals the beautiful light display was a thing of wonder and beauty that seemed to be rivaled only by the constellations in the heavens as the light danced across the splendid gold ceiling and marvelous marble floor of the banquet hall. But the Aether perverted everything that was good and pure and beautiful and made it something horrendous. Now the warm flames had been turned into fires that were a hellish red. The exuded scolding heat and they did not reflect so prettily against the crystals. In fact the reflection they rendered was hideous and scary. Dark red shadows were made to crawl across the floors and walls. The images cast looked like red devils.

The large golden tables that were supposed to be decorated to the nines with silk and satin tablecloths colored royal purple, blue, scarlet and gold. The silverware would be polished and shined and glistening, the jewel studded china would sparkle and gleam. The centers would be decorated with elaborate centerpieces. They'd be carefully selected by the queen of Asgard herself or the headmistress of the household staff. They'd have large bouquets with the most exotic and beautiful flowers. Their colors would be bright and vibrant a visual feast for the eye while their mouths feasted upon the scrumptious delectable fare that the royals had arranged for their noblemen and women to dine upon The displays would be so lush that the palaces guests would feel as though had been transported to a lush rainforest. The smell of said flowers was so sweet and so divine that one could have become intoxicated from their robust fragrance. Other times the tables would be adorned with ornate and lavished ice-sculptures. Some of which would stand 7 or 8 feet tall. Towering over the guests. They would be of most lovely things such as exquisiteness of maidens dancing in the sun. Some would be carved to form the shapes of a scene of glorious battle. While others had been chipped and chiseled after the fashion of animals, horses and bears and lions and eagles, peacocks and unicorns. Then there had even been other times, usually when the headmistress of the palace staff had just wanted to show of that she would arrange for live centerpieces to be displayed before the palace visitors. Those had been true marvels. They'd have large cylinder shaped tanks that reached from table to ceiling sitting in the middle of the table and inside the tanks would be fish. Fish of all colors and sizes and species would swim round and round inside these aquariums. Other times in beautiful gilded cages they'd feature rare birds with exquisite plumages. Their gorgeous features were a vision like rainbows and their songs filled the banquet hall.

But such artistry had been lost upon the Dark-Elves. They tore up the expensive curtains and tablecloths to shreds. They were just like wild animals. They used the tablecloths to dress themselves. They wrapped it about their waists and slung it over their shoulders and paraded themselves around like royalty in a mockery of high Aesir fashion. They flipped over the tables and smashed to bits each every last piece of fine china that had been laid out of the tables. They threw it against the walls and cracked it over one another's heads in a frenzied rompus. The diamonds and jewels that had been carefully placed in the in the china were scattered on the ground. And then in spite Malekith would saunter through the crowd of his scoundrels and pluck one shiny, sparkling gem from the ground. He take it in his hands and twirl it about in his bloodless fingers, fiddle with it in between his long, black claws. Then he'd summon just the tiniest amount of power the Aether that he could and with the terrible crystal he would cause every breathtaking jewel to crumble to ash in his hands. The Elves would last at this display. They'd raise their glasses and toast one another soon.

"Soon all of Asgard shall be done the same!" They exclaimed and laughed heartily.

"Not just ask Asgard but the whole of the Nine realms!" Another shouted. he leaped on to the table with great ease and took a deep swig from his goblet. He then tossed his goblet down on the ground. "Glorious chaos," he announced to the rest of the Elfin revelers continued in their celebration. The stomped about in the ash and rubble which they had created.

They went on in their drunken fashion tearing everything apart in the beautiful banquet hall. The pillaged everything. They broke ever sculpture and fixture and vase. The heads of the heroes of Asgard's past lied severed from their stone bodies and broken limbs were crumbled on the floor.

Malekith clapped his hands and called his elves to attention. Soon their wild merrymaking fell still. They turned their attention to their leader. He had taken a loft and elevated position. He seated himself upon the dais. It was the place where Asgard's most beneficient and beloved king and queen could sit and survey their guests as they ate. On the dais sat two royal chairs they were large and highbacked and made of fine opal. Adorning the tops of the thrones were two great crests. They symbolized the very pillars of the royal house of Asgard. Since the time of the Einar when the first kings were chosen these values had held true and run through the core of the royal line and into the blood of the Aesir people. The great crest of the lion sat on top of one throne for courage and the beautiful representation of a wolf for loyalty. Malekith sat beneath the lion.

"Warriors," he called to his troop as he rose from the ornate opal throne. He held up his hands and the soldiers managed to quiet themselves. "In but a few hours the morrow will break and our day will be at hand," he announced. His men roared. They raised their swords and weapons and hooted like baboons. "Convergence will take place once more, just as it did nearly 5000 years ago when we were robbed of our glory," his voice was a low growl. "Remember well how the Aesir stole what was ours. They took our destiny which was to reign over the weakling species of the Nine Realms with an iron fist," he declared as he raised a clenched fist in the air. The crowd of Dark-Elves growled and his hissed as they recalled the time when the light was allowed to flourish. They'd done what they could keep it at bay, but it had grown until now in this new age and era nothing had been left of the wondrous chaos that they had once lived under. "Remember! Remember!" Lord Malekith urged his men. "Remember how the people of the Nine Realms were cowering at our feet begging for mercy. Remember the final battle, when the Aether was set and poised at my fingertips," He said and his hand reached out and his mouth watered as he recalled what had happened millenniums ago. "And then it was snatched away," he reminded them as he closed his hand once more and closed his eyes. The crowd of elves booed. "And who stole it from us?" He demanded of them as his charred eyelids flew open and revealed hideous, hellish red eyes that swirled with the taint of the Aether.

