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?

61. We Were Meant to Regroup

A/N: HEEEEEEELLLLLOOOOO READERS! OMG, it has been SOOOOOOOO long since I have updated! AHHHH! please forgive me! I hope you are all doing well. I cannot believe how long it has been. (I hang my head in shame) I don't know how my life got so busy, but I am sooooooo sorry it took me so long to updated. I didn't forget about this story and I did consistently write, but somehow it took longer than expected. Let's just blame it on getting back to life in the New Normal LOL. Well, I hope you all had safe and happy holidays since my last update. Once again I thank your reads, reviews, follows, favorites, and PMs they are very near and dear to my heart! So give yourself a pat on the back. This chapter is not the best, in my opinion, it was a difficult chapter to write, but I hope you enjoy it. It's almost my birthday so think of this chapter as my lil party favor to you. Take it as a cupcake. But seriously this chapter is Looooooong so you may want to get some cookies, chips, popcorn to sustain you. As always happy reads and writes and God bless!

Visitation: Chapter 61

He couldn't believe it. He'd seen it with his own two eyes, but still, he couldn't believe what he had beheld. He did it. He did it. He actually did it. Bardok lowered his spyglass and slumped against the column. He didn't know why he was so surprised and so hurt by what he had seen. It shouldn't have been a surprise. It was obvious that Loki had lost his mind, after everything that the great trickster had done, after the way he'd unleashed the power of the Bifrost on the Jotuns, after how he'd tried to take over defenseless Midgard, after all the mayhem he'd continued to cause once he'd been brought back to Asgard in chains and even in the fact that he'd overthrown their kingdom and had thrown in his lot with Malekith, Loki was a madman, plain and simple, but still, he guessed somewhere deep in the back of his mind he didn't think that Loki would actually go through with it. He Never thought that Loki would actually g through with the execution of his own brother. He shook his head. He allowed the spyglass to fall from his hands. It could have hit one of the other young mages in the head and cracked open their skulls the height it fell from and yet he hardly noticed the sound of the crash against the already broken ground of the throne room. He would have cried, but he supposed he was still in too much shock. It was stupid to believe that there was any semblance of goodness left in a base and vile creature like Loki, but yet somehow every atrocious crime, every evil deed came as a shock. It was pitiful. He didn't think that Prince Loki was good, but he hadn't thought that Loki would kill Thor by his own hand. He'd at least thought that he'd have enough remorse or semblance of even a slither of honor to allow Malekith to do the killing. The young enchanter shouldn't have been surprised, but he was.

Young Bardok didn't know why it stung him so. It was a horrific act and it was one that would be burned into the craters of the memories of the Aesir for generations to come if they even lived to have another generation, but still, somehow for Bardok, it had felt personal. He felt t like the same foolish child who had eagerly waited in his classroom for Prince Loki's appearance. Prince Loki had been his mentor, for a time, brief as it had been that time had been some of the happiest and proudest of his life.. He had honestly never thought that he would make it as a mage. His grandmother had been encouraging, but she didn't have the money to truly pay for him to continue in his studies beyond the basics. His father had been discouraging and worst and disinterested at best. He thought it was a waste for his son who was big and strong and tall to have such an interest in the study, even if he could make a living as a professor or an apothecary, he didn't think it was as prestigious as the career he had made as a professional arena fighter after his years in the Aesir military. His father never thought that he would make it. His father was a drunk and spoke his mind easily under the influence. He'd say that he wasn't any good. He liked to study and he did well on tests, but he didn't have the natural raw knack for the craft. Besides he didn't exactly have the personality of the mage, most of the enchanters in Asgard were smooth-talking and articulate. They were great orators who lectured and taught and universities. It was the Aesir scholars who had helped 'I've some basic knowledge to a few fledging Midgardian tribes and showed them basic sciences and literature, the people called it magic. He couldn't even string a sentence without stuttering. He'd been surprised when Prince Loki had taken an interest in his research and worked so personally with him on it. He'd even helped him with his rhetoric. He'd helped him get more confident with his speech. He'd been confident enough to give a commencement speech for his graduating class and finally propose to his fiancé. He doubted he would have ever been given the title of Master Mage of the Realm if it wasn't for Prince Loki's interest. Prince Loki had been on the Mage Council at the time.

