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?

45. Take Me In, My Dreams Recurring

A/N: HEEEEEEELLLLLOOOOO READERS! OMG! It has been so long since I have updated and honestly it has been too long and I apologize. I am always writing, but sometimes I only get a half hour or so to write in a day especially being back in school. Anyway, I thank each and every one of you for your follows, favorites and reviews I treasure each and every one of them and if it wasn't for you I wouldn't have gotten this far with the story. THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! (Blows kisses). this chapter was particularly hard to write I thought it was going to be the big climatic chapter, but of course, the characters ran away from me and went off on their own tangents. I'm not completely satisfied with it, but I did my best and hopefully it makes you even more excited for the climax! Well without further ado I give you chapter 45. Happy Reads and Writes and God Bless you richly.

Disclaimer: Song referenced is gods love Nubia from the Broadway Musical Aida.

Chapter 45

Jane Foster wiped her brow as she finished screwing together some of the last pieces of wire to her magnetic energy converter. The metals and elements of Asgard were somewhat different from those on Earth and yet after talking with the engineers, enchanters and technicians that Asgard had to offer they were able to find the proper conversions and measurements that they needed to create the equipment.

She was exhausted. She was spent both mentally and physically and was running on fumes and yet all at once, she felt like she had the energy and strength of ten men. She was everywhere all at once. One minute she was evaluating the work of others and telling them how to make minor adjustments to the scanners and dials so that they would be able to measure and to measure an input seismic and gravitation shifts perfectly. The next minute she was rushing off with the engineers to find parts.

Then she pounded pieces of iron and metal flat with heavy mallets. She had blisters and burns on her fingers and hands and arms from just carrying pieces of hot lead from the forgery. She had cuts from twisting the copper wirings. Then she'd rush off to discuss matters of logistics and physics with Asgard's scholars. They knew the outlay of the palace and they knew the nature of Convergence in ways that she didn't and taking heed to their expertise allowed her to know just many gravitational readers they would need to pull this off.

Jane couldn't remember the last time she'd felt such fatigue. Perhaps when she'd pulled all-nighters in undergrad after partying on the weekends. Sometimes it had seemed like she'd go a whole week on 15 hours of sleep. Or maybe it had been when she was a graduate student working two jobs trying to obtain her Master's degree. Or perhaps it had been when she was trying to write her thesis for her doctoral studies. Between her research, her paper and her studies there seemed like there had been very little time for shut-eye. Not to mention that the few hours that she did find for rest had been taken up by Donald Blake, he had no care for her need to sleep or decompress, he always had something that he needed her to attend charity banquets at the hospital where he performed his residency, weddings and birthday parties for his frat-brothers, brunches with his mother and father and their buddies at the country club. She slept walk through 75% of the occasions and honestly, she couldn't blame his family and friends for disliking her so, by the end of their relationship. She was sure she never made a good impression at those events, but how could she? Sometimes she would beg him for a night off. She'd tell him how tired she was or how much work she had on her plate, but her handsome beau was quick to trivialize the matters of her life. He'd quickly remind her that she was only working on getting a doctorate in physics, while he on the other hand was an actual doctor a man who would be responsible for saving lives and making a difference in people's lives. He also reminded her of his pressing social obligations, he was the son of a mayor and a future Olympian, he would soon represent the United States on a global scale. By the end of that relationship was grateful for the break-up she was more than ready for solo Friday nights where she could put her feet up and read a good book sipping a hot cup of tea, that was all the social calendar she needed.

She was no stranger to hard work, she was no stranger to being tired, but this was beyond that. Her heart was pounding and her head was aching, her brow was dripping and her hands were shaking, she was on the verge of collapse, but she kept working tirelessly like woman possessed. She had to work. Work was what she was good at and she wanted to work. Her work had always been her life. She supposed she'd never been well rounded. Since she was a young girl she had always loved science and stars and space. She'd dedicated herself to them since her childhood and it became an obsession of her's after her father died. Carrying on his life work and following through with his legacy meant everything to her. It was the only way she could think of to be close to him. Her father was a great man, a brilliant man, he'd been driven by a dream and that dream had killed him, but his dream didn't die with him. She had been determined to make his dream a reality and make his name known and if it took her having a one tracked mind then so be it. Her father's name was worth it.

Still in the moments since she'd come Asgard she had in every way regretted her one tracked mind. She felt like such a fish out of water here. She supposed she had every right to feel that way, for in every way imaginable that was what she was. She'd always been different, but she was used to that, but she felt inadequate in Asgard. She thought of Thor. He was a prince, a future king of not a kingdom, but an entire planet no less, he was a hero and an immortal with power to manipulate the very forces of nature. She felt inadequate. What was she next to all that? She couldn't even imagine why he'd wanted her? Her mother had told her that she was beautiful, but she'd always dismissed her mother's compliments. Weren't all mothers supposed to tell their daughters' they were beautiful? She supposed being with a man like Donald Blake had at least convinced her that maybe there was some validity in her mother's words. Donald was as handsome a man as she'd ever seen until she'd met Thor, of course. He was also extremely vain, he had made it very clear that he would never settle for anything less than what he found the best and his looks-focused family had also approved of her. She had almost resented them for it. She'd never tried to focus on her looks, she hardly wore make-up, didn't dress up in fancy designer clothes or even get her hair done, she didn't even think she owned a pair of stiletto heels. She certainly wasn't a princess, how could Thor have wanted her so...loved her so? She'd never taken anytime to fix-up her appearance, she'd never wanted to. She'd always wanted to loved for her mind and for her work. She wanted someone who respected her passion and dedication to the sciences.

Now, part of her cursed her own passion and dedication to the sciences. It was her "work" that had led her to coming in contact with the Aether. If she hadn't developed the tool to find gravitational anomalies she would have never found the Aether and Thor would have never brought her to Asgard. None of this would be happening. She knew it was all her fault. And she couldn't be angry at the people who blamed her for this tragedy. She was indeed responsible. She wished she could just leave, just go and all this madness would just disappear and that Convergence wouldn't take place and that Ragnarok would be no more. But it was too late for such wishes. They were but hours always from Convergence now and with that Ragnorok. It meant everything to her now to know that her work could possibly be their salvation. It was a long shot, but if all calculations were correct with her machines were correct and with destiny and fate on their sides, maybe...just maybe...this could work. Wouldn't Donald Blake be surprised to find out that it was the work of a physicist and not a medical doctor who had saved lives after all.

She was impressed by the strength of the people of Asgard. As she wiped her brow and dusted off her hands and looked out among the crowd of people she saw their relentless effort to save their lives, their world and all the worlds of the galaxy. Each and every Asgardian present, young and old, rich or poor, man, woman and child was doing something to help. Even those who did not possess the skills to build her contraption found something they could do to help. Children held up the schematics for the rods for the technicians and tinkers, the elder served water to those who were sweating in the forgery as they pounded hot metal with their gavels. Women sat in groups twisting and braiding the wiring for the rods. Warriors lifted and carted heavy iron to be processed. Some people just took to cleaning up the bits of debris that were scattered about everywhere. Many, still chose to look and care for the infirmed. There were so many who were still far too weak and injured. The numbers were staggering and it was overwhelming to many of the trained medical and healing staff that they had at their disposal in the shelter. Many of the elderly women did what they could to relieve the healers. They cooked and changed linens and bandages, they brought water to cool fevers.

All their efforts had paid off well, with everyone working and pulling and doing what they could to help prevent Ragnarok in whatever way they could, they'd managed to make nearly 50 seismic conducting rods. It was a good number, but it wasn't quite good enough. She and the mages and scholars had discussed how much power her shifting rods had and they had all concluded that they would need at least 200 or so to be powerful enough to cause the Aether to go into shock long enough to let Convergence pass them by. 150 more conducting rods would take hours to build even with all hands on deck. What they needed was more time. But there wasn't enough time, there wasn't nearly enough time. Jane worried her hands. She wrung them like they were wet rags. The Asgardians had been making every effort and building without ceasing, but still, there was so much other work to be done, battle plans were still in the works, weapons needed to be sharpened and secured and there were so many wounds that still needed tending. And rest. The people needed rest. They'd all been through so much, they'd watched their home be ripped away from them, saw their government topple and seen many of their loved ones die. So many soldiers were hurt themselves and still, they pressed pass their physical pain and were using all their energy and strength to try and build her rods. They needed rest. The Einherjar would need all their strength to face their enemy on the battlefield tomorrow, the people needed rest to be strong enough to face the horrors that the new morning seemed destined to bring. She needed rest. Her mind was both fried and working overtime all at once. She craved sleep but doubted that she could have even if she wanted to. And she didn't want to absolutely couldn't want to. There was no time for sleep. She had to keep working and keep pressing and keep instructing it was the only chance they had of possibly saving Thor.

Jane's dirty fingers raked through her even grimier hair. She allowed her head to flop into her palms as she leaned heavily on a bench. The hour was growing later and later, there was no way that they could finish making all those rods in time. Even if every single Asgardian worked all night, there was just no way. She shook her head and felt tears prickle behind her light brown eyes. Prince Thor's life was forfeit at dawn and it was nearly dawn, now. The auburn-haired scientist sighed as she tried to muster all her courage and strength. She had started to notice that time seemed to pass much more slowly in Asgard than it did on Earth. The hours seemed to drift by at a leisurely pace. It made complete sense to the young astrophysicist, of course, Asgard was a completely different planet. Perhaps their day was longer than 24 hours. It was quite plausible. An entire year on Mercury was only 88 days. Yes, that must have been it. She looked up and snapped her fingers. Maybe that was why Aesir appeared to live so long because it took several Earth years for their realm to orbit around the sun. The promise of a new theory quickly brought a smile to Jane Foster's lips. Jane kept looking up and thinking that all of a sudden the clock would strike, the sun would rise and it would be too late, but still there was time. he tried to calculate and convert how many hours must have made up a day on Asgard in regards to an Earth day. Then abruptly, the young woman managed to bring her mind the halt. It was an interesting theory, but it didn't matter. It was irrelevant at best. Maybe she was working with more than 24 hours, but then again maybe she wasn't. Either way, they didn't have all the time in the world. And time was of the essence and time was not on their side. Only a miracle could save them now.

The female scientist nodded firmly to herself. She strengthened her resolve. She rolled up her sleeves and prepared to get back to work, she started to head back to work with those who were steadily building the conducting rods. Maybe there was no chance of the building 200 rods, but she would help them build as many as possible. They needed all they could in this fight to prevent the end of the world. And she would not rest until she knew that she had made every possible effort to do what she could to ensure that she tried to save the man and the people she loved.

As she started to walk away from the bench where she had been resting, trying to gather her thoughts, she felt a hand on her elbow. "Lady Jane, a word?" A sultry voice offered her.

The auburn-haired astrophysicist turned around only to find the tall and stately, dark-haired female Einherjar standing by her side. "Lady Sif," she breathed as she raised her hand to her chest as if she was half startled by the other woman's presence. Lady Sif was filthy, her body was covered with soot, ash dirt and blood and sweat. One day had left the warrior woman smelling like she hadn't bathed in days, but despite that, the Einherjar looked strong as ever. "Do you need something?" She responded.

Sif barely gave a smirk as she sized up the mortal woman. Jane too was filthy from head to toe. Her garments were caked with mud. Her hair was coated with slime, her clothes were tattered and were practically falling off of her. She had scrapes and bumps and bruises covering her lithe little body. Somehow, she appeared more bedraggled than the warrior woman who stood before her. She had deep circles under her eyes. The circles were so big it made her look as though she had been in some kind of brutal fist fight. The dark purple rings around her eyes were the only coloring on her face, for beneath the dirt that covered her skin her flesh was pale and washed out. She seemed as though she was barely able to stand on two feet. She was swaying back and forth ever so slightly. Her hands were trembling violently. Her chest was heaving even as she stood there. She was such a frail little thing, to begin with. It amazed the Aesir woman that she had survived. "I thought you might like some tea," she offered as she seemed to produce a cup out of thin air. Although, Jane was sure that Sif had probably been standing there with a cup the whole time she had most likely been too tired to notice.

Jane hesitated for just a moment. It was only after Sif extended the drink further that she started to notice how dry her throat was and how cold her body felt. She reached for the warm mug and cradled it against her hands and chest and mumbled a thank you to the warrior. "Mmm, this is good," she said as she tasted the fresh herbs blended with sweetness to make the perfect warm beverage.

"Ginger root and dragon fruit," Sif explained. "I suggest you try to rest," the female Einherjar instructed. "I am sure Thor would not like seeing you so warn down," she expressed.

Jane took another deep sip of tea from the mug. She squared her shoulders. "Yes, well I also would not like the sight of seeing his head disconnected from his shoulders," she remarked quickly. "And I'm going to do everything in my power to keep that from happening. So, if you will excuse me, Lady Sif," the auburn-haired woman said as she tried to dismiss herself. She started to set the mug of delicious tea back down on the arm of the bench.

This time it was Sif's turn to square her shoulder. She clenched her jaw and tightened her fist. She breathed deeply through the nose. There was a wild urge raging deep within her to jump on the mortal woman's back and wrestle her to the ground for such a statement. She was a warrior of Asgard, an Einherjar who'd sworn an oath to protect the royal family at all costs. To imply that she didn't want to do everything within her power to keep Thor alive was an insult to her creed. She considered herself to be Thor's closest friend. At one point she had been the closest woman to him aside from him mother. And she still didn't believe that the Midgardian scientist harbored stronger feelings in her heart for Thor than she did. She had loved Thor centuries. For Jane to say such things to her was an insult to the relationship that she had with Thor. Still, Lady Sif managed to keep her composure. All emotions were running high. Besides, she knew that Lady Jane was no match for her physically. Fighting her would prove nothing. "And you think I want any less!" She raged from behind. "Thor is my prince and my friend...I'd do anything for him!" She countered.

"And he is my lover!" Jane shot back her voice was strained and unsteady. It cracked as the words tore from her lips. Sif's body froze as she heard the words spew forth. Jane's lips quivered. She sucked her lips back in and placed her hand over her mouth, she immediately regretted the words she had said. She and Thor weren't lovers. Not in the truest sense of the word. They'd never made love. But if they survived this. She would be sure to change that.

"You're lovers?' Lady Sif's questioned. Her eyes scrutinized the astrophysicist. She could feel a lump forming in her throat at the thought of Thor and Jane having shared a night of passion together. Her blood started to boil. She'd lived centuries and had never known the pleasures of the flesh. She'd waited patiently for a lifetime, hoping a praying that she'd be able to give herself to one man and one man alone. Now the very thought that that man had shared the bed of mere mortal made her want to vomit. She swallowed the lump of nausea in her throat.

"No," Jane Foster confessed quickly. "But I do love him," she corrected and squared her shoulders once more. She bit her lip as she waited for the warrior woman to fire back another response.

Sif sighed and rubbed her temples and forehead. "Everyone here loves Thor and Asgard and their families and their friends, they are working hard to save those things," she explained flatly.

"Yes," Jane barked back all too quickly. She immediately regretted speaking on earnest impulse. She lowered her tone and dropped her gaze. "As am I," she went on. "I have no right to do less than everyone else," she insisted.

"You are not the same as us," Sif expressed coolly. "You are not made of what we are. Your body not as strong, why even our children..." She pointed out to the youngsters who scampered about collecting and grinding and sharpening tools.

Jane scowled, the female Einherjar thought of her as frailer than a child, maybe she was right. The thing's that the Aesir had been through on this one day alone would have probably wiped out an entire city on Earth, still, the majority of Aesir had survived. "I know you think of me of just a weak and useless mortal, Lady Sif," Jane countered.

"Your words not mine," the brunette woman remarked with a cheeky expression tugging at her lips.

"But I'm still going to do everything within my power to try and save Prince Thor, your world and mine," she protested. "I have to," she nodded firmly. "I have to," she muttered. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head as she pushed tears through her closed eyelids. "it's all my fault, after all," the auburn-haired astrophysicist started to blubber.

"Please, Lady Jane," Sif said as she took the other woman firmly by the shoulder and spun her around. She shook her head and scowled as she stared into her watery hazel eyes. They were trembling like a child after waking up from a bad dream. "No," she shook her head. "Don't give yourself such credit," she admonished. "Don't you dare claim responsibility for the heinous happening," she warned her.

"B-b-but, it is my fault," Jane protested weakly shaking my head. "You were merely the host body for the Aether," she explained.

"B-b-but," she continued stumbling and bumbling. "I brought it to Asgard," she pointed out.

"If you would have remained on Earth Malekith would have been in possession of it all the sooner," Sif stated. Jane bobbed her head trying to allow the Einherjar general's words to sink into her mind. "The person responsible for this is Loki," Sif swore and spat after the trickster's name escaped her lips. She squeezed firmly on Jane Foster's forearms. "And he will rot in the deepest circles of Helheim for what he has done, I can guarantee you that much."

"And I want to help bring him there!" Jane declared, she wriggled her thin shoulders free of the warrior's iron-fisted grasp. She looked her dead in the eye.

"You have helped," Lady Sif assured her. She patted the shorter female on the shoulders. "You can't fight a war without weapons," the dark-haired shield maiden elaborated. "Thanks to you, now, we have a weapon," she winked.

Jane rubbed under her leaking nose, her eyes skirted about. "What if it isn't enough?" Jane wondered aloud.

Sif smiled kindly and almost warmly at the other woman. She nearly seemed affectionate. "That is not for us to decide," she shrugged somewhat wearily. "The prophecy says that Ragnarok must come," the Aesir woman explained. "And one day it must," she nodded and allowed her chin to sink into her chest as her chest heaved a deep and gusty sigh. "On that great and terrible day, there will be no escape from destruction," Sif said somberly. Her words made Jane Foster cringe. "But no one knows when that day will be," Sif said in a much lighter and stronger tone. "Perhaps that day lies wait at the strike of dawn," she said her head nodding along to the grim prediction, "But," she countered. The corner of her lips turned up. "Perhaps it doesn't," she gave a wink. "I attend to fight like it is the latter," she expressed. Jane managed to wipe the shocked expression off of her face and exchange it for a grin. Sif chuckled as she noted the other woman's expression. She threw her head back and laughed. "in the words of Prince Thor, 'I have no plans to die today,'" she imitated.

The mortal scientist laughed. She wiggled her finger in the shieldmaiden's face. "That's a pretty good impression," she admitted.

"I've heard it enough to know how to say it," Sif retorted. A smile was spread on her face. She clapped her strong, calloused hand on Jane's thin shoulder. She wondered to herself if she would ever have the chance to hear the bold, blonde-haired prince make the arrogant declaration once more. She swallowed and shook her head and pushed the thought far from her mind. "Yes, Thor always says that," she muttered. "But this is the part I added," she qualified. She leaned over and whispered in Jane's ear. "I'm willing to," she said proudly. "I'm willing to die if that's what it takes for Thor to be free, for Asgard to be saved and the Nine Realms," the warrior proclaimed to the scholar.

Jane grunted, "I am too."

Sif shook her head. "You've done enough, Lady Jane, just look around," she explained and pointed out how the catacombs had become a laboratory.

"I want to do more!" Jane protested.

"There's no more that you can do," Sif expressed. "You honestly should rest," she said with a pitying tone. Her hand still resting on Jane's shoulder.

Jane practically smacked Sif's sturdy bronzed hand off of her shoulder. She held a firm lip and her hazel eyes were on fire. Normally, Lady Sif would have looked at such a gesture as an insult and a challenge. It usually, would have caused an immediate knee-jerk reaction from the female warrior. She would have pulled out a dagger and demanded satisfaction from her challenger. Instead, it almost made the warrior woman smile. She admired the other woman's tenacity. There were very few her were bold enough to do what she did to her. That was probably because there were very few people left with all of their members who had pulled the stunt before. "I'm not just going to roll over to go to bed while others are working to fight for our existence," she snapped. Just that quickly it seemed as though all the fury was drained from the mortal woman. She sank back and her shoulders slumped her body gave into a dreadful quivering. She cradled herself. "It's not as if I could sleep even if I wanted to," she finally admitted as she rubbed her arm. "But I don't want to," she said as her hazel eyes instantly snapped back to face Lady Sif once more. "I want to fight," she declared.

The brunette shield-maiden chuckled. She wagged her head back and forth and then tossed her head back with laughter. "I figured that you'd be saying something like that," she admitted. "But I figured I should go on record for advising you to rest," Sif expressed. "I won't delay you any more than in helping the tinkers," she stated. She gave a sweeping bow and gestured with her hand allowing for Lady Jane Foster to lead the way and begin once again working with her rods. Jane beamed brightly and the warrior woman. Sif stood before her for a moment, the two women exchanging warm smiles like two old friends. The dark-locked Aesir warrior pursed her lips as if she was about to say something, but then sucked them back in and started to turn on her heels to walk away.