"Bor! Bor!" The mob hissed.

Malekith laughed. "Yes, Bor indeed," he shook his head. He saw how his men in their drunken haze were going wild with anger as they recalled the Aesir king who had defeated them so long ago. The Infinity Stone that was lodged within the Dark-Elf general ebbed and flowed and swelled within his as it absorbed the angry energy of the army. Malekith sucked it up as well. he felt his own rage and adrenaline well up deep within him. "Remember when our world was destroyed! Remembered when your families were slaughtered by the droves in one foul swoop!" he pressed his soldiers. Immediately they started to scream in fury as the old feelings resurfaced in full effect. He could feel it giving the Aether more and more energy. And likewise the more power the Aether gained from the destructive emotions the more amplified those emotions became. This was energy that would be sorely needed in order from the Aether to be able to spread its dark powers through the Nine Realms. "Yes," he sighed tossing his head back and feeling the hot pressure of the Aether absorbing all the negative energy in the banquet hall. He started to tremble and so shook the walls. "Feast! Feast! FEAST!" He breathed as he felt his body binding more and more with the power gem and taking on more of its forces.

Malekith remembered himself as he felt a pair dark, emerald green eyes staring him down curiously. He collected himself and breathed deeply doing what he could to control the force that was thriving within. He stiffened and straightened his shoulders. "Tonight we feast!" He called raising his hands in triumph. His warriors exploded in cheers. "We feast in Bor's honor," the elfin general expressed. The applause died down slowly, for even in their intoxicated state they could not quite catch the drift of their leader's meaning. "Ah, yes, quite," he admonished seeing the stupefied looks on their ghostly faces. "But how can we not feast in honor of our gracious host?" He said with a shrugged. "For tonight to we not dine in the very palace of Bor?" He asked. To this once more his men stomped their feet and hooted and whistled. "Do we not drink the ale and eat the bread of his house?' Malekith expressed. The Dark-Elf warriors answered in the affirmative. "Is the very one who was not raised as a member of the family of Bor not this very day our ally?" Asked Malekith as he pointed the Jotun who still clothed himself in Aesir flesh. The soldiers continued to scream in praise. "And behold!" Malekith said as he pointed toward the door that led from the kitchen and into the banquet hall. "Tonight is not the own flesh and blood of Bor our serving wench?" He proclaimed and pointed his hand toward the great gold doors that led from the kitchen and into banquet hall. "Behold!"

The soldiers heads swung and they saw the tall, blonde Asgardian prince standing in the doorway. It was a wonder that he was standing at all. Each and everyone of the Dark-Elf soldiers had made painstaking effort to make sure that they had inflicted as much torment on the crown prince of Asgard as possible. They had beat him with leather straps, taken turns punching him repeatedly with brass knuckles. They hadn't hesitated to allow the thunderer to feel a jolt as their taser whips danced across his back. Even when he was down they'd kicked him and as he coughed and hacked and wheezed they'd even refused to give him the smallest sip of water.

Nevertheless there he stood. Though he looked as though he could keel over at a moments notice. His body was a filthy as a hog. He was coated in thick mud, grime and thatch from his time wallowing pitifully in the prison. Though Loki had taken some care to anesthetize the pain and to patch up some of Thor's more visible wounds, like his broken bones, he had not healed him. He'd given him a quick patch job and even the effects of the new kings enchantments were wearing thin to hold the son of Odin together.

The Dark-Elves stripped the prince of all his raiment. He stood before the savage mob in nothing more than a tatted mesh loincloth. His long blonde hair dangled messily about his head. He was shoeless. They placed manacles around his wrist and his ankles. The shackles bound his wrist together and limited his arm movements. Still it gave him just enough mobility to carry a serving tray. Along his ankles the fetters placed there were connected to a ball and chain. His legs trembled from the weight. Even on his neck they strapped a shackle and connected it to a chain which two of the Dark-Elf guards held fast. They had Thor blindfolded and his head swung back and forth wildly as he tried to orient himself with the familiar yet perplexingly strange surroundings.

King Loki blinked his bright green eyes and nearly stood out of his seat upon seeing the sight of the man he had once referred to as a brother.

"Behold!" Malekith roared once more as he pointed to Prince Thor. The elves went ballistic.

A/N: Alright, well, you made it! For better or for worst you made it to the end of the chapter. So now that you've read it, I can tell you that the whole point of this chapter was to give Jane's scientific work some purpose in the final battle. It the movie, Thor: The Dark World, Jane's character was sooo under developed and the use of her machinery was very much so a forced plot device. I wanted to make her more useful and give a reason as to why they would need her in the final battle to stop the Convergence. Now, I am not a scientific person so all my facts may be off, but hopefully it made enough sense to work with the story. Lastly, the next chapter should be the climax... so if you've read thus far...you've been in the game too long not to let me know what you think.