And in all that time, for all those things he had looked up to him. He had looked up to him as a big brother. He'd studied under the dark-haired enchanter and clung to his every word. He'd written to him and confided in him and amazingly enough Prince Loki had taken the time to write back to him. Loki had written him a recommendation letter to attend a school in Vanaheim. Prince Loki had attended his grandmother's funeral. It was impossible to believe that a prince of the realm would pay homage to his grandmother, she was a peasant. Just an average citizen, not of noble birth, they had only been well to do for a short while when his father was a prized athlete, but, but his grandmother had been a simple weaver of baskets. Still, she had such deep respect for the royal family and she had instilled it in her grandson as well, it would have meant the world to her to think that a member of the house of Odin would have graced her lowly funeral. His betrothed had always had her suspicions of course she had been thrilled and giddy and practically beside herself with nerves when he had introduced her to a prince of the realm. She was respectful of a son of Odin, but she had said that the reason she was so nervous around the younger prince was that she knew all the vicious rumors that surrounded the trickster. Rumors that said he was mean and spiteful and was scared that if she made a wrong move if she wasn't on pins and needles and did the slightest thing to offend his highness that Loki would turn her into a toad or stone, He'd explained to her that Prince Loki wasn't really like that and that he was actually very compassionate he had been the one who had helped them get betrothed. Her father had wanted quite a hefty bride price. He supposed that he thought that Bardok's family had more money than they actually did. His father had once been a very famous knight and athlete, but his father was a wastrel and had squandered most of the fortune and his schooling had been expensive. Bardok had taken a position as a low-level apothecary while he continued his studies. He supposed he had just been lamenting to Prince Loki, who at first seemed dismissive of the situation, He supposed he had been rather annoying, moaning and groaning and practically sobbing over the fact that he didn't think that he'd ever be able to afford the bride-price that her father wanted. Prince Loki kept reading his book and just chimed in, "Yes, very sad. Anyway, moving on," he yawned, "I need the reports about the healing crystals on my desk tomorrow," He expressed. He had started to sputter something about his own dilemma, but he supposed Prince Loki had grown tired of his stammering. "You are dismissed for the day, Pupil Bardok," Loki said curtly and he kept his back turned to him as he started to scrawl some new formula on to an old board.

"Uh, y—yes of c-c-courrse, ggggood day, my prince," Bardok managed to mutter as he quickly gathered his belonging and scrambled out the door. He felt very, very foolish for the way he had been ranting on in front of Prince Loki. Prince Loki was interested in him for his pursuit of scholarship not for young women. The next day he had returned promptly bright and early to the university as that was what Prince Loki liked and expected of the students who studied with him. He'd arrived at nearly dawn and he expected to find the younger Prince of Asgard sitting with his feet on the desk perturbed because he was late. His professor wasn't there, but instead, he found a sack of gold left for him at the university. That night he rushed to his own father and showed him the gold and they were able to enter into a betrothal contract with his current fiancé's father. Now, he didn't even know where his fiancé was or if she was even still alive. He gulped. He hoped that she was. He hoped that she wasn't lying somewhere cold and face-down. He hoped that her body hadn't just been sucked up into a vortex at this rate he doubted that they would ever even see each other again. He would most likely die in this ill-fated day or if Bardok cursed himself for every time that he had ever thought anything good about that monster. Thousands of people had escaped into the catacombs. Just because he hadn't seen her didn't mean that she wasn't alive. He hoped that she was alive, that maybe she had escaped the city and that she was safe somewhere and that she was proud of him for fighting against Prince Loki. He doubted that they'd see each other again. He would surely die this day even if she didn't. He wouldn't even know the beauty of marital bliss before his death. It was tragic really. They'd waited and for what? At that moment he'd cursed Loki and he cursed himself for every moment that he'd ever spent believing that there was anything good about that monster.

So many times, he had listened to the second son of Odin and taken his advice almost without question. He'd tried to immolate him and be like him. He thought of him as wise. He was his teacher; his mentor and he'd looked up to him. He had the physique to be a great warrior. His father had made a living as a warrior and when the wars had ended, he became a professional wrestler he was popular for a time, but eventually, his fame faded. he wasn't the quickest, the fastest, the funniest, or the best in the arena anymore he lost matches and lost money. His father wanted him to follow in his footsteps and be an arena cham. It wouldn't have been a bad living but would have been a career that would have only lasted a few centuries, and then he would have been like his father and idle man was given to drink He had admired so much so those who exercised the muscle in their heads because he had seen that they had a much longer longevity and influence. He felt foolish for wanting to be like Prince Loki, but he had. His father hadn't been a great father, but he was a better man than a monster Like Prince Loki.