"Lady Sif, wait," Jane called as she caught the taller woman by the arm. "I...I...I would be greatly honored if you would teach me how to fight," Jane spoke rapidly and then swallowed the dry lump that had formed in her throat.

"You are going to fighting through the use of your machines are you not?" She questioned as she quirked her dark-brown brows.

"Yes," Jane nodded, "But I don't just want to have to sit somewhere cowering and pressing buttons and turning dials," she went on. "if something happens, I want to be able to fight," she declared clenching her fist.

"We have only a few hours, Lady Jane. No one can learn how to 'fight' in that amount of time."

Jane's shoulders fell for but a moment. Soon she picked her head back up. "You may be surprised," she stated with a wry grin stretched across her dry lips. "I'm a pretty fast learner," she put her hands on her hips.

"Even for a fast learner, impossible," Sif shook her head and folded her arms across her shoulders. "I can't teach you how to fight," she expressed once more. "You are better off fiddling with your gadgets," she warned. "But I can show you a few moves," Sif said as she flipped her head from side to side before producing a radiant grin of her own. Jane automatically became ecstatic. She couldn't help herself. Her feet started stamping and she clapped her hands giddily. All of a sudden, her legs took over and she bridged the gap between them. She immediately flung her arms around the other woman's neck and hugged her tight. Sif postured became rigid and she immediately stiffened at the embrace. Sif had never considered herself an overly affectionate person. Even with the people closest to her she rarely exchanged hugs. She, moreso liked to express her affection with punches, slaps, jabs and wrestling moves. The closest thing she usually gave to a hug was an Asgardian neck embrace. She cleared her throat and never once returned the gesture. After a few seconds of awkwardness Sif slowly pushed Jane off of her. Jane looked like a shamefaced little girl when she finally composed herself. She murmured an apology and hid her hands behind her back. "settle down now, settle down," Lady Sif expressed as she smoothed her tunics. "I said that I can show you a few moves, but I can't teach you how to fight, to become a true warriors takes centuries," she stated. "But I'll show you a few moves to help you stay alive," Lady Sif winked.

Jane bobbed her head in earnest. A few strands of her auburn ringlets fell in her eyes. "Yes, of course, just self-defense, got it," she went on still smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"I don't know how much you will actually be able to learn," Sif shrugged.

"Well we've got all night," the female scientist laughed and threw her hands in the air.

Lady Sif cocked her head to the side and smirked. 'It's gonna take all night," she mumbled under her breath. Sif reached onto her belt and pulled one of her daggers from its sheath. She studied the curved silver blade and traced the line of it with her finger. She continued to allow a slight smile to ghost across her lips. "You know what's funny?" She asked as she continued to turn the knife over in her hands. "I was actually going to ask you to show me how to build a part of that gravitational manipulation rod," she shrugged.

"I still can," Jane informed her.

"Well we have no time to waste," Sif remarked. She sheathed the weapon once more and then tossed it at the mortal woman. Jane fumbled but managed to catch it. "Let's begin."

The two women strolled side by side for a moment as they made their way to an area where Jane could show Lady Sif how to work some of the wirings for the gravitational rods. "Lady Sif," Jane started as she regarded the warrior woman. "I want you to know I really do admire what you've done for yourself. I was the only woman in many of my classes in college and graduate school. I was the only woman at my university to ever receive a doctorate in physics. And...and...I know the adversary I've faced. I can't imagine what you've been through, the struggles you had..." Jane shook her head.

"There have always been female warriors in Asgard, we have had the Valkyrie for 1000s of years, but for a woman to be able to fight side by side equal to a man...that was the challenge," Sif explained as she kept her gaze straight.

"But you did it! You're a pioneer!" Jane exclaimed.

"I didn't do it to be a pioneer or a trailblazer...though I don't mind having the titles," Sif quipped and chuckled. "I did it because I loved rubbing it in the faces of the men and the naysayers," she shared as she turned to Jane and allowed just the tiniest glimmer of a grin to show on her face.

"Amen to that sister!" Jane declared as she raised her hands in praise. Both women laughed.

"You're a pioneer too," the shield-maiden stated as their laughter fell into a bit of silence. "This invention that you have made... it was unprecedented even here on Asgard, I know that there is nothing like it on Earth," she explained to the mortal woman. "If we live through this," she shrugged. "You will make a great name for yourself."

Jane Foster nodded. "Yeah, I always thought I wanted to win a Nobel Prize," she shook her head, "but if we live through this...I can guarantee living will be good enough for me."

Sif couldn't help but let out a humorless laugh, "You and me both," she confessed. She paused in her walk. "Thor always told me that you and I had more in common than I would have probably liked to believe." She sighed.

Dr. Foster bobbed her head in agreement. "Yeah, he told me he thought we could be friends," she replied.

"Well if Ragnarok doesn't doom us all, maybe when this is all over we can try," Sif expressed.

"I'd like that," Jane allowed a warm smile to slip across her lips as she extended her hand. Sif looked down at the mortal woman's hand and completely bypassed the human's cordial offering. She went for her throat and promptly tapped her hand against Jane's thin swanlike neck. Jane did the same.

"Lady Sif!" A husky and mirthful tone called. They heard lumbering, heavy footsteps coming their way at rapid speed as they turned around. Their eyes fell upon the plumpest member of the Warriors Three. "Come, Come what are you doing everyone is gathering in the Great Hall," he explained.

"Why?" The female Einherjar asked.

The red-bearded Viking doubled over as he tried to catch his breath, he had run to find them. "The song...the song," he elaborated while panting. "it's been sung," he said on a deep exhale as he rose to his full height.

"The song!" Lady Sif mouthed as her eyes grew wide. "What?' She asked in disbelief as she looked around. It was just now that she noticed that no one was present in the forgery. There were no soldiers or tinkers or technicians or scholars, no gentry or peasants about. She had been so engrossed in her conversation with Lady Jane that she hadn't even noticed. She hadn't even heard. Her heart pounded in in her chest wildly. It thundered and thumped so loud within her chest and started ringing in her ears. It's beating was so loud that it threatened to drown out all her hearing. She took deep breaths trying to calm herself and still her rapid heart rate. Immediately, once she calmed she heard. She heard the haunting, steady lullaby and she heard the voices of her Aesir brothers and sisters raised in mourning and prayer. They eerie melody gripped her heart and put in a chokehold. Sif's breath hitched and she felt tears sting her chocolate eyes. Quick as a flash, Lady Sif took off running toward the Great Hall.

"Come, Lady Jane! Come. You come too," he beckoned to the human woman. Jane's hazel eyes blinked rapidly as she tried to process what had just happened. She strained to see if she could hear any music, but it seemed as though the song was falling on deaf ears. Before she could even verbalize her confusion she felt a pudgy hand encircle her own. Immediately she found herself taking off at great speed and staggering behind Volstagg. She was amazed at how quickly the bigger man was able to move. She found herself out of breath and her legs stumbling to keep up with his rapid pace. "But-but-but," Jane stammered, "what is the song?" The burly Viking kept the human woman in suspense as he continued to drag her along without uttering a word.

Finally, they came to a stop. Jane found herself winded. When she was able to catch her breath and get her bearings about her she noted the space that they were in. It was a circular chamber with stadium-style seating. The Aesir had all pressed their way in and seemed to be filling every possible seat. Even some of those who were injured had been carried out on gurneys and stretchers to be apart of the meeting. The room was very still and quiet only the faint sound of a few crying children broke the silence. Even then the children were immediately hushed and calmed. A few of the soldiers were dispersing candles amongst the populace. Lord Algrim, Heimdal, Lord Audric and a few other elders and wise men of Asgard stood in the center of the room. They started lighting a fire on two great pyres. Jane looked around and noticed Lady Sif tip-toeing through the crowd climbing toward the top levels of the stadium and making her way to sit with her fellow Einherjar. Jane's expression remained quizzical as she surveyed all that was happening. When Volstagg turned to her she had 1000 questions plainly written upon her face. The plump warrior immediately recognized how puzzled she was. He patted her hand in a consoling manner then put his finger to his pursed lips. Jane sucked her lips back in. Volstagg quietly pointed out Hogun, Frandal, and Sif and then he made his way to the other side of the chamber. He took a seat next to a pleasant-faced, brown-haired woman who matched him in her size. Soon she watched as two children scrambled toward his legs. Both clambered onto the Einherjar. He hugged and kissed each of them, he stroked their hair and kissed the woman on the lips. She leaned her head on his shoulder. Jane shook her head. How had she not known that Volstagg had a family?

The scientist made her way toward Frandal and Hogun. Both of whom were sitting near the Einherjar, but not directly within the huddle. The blonde swashbuckler was surrounded by a gaggle of weeping women, two had perched themselves on his lap, two sat next to him hold his hands and arms and stroking either side of his face. Another pair held onto his legs for dear life. There was one busty redhead who had positioned herself behind him and had her arms draped around his shoulders and chest. Obviously, there didn't appear to be any room for Lady Jane.

Jane walked down a few more rows until she found Hogun. The silent soldier sat quietly by himself next to the wall. She could scarcely say he smiled, but when he saw her approaching he inclined his head and patted the empty space next to him, beckoning her forward. Jane made her way and promptly took a seat next to the quiet man. As was normally the case when in the presence of Hogun the grim an awkward silence passed between the two. Jane placed her hands on her lap and fiddled with her thumbs.

After a while, more movement started to take place among the Aesir. They all started rocking and swaying in their seats. They all moved in time and to a distinct rhythm although Jane could hear nothing. They carried on like that for a manner of time, slowly more and more Asgardians started to join in the sway, some stomped their feet and clapped their hands in time to a melody that the astrophysicist could not follow. Soon her inquisitive mind started to turn. As a scientist, she had always been taught to question everything. If you didn't ask questions you'd never get answers. She tried to control her tongue because no one was talking. She doubted that Hogun would even respond, but still, she found the inquiry leaking from her lips. "Hogun, what is going on?' She asked leaning over into his ear.

Hogun opened his eyes narrowly. His lips remained tight and his face intense. She was prepared to be chastised for making conversation at this solemn time. "Tis the song," Hogun answered calmly. His voice was barely above a murmur. Jane's jaw dropped at the fact that he spoke to her.

"What song?" She asked.

"Can you not hear it?" Hogun questioned back. He raised his hand to his ear. Jane shook her head. "Mmm," Hogun hummed. Then he returned to silence. His closed his eyes and folded his hands. His body started swaying along with all the other people present. Jane's shoulders slumped and she sighed, she tried to still herself and listen, but still, she heard nothing. "Tis the song of our ancestors," Hogun explained leaning back over and whispering in her ear. "In the ancient times, there was once a time when many of the Aesir had been taken slaves by the Fire Giants, lead by Surtur," he explained. "Asgard was not the powerhouse then that it is now," he reminded her. "And the king at that time had surrendered the people to Surtur to keep Surtur from spreading his wrath to the other realms. He was told that if he tried to attack Musepleheim that he would forfeit all the lives of the Aesir who had been enslaved in the fire mines. The king despaired. He felt as though he had failed and he was going to give the throne of Asgard to the demon. But the night before he was to relinquish his crown he heard singing. He heard the singing of a mighty army. He went to his army barracks, but when he went there he did not find the soldiers singing. But the soldiers too heard the song. He and the soldiers set out, going throughout the city all through the night trying to find the origins of the song, but none of the people in the Imperial City were singing and yet all could hear the song in their hearts. Finally, the king sought the counsel of his seer, his gatekeeper. He made his way to the Bifrost Observatory and inquired of the guardian where the song had come from. The gatekeeper told him that it was coming from the fire mines and dungeons of Musepleheim and it was being sung by the people of Asgard. When the king realized that he could hear the cries of his people and when he heard their bravery and strength he knew that he had to fight to save the Aesir people and to save the Nine Realms from the rule of the evil Surtur," Hogun told her. Jane was stunned by the silent man's lengthy explanation. She stammered and sputtered something unintelligible for a minute. Hogun finished his story by saying, "And he did."

"But I don't hear anything," Jane stated.

"The song has only been sung a handful of times in the history of Asgard," Hogun continued. "in times of our deepest sorrow, it is there for us. It connects us with our ancestors, with our king, with our land and with each other." He said as he inhaled deeply. The song was stirring louder and stronger in his spirit. His eyes were closed as he spoke once more. "Perhaps you cannot hear it...because..."

"I'm not one of you," Jane whispered as her head dropped.

Hogun's dark eyes popped open and he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. He did not utter one syllable for a long time, but then finally, after several quiet moments he said, "Listen."

Jane did her best to do so. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the image of people rocking and swaying and stomping their feet and patting their hands to a beat that she could not follow. As she did so she heard Heimdal's steady and heavy bass voice interrupt her concentration. "Children of Asgard," his voice boomed in the silence. "Listen! Listen! Listen!" He admonished. "Listen to the voices of our brethren," he told them. He paused and raised his hands in the air. "Ah, can't you hear them? Cant' you hear their cry in this dark hour?" He asked. "Can't you hear their pain, their sorrow, their fear, their terror?" He questioned. "I know you can," he told the people present in the Great Hall. "Most assuredly you can for it mirrors your own. I can see them," The tall guardian proclaimed, even though his eyes were closed. "I can see them as clearly as I can see anyone of you." He shook her head and his voice shook ever so slightly. "They are gathered outside the Southern Palace. The entire city of Kytheria. They are there. They have rent their clothes. They are cloaked in merely sackcloth and ashes. They are shoeless. Their numbers stretch from the palace gate out to the shining sea." Heimdal's hand stretched forward as if he was reaching out toward the people of Kytheria. "They mourn for us, they mourn for Asgard," he shook his head. "They cry for us all, nay I say they weep and wail for us all," he expressed. He mashed his fleshy lips together. His piercing gold eyes fought back tears. "Our queen in among them," he told the people. "She is broken," he admitted and his own voice that was steady as stone cracked as he beheld their beautiful queen become some broken hearted. "I see them all," Heimdal announced. "The people all over our realm our hearing the song. Men and women and children are gathering in homes and praying for us and for our lives at this very moment," he told them. "From the plains to the Dales to the mountains of the Hill Country to the hustle and bustle of our trade cities they are all joining in song," Heimdal continued.

"Their hope is small. It diminishes with every passing second," he explained. He watched the thousands of faces become more and more crestfallen. he heard the cries and the screams of terror. He watched as some became so shaken with grief and dread that they could no longer stand. They just sank to the ground and pounded sand while screaming and begging for deliverance. Others all the more weakened by the thought of the destruction of their world fainted and dropped like they were already dead. "But is not extinguished just yet," Heimdal reminded them. "They have but a little hope left. Even collectively, their hope is but the size of a mustard seed," Heimdal reported. It was a painful report. So small. Such a sliver of hope was all that the people of Asgard had left. He had watched Asgard for nearly 3000 years. He had seen the realm eternal far on hard times before but never had he seen such despair. "But what hope they have..." He paused and breathed. "What hope they have...it lies with us." He concluded. With that, the stately Gaudian took a step back and inclined his head toward Lord Algrim.

The Prime Minister of Asgard took a step forward. He patted Heimdal on his muscular brown shoulders. He cleared his throat as he took center stage in the Great Hall. "Tonight all the realm is filled with fear," the elfin Prime Minister spoke. "And so are we," he admitted. "As why should we not be? We have beheld the things of nightmares. We have seen the palace destroyed, the city go up in flames, we have seen the power of that dreadful dark weapon, the Aether. We have seen our friends and family slain ruthlessly at the hands of vile beasts," he expressed. His eye cast a quick glance at his fellow prime minister. Lord Audric, in turn, clenched his fist and shut his eyes as he thought of his beloved daughter a young woman cut down her prime. "And yet we survive and we have carried on. Even til this very moment, dear people of Asgard we have carried on!" He said to them. His body was thin and frail looking. Lord Algrim was by no means a warrior. But as he raised a mighty fist in the air, the politician could have easily been mistaken for a general rallying his troops for battle. "We are the last line of defense for Asgard!" he proclaimed. "We are the last line of defense for the Nine Realms!" he continued as he pumped his fist into the air. "We are the last line of defense in preventing Ragnarok!" He shouted. "We are the last line of defense for Prince Thor," he proclaimed. To this, the Light Elf received several hearty hear hears. And thunderous accolades.

"We must save Prince Thor!" A few of the Aesir cried.

"For Asgard!" The warriors in the left wing shouted.

"If we fight, Ragnarok may still take place," Lord Algrim admitted, his pointed ears drooped. "But if we do nothing, if we hide in here and cower like mice then Ragnarok is certain so," he explained. The crowd of Aesir present in the chamber began to cheer!

Lord Algrim smiled as he saw the excitement of the people. They were still strong and still willing to fight for their lives. "When the sun rises," he spoke as loudly as he could and tried to raise his voice over the roar of the congregation. "We will fight to the last man. We will fight to the last breath and do everything in our power to save the Nine Realms!" He raised his hands into the air and immediately all the Asgardians stood to their feet and let out a mighty rally cry. "Now," he started to state. "Let us join with the voices of our brethren and our ancestors. Let us share in our collective grief, let us commemorate our brave fallen friends and let us unite with the spirit of triumph that had been in the blood of the Aesir people since the very beginning," he lectured them. The people kept cheering and clapping. But soon they fell silent. "Each one of you has received a candle." Lord Algrim informed. "As we join in full voice with our brothers and sisters throughout the realm come and light your fire in this sacred flame. It will signify a vigil for all those who we have already lost in these terrible times. Then, we will allow Prime Minister Audric to do the honors of releasing this one crystal orb into the night sky. It had been stored here in safe keeping for such a time as this," he announced.

With that, the people slowly began to walk down from their seats and one by one they dipped the tips of their candles into the lit pyre. Once their candles were lit each person slowly went reverently made their way back to their seat. They remained standing and kept swaying. They all did so rhythmically and smoothly as if they were being swept away by a mighty current. Soon they started to hum. The low droning sound was soulful and stirring and lulling and soothing and mournful. It sounded beautiful. Everyone's voices had blended together perfectly. Jane found herself starting to rock along. Before long the mouths of the Aesir began to sing. The haunting melody seemed to come from the depths of every soul present.

"The pain of Asgard is only for the moment:

The Desolate, the suffering, the plundered, the oppress,"

The tragic words brought tears to Jane Foster's Eyes. Asgard was so wondrous and so glorious and all that was about to be destroyed. The entirety of the cosmos was about to be destroyed and although she realized that the actual event of Ragnarok wasn't her fault she still felt an overwhelming amount of guilt for what role she did play in the possible annihilation of worlds. It didn't take long before large liquid drops were coursing like rivers down her dirty cheeks. She found herself blubbering like a baby. She couldn't bear the thought of everything that she knew and loved being destroyed.

She hardly even noticed the fact that Hogun had led her by the hand down the steps and toward the lit pyre. She blinked away tears and watched as the people of Asgard from the elderly who hobbled toward pyre by leaning on their walking sticks and whose hands trembled slightly as they stretched forth their candles to be set afire by the brilliant blaze, to the youngest of toddlers who could barely walk. Even the babies seemed to be cooing and gurgling and waahing to the beautiful sound of the song of mourning. Jane felt unworthy to even put the wick of her candle near the flame. But with each step, she drew closer and closer to the fire and she knew that it would be considered an act of disrespect if she did not join in with the rest of people present. Slowly, Jane managed to bring a shaky hand to hold a candle over the lit pyre.

Quietly and humbly, she followed Hogun the Grim back toward their seat. His dour expression was matched by every face there. Jane turned her watery eyes to gaze at Hogun once more. The silent warrior's eyes were closed. He had the candle in his hands pressed close to his heart. She hardly expected Hogun to raise his voice in song. She was sure that the quiet and reserved soldier would stay tight-lipped and simply hum along, but she was surprised when his lips parted and his voice came out and strong tenor tone that harmonized perfectly with the rest of the congregation. His voice struck her. It was strained and pained, weak and watery as he belted out the well-known ballad. "The Fates love Asgard, we have to keep believing, though scatter, torn and divided we are still its heart!" He actually had quite a nice voice. It was the type of voice that could have made women swoon, but she doubted that he had ever allowed a woman to hear him sing before.

Still, Jane's guilt was compounded with every note she heard ring out. Even silent Hogun was able to participate in singing the sacred hymn and she was not. It didn't seem right; after all, she was the cause of all this misery, she was the one who'd brought this agent of death and destruction to Asgard's door. She was one who had found this substance of evil and brought it back to the cosmos, she'd done it unwittingly, but she'd done it none the less. She wanted to sing. She wanted to join with the chorus and allow her hearts cry to be heard. She wanted to cry loud and spare not for the people that she loved. Her world hung in the balance just the same as Asgard. The people that she cared about still were in jeopardy. She thought of her mother and Darcy and Eric, she felt even worse for them. They could all be dead in a few hours and they had no idea of what was going on. She wanted to sing and connect with all the people around her. She shared their grief, she was scared to death just like they were and she was sure she was probably more and she wanted to show it. She wanted to let them know how sorrowful her heart truly was for all the calamity that her presence had brought. Sitting there dumbly with no words on her tongue must have made her seem like a callous mortal wench. If only they knew how desperately she wanted to sing and connect with them and with Thor. She was so worried about him. She had no idea the number of horrors that Loki's twisted mind had concocted. The Dark-Elves were like ravenous wolves they would show him no pity. Though she wouldn't speak it to anyone present, but she scarcely thought that Thor was still alive. She wanted to be proven wrong. She wanted to connect with him in this mystical way that Hogun described in not so many words. She wanted to hear and feel him for what could be the last time. They'd never even said the words I love you to each other. Not properly. They'd said it in glances exchanged and in kisses shared, but they hadn't verbalized such feelings and now Jane feared they would never have the chance.

She looked around. Every mouth was open, all were in full voice. Jane's heart broke, if only she knew the words. But how could she? After all, it seemed like this was a song that Aesir children were taught in school, much like learning the national anthem, but somehow it seemed like it was more than that. it seemed as if it was just known like the lyrics were engraved in their souls. She understood, she loved to watch the Olympic games on TV. She often watched the medal ceremonies and when the gold medalist would see their nation's flag drop and hear the anthem of their country played their eyes would always become misty. Others from that person's country would show the same expression on their face. It was an inexplicable pride and connection that ran deep. She was not Aesir. How could she expect to sing along to the mournful tune? She hung her head. Then as she wiped her eyes she looked around. She saw that Lord Algrim and Lord Audric were also singing. They were singing loudly and proudly and with conviction. They were belting out the tune with all their hearts. They were not missing a note of the song. Both of them bore sadness and heaviness on their faces in a sense they seemed even more in tuned and in harmony with the emotions of the song than many of the people around her. And they were not even Aesir. Jane knew that both of them had had long-standing relationships with Asgard, Lord Algrim had been living in the Realm Eternal since he was a youth and Lord Audric had been a long time friend of King Odin's. It was a connection of the soul.

Jane closed her eyes and concentrated. Her soul too was now linked with Asgard. She had come to know this wondrous place. She had seen its beauty and bounty and mystery. She had met the people and experienced their strength and rich culture. She'd made friends, she reminded herself. One of whom she'd already lost. She'd fallen in love with the crown prince of this vast kingdom. She'd mourned with them and she'd done her best to help them. She was preparing to fight with them and possibly die with them. Besides Ragnarok was more than just a catastrophic event for the Aesir it affected everyone. All peoples across the Nine Realms. What started in Asgard would instantly spread across the galaxy. This old hymn was for all the beings that called the Nine Realms home. She was one of those beings.

Jane's hazel eyes fell shut and she slowed her breathing and dis her best to control herself and stop crying. She concentrated, she focused she turned gasping shallow breaths into slow deep intakes she did her best to clear her mind. For just a moment she tried to drown out the thoughts of horror that plagued her. "Please, please, please" her lips muttered silently. She remained mindful and intentional. For a while, the beautiful, melodic words of the ancient Asgardian ballad tickled her eardrum and then all of a sudden like a gust of wind across the sea or a wave breaking across the sound she heard the song a new. She heard the words not merely in her ears, but she heard the lyrics echoing in her soul. The feeling left her breathless. Her mouth was gaping. All of a sudden the song was resounding and abounding in her heart. The words were ingrained in her psyche and they came to her with the quickness in a flash and a flood. Each lyric so poignant each note clear as a bell and so strong and true in her spirit. In an instant, a song that she had never heard before had become memorized like a nursery rhyme. Jane soon found herself smiling and weeping all at once. Still, that was not even the most astounding part.

What was even more miraculous was that she could hear others singing. Not just in her ears, but in her heart and not just the people around her, but others. Others who she had never once seen or met she could hear them. She could hear all the voices. They seemed to come from every corner of the globe. North, South, East and West all the voice flooded her. She could hear how each person struggled to sing through their terror, they struggled to take solace in the words that talked about Asgard being loved and highly favored when they felt godforsaken and abandoned. She could hear the sounds of children blubbering out the words and young men who tried to sound strong. Some shivered as they sang, some of the words were sung from the lips of those who were lying on their deathbeds, but with those final breaths wanted to pray and plead for king and country and for the lives of their family and friends and cling to the tiniest sliver of hope that they could muster. She could hear each heart breaking into a thousand pieces the more and more they sang. And then the voice stretched even further, they went pass being the voices of those currently present in Asgard to the voices of those from the past. Jane's hazel eyes dilated. She heard them! The voices of the ancestors. Their voices were faint, but they were there. They were there and ringing out clear as a bell in her head. Some of the voices sang in guttural tones, some sang like angels, but they existed. And she heard them. Some were speaking in a dialect that was not the current Aesir tongue, but Jane could still understand them. And even more voices joined. Voices from beyond. They weren't the voices of the ancestors, for these voices were far too young and they weren't the voices of the people in the present, they sounded even younger than the children in the multitude around her. They were the voices from the future. Future generations of Aesir were crying out for fear that they would never have a chance to be born.

Jane continued to listen, and soon she was able to pick out distinct voices she could hear the voice of Sif and she could never have imagined the mighty warrior woman sounding so weak. She heard the queen's voice she had never heard such woe. The pain in the royal woman's voice was enough to bring Jane Foster to her knees. She heard millions and millions of voices they were all distinct and yet they were all so perfectly and so magnificently blended. But finally, she heard the one voice that she had been longing to hear. "Thor!" Jane gasped as she heard his baritone voice stammer and croak out the familiar hymn. Pain, agony, turmoil and dread lingered in his intonations. He sounded awful and yet his weak, cracked, broken voice was music to her ears. Tears cascaded down her face. They nearly put out the light of her candle.

Auburn-haired scientist opened her eyes just in time to see Lord Audric lift a glowing crystal orb from a velvet cushioned silver case. His hands shook fiercely as he raised the glowing ball. His voice was strong and yet oh so tender, he sang the song like a lullaby. There were two guards posted on the far side of Great Hall. Each of them standing by a large wooden wheel. They started to crank the wheel and as they did so a small circular opening in the roof of the dome of the chamber began to peel back. No illumination came from the open. The night sky was filled with a hellish red haze of the Aether's ash. Still, the orb rose and floated to the top of the dome and escaped through the small circular opening Just as it made its way to float into the night sky all the Asgardians present raised their candles high over their heads. Jane joined them to sing one last verse of the beloved hymn. "Take me in! My dream recurring, one more longing backward glance."

---

Thor had yelled his vocal cords sore. He didn't know how long he had spent shouting curses at the shield-wall where Loki had once stood. His voice was raw, but the anger and vehemence that he felt toward the man he had once called his brother hadn't subsided. He was panting and shaking and shivering and his half-naked body was sweating from head to toe. "I HATE YOU, LOKI! I HATE YOU!" He screamed one last time. His deep, husky voice was nearly shrill as he let out one last violent outburst.

With that, the Crown Prince of Asgard collapsed into a convulsing heap. He thrashed about on the floor scrambling for breath. His shaky hands touched his throat that was aching abominably. His eyes stung furiously as he struggled to hold back tears. His attempts and efforts were of little consequence as soon the floodgates opened and dam burst and hot salt liquid sprang forth from his bloodshot blue eyes. The tears were heavy as torrential rain drops upon the bruised flesh of his cheeks. They burned the purple and black contusions of his face, the tears smarted the cuts on his skin. He felt like it made him cry all the more profusely for the pain it caused. "I hate you, Loki. I hate you," he choked out. He was scarcely able to whisper the words he was so exhausted.

Thor allowed himself to lay face down with his cheek pressed against the mud and thatch and mortar as he continued to mutter the terrible words. Never had any words tasted so terrible in his mouth. Saying those words tasted like brussel sprouts and bitter herbs and one of his old nursemaid Helga's tonics. The old woman had the nastiest cough syrups imaginable and just one sip of the stuff would make you wish you were well just so you wouldn't have to take another taste. But this tasted even worse. Speaking such horrible words was like being forced to swallow mud and garbage and refuse. Prince Thor could feel his stomach start to roil and rumble. He started to gag.

The blond haired son of Odin couldn't think of any words he'd ever found more awful strung together. He had thought that the worst thing that he would ever have to say was that his brother was dead. Saying that had been painful. It had been like no pain he'd ever known. It was unnatural and a cruel and unusual punishment. But this. Yelling in Loki's face that he hated him and looking into his eyes and seeing a madman and a stranger staring back at him that was more like a fate worse than death.

It wasn't so long ago that Loki had been the person he loved most in this life. He had been his rock and his confidant, his closest companion in the world. He held no secrets from his brother and he trusted him with his whole life. He'd thought that they would have always been together. Brothers and best friends til the end of time. If only Loki had known how much he admired him. He had admired Loki for his wisdom. He had wished often time he could be as wise and smart as his brother. He'd marveled at Loki's powers and gifts. He realized after their battle on the Bifrost that maybe he hadn't shared such details with Loki enough, but he'd thought it. He'd so often stood impressed by his brother's talents and abilities. Loki had worked and studied hard to become the best and he had become that. Even when he'd been shown in the Temple of Tribute what Loki would become he had not believed it. His love for Loki had blinded him from the truth that had stared him dead in the eyes. He'd thought the world of his brother, he'd thought they'd fight side and side forever.

Thor chuckled at the thought of that naïve sentiment. Loki and he were not fighting side by side, now Loki was his most fearsome enemy. He could have never imagined that his brother his brother would come to hate him so, or that he would come to hate his brother. That wasn't the way it was supposed to be, but that was the way it was.

The thunderer found himself whimpering and sobbing into the mud and hay and thatch that cradled his head. What was the most tormenting part of all was that all the feeling were real? It was real. When he thought of Loki now all he saw was red and all he felt was a rage. If only Loki had simply been satisfied with taking his vengeance on him. If only Loki could have just unleashed his fury upon him. They could have fought like men in a duel and settled this ridiculous rivalry with some honor. He would have allowed Loki to take him captive. He would have even suffered tortures at the hand of Loki and Malekith. He would have endured it. He would have been the sacrifice. If that meant that Asgard would have been spared. If it meant that the Nine Realms would have been safe from the wrath of the Aether. And even then, somehow, Thor thought that he would have been able to forgive Loki.

It was what Loki had done to Asgard that had made him hate him so. He was destroying Asgard, their home, the place he claimed to love, that he claimed was this marvelous kingdom that he wanted to rule and yet he was ruining her. He was annihilating the Nine Realms! He was killing the people of these worlds. He was snuffing out the age of peace and light and ushering in an age of darkness and terror. And for what? For what? Thor couldn't understand. His anger at him he could understand. He had never meant to hurt Loki during their growing up, but he knew he had. He'd never meant to outshine Loki or steal his sunlight but had. He couldn't go back and erase what had happened between them in the past, he'd hoped that Loki would have some sense of reason and would see that the slights that had happened were unintentional, he hoped that Loki would have seen that they'd shared much more happiness and love and laughter and adventure than they had shared malice, but maybe that had only been his perspective. And if Loki would have claimed that they were never brothers and never had any good times he would have accepted it. But he couldn't accept that Loki was destroying the innocent.

The people of Asgard were innocent. Maybe Loki had felt as though the people hadn't favored him. Thor didn't know. He felt like he hardly knew anything anymore. Maybe they hadn't, but he knew that they had done their best to honor Loki as their prince. The people of Asgard had always loved the royal family. Perhaps there were some in court who had gossiped about Loki behind his back, but what of the other people What of the peasants and farmers and stone masons and fishermen and woodcutters people who lived far away from the Imperial City? These people had probably never even laid eyes on Loki personally, did they deserve to die all because of Loki's vendetta against him?

What of the people of Midgard? Humans were such a frail race. One night smothered in the Aether's darkness could cause millions of casualties. Resources would become scarce. That would create a global panic and such a panic would lead to anarchy, the people would just start to slaughter each other in droves. The population would be decimated and those who did survive, if there were any, would be sold as slaves to Malekith and the Dark-Elves. What had the mortals done to Loki to make him wish to unleash such terrible calamity upon them? Most had been blissfully unaware of their existence before a 2 years ago. In Stuttgart most had bowed to him and that was all he wanted anyway was for everyone to scrape and grovel and tell him how great he was. They'd done that. So why, why kill them?

What about the other realms? Alfheim, Nornheim, Vanaheim? Loki had been a popular diplomat in Alfheim, he had negotiated many treaties between the Elfin kings. He had been respected and honored in their courts. He had been a personal friend of Prince Avery of the Elves of South and he was one of the very few outsiders to be given the title Mellon by King Thranduil and Prince Legolas of the Woodland Elves. Now he would betray their trust and friendships and just wipe them out without a warning. It was simply despicable. The King of the Norns, who had kept Nornheim secluded and isolated from the rest of the realms for centuries had opened up his home to Loki and allowed Loki to be a tutor for his youngest daughter. Loki had done wonders for the relationship between them. Princess Wyrd had come of age and had even come to stay at court in Asgard for a time, hoping that she could catch the eye of her childhood crush once again. He couldn't believe that Loki would simply be willing to allow the young woman who he had claimed to have taken as a little sister to be destroyed. But why should he not? Loki was willing to destroy him and they'd been brothers all their lives. Loki was now willing to bring devastation to Vanaheim as well. The realm of the woman that he claimed to love so. Loki had once claimed to have great admiration for the elder realm as well. They had clung to many of the ancient ways and valued mystics highly. The use of magic was the primary form of warfare there and Loki had always spoken wistfully of longing to go there and live with Lady Dagmar. Lady Dagmar was dead and gone and soon every person that she cared about would be as well. Thor could not imagine that this would be the way that one would honor the memory of the woman that they so desperately loved, but then again he couldn't imagine half of the things that Loki had concocted in his twisted mind.

There were the other realms as well. Even Nidelvar, Thor had known that his brother was not favored among the dwarves. He'd shown them his trickery and they'd threatened war and although they were not mighty in stature the Dwarves were master forgers and masters of weaponry. They could have lasted years in battles. In an effort to prevent such a war, Loki had offered himself. He had submitted himself to the grave humiliation and pain of having his lips sewn shut. Some days later, when Loki's lips had healed sufficiently and he'd finally been able to speak, Thor had asked him why he would have subjected himself to such unspeakable suffering at the hands of their enemies. He'd thought that they should have still waged war.

Thor came into his brother's bedchamber. The healers had just finished gingerly, carefully and methodically removing the stitching from his lips. The stitches had been particularly difficult to take out because they had been infused with magic and the stitches were made of thin leather straps that had small metal spikes attached to the straps. They threatened to cut Loki's thin lips to shreds with every tug. Loki had let out several bloodcurdling screams through his tightly closed lips. It had taken several hours but the skilled healers finally managed to free Loki's mouth from the confinement. By the time they'd done so Loki's lips were bleeding profusely. Blood ran down his mouth, chin and neck and stained his clothes and the linens of his bed. His thin lips had swollen up like greatly inflated balloons. For the first few days, he couldn't speak or eat for the pain.

Loki had kept to his chambers during his healing. He didn't want the people to see him in such a disfigured and humiliated state. Thor came by to visit his brother just as the healers had finished changing the gauze and the bandages and applying the ointments to Loki's injured lips.

"I would not stay too long, my prince," instructed Healer Onrac as he exited. "He is in a great deal or discomfort and talking is very taxing for him right now," he explained. Thor couldn't help but raise his golden brows at the statement. He couldn't imagine Loki having difficulty talking. Most of the time it was convincing him to shut-up that was the biggest problem.

"Couldn't he just write down what he needs to say?" Thor asked with concern.

"I suppose," Healer Onrac stated as he shook his head back and forth. "If you do decide to stay perhaps you can convince him to ice his lips, it will help with the swelling," his mother's physician informed. "There is an ice bucket by his bedside." Thor nodded to the suggestion. "He also hasn't eaten much lately," the healer continued. "Not that I can blame him," Healer Onrac shook his bald head. "But he is already so very thin, that he can't afford to miss any meals," he expressed. Many of the healers were often worried about Loki's lean frame. The Aesir were a strong and heartily built race and the son of a king should have appeared fit as a fiddle not as if he was practically starved. "There is a bit of pudding on his nightstand, perhaps you can get him to take a few bites," the healer offered.

"I will do my best, Healer Onrac," Thor pledged. The healer gave a bow to the elder prince before he

proceeded in taking his leave followed by a few more medical staff membered.

"Loki," Thor called as softly as his booming voice would allow as he entered the inner chamber of Loki's bedroom. There he found his brother resting on his bed. His eyes were closed and Thor got a good look at his brother's marred face. Terrible, angry red scars lined Loki's swollen mouth. There were still purple puncture marks and holes from where the needles had been so cruelly poked through Loki's tender alabaster skin. The younger prince appeared to be in so much pain. "Loki?" Thor called once more as Loki's eyes were closed.

Loki's green eyes popped open. They immediately brightened at the sight of the blond-haired son of Odin. The corners of his mouth twitched as he reflexively tried to offer a smile, but even the slight movement caused Loki a wave of pain that nearly sent him through the roof. He slapped his hand over his mouth and that hurt him all the more. He would have opened his mouth to let out a great yelp, but he realized that would have only caused him more pain. So Loki lied there with his inflamed lips twitching and trembling and his green eyes welling up with tears. After a moment he managed to pick up his hand and give his brother a wave.

"Hi, Loki," Thor said slowly as he sat on Loki's bed and took him by the hand. Loki started to very carefully open his mouth to give some type of verbal reply. "You don't have to say anything,' Thor stated as he put a finger to his lips. "I just wanted to come by and see how you were doing," he expressed. Loki relaxed for a moment against the sheets. It was good to have some company. Though he was afraid he wouldn't be much entertainment since he wasn't able to speak. "Do you want some ice for your lips?" Thor asked as he raised the bucket on to his lap.

The raven-haired prince's eyes were wide as he stared at the bucket with longing. He nodded his head and reached his hand out to take a cube of ice for his burning lips. "I'll do it," Prince Thor offered eagerly. "Just relax" he instructed. Loki looked wary of allowing his brother to minister to his needs in such a way, but to rebuff Thor's offer would require parting his lips and he couldn't bear to do that. He nodded and indulge Thor's earnest efforts. He laid back with his head on the pillow and allowed Thor to raise a strong hand with an ice cube toward his mouth. Thor did his best to be tender and gentle, but his hands were hardened and trained for war and even as he rubbed the ice along Loki's lips it caused his brother so much agony that Loki actually took to slapping his hands away. "Sorry," Thor said with a wince. Loki huffed through his nostrils his face turning bright red. His inky brows knit together and he stuck out his hand demanding the piece of ice. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Thor apologized. "Give me another chance, I'll be as delicate as I can," he promised. Somehow Thor's earnest desire to help appealed to Loki despite his better judgment and he allowed his brother another attempt. The second time Thor managed to be true to his word and lightly ghost the ice over Loki's lips in a manner that allowed the irritated lips to be cooled and find numbness.

"Ugh!" Thor growled after time. His outburst startled the fair-skinned prince. He looked around nervously. "Brother, look what they have done to you!" He pointed out. "I swear they'll pay for what they did," he ground out and gave Loki's hand a tight squeeze. "Father is furious about how they have treated you. I will lead the forces of Asgard to the gates of Nidelvar and we will burn it to the ground. If they think they can get away with treating a prince of Asgard in this manner then they are dead wrong!" The thunderer declared as he raised a fist in the air.

Loki shook his head, but Thor stood up and kept on ranting about all the things that he was going to do to the Dwarves. If they thought they could go unpunished for harming his little brother they had another thing coming. Loki's eyes were wide and he shook his head vigorously, but Thor didn't notice. He was pounding his fist into the palm of his hand as he paced the room. Thor kept going on an on about finding the particular Dwarves who had stitched Loki's lips and doing the same to them before letting them hang from very short ropes.

"T-t-th-thor," Loki managed to croak out. "Thor," he spoke a little louder. His pained weak voice finally caught Thor's ear. Immediately the oldest son of Odin spun around to face his brother. His long blond locks whipping him in the face as he did so.