The hurt and betrayal he felt as he watched Prince Loki strike Prince Thor down were so deep-seated. it was more than just the betrayal from the king to his kingdom. It was a terrible assassination. Anyone would have been horrified to see their realm toppled and their political leaders were overthrown. Loki had destroyed the monarchy that had stood for nearly 10,000 years. He'd left himself as the only rightful heir to the throne. But Bardok would have rather seen the court jester take the throne than see that monster sit upon it one moment longer. Still, it was deeper than that for him. It was personal. He had looked up to the raven-haired enchanter like an older brother. Growing up, he had desired a brother. His mother had died when he was a young boy. His father and he hadn't been so close and even though he was close to his grandmother the elderly woman wasn't much of a playmate. His size and slow tongue had made him the butt of jokes by many of his school chums. Maybe a brother would have been someone to divert his father's attention from scolding him. Maybe if he had a brother who wanted to be a wrestler or warrior like his father could have appreciated him a little more He eventually found out that he did have a brother. His father had a baby by a fan that his father met on a tour of wrestling throughout the kingdom, perhaps it had only been a one-nightstand. His grandmother thought that the knowledge of such things had broken his mother's heart and caused her to die from her disease even quicker. His father's guilt about the matter caused him to drink even harder. His grandmother was growing sick and she wanted to meet her other grandson. His father never wanted to really see his other son. He was never convinced that the child had been his in the first place.

"I...I...I dddon't know what to dddo?' Bardok muttered. "Grandmother has been sending him money for years, she just wants to meet him... grandmother is old ad sick," Bardok expressed in a whisper so that the other students wouldn't hear.

"So, invite him to tea with your grandmother," Prince Loki replied . "Doesn't seem so complicated," he explained as his eyes scrutinized a few vials that he was carefully pouring elixirs into. Then moved to look through a microscope. Bardok began to worry his big hands. He took his position by Prince Loki's side and he started to try to pour the chemicals as well, but his hands were shaking violently and the glasses clinked together. "Pupil Bardok!" Loki called out as he saw the young man about to pour a red liquid into the wrong container. "please be careful with that!" he barked.

Bardok looked down at his unsteady hands and noticed the mistake he was about to make put the vials down. "Yes, sir so-s-sorry sir...I...I..m-mean my prince," he looked down.

"You need to pay attention to what you are doing, you could have blown up this whole lab," Loki scolded. "These are my things, that I have donated to the university from my own collection. Priceless artifacts," Loki pointed out sternly. "Are you going to compensate for the damages?" he asked.

Bardok looked around at all the expensive equipment, he gulped. "No...n-no...I don't think Ic-c-could sir," he admitted.

"Then be careful with my things l," the second son of Odin stated sternly. He looked him in the eye and he felt just like a naughty schoolboy and not a university scholar.

"I...I...I..I," Bardok's tongue felt thick and heavy. He knew that his stammering annoyed the silver-tongued prince of Asgard. His father teased him about the fact that he couldn't imagine why smooth-talking royal wasted his time with a helpless stammerer like him. "I just don't kn-nononow what to do?" he shrugged after taking a deep breath that allowed his words to flow freely from his lips.

Loki's pale hands made their way to massage his temples. "Pupil Bardok you are trying to make this elixir ," he pointed to the book. "You were supposed to memorize the formula, but if you need to use the book, then for heaven's sake just do it, it's better than you blowing everything up," Loki let out an exasperated breath.

"No," Bardok chuckled, but his guffaw was only met with a harsh stare. "I...I m-meant about my brother," he whispered so as the other students in the lab wouldn't hear.

Prince Loki's licorice eyebrow raised, "Are we still on that subject? he's coming to tea with your grandmother your father isn't coming, what more is there?' he shrugged. "Join them or don't," the prince was curt and blunt.

Bardok dropped his head and nodded. Prince Loki needed to move on and see how the other young people in the class were coming along with their elixirs and tonics and chemicals. Loki was here to teach him about alchemy, not be a life coach and he was a grown man who'd just had his coming-of-age ceremony. He should be able to solve such a simple problem without advice. "I..I want t-t-t-to g-g-goo, but," Bardok hesitated.