"Don't talk," Thor replied. "What do you need?" He asked. Loki swallowed. The pain from just muttering his brother's name had been excruciating. He pointed. "What? What do you need?' He repeated as he looked around in vain.

Loki could no longer endure watching Thor bumbling about searching for what he obviously didn't know. "P—p-parchment...quill," he stammered. The pressure of producing the "P" sound made his mouth ache fiercely.

"Parchment, quill, right," Thor said snapping his fingers. "Yes, of course," he nodded more to himself and he raced toward Loki's desk and brother his brother his requested items. Loki quickly jotted something down onto the parchment and then passed it to Thor. Thor's blue eyes quickly read over the words crafted with excellent penmanship onto the parchment. "Don't do anything?" He shook his head. "Loki, no this is crazy, what are you saying. Asgard will not tolerate the disrespect of one of her princes," Thor expressed.

"I agreed to this," Loki spoke quietly and slowly. He did his best not to scream from the torture he was inflicting upon his mouth through speaking.

"Loki, look at what they've done to you! You've done nothing to deserve this!" He clutched at Loki's shoulder.

"I tricked them," Loki explained through gritted teeth.

"For the glory of Asgard," Thor countered.

Loki shook his head. He closed his eyes. He could no longer endure the pain of talking. He gestured for Thor to pass him the parchment once more. Thor rapidly did so. Loki began to write. he wrote for a long time. His words filled the piece of parchment. Finally, he passed it back to Thor. Thor read his brother's words aloud. "This tit for tat will get us nowhere. An eye for an eye will only leave everyone blind. I subjected myself to this grave humiliation to spare both realms from the horror and desolation of war. Nidelvar and Asgard have had a long and healthy relationship for centuries. That peace cannot be annihilated over childish pranks. Don't destroy what has been accomplished for the sake of peace for the sake of vengeance. If their anger has been appeased with my punishment then let that be enough." Thor rolled the parchment up and handed it to his brother. He lowered his head. "My anger is not appeased, Loki," Thor expressed bitterly. "Seeing you hurt like this and...and not being able to do anything, just accepting it...it's..."

"It's alright, Thor," Loki said weakly as he lifted a shaky hand to cup Thor's shoulders. His lips trembled with the words. "My tongue's made of silver...n-n-not of g-g-glass remember?" Loki attempted to smile, but it turned into a wince. "They haven't broken me, yet," he reminded his brother and winked his eye. He started to let out a wry little laugh, but the movements were so painful he whimpered instead and his emerald eyes started to water. So much talking tore at the stitching and it made his lips start to bleed again.

"Shh," Thor cooed affectionately, "Don't talk so much," he chided sweetly. He watched as Loki nodded. His jade eyes rolling back as he leaned on the pillow heavily. His hand clutched on Thor's shoulder as he dealt with the wave of pain. Thor took hold of his brother's hand and allowed him to squeeze it tightly. "You're the strongest person I know, Loki," Thor told him. Loki inclined his eyebrow at Thor's words. He could scarcely believe what his brother had said. Thor himself possessed the strength that outmatched most Asgardians. "And the wisest," The blond-haired son of Odin confessed. "I don't like it...what you are saying...but I know you're right. And it is the wisdom of a king that I need to heed." Thor said calmly as he nodded along. Loki's heart swelled as his eyes misted as he heard his brother's remarks. He wanted to say something, started to say something, but his mouth hurt far too much. "Shhh, shhh," Prince Thor soothed once more. "Save the strength of that mouth of yours to eat something," he insisted. The raven-haired prince shook his head. The thought of eating was far too painful to even bear. "Yes, you need to eat something. It's just a little pudding," Thor offered as he lifted the bowl off of the table. He stirred the pudding slowly and then presented a spoonful to Loki. Loki hesitated for a moment, but after the insistent rumbles of his stomach became impossible to ignore he managed to open his mouth and stick out his tongue and allow his brother to drop a dollop of the sweet sticky pudding on his tongue. It tasted better than expected and though it took painstaking efforts he managed to finish the bowl. Once Loki had ingested the contents. Thor brought a fresh ice cube to trace around his brother's bloodied, busted lips once more. The cool sensation numbed Loki's pain and lulled him into a deep sleep.

How could the man who wrote those words have committed all these atrocities? Loki had always been the one who tried to tell him that violence wouldn't solve everything. He had always tried to convince him that there were more ways to solve a problem than through brute strength and bloody battle. The Aesir had always lived by the motto of skin for skin. Matters of honor had to be settled on the battlefield, but Loki had been the one who knew how to use words of eloquence and elegance to win battles and make things happen. Now, Loki was just a madman who would destroy everything for a quest for vengeance. It didn't make sense. How could the man who wrote those inspirational words so long ago be the same man who was so willing to bring forth Ragnorok to prove a point? What point it was that Loki wanted to prove, Thor still honestly wasn't sure of. The only thing he could possibly be proved was that he really was as wicked and evil as everyone said he was. The two men could not be the same, Thor concluded. One had to have been a lie. For so long now he had tried to convince himself that the boy he'd known growing up was the real Loki. He'd tried to tell himself that the young man who had allowed his lips to be sewn shut in the name of peace was the real Loki, but maybe that was the lie. Maybe Loki had planned this all along. Loki was a master of manipulation and a master liar. Maybe he'd lied to them the whole time. He'd lulled them into some type of sick, trusting stupor. Perhaps the trickster had bought his time to pull his greatest trick of all.

How could Loki do this to them? What type of man was he? How could he have kept up that type of sham for centuries? He pretended to be one of them. He pretended to care about them. He'd said he'd loved them, loved Asgard once upon a time and now he was their great destroyer. He was destroying their own family and friends...their mother. Their mother. Thor shook his head against the hay. His eyes welling up with tears. He could understand Loki's anger and resentment of him and father. He could rationalize the reasons Loki gave for hating them so, but what had their mother ever done to him to make him willing to see her beautiful life snuffed out. Their mother had loved him since day one. She'd held him and comforted him in sickness and in health. She'd played with him and read to him as a child. She taught him to read and write and she'd shared with him her gifts and talents and love of the magic. She had been his first teacher. She'd encouraged him and praised him and supported him like no one else. Loki and she had always been so close. They'd shared secrets and played card games and chess together in the garden. They went to shows together because they both had similar taste. Sometimes Loki would help mother with her arrange meetings and balls for delegates. The task would have seemed degrading and womanish to most sons and although Loki grumbled about having to do such task he had always seemed to enjoy the end results. Now, Loki was just going to kill the woman who raised him. It was monstrous. Loki was monstrous. Loki was willing to kill his mother and he was unable to even defend her. He hated himself for how useless he was. What type of man was not even able to defend his own mother? What type of man would kill his own mother? He hated Loki for it.

The more and more he thought about it, the more furious he became. Thor started pounding his fist on the dirt floor. He started grinding his teeth and growling viciously. He somehow found the strength to push himself up with his trembling arms. He crawled on to his knees and sat panting on the dirt and thatch floor, he scooped up clumps of mud and started to hurl them at the broken golden shield all the while shouting. "Loki, I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" Thor screamed it as he threw the mud balls. The bounced and splattered off of the plexiglass shield and flew back and hit prince Thor in the face.

Thor grabbed and scraped at the ground. He continued picking up heaping helpings of mud and slime and vehemently tossing them at the shield. He threw and threw and hurled and hurled until his arms were sore. There were cuts and lacerations and bruises all over his biceps. He felt like all his strength had been zapped from him. A few days ago he would have been to fling Mjolnir with all the fury required to bust down a wall and save his people. He would have had the stamina to fight for hours on in. Now he was trapped in this cell, alone cold, broken and beaten, chained and tethered like a beast and powerless, left simply waiting to die and it was all Loki's doing. Something, in the back of his mind, something very foolish and naïve, reminded him that the little bit of strength that he did possess now was Loki's doing as well.

Thor swore at himself inwardly for even allowing such a thought to creep into the crevices of his mind. Loki had only healed him enough so that he could be awake and alert while he gloated and boasted about his mighty victory and about how Asgard was falling and crumbling at his feet. He had only healed Thor's body a tiny bit so that the blond-haired son of Odin could have his nose rubbed in the fact that he was unable to do anything to keep the people he loved safe, that he was unable to be the hero of the realms. He hadn't given limited strength to his body to be merciful or gentle or out of some feeble sense of pity of compassion for the man who had been his brother. No, Loki had no such attributes. Loki had no conscience or heart from which any compassion could flow out of. He had nothing in him, but rage and anger. He'd done his healing out of spite. He'd done it to be cruel. That's all that was left in Loki was cruelty and madness.

Thor cursed some more. He could practically hear his mother chiding him and telling him that a prince of Asgard could not be so base as to use such guttural language. He would have laughed at the thought, but he found himself only shaking his head and stifling a sob and swearing some more. He wished Loki would have just left him as he was. He could have just left him lying their unconscious and bleeding out of every opening on his face. He could have just left him as he was with puncture wounds in his lungs struggling to breathe. He still couldn't breathe even though his lungs were clear. His lungs were clear, but his heart was filled with sorrow and grief and horror that threatened to suffocate him. There was such a great pain in his chest that threatened to drown him. He wished it would. He wished he could just die. If Loki had ever truly cared about him. Even if only for one moment, one day in their lives then he could have granted him the mercy of a quick killing. He could have come to that cell and easily finished the job. Honestly, he wouldn't have even resisted. He would have let the evil sorcerer simply strike him down. He would have welcomed it. Thor hung his head. His muddy, golden locks fell in his eyes slapped him across the face. Such a thought was shameful. The Aesir believed that one had to fight to the death and never simply surrender to defeat. That was cowardice and no coward had a place in the halls of Valhalla. Thor shrugged and allowed his shoulders to slump. He had already seen that his ultimate destiny wasn't to reside in the endless banquet halls of Valhalla. But there was a pit in the deep recesses of Helheim that had his name on it. That was what he deserved for his failure and betrayal of his people.

Loki had taken everything from him: his powers, his palaces, his people, his planet, his place in Valhalla. He shouldn't even have felt bad for the hatred in his heart that he bore toward that miscreant, but he did. "I hate you, Loki," he muttered all the more bitterly. He could feel himself starting to sway and become more and more lightheaded. The effects of Loki's spell were slowly wearing off. He scrambled and tried to climb to his feet and make his way over to the stone flat that he had as a bed. As soon as he stood, his knees gave out and he found himself crashing back into the mud. He groaned as waves of pain caused him to have spasms. His vision blurred and the cell began to spin around. He reached out groping for anything that he could hold on to stop the room from twisting and twirling on its self. After a while, he managed to crawl his way over the flat stone bed. His unsteady hand reached for the slate and he pulled himself up. The movement had hi exhausted and winded and his body flopped down on the bed. HIs right hand dangled in the mud. As it dangled and raked back and forth through the muck, he felt a hard round object. His curious fingers happened to scoop it up.

He pulled it up to his face. His bloodshot sapphire did their best to study and make out the object. But coated in mud, it was hard to distinguish it from any other pebble. Thor carefully massaged his fingers across the sphere and brushed the grime aside. Soon a crudely carved silvery looking ring was revealed. Thor squinted as he made out the roughly carved words etched into the ring made of a bildgeschipes tusk. "Einar," he mumbled bitterly. A wiggling finger traced the carving.

He remembered making the trinket for his brother. That was many, many centuries ago. He was a youth and Loki just barely so. He had been trying to prove himself a man, but when he saw his brother lying helplessly he'd never felt more like a scared frightened little boy in his life.

He'd sat outside Loki's bedchamber and anxiously twiddled his thumbs as he watched healers, nurses and servants rush in and out of his room. Mother and Father had been into his room, but he had not been allowed. It made him scared and anxious. What was going on in there? What weren't they telling him? Was Loki ok? He was the one responsible for what had happened to his little brother and now no one would even inform him what was going on. It was infuriating.

He watched as Eir and Onrac and other's darted pass. He felt invisible, they shuffled and scuttled pass him in a hurry rushing off to get things for Loki without even a word. Finally, Mother emerged. She looked tired and waned and her eyes were puffy and red. "Mother!" He practically leaped out of his seat to go to the Queen of Asgard. He had seen so little of her in the past few days since he and Loki had returned from the Mountains of Tursk.

"Thor," his mother greeted. She wore a sad expression on her face, but tried to muster a smile as she wiped her eyes.

Thor embraced her. "How is he, Mother?" Prince Thor inquired.

The queen bowed her blonde head. "He's still unconscious, Thor," she confessed sorrowfully. "The healers are having a hard time bringing his fever down."

Thor's eyes went wide. He shook his head. It had been days and Loki still wasn't awake. "Well...well...well," he sputtered. "What are they doing about it?" He demanded. "They have to do something!" He shot.

"They are doing all they can, my son," Frigga tried to explain as she put her hand on Thor's strong shoulders.

"It was just a head cold," Thor mumbled to himself more so than to his mother.

"I know, but such prolonged exposure turned Loki's slight could into pneumonia," she explained.

"But can't they give him something, mother?" Thor asked in exasperation.

"It's complexed, Thor...Loki's system is very dif...I mean delicate. You know he is very prone to illness and he has so many allergies," she went on as she shook her head and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders. "Not to mention as a magic user, Loki is likely to drain his energy and catch energy flu, which can sometimes cause other complications with his health," she elaborated.

Thor also hung his head. "That night, Loki kept saying how sick he was and how tired he felt. I made him come," the elder prince confessed. "I kept nagging him and teasing him," he shook his head. "I should have listened. Even when we were out there, Loki kept saying he was feeling weaker and sicker, but I kept pressing him forward, asking him to use his powers. The bildgeschnipe had me cornered at the edge of a cliff," Thor recalled. His mother gasped. She had not had the chance to hear all the details of the adventure. "But, but Loki he caused this blast. It was so powerful, it sent the bildgeschnipe over the edge. This is my fault," He confessed as his shoulders fell.

Queen Frigga put her delicate hands back around her son's shoulders and pulled him into a tight embrace. "It' not your fault," she told him as she hugged him tight and finally pushed him off of her so that she could look him in the eyes. Her gentle hands traced across his youthful face that was starting to form peach fuzz and stubble. "It's not your fault," she stated once more as she wiped the tears from his cheeks. "Loki went because he wanted to, he went to help you and keep you safe," she expressed.

"But...I'm the older brother...I'm supposed to be keeping him safe," Thor countered. "And look at what's happened. Now Loki's fighting for his life," He bit his lip bitterly. "And all for this," Thor pulled the tip of the horn from his pocket. The bildgeschnipe's tusk was bright and gleaming and looked like polished ice. He drew his hand back in a posture that showed that he was ready to throw the tusk down the hall. It had seemed so important. It had meant everything to slay a bildgeschnipe and have its glorious tusk and make it into some type of beautiful amulet for Britta. Now it all seemed rather insignificant. He still wanted to be an Einherjar and he still wanted to court Britta, but he hadn't wanted all those things at any cost. He hadn't wanted them at the cost of his brother's life. Loki had been willing to lay down his life in an effort to help him achieve his goals and all he'd been willing to do was let him. Shame filled the young prince's heart.

The queen raised her royal hand and she took Thor by the wrist and carefully lowered that wrist so that Thor was no longer poised and ready to throw his prize down the corridor.

"He's fighting for his life, but the keyword there is fighting," Frigga said with a wink. "Loki is strong," she told her oldest boy. She reached out her hand to give his a squeeze, "And I believe he'll pull through," she said as she straightened her back with confidence.

Thor nodded, "You are right, Mother, Loki is strong and he's just as responsible for slaying this bildgeschnipe as I am," he confessed. "Maybe even more so," Thor gave a shrug. "I want to do something...something to make Loki know how much I needed him in this venture. To make him feel like an Einherjar too."

"I'm sure your brother would love that," Frigga beamed.

"Can I see him, Mother?" Thor asked hopefully.

Frigga put her hands out in front of her and shook them. She immediately began wagging her head in a furious manner. Thor had never seen such a look of panic come over his mother's face before. He couldn't imagine what he could have said that would have caused her to be so troubled. "Nonononononono!" she muttered. "No," she then spoke very firmly. "No, no, Thor you can't, not yet," she replied.

"But..."

"Loki...Loki is," Queen Frigga bit her lip. "His state is still very fragile, you see, my son, we have to keep his environment as sterile as possible," she expressed.

"But couldn't I just wash my hands?" Thor asked.

"His condition is very delicate, Thor" she nodded to herself. "Yes, and...and...and besides," she breathed, "I...I...I don't think that Loki would want you to see him like this," she finally admitted as she hung her head.

Thor responded with a nod, he saw his mother's eyes were starting to water once more. He didn't want to press her. He hated when his mother cried, but quite frankly he couldn't imagine what his mother meant by saying that Loki wouldn't want him to see him this way. See him what way? He had seen Loki in almost every possible way imaginable. He had seen Loki sick before. He'd seen Loki hurt before, he'd seen Loki sleeping and unconscious before, he'd seem him bloody and bruised...naked even, what possible way could Loki be that was so bad that Loki would be embarrassed for him to see him in that way? He couldn't imagine.

"Darling, why don't you work on the lovely pendant you plan to make for Britta," She suggested with a watery smile. "You and Loki did so much to get it...Loki sacrificed so," she said her voice cracking at the edges. "It would simply be a shame for you to throw away all of that hard work, don't you think?" She asked as she inclined her head toward the large bildgeschnipe horn that he was holding. She looked up and offered a slight smirk. It was the type of smirk that Loki would normally wear. What he wouldn't give to see Loki's thin lips stretch into the wry little smile right. "I will keep you well informed and I will make sure you are able to see your brother the moment he is well enough," she explained. "I am only going to rest a few moments and then I will be right back at Loki's bedside," she informed him.

They parted company and Thor took the tusk into his quarters and there he began sifting through magazine scrolls and looking on one of his visual panels to find out what jewelry styles were all the rage in women's fashion. He found a few very stylish amulets and he worked hard to immolate the designs. He chipped away at the icy tusk, trying desperately to turn the thick, horn into a beautiful decorative bauble that Britta could proudly wear. He wanted to design it in the shape of a rose. He worked and whittled and carved the best he could, but his hands were skilled for battle not for crafting and the amulet that he was trying to make was in no way taking on the shape of a rose, but rather, just a lumpy and bumpy clump of ice. He was almost certain that such a gift would not win fair maiden's heart. He decided to take the bildgeschnipe tusk to the royal jewelers. It would be a disgrace if a prince was to give a woman a less than a substandard amulet to propose courtship.

He grabbed the ice tusk off of his desk. he shoved it in his pocket and prepared to grab one of the scrolls to take to the jeweler to give them an example of what he wanted to give to the fair young lady Britta. But as he was doing so he noticed a few pieces of broken tusk parts that had been chipped off the main part of the horn. He looked at the fragments. He puzzled and thought about what he could do with those little pieces and then finally, it came to him. He would make something for his brother, Loki with these leftover pieces. He beamed to himself and inhaled deeply and puffed his chest out with pride. He hoped Loki would be ever so pleased to have a piece of the tusk. If Loki woke up...he started to think, but then he automatically chided himself. How could he even allow such a thought to cross his mind? Of course, Loki would wake up. Loki was strong, just like his mother said, Loki was strong and he would wake up...he simply had to wake up. He nodded as he shoved the broken parts into the pockets of his tunic. Loki would wake up and when he did, he'd have something wonderful for him to display to show the world what he had done. He just didn't know exactly what that looked like just yet.

Thor quickly dropped off his tusk to the royal jeweler. The jeweler was overwhelmed and honored by the prince's desire for him to craft into a bildgeschnipe's tusk. "Of course, my prince," the artisan said as she bowed repeatedly. "Oh my prince, what an amazing feat you have performed here. My, my, my, I cannot believe this!" She said gasping. "You are the youngest man to ever do this in the history of Asgard. I am so proud of you," she congratulated him. The royal jeweler had known Prince Thor since he was just a little child and she had made many trinkets for the prince over the years. Many of which were commissioned for him by his parents for his birthdays. "I know the king is proud of you as well," she complimented.

"Thank you, Lady Morei," Thor said and he could feel his cheeks slightly reddening.

"You have exquisite taste, your young highness," she encouraged. "This is gorgeous!" She pointed to the picture at the scroll. "It is sure to make Lady Britta swoon," she said giving the prince a wink. "Not that you would need my help with that," she admitted and started chuckling. "She will be the envy of all of Asgard," she expressed. She noticed Thor fiddling around with a few pieces that were chipped off of the bildgeschnipe's tusk, "Oh, my prince, would you like me to do something with those?" She inquired as she pointed toward his hands. "I could most certainly fashion a pair of dazzling of studs for Lady Britta's ears," she practically squealed. "Oh...oh...oh!" She exclaimed as she was hit with one of her frequent fashion visions. By many Lady Morei was considered a visionary artist. "They could be shaped like baby rosebuds to match the amulet," she pointed out.