"Bardok speak quickly. sharply and to the point I haven't got all day. I also have a splitting headache and your constant stammering doesn't help,"

Bardok looked up and looked Prince Loki in the eye, "II just don't know if he'll like me," he quickly looked down. He immediately regretted saying that to his princely professor. It was so juvenile and childish. Quite frankly he didn't know how much Prince Loki really liked him.

He was met with another quizzical look from Prince Loki and then the son of Odin went back to mixing something. He got down low on eye-level with the vial so as to see that the meniscus of the liquid was lined up just right. "Brothers are supposed to like each other? Fancy that" he said as he rose.

"You and Prince Thor...like each other?' he posed.

"Do we?" Loki countered with a wry sort of smile, "Well, learn something new every day," Prince Thor can be a pain in my arse," Loki stated and he didn't even bother to crack one of his impish smiles. He pointed a mixer in his face. Bardok stood blinking for a moment. He couldn't believe Loki had made such a confession to him. He had always seen Prince Loki and Prince Thor riding through the streets on their proud stallions after some victory parade. He'd seen the holographic scroll images o of them at political banquets or out at events among the people the images portrayed a tale of two loving brothers. Tales of their exploits had certainly been a source of pride and inspiration for the people. His grandmother had described them as brothers of old, like the fabled Einar who made their people great. He couldn't believe the younger prince's words. "We don't have much in common as far as interests," Loki went on to elaborate, he shrugged his shoulders. "His sense of humor is boorish, he's very loud and he snores like a bilgeschnipe," he continued. To this Bardok couldn't help, but let out a snicker, he'd never heard anything less than the highest flattery and praise about Prince Thor. He immediately stifled his little giggle. It was not his place to laugh at the crown Prince of Asgard. he could probably be put on the stocks for such a disrespectful action. He wasn't the prince's brother after all. He gulped to hold back his laughter. "All and all I find him droll and annoying," the raven-haired mage announced. Bardok looked down he couldn't believe that Loki was actually openly admitting such things to him. he looked around to see if others in the class had heard Loki's comments. He was almost nervous and blushing himself. He couldn't imagine that Prince Loki would actually want to bring shame to his brother like that. It appeared that no one else had heard. "He's also my greatest friend," Loki's voice dropped and he fiddled with the frozen ring on his finger. He thought he saw Loki's thin lips quickly shift to a smile, but it was so fast it was nearly imperceptible. . "Brotherhood is a gift, pupil Bardok," the emerald-eyed enchanter continued. He stopped playing with the ring on his finger and his hands reached back out for the chemicals. He took one of the vials that had a sticky yellow substance in it that bubbled. He held out the tube for Bardok to take and Bardok did so. . He then grabbed another small vessel that had a few purple stones. Loki dropped them into the yellow glop. "With the right ingredients," he expressed and allowed them to plop right inside. "It could," the princely professor paused. And he watched as the concoction started to fizz and foam and bubble. It was soon bubbling out of the vial and onto Bardok's hand. It didn't burn him, but it was warm to the touch. he nearly dropped it. It exploded into gas in his face and it caused him to cough viciously. Soon the gas started spreading and it was relatively foul-smelling. Bardok couldn't stop coughing. "Blow up in your face," Prince Loki added calmly as he observed his student struggle to breathe. Bardok was doubled over trying to catch his breath. This time he did let go of the vial, but luckily Loki's nimble fingers reached out to grab it He then sprinkled bright blue sand into the vial the bubbling immediately stopped and the fumes which had been starting to spread throughout the lab dissipated and an instead the room was filled with a beautiful rainbow was released throughout the lab. "Or it could become something truly beautiful," Loki noted. The crowd of students applauded. Prince Loki didn't say anymore after that. he moved on throughout the laboratory to observe the other students.

Prince Loki's word had encouraged him to take the steps to get to know his own brother. He was nervous, but he reminded himself that he had already had practice building a relationship with an unknown distant adult brother. He'd secretly thought of Prince Loki as an older sibling. It was foolish and childish even, but that's what he'd felt. He doubted Loki ever felt the same way. He doubted Loki ever felt anything toward anyone... ever. Trickster...Liar and he had been just one of many simpletons to be lured into his web sickening lies. But even now in Asgard's darkest moments and after all the terrible, odious things that he'd watched Loki do. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he imagined that the person who encouraged him to endeavor into the brotherhood wouldn't really go through with actually executing his brother before all. His brother who he'd known for nearly 2000 years. When Bardok beheld his prince on that scaffold, he pictured himself. He'd supposed he'd imagined other scenarios with Loki like maybe Prince Loki attending his wedding or being on Loki's team again for a wizard's duel. He supposed that he had thought... he'd supposed... that maybe if he would have been in danger or in need that Prince Loki would have come to his aid, but now he saw... he saw that if the chips were down and if Loki had to if he needed to, he would have no doubt just murdered him as well. He saw himself in Prince Thor's place thinking that Loki was someone he could trust and, at that moment, wanting proof of that trust that had been bestowed wasn't a waste. But, no doubt, he would have been treated just as harshly and struck him down just as heartlessly and brutally as he had done Prince Thor. Bardok cursed himself for ever believing anything more about Loki than the fact that he was a lying knave.

"NOOOO!" he shouted as he watched Thor's body slump forward against that monster's le and for Loki to yank his leg away and let his body crash to the scaffold. His voice rang out and startled the rest of the mystics and young scholars. He tossed his binoculars to the side not wishing to view the terrible sight that he knew was about to take place. He quickly climbed down from the perch where he had hidden. Now all hope was lost for them. He'd thought that somehow...perhaps Prince Thor would still rise, but now the firstborn son of Odin would die and so would Asgard and it was all Loki's fault. He didn't know if they could still save Asgard, but he would do everything in his power to make sure they put an end to Loki. He was Loki's apprentice after all and he'd learned much from his old teacher and he would make sure to emulate him and kill the man he thought of as a brother once without remorse. He'd truly admired the man and he hated himself for it. Loki wasn't honorable or worthy of anyone's respect. He was like an animal, a vile cannibalistic animal. And if he got the chance Bardok would make sure to kill him like one.

Hogun sat gasping and breathless after he saw the vile act. He hadn't wanted to watch, but the warrior's eyes couldn't look away. He always had eyes that never looked away. He was slow to speak but quick to watch. When he was a boy, his cousins who had raised him noted his pensive nature and thought that perhaps he would be a gifted seer. They even had brought him to Master Heimdal, thinking that maybe he would be trained in line with other young seers to one day take on the coveted position. Heimdal had tested him and found that he did not have the mystic connection needed to be a gatekeeper. But he had prophesied that the young boy would one day use his watchful eyes as a great warrior for Asgard. He had been right .Hogun's first position as an Einherjar had been scouting missions. He would go out and observe the enemy. Now, Hogun wished he wasn't so observant. There were sights that he had never wanted to see. This was one of them. His heart pounded him his chest and he could feel the painful beat radiating throughout his body. It was beating so loudly that it was audible in his ears and sweat was pouring down his face.

For a moment he'd been so confident. He'd watched Prince Thor fighting against the Dark-Elves valiantly and he'd seen the thunderer poised to win as he always had in the past. Even without his hammer at his side, Thor seemed like with the help of the Aesir people positioned in the square he could have taken out Malekith's hoard. Hogun hand inwardly been applauding. He'd wished to jump from the strategic position that he'd placed himself in inside the rafters and beams of the broken spired within the throne room on the Imperial palace and join the blonde-haired prince in the last battle for their lives. But he hadn't broken from his position they all had a role to play an had to be ready when the Dark-Elves tried to get back into the palace. Still, he sat impatiently rooting for his old friend. His hopes were dashed when Thor was confronted by Loki.

He saw Prince Thor sitting on his knees; beaten and bloody like a piece of meat that would be dangling from a butcher shop window before the tyrannical overlord. He couldn't hear their discourse of course, but his squinted eyes managed to see Thor's lips moving even through the horrible haze of red and black ash that spiraled all around. Hogun felt a lump in his throat as he watched this pitiful awful scene. He watched as Loki brought down the knife on defenseless Thor. Hogun the Grim gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. He never thought he would see the day when the Mighty Thor would be defenseless. They'd all had so many adventures together from the time they were youngsters, they'd had adventures on so many realms from Asgard to even the home of the Kree, for so many centuries, but in all their many battles and scrapes and grand quest, Thor was always strong and valiant and nearly invincible. He'd never truly thought he'd see the day when Thor would suffer such a gruesome defeat. It was a dark day indeed. Hogun couldn't watch. He couldn't watch Loki execute Thor. For a moment his eyes slipped closed.