"That would be a simply lovely idea..." He started.

"I'll get right on it, your highness," she said as she gave a sweeping curtsy.

"But I actually, I plan to do something with these myself," he said giving her a wink as he withdrew his hand.

"Oh...oh...oh, yes I see...I see. Yes, I must say, your highness even though I am most honored to have the privilege of crafting your tusk to be a presentation for Lady Britta, but truly as according to tradition it should truly be made, by hand and a gift by your own hand will mean so much more," she expressed.

"Yes, Lady Morei, that's what I am counting on," Thor stated as he flashed a handsome grin in her direction and lightly tossed the few chipped pieces up into the air and caught them again. With that, he took his leave of the royal jeweler and left her to ply her trade.

Lady Morei didn't know it, but he wasn't going to carve something for Britta, but for his brother. Loki had risked his life to help him and he deserved to have him labor over making something special for him. Thor wanted to make sure that whatever he made for Loki had specific significance. He knew that his brother always found significance in books and he figured that would be the best place to start in looking for something to craft for his brother.

He made his way to the library. He hardly ever went there except for if he was forced to go there by his tutors. He forced himself to search and search through the endless sea of tomes and books and scrolls. He looked through books about armor and he read through scrolls about the ancient traditions of bildgeschnipe tusk carving. He had been in the library for hours. One book had led to another and another and he was actually starting to find his research rather enjoyable. After sometime he came across a book called brothers in arms. Prince Thor immediately became elated. This seemed promising. After all, that is what Loki had proven himself to be. They had always been brothers, but now Thor knew that his brother was truly on his side on and off the battlefield.

As he skimmed through the tome and thumbed through the old pages he finally stumbled across a page that was title Einar. The chapter referred to a time in Asgard's history way before the age of the kings. It was a time when the realms of Asgard was divided into several clans and each of the clans were led by one of 10 brothers. Each of those brothers were called Einar. They each shared equal power in ruling their clans and they each shared equal responsibility in defending Asgard. And each bore a special signet ring to prove their status. Thor's eyes became wide and bright after he finished reading through the book he slammed it close with excitement. He plunged his hand deep into his pocket and jiggled it around feeling the cold, chipped pieces that were carefully stored there. He knew exactly what he was going to make for Loki now.

Thor looked down at the centuries-old ring that he held in his hand. His pointer finger and thumb ran over the lumps and bumps and uneven areas and groves in the tiny sphere. He remembered taking so much time and care to craft the tiny trinket for his brother. It scarcely seemed like enough. He felt like he should have done more, Loki, his fearless younger brother deserved so much more, but still, he had put much work and effort into creating the ring. He knew that Loki had many fine pieces of jewelry, he had chains and arm plates, he had amulets and necklaces and he had other rings, but somehow he hoped that the bildgeschnipe tusk ring would find a special place of honor on his brother's hand and in his heart. He took painstaking hours in making the ring. He knew that it probably didn't look like it. Thor managed to slightly smile as he reflected on how long and hard he had worked on the trinket. He'd carved and chiseled and polished and engraved as best he could. Still, the ring had come out slightly uneven and it looked amateurish. If it wasn't for the fact that it was made from a bildgeschnipe's tusk which was rarer than even gold or ivory, it would have looked like something that pauper could have worn. It didn't look like anything that should have been worn by a son of Odin. And yet Thor could remember so vividly Loki's expression when he'd received the gift. His brother's face had been pale, his eyes had been weak, but the color seemed to rush back to him and those a flicker of exuberance seemed to be lit from deep within those emerald eyes. Loki's thin lips stretched into a smile. The smile passed across his face quickly, but the expression was one of pure joy. He slipped the ring onto his finger with pride. He beamed back at him and he told him how much the gift meant. He reached out his cold hand and squeezed his own and drifted off into a serene sleep.

Thor shook his head. Once the gift had seemed to mean so much to Loki. Once it had seemed like his most prized possession in all the world. Loki had even offered it as a tribute when they went to the temple in Nornheim all those many years ago. Once Thor had given it to him, it never left his finger. It was a symbol of what Thor thought of Loki. It meant that he thought of them as equals, it meant that he saw him as brave and strong, it meant that they were brothers.

Thor made a fist. He squeezed the ring within his clutches. He closed his eyes and mashed his lips together. Once just a glimpse of this ring had been able to bring Loki back to himself, but no more. No more. Thor sighed and fought to hold back fresh, steamy, salt liquid that threatened to run from his eyes. Prince Thor could recall the time so clearly now. Loki had been turned into a gigantic wolf by the vengeful Chieftess Polodome of the Nymphs of Musepelheim.

When Loki and his entourage had not returned to Asgard for nearly a two weeks after their due date the royal family became rather worried about its youngest member. And naturally, the families of those members of the court who had traveled with the second prince of Asgard had also become worried about what had happened to their loved ones. Odin and Frigga had written several letters to Prince Loki and Chieftess Polodome in regards to when Loki would be returning, but their correspondences were not answered. As another week passed, Odin inquired of Heimdal as to the whereabouts of the envoy. Heimdal cast his glance to Musepelheim, but reported he could find no sign of Prince Loki or the rest of the delegates. It was then that Thor had decided to go with the Warriors 3 and Lady Sif to find his missing brother.

When Thor and his friends arrived in Musepelheim they were greeted with a large amount of fanfare. The Nymphs threw themselves upon the strapping, blond thunderer. They also lavished their feminine charms upon, Frandal, Hogun and Volstagg. The men would have been lured away from their mission had Sif not been present to remind the prince of his purpose for being in this land of giggling, dancing, singing, women. Chieftess Polodome was once again prepared to throw a glorious feast for her esteemed Asgardian guests and show them the full extent of the hospitality that she and her Nymphs had to offer.

"As tempting as that is, my lady, we did not come here to make merry," Thor told her with a forced stoicness, though it was hard to hold a stern expression on his face as buxom women dressed in short togas, and high strapped sandals, with flowers in their hair perfuming the air and offering wine and grapes and cheese to them. A few of the Nymph women had quite happily made seats on the laps of the Warriors three and Thor.

"We're not?" Volstagg asked with a mouth full of grapes that were being dropped in his mouth one by one by the gracious hands of some unknown woman.

"No!" Sif shot back standing up. "Chieftess Polodome, we are here for one reason and one reason only, and that is to find Prince Loki and his envoy," the warrior woman stated flatly.

"Yes," Prince Thor declared as he cleared his throat. He begrudgingly managed to push a gorgeous nymph woman off of his laugh, but she didn't leave without stealing a kiss. When the Warriors 3 saw Prince Thor dismissing the wench they hesitantly did the same. The women sulked and pouted as they were forced to go about their way. "Loki and the other Asgardians were scheduled to return to Asgard weeks ago and yet we have heard no word from them that they would be remaining amongst your tribe longer," Thor explained.

"Although after having seen the exquisiteness of your people I would certainly think Loki a fool for making haste and leaving," Frandal added as he shimmied his yellow brows up and down before kissing the hand of a maiden who had just left his embrace.

Lady Sif rolled her chocolate eyes, "Oh please," she murmured under her breath.

"Is my brother here?" Thor inquired as he raised his blond brows. Thor could not have imagined Loki shirking his responsibilities to his father for mere pleasures of the flesh, although since he had taken up with Angraboda, Loki had become somewhat more inclined to indulge in romance. But still, Loki professed so much love for the priestess that quite frankly Thor couldn't imagine him giving himself to another, even women as beautiful as these. In some sense, Thor was happy for his brother to seem to be enjoying the company of a woman. Loki was always somewhat melancholy and withdrawn. Loki was becoming more and more reserved and he was particularly quiet around women. He had always said magic was the only mistress that he needed, but meeting Angraboda had certainly awakened something within him, something that he hadn't seen since Loki's youth when he confessed his love for Dagmar. Since that spurning, Loki had played things close to the vest in regards to love. Yes, there was a part of him that was happy to see his brother in a relationship, but truth be told he didn't like Angraboda, she was a harsh woman, but he dare not broach the subject with Loki. Actually, he'd be quite pleased to learn that Loki had taken to bedding some sweet nymph girl rather than that harpy. But even if Loki had met someone that didn't explain his lack of correspondence.

"Why, no," Chieftess Polodome said slowly as she took a sip from her wine goblet. "I can honestly say that their faces have not been amongst us for many days now," she expressed. "Perhaps Loki paid a visit to some other kingdom before returning home," she offered as she indulges in another strong gulp.

"No," Thor shook his head and refuted the notion. "Loki wouldn't just go gallivanting off and surely every delegate wouldn't do the same," he reasoned.

"When did you last see them?" Sif interrogated harshly.

"The night of the banquet," the chieftess answered simply as she looked up from her cup. "Prince Loki reported he wanted to leave at first light."

"And you did not see them off?" Sif continued to question ruthlessly.

"Prince Loki assured me that it was only a few hours travel to the maid land of the Fire Giant territory where the Bifrost sight was. I was weary from a night of overindulgence in reveling. I admit perhaps it was a bit of a foolish thing to do, but for so long my people have been oppressed we have not been allowed to celebrate in our traditional styles for so long I took advantage of the moment," she confessed her cheeks somewhat rosy.

"What could have happened to them?" Hogun wondered aloud.

"Leave us," Chieftess Polodome instructed one of her maidens who had been ceremoniously fanning her with a large feather. When the Nymph girl departed, the chieftess' mood dampened. "What you are saying confirms all my suspicions," she stated as she rose. She walked around and fiddled with a ring on her finger. "Oh dear oh dear," she muttered. "I had thought, but I had...hoped," she shook her head.

"Out with it, woman!" Volstagg demanded as he still stuffed his face full of the cheeses left on the tray by the maids.

"Many centuries ago, the Fire Giants sent a giant wolf to prey upon us. This wolf stands tall as a tree, his bite was laced with poison and his howl can drive a man mad," she expressed. "It is a terrible creature, it has killed many and its bloodlust in almost insatiable once it has had a true taste of blood," she shook her head.

Thor tossed his head back and laughed, "What are you suggesting, your majesty? That my brother a master mage a team of master mages and a battalion of Einherjar and warriors were all simply killed by some beast?" The suggestion made the Warriors Three and Lady Sif all burst into fitful guffaws.

The ruler of the Nymphs spun around sharply, "Yes, I admit I found preposterous as well. I thought for sure they had made it back to Asgard. But your arrival here confirms it all," she threw up her hands.

"It confirms nothing!" The shield-maiden snapped.

"Proof! You need proof!" The chieftess hissed as she glared at Sif, "I have proof," she declared as she stalked from one side of her tent to another. "Look here!" Polodome shouted as she rushed to the back of her tent and dragged out a case full of blood tunics. The Asgardians searched through the clothing. The clothes had been torn to shreds, but the finery denoted Asgardian craftsmanship.

"This is Lord Burl's" stated Hogun as he held up a tarnished breastplate.

"This is Ambassador Harkon's helmet," confirmed Frandal as he held up a headdress that had the distinct plumage in it.

They sifted through the tattered garments. They were able to identify the armor of several members of the court. Thor picked up a piece of green fabric that could scarcely be described as a cloak any longer, but it was smeared with dark, red blood. Thor clutched the fabric tightly, he rang it and the blood dripped. "Loki," Thor stammered as he looked at the emerald robe that was stained with crimson. His fingers clutched tight to the ripped and clawed fabric. "NOOOOO!" He bellowed. It was a soul splitting cry. He sank to his knees and screamed once more and he started to tear the garments apart. His teeth were gritted and his muscles bulged as he wanted to tear the strong fabric to ribbons.

"Thor! Thor! Thor! Stop," Shouted Volstagg as he came up behind him and grabbed him by his shoulders. Thor tore away from him violently. Volstagg held him tightly, he wrapped his thick, chubby arms firmly around Thor's strong frame all the while Hogun ripped the bloodstained tunic out of his hands. Thor allowed his arms to fall to his side and pounded the ground madly. Finally, his mighty arms became weary they fell limply by his side and dangled there, Thor grunted and groaned like an animal with tears in his eyes muttering his brother's name. He wanted to scream louder and cry harder, but he was too enraged for all that.

"Thor," Sif said turning around to face the prince. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Just because of what we see doesn't mean that...that..." She paused as she closed her eyes.

Thor twisted his big, burly shoulder out of Sif's grasp, the warrior maiden's calloused hands were nearly tender as she took hold of his shoulder. "I intend to destroy that beast!" The young thunderer rumbled.

Chieftess Polodome's eyes grew wide, she gasped. She hadn't counted on such a vehement response. Prince Thor's hot-blooded reputation had proceeded him and obviously, the rumors were true. She had to admit that such a tempestuous nature was attractive, still, she had a greater interest in the crown prince's brother. He was almost completely under her sway now and there was something simply delicious and delectable about the notion. But she could tell that there was fire behind the prince of Asgard's words. "We Nymphs, do not believe in killing any animals," the chieftess confessed.

"You will not have to, I will do it to avenge my brother and our fallen men," he stated his voice low and husky in his throat as he hand clutched to the hilt of Mjolnir.

Polodome's eyes darted back and forth. She couldn't very allow Loki to be killed, it didn't sit well with her plan for a long-term lover, but she did want to have revenge on the Fire Giants of Musepelheim who had oppressed her people for so long. If Thor's ire was so kindled against the creature... then she could surely easily sway him to see the Musepelheim as the enemy. He could lead the Aesir against them. She rubbed her hand together with delight. "The beast is under the control the Fire Giants. They are the one who deserved to be punished and deserve to feel your wrath," she whispered in his ear as she leaned over his shoulder.

"I intend to make them back for the crimes they have committed against Asgard. They shall not go unpunished for the death of my brother," he grumbled as she squeezed his fist together. "But first I shall unleash my wrath upon their pet!" He declared.

"We shall go forth and hunt that wolf down. We'll skin its hide and bring it back to Asgard for all to see," proclaimed Volstagg as he raised his plump fist in the air.

"We won't rest until that beast is dead!" Frandal stated as he slashed his blade through the air.

"There is no need for you to hunt the wolf down," Chieftess Polodome explained. "We have managed to capture the wolf and he is trapped within one of our dungeons. One of the sports that we, Nymphs have always greatly enjoyed is that of gladiator game. Since our capture by the Fire Giants, we have not had the privilege of participating in such a pastime. It would do my maidens and myself much good to see you challenge such a savage animal," Polodome suggested with interest as she strolled one of her fingers leisurely up Thor's muscular arm.

Prince Thor snatched his bicep away. His bright blue eyes were irate and she could see the lightning and fire cracking in those sea colored irises. "I do not do this to make sport for you," he declared as he twisted his lip. "My brother is dead!" Thor spat! "Dead," he said shaking his head and fighting back tears. "I do this to avenge his soul. I will rid the realms of the wretched animal and then I will wipe this realm clean of the people who used it," he reported.

"Thor don't do anything rash," his friends warned.

"Do something rash..." Thor shook his long blond locks and scoffed. "MY BROTHER IS DEAD!" He shouted back at the Warriors Three and Sif. "Because of their monstrous dog! Someone is going to pay for it," he swore as he stormed out of the tent.

That night, covered in darkness, Chieftess Polodome made her way to the amphitheater. There was a stairway that led to an underground holding chamber. Made to hold the participants in the tournaments and gladiator games. There the delegates from Asgard rested upon small sleeping cots lost in a perpetual state of slumber. She walked right passed the cell she had made up for them. "Rest well, boys," she whispered as she blew a kiss and continued to swish her hips as she made her way to the chamber where she was holding the giant wolf. There she found Loki in all his magnificence pacing around the cage. As the days had passed he'd become much more compliant to her commands and much more wild. He growled and grumbled in the cage, he was restless and hungry and thirsty. The ruler of the Nymphs did her best to feed her new pet prince, but quite frankly in this form, the prince had developed such a voracious appetite that she could not adequately provide for him. One day she had set him free to go hunt and he had killed about ten deer and three bears. Since then the chieftess had not allowed him out of the cage.

"Loki come," Polodome summoned as she touched a pendant that she wore around her neck. It matched the collar on his throat. Without hesitation, the wolf lumbered its way toward her lovely form. He did not come wagging his tail or bounding, hardly. He rather traipsed rapidly toward the bars of the cage. He was making all sorts of fitful and cantankerous noises as he did so. His eyes looked at her with a wild fury. She reached her hand out and raked it through the luscious dark fur. "Now look what you have done, Loki" she scolded as she caught him by the scruff of his neck. "If only you would have willingly given into my desires," she whispered lustily in his ear, hoping to awaken the man that was still in the wolf's skin. "As all me do," she expressed with a giggle. "Then you could have lived a life of decadence and ease, pampered beyond your wildness dreams as my husband and soul lover," she expressed. "I still intend to get my way, though," she said as she rubbed her hands together. "You have a champion here, to avenge you," she said as she held up quotation fingers. "I won't let him kill you, my dear, I intend for you to beat him and when you do I will allow him to take you and lead you in an attack against my enemies, the Fire Giants," she expressed and the lovely queen let out a cruel chuckle. "Well rest well, dear prince, for tomorrow games begin," the chieftess told the wolf before she left.

The next morning Thor awoke early to face his foe, the Giant Wolf of Musepleheim. In all honesty, he had hardly slept. How could he sleep? Was his brother dead? It seemed so unnatural. Loki had faced so many dangers, how could an animal have slaughtered him? How could he go and tell their mother that Loki was gone? How could Heimdal have not seen Loki's death? How would he go on without Loki by his side? He felt hollow and empty and someone how all at once he was an inferno.

He made his way to the amphitheater as the sun rose. His friends met him. They were all dressed in their armor, they had their blades and axes sharpened, their weapons were ready. Thor was grateful to have them by his side, but he assured them that he had to face this brutal creature alone.

"Thor don't be silly," Frandal protested as he grabbed his friend by the wrist. "If Loki and all the mages couldn't take him..." Frandal stated, he bit his lip and then shook his head.

"Do not worry my friend," Thor said as he gave Frandal a weak smile, "That is why I have to fight him alone," he winked as he and his friend made their way to the battle arena.

Chieftess Polodome met them at the gate. "Welcome Warriors," she greeted. "I have arranged special seating for you," she stated pleasantly.

"We are not here as spectators, your majesty," replied the plump red-bearded Viking. "Our prince is dead," he informed her harshly. "And so are some of our most esteemed members of court," he stated as his eyes narrowed in the beautiful Nymph's direction.

"Oh, merciful Yggdrasil no!" The chieftess gasped. "I wasn't implying anything of the sort. Indeed this is a time for great mourning. I am simply horrified by what has transpired. "I only wish to see justice served as well," she expressed. "I hope that this serves as a bit of closure and a reckoning for us," the chieftess claimed. "Please do allow my ladies to show you to your seats," Polodome offered as she pointed to some of her most appealing subjects. Despite their apparent grief all the male members of Prince Thor's war party seemed to take some comfort in the lovely damsels about them. "Prince Thor, if I may have a word with you in private?" The chieftess offered as her Nymphs went off with the warriors. "I know that there are no words that can describe what you feel right now," she said looking down. "I too, am quite beside myself with grief," she stated as patted her hands under her eyes. "The Aesir delegates did so much to help my people, we Nymphs will ever be in your debt," she expressed. "Prince Loki and I grew very fond of each other during his stay here," she muttered quietly. "We talked often and he told me much. He told me of the significance of this little item here," she informed him as she pulled out the small icy ring carved of a Bilgeschnipe tusk and presented it to Thor.

"Where did you get that?' Thor asked as his hand reached out for the trinket. He inspected the ring. He twisted and twirled it and held it just so in his fingers. His calloused hands traced every groove and recognized it. Still, he needed more proof. His bright blue eyes strayed to look at the inner part of the ring. There he found the written words that almost sent him crashing to his knees. Einar. Thor closed the small ring into a tight fist. He gritted his teeth as he prepared to enter the battle arena.

"It was found along with Loki's tattered clothing," she answered, but it was too late, the crown prince of Asgard was already strolling his way into the amphitheater.

Thor had no time to contemplate why the wolf wouldn't have simply eaten the ring along with Loki's hand. He had no time to consider the practicality of it all. Seeing his brother's ring only fueled his fire and rage. He growled as he clenched the bilgeschnipe tusk ring tightly in his fist. He would rip that wolf apart from tail to tooth.