He couldn't believe he actually would go through with such a terrible deed. If Loki insisted upon being this dictator, he could have just locked Thor away. He didn't have to execute him. Hogun felt his stomach tighten. Guilt clenched his chest. He'd told Thor to spare Loki. Of course, he hadn't said it outright, but he'd reminded Thor of how he'd admired their brotherhood. And Thor was good-natured and sympathetic and sentimental and easily influenced. He easily took the advice. He was usually one who was slow to speak, why had he opened his mouth then? Why had he said anything at all? He'd never really been one to offer advice. The one time he did. He'd led Thor to this calamity. He'd led Asgard to destruction. He'd led the Nine Realms to ruin. He should have just told Thor to execute Loki. But he thought that doing such a thing would break Thor. And he thought it wasn't right that brothers shouldn't do things like that. They shouldn't leave each other for dead. He knew. He was convinced of that. His own brother had left him for dead. He had just a little boy, he needed protecting, taking care of, and nurturing, he didn't find any of that from his own brother. His brother had found him nothing, but a burden and sold him for a few measly pieces of silver. He hadn't even shared a few measly berries with him during the few months they'd traveled together. "I never had anything!" Joren grumbled as he reached his dirty fingers out to grab a few of the little blue balls gathered in leaf. Joren slapped his hand away. "And the little bit I did have they made me share with you," Joren spat as he shoveled the grapes into his mouth. "My food, my bed, the cloth for my clothes," he continued as he spat out the seeds as he talked. "But they're gone," Joren announced. Maybe there was regret in his tone; sorrow for their parents. "I don't have to share anymore," he proclaimed and scooped up the remaining berries and place them in his own mouth. Joren would have let him starve to death.

That had happened more than 1500 years ago, yet he found that when he thought of it (which was rare) the wound still stung from being thought of as so worthless, useless and disposable by his own brother. At the time his brother was the only relative he knew that he still had and his brother hated him. His memories were few of his life prior to coming to live with his cousins in the Imperial City. His cousins had loved him and tried to give him a good life. They weren't noble-born but they worked hard as scribes and had managed to allow him the chance to work his way into Thor's inner circle as a child. It made up for the horrors and harshness of his humble life as a goatherd's son. He didn't remember his parents clearly and his little baby sisters he didn't even recall their names, but the memories that were clear were those of Joren. He couldn't exactly recall what Joren looked like, but he'd never forget how Joren made him feel. He remembered feeling so cold and hungry and scared and lonely even though his brother was sitting right there. The boy was pitiless. He'd sold him for a few pieces of silver. And he doubted Joren ever thought twice about it. He knew exactly how Thor had probably felt in his last moments.

Hogun's eyes remained closed, he squeezed them shut as he continued to grit his teeth with bitterness. He thought that Loki was better than that, but he wasn't. He was a scoundrel and a snake and the basest, lowest kind of creature to ever crawl from the pits of Helheim. He was just like his own brother Joren. Hogun cursed Joren's name and he cursed Loki's as well as he sat there on broken beams. He was just like Joren. Joren was his brother, the only family that he'd thought he'd had, but Joren had never cared about him. He never even pretended to. At least Joren had had the integrity not to bother to pretend that he liked him. He never played nice or shared and from the time he could walk he only remembered Joren's mockery. Hogun could scarcely remember his mother. He didn't remember her face much a common woman who maybe could have been pretty if she was a bit cleaner, but he could slightly remember a woman with a slurred voice telling Joren to play nice, but Joren never did. Joren would pick on him, hit him, kick him, take his tiny toys that were nothing but sticks and break them into twigs. He was always mean to him, but Hogun had been little and helpless and innocent. What other choice did he have when their parents were killed and their village destroyed? What choice had he but the follow the older boy. He thought Joren would protect him, but he didn't. Joren had deliberately tried to get him lost (he'd take twisted paths and run at full speed to lose the little boy), he'd made him do so much work to earn his keep that he could have probably died of exhaustion and even after he picked firewood and berries and stole for them Joren sold him and left him for dead.