The sun burned high in the sky as Prince Thor strode into the amphitheater. There were cheers and squeals that came from the crowd of gorgeous Nymphs who populated the stadium. They applauded as the tall and strapping, the blond-haired prince made a grand entrance through the large stone doors of the amphitheater. They threw down flowers and streamers and beads and perfumed favors for the son of Odin. Normally, Prince Thor would have been enthralled by such inviting gestures by such enchanting maidens, but as Prince Thor placed his helmet upon his head he did not even take notice of the petals the wafted slowly down toward him or the jewel-studded braziers that were thrown at him. He stepped over these trinkets crunching them beneath his boots and gritting his teeth. He searched the amphitheater noting the different caged that the animal could have been released from. Trumpets sounded. Chieftess Polodome stood upon her gilded dais and began to speak. "Ladies, ladies, ladies," she called in a sultry voice. "Long has it been since the days that we have seen one of our gladiator games. It is an ancient sport that goes back to our earliest history. It is the sport of kings and champions. It is a sport for those who demand the right of first blood. Such an act of vengeance is required at the hands of Prince Thor for the loss of his brother Prince Loki," she stated and bowed her head. A gasp came off from the crowd and Thor heard their shock and horror. Thor could feel his eyes welling up with tears. He wanted to scream, but he bit his lip to keep from letting out a strong outburst. The chieftess' words were lost on him them. They were drowned out by the thoughts in his head and the thunder of his heart.

Finally, he heard the Warriors Three stand up and yell. "FOR PRINCE!" His head snapped to attention as he heard his comrades call his brother's name. The saluted, thumped their chests and then took a knee of reverence as was the Asgardian custom. The Nymphs did their part to echo the same. Thor raised his head to the sun and took off his helmet as he saluted the memory of his brother. He held up the ring that he had made for his brother before all. The bilgeschnipe's tusk glistened in the blistering sun. Thor planted his lips upon it.

"For you, my brother," he whispered quietly to himself as he tucked the ring safely into his breastplate. "FOR ASGARD!" The first-born son of Odin echoed back before all. "YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS, CHIEFTESS POLODOME," he called. "BRING ME OUT MY FOE," he demanded of her and he waved his hands wildly in a beckoning manner. "SO THAT I MAY VANQUISH IT!" He declared. To this declaration, the crowd roared once more.

Chieftess Polodome bowed her head and obliged the prince's request. She signaled to her guards. "OPEN THE GATES!" She told them. "RELEASED THE BEAST!" She declared.

Slowly, the wheel and crank started to turn. The sound of the gears grinding and the wood and iron clanking and clinking as the gate rose could be heard throughout the amphitheater. Its sound was amplified in the shape of the stadium. Thor waited anxiously for the gate to open fully, with every turn of the wheel his heart beat faster, with every grind of the gear his pulse raced. He hadn't thought about what all this meant. He hadn't thought about how he would tell his family about Loki's untimely demise. How would the make an announcement to the king that their prince, a young man had been slain on a diplomatic mission? He hadn't thought about the fact that the families of the mages and the ambassadors and diplomats and the soldiers would all have to receive the same grim news. They would not even have the bodies of their relatives to mourn over. Such was the sacred task of the Valkyrie, to return the bodies of the fallen safely to Asgard, but even they would not be able to perform their duty unto the all-father for the bodies of their men lied souring in the stomach of some treacherous wolf. He did not think of the repercussions of his actions. He did not comprehend that this act of vengeance could have started a war. If Loki would have been there he could have warned him against such rash undertakings, but Loki wasn't present and his friends were far too eager for battle to have thought of such a thing. Even if they had tried to truly dissuade him from his course it would have done no good, his eyes were already seeing red. Thor gritted his teeth, twisted his foot into the dust and gravel of the floor, his hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of Mjolnir.

The gate was finally open fully and once the sound of the grinding gears had come to an abrupt halt a rumble was heard from behind the gate. It was a wild and feral growl that could have reminded Thor of his own thunder the animal's breathing was heavy and labored. The smell of its breath was a strong pungent odor that smelt like blood and corpses. Soon the giant paw of the wolf appeared. It was as black as a shadow. The size of the paw was the size of a bear, the jagged claws of the rabid animal were as sharp as a sword.

The wolf entered the arena. It somewhat staggered out of the of its pen. Its large jewel-like eyes blinked in the blinding sunlight as they tried to make themselves useful to the brightness. It had been many days since he'd been out of his cage. A wet black nose that's nostrils were so big that bats could have taken lodging inside raised to the heavens and sniff the air. Taking in all sorts of smells, some pleasant and some not so pleasant, all were interesting, some new and others familiar. Some of the scents were so strong and familiar that they were nearly jarring. Images and sensations flashed within the animal's memory. Glimpses and shadows of the past tumbled around in the wolf's noggin. Thinking was hard and piecing together the bits of information that his sharp sense of smell had afforded him seemed nearly impossible. The wolf's mind was a deep haze of animalistic instincts driven by hunger and survival and fear. He had a desire to run and flee this confining space, but he also had a desire to sample bodies of prey that were all around him. The wolf started to shake its head fiercely. He tried to get the nonsensical images from racing through his head. The thoughts that had been placed in his mind were a distraction from that which was really important and that was his ravenous hunger. He was fed just enough to keep him going in the days prior, but not enough to satisfy the deep gnawing and nagging from deep within the pit of his belly.

Its vermillion tongue came out of its mouth and lapped at its teeth and lips as it looked at all the prey just ripe for the sampling. It looked throughout the crowd, they were cheering and jeering and making all sorts of racket. The wolf's ears twitched as he heard a bevy of boos and hisses. He could sense the excitement and the fear and the anger in the group. Such strong emotions fed him only heightening his senses and making him feel more alive. He imagined lunging into the crowd. They would scatter and then he'd give chase. A chase would be far more fun. He was a hunter after all. He'd chased once, he'd killed and tasted the blood of his victims, he'd crushed their bones in his razor-sharp teeth. That had been better than being served slabs of cold bloodless meat in a dish.

Once again, the wolf raised its wide eyes to study its surrounding. It noted the sea of nymphs, they smelt like flowers and dew and wild berries, they project fear and they would surely be easy prey. Soon it's eyes fell upon the pedestal where Chieftess Polodome and her entourage were seated. He noticed that there were other there in the stands next to the chieftess and he couldn't help a feeling of familiarity when he saw them. This feel made him want to bark and yip and chase his tail. He turned his head slightly and beheld Polodome. She was a familiar face and yet she bred no feelings of glee. The wolf snarled in her direction and growled ferociously. She held not a twinge of fear at seeing the wolf bear its brilliant white teeth, instead she held her head all the higher, her hands slipping around a pendant that she wore about her neck. The ruler of the Nymphs held no fear, but she elicited much fear front he creature. Fear that made the wolf want to cower and slink away with its tail between its legs, but it also elicited a rage that made him want to lung into the crowd and gobble the woman whole. Perhaps Chieftess Polodome could sense his bloody thought. For she touched her hand to the pendant upon her neck and his collar sent a shockwave of pain throughout his entire body that caused the wolf to howl in terrible pain. He slammed his head against the ground and scraped his ears across the dirt. He ran around in circles and thrust himself to the ground.

The wolf heard a chanting. He heard the pounding of metal and stomping of feet and he heard steel clashing together. That sound was almost maddening and surely the wolf felt the drive to kill it. His eyes glowed as he stared in the direction of the one who was making all the terrible nose. He'd rip him limb from limb to shut him up. But as he gazed upon the face of the young, blond-haired man before he was once again overcome with a sense of familiarity that was overwhelming. His eyes dilated and he stretched on all fours his rear end lifted into the air and his tail started to wag enough to cause a wind storm. His tongue flapped out of his mouth and he panted breathlessly.

To this Chieftess Polodome raised an eyebrow, then those brows knit together as she pressed hard on her pendant. Thor took no note of the gigantic wolf's puppy-like expression and came charging full-force at the wolf with his swords drawn ready to slice the creatures head off in one foul swoop. "Fight," Polodome commanded and the wolf felt s swift shock sear his neck. All of a sudden his eyes became laser-focused, his nails pawed at the ground so deeply that it seemed like he was digging the grave right then and there. And it foamed at the mouth. Thor bellowed thunderously and the massive wolf howled as if the sun was the moon. They both went running at each other. Thor slid right under the wolf's belly and grabbed the wolf by the tail and dragged him into the arena. The wolf snapped. His teeth gnashed and he chased Thor as he still held him by the tail. Thor did his best to avoid the wolf's furious jaws but for every circle and lap they made the black wolf gained steam and inched closer and closer to taking a bite out of the crown prince of Asgard. Finally, the wild dog managed to take a nip out of Thor's right thigh. The son of Odin screamed out as the hellish hound held his leg and shook him like a ragdoll.

"THOR!" SIf screamed out from the stands as she saw her prince and friend being defeated by the beast. Thor raised his hands toward the wolf's mouth. He screamed as he put his hands between the wolf's snout and lower jaw. The wolf had a lockjaw clench on Thor's thigh. His canine incisors sank deeper through the armor and down through the meaty flesh of the prince's thunder thighs and were ready to pierce bone. Thor let out a horrendous cry. He stretched and strained and contorted his face until he finally managed to pry the jaws open. The villainous wolf had its long, wet tongue entangled firmly around Thor's leg. It loved the taste of hot, salty blood. He was determined not to let his meal slip away. Thor punched the wolf in the nose with several quick jabs until he happened to disorient the beast. The wolf yowled swung its head tossing Thor across the arena.

There the prince lied on the ground covered in blood and his leg gashed and bleeding and chewed up like a chew toy. He was panting and breathless and holding his leg trying to stop the blood. "Come on!" Lady Sif encouraged her friends. "We gotta help!" She declared and she was about to leap down into the arena. Hogun, Vostagg and Frandal were likewise ready to follow suit. Thor looked up with bloodshot, tear-stained, blue eyes. He gritted his teeth and it into his lips until he tasted the blood of his lip. He held up his hand toward his friends and shook it. He wanted to finish this savage beast himself. It put up a great fight and he didn't care if they fought all day and all night. He didn't care if the animal picked him off limb by limb. If he only had one leg to stand on he would hop on that leg and kill the wolf. If he had no leg to stand on he would drag himself into a victory for the sake of his brother.

Thor reached back to take hold of a piece of his cloak. He ripped his cape and tried to bind up his wound, but with a mighty howl, the wolf was back to charging at the prince of Asgard. It was howling and gnashing and foaming at the mouth. It's saliva like venom. It stalked closer and closer toward him. It made its way over to him slowly at first and then it came running full speed with its teeth beared furiously. It sprang forth ready to attack, ready for the kill. "THOR LOOK OUT!" Volstagg shouted over the crowd who was cheering. Thor didn't have time to think. His cerulean eyes were met by a mouth full of knife-like teeth and ghastly breath that curled the golden hair over his lips. There, the monstrous wolf stood snarling above him, it's mouth foaming and the saliva of the hungry wolf dripping to the floor. Its massive paw aimed to dig into the ground. It charged once more. It was running full speed and in its ferocity, it was practically a gray blur. The beast's body leaped into the air. It was so big that it cast a long dark shadow over the arena. The hairy, black body was so large that it nearly blotted out the sun and as its tail lashed and slashed through the air it created a wind that could have been mistaken for a hurricane. Squeaks and squeals and squawks came from the crowd of gawking Nymph maidens. Some of them ran from the stands. They seemed particularly a fright of what the animal might do to the gorgeous prince. Thor reacted immediately and pulled Mjolnir from his it's protective latch on his belt. He was panting and breathless and unable to get to his feet. The wolf's body sailed ever closer and closer toward him. It reminded him of an eagle swooping down to catch its prey. Just as the wolf's paws got closer and closer ready to stick the landing. Making prince Thor sure that he would be impaled by one of the razor-sharp talons, he swung his hammer mightily and the heavy metal collided with the wolf's face just before it massive mouth could gobble Thor up, whole. The blow sent the wolf spiraling toward the wall on the other side of the stadium, that was more than 3 miles across.

The big, black wolf hit the wall with a loud crash and it dented the walls and made the bleachers shake, rubble started to fall and it all fell right on top of the ferocious animal. The wolf howled and whimpered as it was crushed and buried under several old bricks and rocks. Prince Thor struggled to raise himself up to his feet. He heard the roar of the crowd. They cheered him on applauded his exploits. His friends chanted from the stands for him to finish the creature off. The gentle Nymphs begged for mercy. The forest-dwelling Nymphs of Musepelheim were a peaceful race. Dominated by females they had always used charm and lust to win battles. It had worked for many centuries, but finally, the Fire Giants became wise to the ways of the Nymphs. When they went to strike, rounding up many Nymph women, plucking them from the frolic and folly in the forests and taking them captive, they made the few men that they had slaves and they took the women and wives and concubines and living scenery for their fiery estates. The Nymphs had been unable to resist. Their weak ways had nearly led to their extinction and it was for that reason that Loki and the mages and ambassadors of Asgard had come to their aid. Even after fighting for their independence, the Nymphs would have surely fallen prey once again to the attacks of some other enemy without learning to defend themselves. As a race, they seemed to have little interest in learning weaponry. But they already had a secret weapon from within, many of the Nymph maidens were endowed with powerful elemental magic. They could manipulate the forces of nature and take on the shapes of many creatures. Loki and the enchanters were set to teach them how to use this power to protect themselves against invaders and encroachers who wanted to ravage them and their land. Thor heard their pleas for mercy, but he could pay no attention to it. It was such weakness that had led to their demise. If they saw fit to destroy themselves with such tenderness than that was there doing. Didn't they see how this beast was a savage animal that would feast up their flesh if given the chance? The Prince of Asgard had no intention of sparing the monster's life. It didn't spare Loki's. He could feel tears stinging at his eyes as he thought about how this creature had murdered his brother.

Thor attempted to stand. But his leg was bloodied and broken and unable to support his weight. He pushed up off the ground several times only to slump back down. Sif practically jumped down from the stands to aid her prince, but Hogun caught her by the shoulder and held her back. Thor continued to struggle to get to his feet. He'd not be defeated. It was for his brother's sake. He knew he could not walk, but he could still fly. He summoned the power of Mjolnir. He spun the hammer around. Soon it lifted him off the ground and he became lighter than air. He soared above and the crowd exclaimed. He landed on one foot. He balanced brilliantly and stood before the yelping wolf who wriggled and tried to free himself from being trapped beneath the weight of the heavy rocks. Thor's bright blue eyes were narrowed and red-rimmed. Lightning flickered and crackled within the deep pools of his pupils. He tossed his mighty hammer to the side and pulled out two great blades. He crisscrossed the weapons and carried them over his head. He intended to decapitate the wolf. He'd bring it back to the King of the Fire Giants. He'd drop it on his black palace's door and then he'd rage war against the demons.

He hopped and hobbled just a little bit closer to the animal he who was struggling to free itself. "This is for my brother," He declared toward the heavens as he swung the sword and prepared the cut off the animal's hideous head. The wolf was still viciously growling. It was still snapping and barking. It still had a fight in it. That would make its execution all the sweeter. Thor was ready to bring a death blow to the creature. He looked in the eye of the rabid animal, but then his saw how green they were. They were a deep, piercing, emerald color. The color was practically magical. The eyes struck him like a lightning bolt to the heart. They took his breath away. He fell back on the ground. "Loki?" He stammered in disbelief.

Prince Thor had no time to question what had happened to his brother or how he had ended up in this lupine form for immediately the black wolf with the gleaming, green eyes spring forth from out of the mound of rocks from which it had been buried in. It smelt the blood the dripped from Thor's leg and was reminded of the exquisite taste of it on his tongue. He howled heroically, the sound was wild and sent fear to the soul and once more the hound was ready for the chase. "Loki, no," Thor warned as he put up his hands to defend himself. But the wild animal gave no heed to the plea as it approached the blond-haired son of Odin while licking its chops.

On strong legs, it bounded toward Thor. Thor gulped as he realized he had no chance of outrunning the creature. Thor raised his hammer again and took to the skies. He zipped and zoomed right out of the hungry jaws of the predator. The wolf snapped at the air like he was trying to catch a pesky fly. Thor managed to dodge him for a time, but finally, the wolf grew wise to the game. He stood on his hind paws and with a paw as big as a whale he swatted the flying prince from the air. Thor crashed to the ground. He banged his head and scraped his cheek across the gravel and ate a mouthful of dust. He quickly rallied himself as he felt the vibrations from the wolf's lumbering footsteps coming toward his still form. Just as the wolf hand him cornered, Thor pushed himself to stand on the only useable leg he had. Loki ran toward him and Prince Thor jumped over the beasts towering head and landed on his back. This sent the wolf into a rage and a frenzy. He bucked like a bronco and Thor was forced to hold on tight to the thick fur on Loki's back to keep from falling back. "Loki, calm down," he ordered as he bumped up and down on the animal's back. Finally, he ended up low on Loki's back and he grabbed hold of Loki's tail. This mad the wild dog rage all the more. Loki seemed to go mad, he yipped and yelped and growled fiercely as he chased his tail trying to get Thor off of him. Thor held onto the tail for dear life. "Loki stop! Please!" He cried as Loki wagged his tail viciously and finally flung Thor from it. The prince's body was tossed high into the air. He came crashing down to the floor of the arena with a mighty thud that split the ground beneath him.

"Blast him, Thor!" Cried Frandal as the wolf came charging. He jumped up from his seat in the stands and screamed as loud as he could. This creature was unrelenting and Thor was losing the battle, but one quick zap from Mjolnir should do the trick. He wondered why Thor hesitated.

The crown prince of Asgard was all but spent. His long hair was plastered to his face. His forehead was drenched in perspiration, his leg resembled a half-chewed piece of mutton chop. Physically, he doubted he could best the beast without some type of death strike, but that was no longer an option. So, Prince Thor did the only thing he could think to do. He crawled his way toward the wolf. His body dragged across the gravely ground like a slug. He reached into his breastplate and pulled a small silvery, icy object out of it. Slowly, he lifted his hand and waved something small in the animal's face. The wolf was still roaring and growling. It walked around him pacing and licking its lips hungrily. But it hadn't outright gone in for the kill. It seemed to study the object in Thor's hand. "It's ok, Loki" Thor whispered from his knees as he raised a hand to touch Loki's nose. The wolf shook his head resisting the touch. "It's ok," Thor muttered breathlessly. "I'm not going to hurt you," he explained still shaking something small in his hand. "It's me, Thor, I'm y-y-your brother," he explained and held out a flat palm with the ring in it. "Try to think," he expressed. The wolf's large black nose that was larger than Thor's whole head moved closer toward his hand and he sniffed vigorously. The scent jarred the animals' memory. There were one thousand familiar smells tethered to the tiny sphere and all at once the wolf's wild mind was flooded with them all. They came quickly, slapping him around, but they were fizzy and fuzzy. The wolf reared on its hind legs, spiraling backward it thrashed its head about as if trying to get rid of the visions, but they did leave. Her heard Chieftess Polodome's voice ringing his ear giving him commands. The voice was loud and strong, demanding and compelling and uneasy to ignore.

Thor bit his lip and held his breath he was at the mercy of the predator and if the creature so chose it could easily gobble him up. He felt the hot breath of creature on his face, but instead of feeling the sharp bite of teeth shape as nails and tall as trees slicing through his skull he felt the gentle, lick of a wet tongue rake across his body. He looked back at the wolf and saw that those gleaming jade eyes were alight and alert. "Loki?" Thor asked cautiously as he raised his hand toward the wolf. The wolf bobbed is black head and wagged its tail. "Good boy," Thor encouraged as he scratched the great wolf behind the ears. This caused the wild dog's tongue to flop out of his mouth energetically. It tossed it's head back and forth so that its fur flew up and the gorgeous collar that had been placed around his neck was revealed. He raised one of his back paws and scratched at the irksome collar. "The collar?" Thor raised his hand as he tugged on the tight shackle. Loki whimpered pitifully. The blonde-haired son of Odin scowled as he noticed the electrodes that were connected to the instrument. "Well I say it's time we cut you free," he declared and quickly he pulled out his sword and sawed right through the diamond collar.

Loki let out one last wild howl before his body slumped over as if dead. "Loki!" Thor screamed in horror. The crowd of Nymphs stood on their feet as they thought that the son of Odin had slain the beast. "Loki! Nooo!" Thor screamed as he watched his brother fall to the ground. "What have I done? What have I done?" The elder prince muttered as he grabbed hold of patches of fur on the wolf's body. Thor cried into the thick clump of midnight black fur that he was holding onto firmly. Then, slowly, he felt a rumbling and he pushed away from holding on to the wolf's still form and beheld as Loki's body began to shrink and become less and less lupine and more and more the proud form of a man.

"Loki! Loki!" Thor squealed like a child with delight as he saw his brother return to his old self. He took him by the shoulders and shook him desperate to revive him. "Loki, wake up," he called. He patted his thin cheeks trying to do anything to arouse his brother, but Loki remained prone and still. Prince Thor panicked. His face contorted with horror as he found that the young man remained listless. He placed his ear on Loki's bare chest and nearly sobbed with he heard the heart. He then lifted the limp body to his chest and cradled his brother's thin, pale form in his strong, ruddy arms. He held him there for a long time until finally, he felt a Loki stirring. He immediately pushed Loki off of himself and looked at him with elation. Loki batted confused evergreen eyes back in his direction. "Loki?" He asked softly as he raked his hand through Loki's midnight tresses.

"Thor," Loki replied with a sleepy grin, his hand strayed to trace the angry scars left by the collar along his neck. "Where are my clothes?"

The crown prince of Asgard slightly chuckled as he recalled his brother's earnest bewilderment at his nearly naked state in front of a crowd that was a sea of women. His laughter fell flat as he remembered Loki telling him of the indignity that Chieftess Polodome had inflicted upon him. He would have slain the Nymph if it wouldn't have been for Loki's insistence against it. He described her as at best a mischievous and spoiled child and believed that a taste of her own medicine along with her people paying war reparations for 300 years was adequate punishment enough.

Thor's frown became deeper still as he thought of how much this little ring use to mean to Loki. It was such crude craftsmanship and yet it had meant so much, had housed so much that it had been able to reach Loki even when he was in his most wild and savage state. Now there was nothing that could bring Loki back. His mind was more warped now than it had been then. Even then when Loki had been under the influence of heavy magic he had still been reachable, salvageable. Deep with inside that wolfish form had still beat the heart of his brother. Loki dressed in all the finery and regal befitting a king, but on the inside, he was more fiendish and wild and than any vile creature imaginable. Loki was just an animal. His heart was charcoal black and seared with a hot iron. There was no penetrating it and there was no reaching him.

Thor shook his head and allowed his wet muddy hair to fall on his face. He looked at the tiny trinket once again. It had meant so much to them both. He'd been proud to make it for his brother when he was a lad. He'd been proud to bestow the gift upon the young lad who in the body of a lamb had fought with the heart of a lion. He recalled when they had been barely men and had sought their fortunes and crowns at the Temple of Tribute. They'd had to give gifts at the temple's altar. They were commanded to give their most prized possessions and Loki had given the bilgeschnipe ring. If he wouldn't have been so desperate to get into the temple and find his crown he might have paid more attention to the significance of the gesture. Once the small ring had been the most precious thing in the world to the enchanter. Now it was meant nothing. It was just carelessly thrown on the ground and tossed aside with no regard. Just as their brotherhood had been. In their final moments together, Loki had done everything possible to shatter their brotherhood and he'd left behind every trace of the happy past they'd once shared. Thor looked at the ring with tears in his eyes. "I don't have a brother," he confessed. "Maybe I never did," he muttered to himself. He slammed his eyes shut and clenched his fist tightly around the ring. It would have been so easy to break it. He could have very easily crumbled it into dust by flexing his muscles. He should have done it. He wanted to do it! He needed to do it. Loki had destroyed their brotherhood, he'd destroyed their kingdom and he should have done the same to the ring. He should have pulverized it in his bare hands. He could have pummeled the bilgeschnipe ring into nothing but ice-cubes. He should have and he wanted to. He wanted to pulverize the ring just as Loki had pulverized his heart and obliterated their brotherhood. In a few measly hours Convergence would come, Loki and Malekith together would release the Aether and bring forth Ragnorok, they would leave the realms in chaos and reduce Asgard to rubble. The more he thought about it the angrier he became. He was soon furious. He was fuming and screaming his lungs raw in the cell that was low and buried beneath the palace that no one could hear him. Not that there was anyone left in the palace to hear his cries anyway. Still, he hollered the more. "I HATE YOU, LOKI! I HATE YOU!" The thunderer roared. He screamed until his side hurt and it felt like he would rip his spleen into. All the while he found his fingers closing tighter and tighter around the tiny ring in his hand. Finally, he doubled over in pain. Loki's magic that was holding the prince's broken body together was wearing thin.

Thor gasped as his body rolled into the mud. Waves of pain ebbed flowed across his body. They left him quivering and shaking like a newborn colt. He gritted his teeth as he tried to fight off the agony. He grunted and strained, but all the while the pain still racked his body. He continued to hold the ring in his hands and continued to squeeze it. He could feel that the bilgeschnipe tusk was starting to crack. The blond son of Odin squeezed harder, his ring had cracked, but it was not yet destroyed like the bond he had once shared with Loki. He wanted to finish the job and just break the ring into smithereens; and yet he didn't, he simply yet the ring fall from his fingers and back into its rightful place in the mud.

The discomfort passed, momentarily, he panted as he collected himself and slowly rose to his knees. "I'm sorry, father," Thor muttered quietly as he faced the wall. "I've failed you," he confessed. He shook his head and wrapped his battered, but albeit muscular arms around himself, "I've failed mother," he muttered miserably. "I failed my own friends," he admitted as he voice became softer, he sniffled a bit at the thought. "I failed all of Asgard," he bit his lip and tried to keep from sobbing. "I failed the whole of the Nine Realms," he threw his hand up into the air. "I failed Jane," he went on the tears started to flow as the weight of all those who head had let down sank onto his shoulders.

"Forgive me, Jane," he said as he raised his bloodshot eyes to stare at the dirty slime covered ceiling where dirty water dripped from it. "I'm so sorry," he went on. He had wanted to protect her. He wanted to be her hero. He had brought her to Asgard in an effort to save her life, but now she would most assuredly die. He'd promised her safety and he was supposed to be an Avenger, one of Earth's Mightiest Heroes. He started to chuckle as he heard Tony Stark's sarcastic voice coining the phrase. He couldn't bring himself to truly even muster a smile as he thought of the fact that his friends on Earth would perish. They wouldn't die without even knowing why or what hit them. They were fighters and warriors and they should have been given the honor and the privilege of being able to fight for their lives and for their freedoms, but he could not even give his friends that much. He shook his head his heart felt like it was trapped in a vice. He'd promised to do everything in his power to keep her homeworld safe. But he hadn't kept that promise. "Please forgive me," he begged as his voice became choked with tears. He had imagined a life with Jane. Sometimes he had pictured a life for them on Asgard a life where he would dress her in the finest silks and gold and would show her wonders beyond her mortal imagination. He would show her the stars and hand them to her on a silver platter for her to study until her hunger for knowledge was satisfied. They would live a glorious life together full of riches and marvels. Other times he pictured just the opposite for the two of them. It would be simple life on Earth. They'd both work she as a proud leading scientist at NASA and he'd fight with the Avengers and at the end of the day they'd come home to each other and sip that wonderful drink called coffee together. They'd live a life and together and have a family, grow old and love each other. Thor gulped, his eyes were pricked with moisture as the painful realization settled into his brain that now neither vision had a chance of coming to pass. He closed his eyes and tried to picture Jane's face once more. He wanted her face to be the last thing on his mind. he wanted his last sights to be that of her sweet, young, soft features and intelligent eyes. But alas he could not completely push aside the images of the people of Asgard running and screaming in terror for their lives out of his mind. He saw their dead bodies lying in the street. He saw the children dragged and chained and made to serve the terrible Dark-Elves.

"I've failed everyone," he said as he pounded his fist into the mud while he doubled over. "You always taught me what a king should do. At least you tried to," he confessed with a shrug. "So many times I was just so bull-headed, I could not listen to reason," he explained. "So maybe I never learned so well," he nodded to himself. "You always told me how a king should sacrifice,"Thor's voice cracked as tears ran down his face. "But...but...But I wasn't able to do that, father. I...I...I should have sacrificed Loki," Thor said with a whimper, "But I guess I'm not as strong or as brave as I thought. I wish it was me who had to suffer alone for my ignorance and foolishness and shortcomings and not all the realms that had to pay the price. I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry," the blond-haired prince sobbed. "Everything that you fought so hard to preserve, I let come to ruin," his head hung lower and lower. "Everything that you and grandfather and all the ancestors of our people have tried to accomplish to bring peace and light and enlightenment to the Nine Realms I have allowed to be destroyed," he explained. "And I knew...I knew...I knew... I was warned and shown and I was too stupid to take heed," Thor slapped his own forehead. "Now, it's too late," Thor said with his voice breaking. "Now it's too late," he looked up with watery, bloodshot eyes. "Asgard is going to burn and the Nine Realms are going to crumble and it's because of me," he proclaimed as he beat his chest. He beat his chest violently until it was red and raw. "I failed you," Prince Thor nodded as he mashed his lips together. "And I failed Loki," those words hurt the most. "I don't know," he grabbed his long, bedraggled golden mane and held his own head. "I don't know," he muttered more and more bitterly. "I wasn't a perfect brother to Loki, I know...I know...Maybe I could have been a better brother to him...I should have been kinder, gentler, more supportive, more generous, more willing to share the spotlight," he went on, "I don't know," he let his hands fall from his head and into his lap. "I don't know," he mumbled and his voice was weak and tired. "But Loki is a monster and maybe I am the most responsible for him becoming so, but what he has done is unforgivable," he expressed. He doesn't deserve it," he shook his head and stated. "And I...I don't deserve to be called your son," he stated boldly. "I don't deserve to be called a Prince of Asgard."

With that Thor closed his eyes. Another wave of pain engulfed him as he could feel the effects of Loki's healing incantation wearing off rather quickly, he was starting to feel the pain from ever scrape, bump and bruise on his broken body aching and throbbing. He gasped and doubled over falling in the mud and holding his side. He wished to die right then and there and not have to live to see the dawning of the Convergence. He scolded himself for longing for the path of the coward. He deserved to see Convergence and know the horror and calamity of where his actions had led them. He deserved that much. It was a befitting punishment for his crimes. He could go into Helheim with that knowledge and that would be greater than any punishment that the mistress of that foul realm could concoct to torture him with for years to come.

The crown prince of Asgard lay on the ground, his body in such misery that all he could do was lie there and weep. He lied there crying for what seemed like forever until he felt he would cry himself to sleep. The last time he had done so it had been after Loki's supposed death. He had been so broken hearted about his brother's death that he'd simply laid in his head upon his mother's knees and cried in her lap like a child while she stroked his hair.

But as he closed his eyes he heard something. Something that came in soft and low, barely audible...then it started to grow just a little louder. At first, it was just a tingle in his ear like the ringing of a bell and then it became like the booming of a drum. He heard a melody that played soft and sweet and sure like a lullaby. It rocked him and cradled him and surrounded him with a strange comfort. The sound of the melody was so pure and strong. It was both ethereal and angelic and Thor found himself humming along to the beautiful familiar tune. Soon it was not just a tune, but he could hear voices. They started out weak as if it was just a whisper, but they too grew louder until they were chanting. They chanted with such might that their song no longer just played in his ears, but in his very heart. He could hear the voices there were male and female voice, they were young and old voices, they were familiar and strangers voice as well. He could hear the voice of his friends joining in the chorus, he could hear Volstagg bellowing and Frandal singing and Hogun murmuring a long as well. Even in the multitude of so many blended voices, he could hear Lady Sif. Her voice was recognizable for it had an unmistakable strength and sultry quality to it. She never sang much, but her mother had often wished that she would have because she had always felt that Sif had a good singing voice and she was right she did. He heard his mother's voice and hearing the woe in her tone as she sung this hymn made him want to cry all the more. He had never heard such brokenness in the queen's voice. he had never heard his mother's voice so full of despair. She was the queen of Asgard she was the most regal, dignified and gracious woman he had ever known and yet she sounded as if she was begging while she sang. He could not bear to hear his mother beg. He heard the voice of all their ancestors all rising up from Valhalla and beyond to join in the song, this song of despair as a desperate prayer. It was their final hour and they were powerless to do anything to save themselves and yet in all their desperation and their hopelessness they had found the strength to sing this song and believe in the last chance for salvation to come from the Almighty. Prince Thor heard the voices of even the youngest children in Asgard rallying together to give their cry and plea to intercede for their lives. At last, he heard Jane's voice. His heart swelled. How had she known the words to the song? She was singing it so confidently and with such a passion for the words had been engrained in her all her life. She had a lovely voice. It was light and airy almost like a little girl. It made his heart swell to hear her sing the song of his people. She was one of them. And despite his pain, Prince Thor managed to smile.

Finally, Prince Thor could no longer contain himself. In his cell, he felt alone and isolated. He longed to be with his friends to have a final moment of comradery and reminiscing about their grand adventures. Maybe if they were all together they could think of something to do. There had to be something they could do. He and his friends never gave up, they never surrendered in battle. Prince Thor, The Warriors Three and Lady Sif had never lost a battle. He wished with all his might that there was something that he and his friends could think of to do, but alas he felt as though it was a lost cause. Loki and Malekith had so much of the upper hand over them, they had the Aether and they had defeated Asgard's army already, so many were wounded and injured and there was so little time. Thor didn't know what time it was exactly, but he knew that dawn swiftly approached and with it so did his death, Convergence and ultimately Ragnorok. He felt powerless.

He longed to be with Jane, to take her in his arms and kiss her sweet lips before he died. He wanted to look into her liquid, hazel eyes and tell her that he loved her. He wanted to tell her that he loved her more than any woman on any realm that he had ever known. He wanted to see his mother one last time. He wanted to hold her hand and kiss her forehead and tell her not to be afraid in the face of this grave danger. He wanted to thank her for everything that she had ever done for him, he wanted to tell her personally how sorry he was. He also wanted to say it to his father. His father. Thor gasped as he listened intently to the chorus of voices all singing the woeful song. He could pick out so many voices, he could hear a choir of thousands, millions, but he could not hear his father's voice. His heart nearly stopped as he realized that the voice of the all-father was not among those raised in one last hopeful chorus. "Father, no!" Prince Thor croaked. Had Odin already died? Thor's heart began to pound viciously in his chest. "No, Father, no!" he whimpered. "Father it can't be! It can't be," Prince Thor muttered to himself. "Oh father...are you gone? Are you truly gone?" He called out into the empty, dark space that was the hovel he had a cell. Thor shuddered and started to sob. He felt a twinge of guilt creep over him. How could he long for his father to still be with him? How could he expect his father to watch the immense suffering of their people and endure seeing their world be simply snuffed out like a candle in the night? His father's heart couldn't bear it any longer. "It's my fault, father...it's my fault you're gone," Prince Thor confessed. His hand reaching out in the dark as if he longed to touch his father's hand one more time. He now knew he never would. "May you find peace in the halls of Valhalla," he prayed. "There will never be a greater king than you," he pledged.

In the pit of his soul, he felt nothing but the deepest sorrow. He could do nothing for his beloved Asgard now. His people, his parents, his friends and his love had all been counting on him and he'd failed them all. His body ached as all the wounds were reopened, his bones were once again split, the punctures in his lungs and the bruises to his vital organs all came racing back to his body. His head ached abominably and he could feel his concussion returning. Once again he was bleeding from his temples and nostrils and his black eyes had returned making him look like some deformed monster rather than the handsome prince that he was. Still, all of that hurt was nothing in comparison to pain in his heart. He was helpless in a dungeon, trapped and chained and beaten and defeated and alone. He couldn't do anything to save Asgard or the Nine Realms. He couldn't save them, but he longed to be with them and to join in their despair. Thor could no longer hold himself back. All the while he had been humming and rehearsing the words in his mind. The song was waiting to burst forth. He gasped as he slowly managed to roll over to his side. He sunk his hands into the muck and attempted to push himself to a position where he was simply sitting on his knees. This proved to be a struggle. His limbs were weak. Finally, he gained enough strength to sit up and he raised his voice and cry loud and spare not for his people. His voice was hoarse, but the Prince of Asgard managed to part his lips and make utterance. "Fates love Asgard we have to keep believing, though scattered, torn and divided we are still her heart, the fall of Asgard ephemeral and fleeting, my spirit keeps on burning although my flesh is torn apart. Take me in, my dreams recurring. One more longing backward glance.

---

Lady Sigyn pushed her way from behind the wall. As the wall opened slowly it made a creaking sound. Sigyn poked her head out from behind the place where the wall opened up. Her face was absolutely filthy. Her long, blonde locks were caked and grimy. She wiped the sweat and dirt from out of her golden eyes as she checked to make sure the cost was clear. Sigyn's breathing was initially heavy. her chest heaved rapidly, but she did her best to regulate her breaths. She held her breath hoping that she wouldn't find a patrol of Dark-Elf soldiers marching through the hallways. Lady Sigyn sighed in relief when she found that no one was present in the corridor. In her elation, she practically fell out of the catacomb and back into the palace. She stumbled and tripped over her ripped gown. She lay sprawled out on the floor. She gasped, nervous, that her loud spill in the hall would awake the elves of Svartalfheim. Sigyn rapidly pushed herself off the ground, she pressed her back against the wall. She bit deep into her lip to keep from screaming in fear. She closed her eyes and kept her lips mashed together as she heard a creaking sound in the hallway. With her eyes closed and her back firmly plastered against the wall, she desperately felt along the grooves in the wall, hoping to find the panel that would let her back into the catacomb. Sigyn panicked as she couldn't seem to find the loose bricks and stones on the wall. Her hand started to tremble. She was absolutely certain that she could hear the sound getting louder and more rapid. "No! No! No!" Sigyn muttered to herself in fear. The Dark-Elves could be upon her in any second. She wasn't even simply scared for her own life, though that would have been cause enough to be afraid out of her wits, no, she was scared because if they captured her...then she wouldn't have the chance to complete her mission and fulfill her promise and honor Lady Dagmar's dying request. And in that then she was surrendering Asgard's only chance at survival and the Nine Realms as well.

Sigyn sniffled and she felt tears sting her eyes. Was there even a chance that Loki would even care about what was written on the scroll now. He was so evil, too far gone, power-mad and simple wicked. He didn't care about anyone. He had killed so ruthlessly without thought or remorse, look at what he had done to his own brother? He'd just allowed those terrible elves to beat Thor to a pulp. She shook her head. She'd watched him kill Dyson...Dyson was a young and noble guard, he had been loyal to the royal family and to Asgard. He had done nothing, but try to defend his realm and Loki had slaughtered him for it. How could a man like that...no, not a man, a monster...how could a monster like that care about a child that was possibly born to him? Still, it was even more of a gamble. The letter could have very well contained a written word expressing that the child had died. Then she would have done all this for nothing. Sigyn felt foolish. Would all her efforts really come to naught? She gulped. It didn't matter. She had to make every effort to do what she could to save her people, to save all people and to save Loki, if he even could be saved. Her gallantry may simply have been a waste of time but at least she believed for all her trying she would die a warriors' death, a death of honor and would be granted a wondrous entry into Valhalla.

The sound squeaky footsteps tiptoeing down the hall seemed to be approaching at a more rapid pace. Sigyn reached her hand back and felt the quiver on her back and dug in there searching for an arrow to use to guard herself. She pulled it from the quiver. It was perfect gold craftsmanship. There were so many details etched in the arrow that was beset with jewels. She brought it up to her dirty lips and planted a kiss on the on the arrows head as she set the arrow in her bow and was readied herself to let it go at the first appearance of one Malekith's men. She swallowed deeply and her hands started shaking violently. Sigyn thought long and hard, she tried to steady herself by reminding herself that the arrows were enchanted with Loki's magic. They couldn't miss. If there was one thing that Loki was good for it was perfecting his spells. She had seen it work before and she knew that as long as she aimed the arrow straight and true it would not deviate from its target. Still, the queen's lady-in-waiting could feel her palms growing moist, she had never killed before.

But soon her racing pulse and fluttering heart and heavy panting came to a halt as she found that no guards were coming. Her palms stopped sweating as she found that the noise she had been so afraid of was merely her own anxious foot tapping on the ground. Lady Sigyn smiled, despite herself. She was so foolish and childish after all being afraid of her own foot. It was the type of thing that she would have done as a little girl. Both embarrassed and relieved Sigyn slid down the wall with the hand that had once been holding the arrow in place on the bow shaft went to rest upon her forehead. She wiped her brow and pushed her messy, tangled blonde hair out of her honeycomb eyes. She smiled and then she laughed and then she whimpered as her body collapsed against the cold hard ground. She put her bow and arrows back into the quiver.