Loki was just like Joren, a fake brother. But somehow Loki was even worse. Loki was the worst! In Hogun's eyes now he was the most revolting creature to ever climb the branches of Yggdrasil from the pits of Helheim. Joren never cared he never pretended to care, but Loki had acted as if he cared for all those centuries. He'd deceived them all. Hogun thought of the times he'd watched Thor and Loki play as boys, chasing, racing. He watched with curiosity at first. To see how the pair interacted. It was different from his vague memories of Joren. He watched with curiously at first and then maybe a twinge of jealousy. There was teasing and mockery and fights between the pair, but it was short-lived and there was also fondness and warmth. There were hair ruffles and hugs, playful secret glances and inside jokes. He'd never had any of that with Joren in their 200 years as brothers. As they grew older, Hogun had continued to notice the laughs the two of them shared, the hearty claps on the back and clasps around the neck and embraces, he thought of times when Thor was drunk and Loki had picked him up and helped him back to the palace, moments when he'd watched the two princes fighting side by side by the time, they were teens Hogun felt he felt less jealousy toward the royal brothers and more...more something...akin to...admiration. Thor was a naturally protective person; he would do anything to protect people and he was always saying so. Loki was less demonstrative and vocal about his affection which was funny considering how much the green-eyed mage loved to talk, but Loki had seemed like he was willing to lay down his life for his brother.

He thought of the last time he'd truly held company with Loki in the lounge in the palace. It seemed so long ago. They were all indulging deeply in the warmth from the hearth it was such a startling contrast terrifying chill of Jotunheim. They were all nearly frostbitten and Hogun felt if he never saw another snowflake again that would be perfectly fine with him. It seemed like it had gotten colder since the last time that they were there, but that had been more than 600 years ago. He was smearing an ointment cream that Lady Dagmar had provided onto Volstagg's arm. The portly warrior wanted to get it healed immediately he didn't want his dear Valka to know he had been to Jotunheim. Hogun could recall Loki's words. Loki said, "I love Thor more dearly than any of you," he heard him say, those words and they sounded true and sincere they were laced with bitterness and he knew Loki was jealous and impish and he'd been the one to point out that he'd thought Loki had let the monsters into their midst, but he hadn't thought that Loki had done it because had hated Thor, more just out of his prankish nature. He believed him when he said he loved Tho so dearly, but those were silver-tongued lies. That's all he ever said. That was one of the things that could make Loki a truly infuriating sort of being. He lied. He lied with a straight –face and he lied with a smirk on his lips, he lied with a gleam in his eye and he could look you in the eye and lie without batting an eyelash, and even though you knew he was a liar he was such a master manipulator that he could fool you and he did.

Hogun let out a groan. "THOR!" the silent warrior cried out from his position on top of the rafters of the broken palace ceiling as he watched the blade come down. He blinked for a moment and then he saw his prince, his friend's body lying face down on the scaffold. There was red all around him and he wished that it would have just been Malekith shooting off Aether's shards from his body. Hogun felt something on his cheeks. It was something moist and damp. He scarcely recognized what it was he looked up for a moment to see if the dark clouds had given way to making it rain. The sky, although it was just the early morning hours, was dark as night, but the heavens hadn't opened up to let it rain. He pressed his hand to his cheek feeling the water there. He was crying. Hogun couldn't remember the last time he cried. it was probably when he was at the orphanage for a few years before his cousins found him. He cried every night as he hoped and prayed for his big brother to come to rescue him and he never did. Eventually, he stopped crying over Joren, it was stupid to cry over someone who never cared about him. Joren wasn't coming for him. Joren had always called him stupid; he'd always made him feel stupid, but he'd be stupid no more and he wouldn't cry anymore that's what he told himself at the tender age of 216. And he didn't. Other kids at the orphanage would cry if their hand-me-down toys were broken, but he had played with broken twigs, they'd cry if they fell, but he'd felt the slap of his brother's hand a scrape on the knee was next to nothing for him. When he was found by his cousins and given a house and a comfortable bed and food enough to feast upon and shoes for his feet and hugs and kisses, he was happy; there was nothing to cry about and so he didn't cry again.