Sigyn looked down at her feet. Her sandal had broken and her ankle was swollen. The skin on it had turned purple and blue and black from having exacerbated the sprain that she had already inflicted upon the ankle. She gasped as she felt the tender body part and winced as she tried to push up off of the ground on that leg. Her attempt was futile as she found herself falling back to the marble floor. She rested her head upon the wall and she gingerly rolled her ankle back and forth. Slowly, she started to remove the straps of the sandal from wrapping around her swollen ankle. The shoe was already broken and virtually useless. She removed the sandals.

Sigyn sat quietly for a moment as she tried to plan her next move. She could scarcely stand, but she knew she needed to move. The palace was dark and silent as the grave and it gave the golden-haired maiden an eerie feeling in the pit of her stomach. The Imperial Palace had always been a lively place full energy and people and life. There was always music and laughter here and even in times of sorrow, there had still been words of hope to share among the people. The Imperial Palace of Asgard was supposed to be a place of refuge and strength for the people of Asgard. It was supposed to be a lighthouse for the worlds, but now it seemed like nothing but a tomb. The hairs on her arm were standing up and she could feel a creeping feeling running up and down her spine. It made her want to yelp. Instead, she managed to contain herself. She bit her lip that was split and managed to keep from screaming. She was afraid that if she even made one peep that the Dark-Elves would immerge from whatever rooms they were hiding in and attack her and she didn't have time for that. She reached within the folds of her tattered cloak and felt in the pocket for the scroll. She pulled it out. She looked at it and shook her head and scoffed. "What can you do?" The young noblewoman questioned as she looked down at the rolled up piece of parchment. "What can you truly do?" She demanded of the scroll. "Can you actually stop him? Change him?" She asked as tears streamed down her face. "Can you really save us all?" Asked as she held the parchment scroll in her hands and shook it. "How could you?" Her golden eyes looked up at the ceiling. "Merciful Yggdrasil, please don't let it be over for us all?' She pleaded and put her hands in prayer position. "Oh please," she pleaded and she started to cry harder. She picked the scroll back up and wanted to hurl it down the hall. There was a large bay window right across from her and she wished to throw the scroll out of that window. She thrust her hand back and was ready to make the toss, but just as her hand primed and set to make the toss she started to hear a beautiful melody.

It started out as just a buzz, a hum. The rhythm wasn't quite clear, but the sound was most certainly appealing. She strained her ears to listen further. The sound was so pleasant although it was faint, she was scared if she didn't incline her ears further that she would lose the melody altogether. She certainly didn't want that. Without the melody the swirled around her eardrums she would be left with nothing, but the deafening sound of silence. Soon the deep humming was converted into an eerie moaning and groaning, it was almost a wail. It sounded so forlorn and broken. The music of oboes and violins and lutes floated into her ears. The instruments seemed to be crying and their haunting music broke her heart. Lady Sigyn gripped her heart and tears pricked her eyes as she heard the melancholy tune continue to play. She could hardly stand it.

All of a sudden Sigyn found herself weeping. The tears streamed down her face because soon she realized that rhythm that was playing was one that she knew all too well. It was the song she had learned as a child in her primary school days. The song had made her weep even as a young girl when the mistress of music had taught them the history of tune and had told them of that bleak day in Asgard's history. She taught them the song, but cautioned them of its grave seriousness and that it was only to be sung in times of absolute emergency and that it was not a song to be taken lightly. Some of the students would sing it in the hallways, almost a joke, mostly because they knew that they really weren't supposed to sing it, but Sigyn had never done so. Even though she wasn't a very serious-minded child even she realized the seriousness of the old hymn that her people had sung when they were enslaved.

As Lady Sigyn continued to listen to the mournful music that seemed to play more in her mind than actually in her ears, she started to hear the voices. They were all coming in all at once loud and clear. All the voices were singing in unison and in sweet harmony. There were male and female voices all somehow perfectly blended. All the voices were raised and each one held so much sorrow that it made Sigyn start to cry harder and harder. She heard the voices of the young and the old and the rich and the poor. The voices surrounded her like a great symphony. She could hear the sweet, small voices of the little children of Asgard all doing their best to enunciate the powerful words of the mourning anthem. Each little voice sounded so pitiful and frightened and helpless. The desperate cries of the children tore into Sigyn's heart. Their voices housed so much fear, but yet there was still a small trace of hope. She could even hear the cries of babes, children too young to even speak, but still attempting to make their request known. They were scared and searching for comfort and relief. Sigyn had been around enough children to know that children only cried if they truly believed someone could help them. They were crying out desperately to the Norns and Fates and Yggdrasil itself for the chance to live. She could even hear the cries and gurgles and whimpers of the unborn children and the children of the past as their voices mixed with those of the adults. Their pitiful little mews pleaded to be heard and expressed how they desperately wanted a chance to live. They wanted a chance to grow and prosper and become great warriors of Asgard. They wanted their chance to have great songs sung about them. They were practically begging for such an opportunity.

She heard the sweet sound of lovers, their voices intertwined in harmony, they housed longing and desire for one another and they wanted to be able to share in that passion endlessly until their bodies were too old to enjoy such pleasure. She could feel the pain housed in their hymn as they realized they may never make love again. She heard the morning in the murmuring of the elderly. Their voice warbled and croaked and choked. They housed fear. Even though they were old, some even over four thousand years old they still held the desire to live. They wanted to live out their days peacefully and die as their forefathers had full of many, many days or either die in battle, but they didn't want to die at the hands of a mad man who claimed to be their prince. Sigyn began to cry stronger, harder and louder. Who was she to deny all these earnest pleas from her people? And yet and still, who was she to save them? She was neither warrior nor enchanter, she was not a scholar or inventor like the mortal woman Jane Foster. She didn't possess any special powers. She looked down at her hands, all she had was this silly, worthless scroll. She was just a silly girl, not a hero. It should be Prince Thor, saving them all...not her. She couldn't possibly be the one to save them all. Who was she to save them? Who was she not to?

Sigyn's loud sobbing soon gave way to a quiet sort of sniveling. It better allowed her to pick up on the subtleties of the voices around her that were raised in crooning the old ballad. She heard not only the many voices all together, but she was able to pick up on the individual intonations. She heard the voices of those she knew. She heard the voice of her mother. Her mother had always had a particularly pretty voice. It was light and airy, her mother sung often and had stress for she and Rana to study music as she thought it would help them be attractive to many suitors. Her mother's voice sounded nearly frantic with fear. She'd never heard her mother sound so scared. She wanted to comfort her. But soon she heard her father's voice coming in and covering her mother. He bellowed and boomed the anthem proudly. Her father was a strong and proud man. He had never had the best voice though. Her mother was always singing cheerfully around their manor, she'd tease and pester her father until he joined in the chorale with her, but when she and Rana would hear her father sing they'd scream and run away with their ears covered not being able to take the sound of his singing voice. Her father used to get a big kick out of this. It became a game for them all. He'd run after them and chase them and then he'd catch them and scoop them up in his strong Viking arms and he'd start singing the old sea chanties to them. Though not necessarily pleasant, her father's voice had been his voice had most certainly been jolly then, now her father's voice was simply full of sorrow and horror. Such sounds had she never heard from her father before. She was well acquainted with his ire, but she had never known the big, burly seaman, an admiral in Asgard's Imperial Navy to even know a twinge of fear. She heard the voice of Rana. Rana had a voice like her mother, melodic. Rana's voice was shaken and broken. She repeated the well-rehearsed lullaby without even a glimmer of hope in her tone. There was a resignation in her voice. It seemed as though she'd simply accepted Asgard's grim fate. She sang the hymn as if it was being hummed on her dying breath.

Lady Sigyn reached out her muddy hand toward the air. "Rana," she called to her sister. "Don't give up," she whispered. "There's still hope, Rana," she told her sister. She could only hope that Rana could hear her talking just like could hear Rana singing. "There's always hope," she whispered quietly as her thumb rubbed over the scroll. She said it though she remained unconvinced herself.

The last voice that Lady Sigyn heard echoing in the ear of her heart was that of Queen Frigga's. She knew that the Queen of Asgard truly had a voice that was angelic, but now her voice sounded haggard and ragged, it was so hoarse, it was barely there. She sounded as if she had been screaming all night. Her voice only holding on by a thread just as her very life was barely holding on. She could hear all the raw pain and emotion in Queen Frigga's weak voice. She was like a woman dying in travail. Everything that she had ever loved was about to be destroyed. She sang her song through the most terrible torrential flood of tears imaginable. She had nothing left. Her family had turned on itself and devoured one another and now her realm was going to face extinction by fire.

Sigyn collapsed onto the ground. She melted into a puddle and heap. She curled in on herself and wrapped herself into a ball. She wailed deeper and harder as through the song she felt the overwhelmingly immense agony of her queen and of her family and of all the people of Asgard and soon to be that of the entire Nine Realms. The song grew louder and louder as it played in her heart. It resounded throughout her very soul and surrounded her. She clutched at the heart and brought the scroll up to her chest and pressed it there. This scroll wasn't much, but it was the only hope that any of them had and she couldn't give up without doing everything she could to make sure that Ragnorok never came to pass. She gasped through tears, "I'm sorry, your highness," she said with a shudder. "I...I...I should be with you now...after all, you have done for me," she whispered as she sniffled. "I owe you that much to be with you and see to your needs in this dire hour," she expressed and brought her hand to swipe over her puffy, bloodshot golden eyes. "The Fates love Asgard, the beautiful, the golden, the radiant and fertile, the strong and the blessed. The pain of Asgard is only for the moment, though we are desolate and suffering, plundered and oppressed," Sigyn trolled the ancient mourning carol as she slowly staggered in pushing herself up off the ground. She trembled as she hobbled her way toward the large bay balcony window that overlooked the dark city. The Imperial City a mere few days ago had been a metropolis unlike any other. A kingdom of infinite splendor, beauty and power. Its glorious golden light was meant to be a beacon to shine to the cosmos. Now it flame was almost extinguished. A cloud so thick with darkness that a person wouldn't have been able to see their hand in front of their face hung over the city. Heavy blood red ash swirled about the city like a deadly dust. The buildings were burning. Asgard did not look like the realm eternal it looked like hell. Lady Sigyn closed her eyes as fresh hot tears trickled down her cheeks and chin. "Take me in...my dream's recurring," she muttered. She gripped tightly to the banister around the balcony. Her eyes batted open. She squinted into the darkness. In the midst of the impenetrable night, Sigyn thought she could make out the faintest of white lights that looked like slow-moving stars ascending into heaven. "All-mother I will finish this...for Asgard," Lady Sigyn swore as she slipped the scroll into the folds of her tattered cloak once more and took hold of her arrows. "One more longing backward glance,"

---

Now, Loki slowly blinked and pushed himself up off of the ground where he was slumped against the wall. His head had been heavily resting against the wall. He had screamed angrily at Thor. He had screamed until his lungs ached. They were ragged and raw and his throat throbbed so fiercely it felt like it was bleeding. His rubbed his pale hands over his milky-white throat and sent a soothing sensation to the weary area of his body. The pain eased and Loki sighed in relief as he took stock of where he was. He got his bearing together once again. He realized that he must have dozed off just that quickly. The new king of Asgard raked his bony fingers over his face. he dug his fingertips into his eyes and rubbed them fiercely. He was so terribly tired. He could not remember when he had last slept. It must have been more than two days ago now.

He scoffed at the pitiful notion. He tossed his head back and let it collide and rest upon the cold stone and brick of the wall once more. A king should not go so unrested he reminded himself. And why would a victor find himself sleepless? He had no reason to be without sleep. He was king now. King! He had been given authority by Thanos. he had been preferred over Thanos' old ally, Malekith. He had been given the privilege to stand in command over the Dark-Elf and his army. He had once again found favor in the eyes of the Titan and now the mad-man had commissioned him to be King of Asgard. He had given him what he always wanted. He'd been given power. Oh, such great power. The power that he'd always craved. He would be the second most powerful being in the Nine Realms! It was simply glorious, how could he ask for more? Surely, he couldn't. He had finally beaten Thor. He'd bested the fairer son of Odin and soon the realms would see him as the ultimate champion and Thor as the vanquished one. In just a few hours he would experience the greatest moments of his life. Everything was going according to plan. Shouldn't such a mighty conquest, with such meticulous, cold and calculated planning brought about by such conniving, shrewd intelligence and true skill be well rested to receive all such spoils?

Why shouldn't he sleep like a baby? It wasn't as if he had any regrets. He had done exactly what he wanted and had gotten the desired outcome. At first light, he would witness the death of his greatest enemy, his truest rival, his once closest friend, the only brother he'd ever had. Thor. But they weren't brothers. Not really. They weren't and they never were. They were mortal enemies. Born to try to slay each other. Amity was in their blood. Such was their flawed design. They were born to kill each other and finish the work that their father's started. Thor had always been a thorn in his side. Now, he'd be free of him finally and why should he not be happy about that? He was happy, he was ecstatic. He was giddy as a schoolboy. He should have been sleeping soundly and snugly like a child at Solstice. He should be drifting off to dreamland with visions of sugar plums dancing in his head and with urgent expectancy in his heart of all his dreams being made into realities.

What did it matter that he would bring about the end of his homeworld? It wasn't really his home. He was just a spoil of war kidnapped and stolen from the snow drift and brought to a land of sunshine and warmth. The climate had never truly agreed with him. As a boy, he'd suffered heat stroke and sunburn far too often. He'd been plagued with terrible allergies to many things that most Aesir loved. It was the simple proof that he did not belong. He often caught so dreadfully ill from things that many Asgardian children were immune to. He'd had the pox three times and most Aesir children only caught it once. In time he had built up a tolerance, magic also became a helpful tool. He probably would have remained sickly long into his adulthood had he not used enchantments to help keep himself healthy. Why should he miss this place? He wouldn't. He'd never enjoy the beauty of the city again or a visit to the shore or a trip to the hill country to visit his mother's relatives. Asgard would be a wasteland reduced to ash and rubble just like the Dark-World, but why should that be of any consequence to him? He could simply rebuild. Once the bust settled he could recreate a city, perhaps it wouldn't be as glorious as the Asgard he knew, but it would be created in his own way. Why should he lose sleep over such a matter? The realm had always been entirely too hot for his liking most months.

So what that the people would die? Asgard had always been a prison for him. And the citizens of Asgard his wardens. He was scorned and scoffed and disliked and distrusted. Loki laughed bitterly at the thoughts of them. They had often made him feel like an oddball, they'd scorned his gifts and shamed him. The people of Asgard loved Thor and they had certainly hated him. Thor was everything that they had ever longed for in a king. He was the epitome of an Aesir man. He was strong and stalwart and courageous, he was mighty in deed, he was gregarious and jovial, easy to get along with, loyal. Thor was everything that the Aesir praised and he was everything that they rejected. He could easily recall the ridicule he'd received from children, the sneers and jeers from crowds that had come his way, the cruel whispers behind his back at court. He reminded himself that he had always been ostracized by the people. Yet they were his friends, his teachers, his students, his people.

Loki finally made his way to his feet and stood. He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. The self-proclaimed king gripped the wall to steady himself. He most definitely needed some sleep. The hour had grown late, but still, a few hours of shut-eye would do him well before the big day. He could not show even the slightest sign of weariness when he wielded the blade before the people and lopped off Thor's golden head. He would not have any weakness of body cause him to hesitate in exacting his judgment upon his brother and bringing an end to the house of Odin.

Loki rubbed his hands together with anticipation as he slowly made his way down the hall. The corridor seemed to stretch on forever as he did his best to make his way back to his chamber. It seemed ever so far because of the tiredness that had engulfed him. His footsteps were heavy and labored as he continued to traverse the hallway. As he walked he started to hear a faint buzzing in his ears. It was pestering and annoying at first, but easy to dismiss. It seemed at first as if it was no more than a pesky fly circling his head. The usurper of Asgard's throne flagged around his face trying to shoo the insect away. He found that he was fanning at mere air and that the humming remained low but constant. He walked on a little faster. Thinking that the sooner he reached his bedchamber the sooner he could rest his head and drift away escaping this dreadful sound.

Still, the buzzing persisted. It was low and irritating, nothing but senseless white noise. But it was growing louder and stronger and he was unable to ignore it any longer. The trickster could feel his pulse quicken. His heart beating double time. It reminded him of falling through the Void. Sound and light were lost to him then. For what seemed like ceaseless days he was lost in a vacuum of darkness and empty whooshing noises. It was maddening. He fell and fell and fell with nothing around him. He thought that must have been the worst torture in the universe until he met Thanos. And the Titan was more than happy to show him that there were many things worse than that.

He broke into a sprint. His palms were sweating, his heart pounding, his whole body once again felt as though it was being set on fire. He needed to get to his own room, touch his belonging to stay connected with reality. The hallways were far too dark and too empty. He flung his hand out and fire flew from his fingertips to light the torches on the wall, but still, he could not escape the creeping feeling that darkness was closing in on him. In the Void he had often had dreams that he was in Asgard, but he'd soon wake and find that he wasn't. He couldn't allow that to happen to him now, he couldn't give into this sheer insanity.

The white noise broke, no longer an empty buzz, it soon became a distinct humming. Oh the humming, the moaning and groaning. He was familiar with it. For he had experienced such weakness. The torment that he'd received at the hands of the Chituari had at times left him too weak to scream, to hurt to cry, his spirit so broken that he was afraid to say anything and all that he was able to utter was a pitiful groan and a rasp. His prayer to the Fates that they could show his wretched soul the mercy of death, but such sniveling prayers went unanswered. Now he heard hundreds making the same pathetic groans. No more than hundreds, thousands, millions. The sound...the sound was the most harrowing sound Loki had ever heard to come from so many all at once. It sent the king crashing to his knees. He crawled the length of the hallway to his room. All the while he tried to think of some mystic chant to mumbled to drown out the hum, but even his powers were not great enough to hide from this cry. It was a cry that echoed throughout the very branches of Yggdrasil. A cry that went through the heavens and even from Valhalla. It was a cry for all people of all times going out to the Almighty, Creator and it would not be silenced.

Then, as he crept upon his hands and knees across the plush carpeting that ran the corridor, he started to hear the hum take on a rhythm. It was a melody so enchanting and entrancing, it was beautiful and ancient he knew it by heart. Tears streamed down the king's face. He could scarcely move as he heard the ancient hymn. The lullaby that Frigga had taught him long ago. His lip quivered, his body shook. "I...I...I" he gasped. He wanted to say one thing, but his soul was so hardened and seared that he said he didn't care instead. "I don't care," he whispered to himself as he pulled his body forward he was almost to his door.

The words of the old song came to his mind. The voices of so many swirling around his mind and making him dizzy. He knew the song. He knew the melody, he knew the tone and tempo and the words. He opened his mouth a reflexive attempt to sing along, but he could not produce a sound. He moved his lips, but try as he might he could not form the words. He stammered and stuttered and his silver tongue became tied up and entangled as if was attempting to speak a language he did not know. He felt as if an invisible clamp had been placed on his mouth. Like the muzzle his brother had fitted him with upon his defeat on Midgard. He felt a hand come around his narrow neck and constrict his windpipe. He dare not sing with them. He had no right to. He was the monster who had done this despicable deed. This was what he wanted after all.

When he reached his own door, Loki felt strength and resolve. He pushed pass the tear in his heart and wiped the moisture from his eyes. He was the monster that had brought Asgard to her knees. He tried to allow the thought to fill him with pride as he turned the knob and entered his chamber. The room was fitted for a king. The room was dark, but he needed to cast light to find his way around his own bedroom. He knew where everything was. It was perfectly ordered. He staggered toward his bed and started to rest his heavy, golden horned helmet on his nightstand. That was when he sensed something that was out of place. He felt a presence. It was a familiar presence, but it held so much anger, he'd even dare to call it fury. It was as strong as the rage of a man possessed by the Berserker Staff. There was a desire to kill that radiated from whoever was present.

Loki arched his inky eyebrow and breathed deeply. He concentrated to find out who was there. "Sigyn," he muttered as his green eyes shot open.

A/N: Well readers looks like you made it to the end of this chapter! Whew (wipes brow) that was a long one, but you did it, so give yourself a round of applause! I know this was a long chapter and it didn't cover nearly as much as I had origginaly planned for it to, but hopefully it at least get you excited for the next chapter. I am super excited to write it! I am hoping to finish this story by the time Insitinty Wars comes out. Woohoo! I can't believe we are only 3 months away from Infinity Wars! Now, if you made it this far and you've been reading the story this long then you deserve to let me know what you think. Don't be shy! ;)

PS. If you haven't seen black panther you really need to. It is another crowing achievement in the MCY and it makes up for the parody that was THor Ragnorok and gets us back on track for the INFINITY WARS!