But this...seeing it this...this death, this assassination, this terrible and most unfathomable betrayal of a brother had broken him. All the feelings from his childhood came back to him like a flood. The feelings of fear and abandonment and confusion, not knowing why one's own brother hated them so. He had faced much in his life, he'd fought countless battles, been a prisoner of war, been shipwrecked and tortured, but nothing had been worse than those feelings of his boyhood. Yet for all the pain that Joren had caused him day in and day out he'd always still held onto the tiniest sliver of hope. He kept believing that maybe Joren actually cared about him...somewhere... deep, deep down inside. But every morning his foolish, childish hopes were dashed against the stones a smooshed on the rocks just like the meager berries that he'd foraged for himself when they journeyed as two homeless waifs. He supposed he had hoped the same for Prince Thor, his best friend. He'd hoped that Prince Thor would find that he had a real brother and that Loki still cared. He held out more hope for Thor than he had for himself. Thor and Loki had always been well...they were the quintessential brothers in his eyes. He'd been sitting there staring into the ruins of the kingdom he loved and holding his breath hoping against hope and hoping against all logic and evidence that this day he'd be proven that the brotherhood that he'd admired for centuries was real. But Loki was just like Joren. And to see it happen again, to see Thor have to face the same rage and hatred from his brother's hands as he had it broke his heart all over again. Hogun bit deep into his thin lip. The tears trickled from his eyes. His soldier's hands which were always steadfast shook as they pressed the button on his communication device that lit up in his palm and said with a shaky, husky voice "The eagle has fallen...the eagle has fallen!"

Instantly, there was chatter on the communication line. The devices beeped, beeped, beeped as everyone tried to talk at once. There were mutters and mumbles of disbelief, groans and wails, and a bloodcurdling and then all of a sudden static. "NO! NO! NOOOO!" screams rang out. Some of the mages and students who had pieces in their ears had to take their earpieces out to keep from having their eardrums burst from all the frantic ruckus that had overtaken their communication line.

"Hogun! Hogun! What did you say? Repeat. Repeat. Acknowledge." words came frantically through the communication device. Hogun wasn't quick to repeat the terrible words he had just uttered.

"Sir Hogun! Sir Hogun! Come-Again!?" One of the female Master mages called several times. She turned her device up to high frequency and when the message came through the buttons of Hogun's communicator blinked red to show the urgency of the message. Hogun heard it. He heard it all, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words again.

"Hogun is Prince Thor still alive? Do you have eyes on Prince Thor?" asked the bulky, muscular mage, Lord Drek. More and more of the scholars were starting to confirm the terrible news. Starting to confirm that they'd seen Loki bring down a lethal strike on the Crown Prince's head.

"No." The Einherjar's response came back into the communicator for all those who were listening on the intercom.

"AHHHH! PRINCE THOR'S DEAD!" one young scholar shrieked in horror as she ran from her post.

"What?" Lady Leoma cried. "NO! Not Prince Thor," she muttered and placed her hand on her heart in grief. The older woman nearly felt faint.

"It's true, it's true," Young Bardok confirmed as he landed in the center of the throne room where the other mages and students had run into in panic and dread. Bardok bowed his head. "I saw it...I saw...it too," his eyes looked misty as he looked up at the other mystics. "Thor's gone. "That cowardly bastard slit his throat," Bardok muttered a miserable confirmation.

"His own brother" one of the master mages whispered in disbelief, he started to say the ancient rite for those who died a glorious death. Some of the younger scholars and mages immediately began to drop to their knees to offer prayers and a moment of silence for their fallen prince.

Most didn't have the chance to make it to their knees or even drop their heads before they heard the voice of Lord Drek. "What, now? Do we perish?" Lord Drek demanded. "Hogun! Hogun! Come in! Answer!" the Master Mage and mathematician called into the contactor that he had. He kept rotating the dial. He knew that he was locked into Hogun's frequency but the member of Thor's war party didn't answer.

"Why doesn't he answer? Why doesn't he answer?" asked Lady Leoma very urgently. Her face could be seen on the screen of the contactor. It was horror-stricken.

"All hope is lost! All hope is lost!" called another one of Asgard's master mages as she threw her hand over her forehead.

"Why didn't they do anything? Why didn't they do something?" questioned the voice of a student. "All those warriors were out there, why didn't they do something!" they continued to grumble.

"What could they do? What could they do?" another replied.

"They are trapped down there like sitting ducks," someone expressed.

"Now we're doomed!" reported Lord Drek.

"NO! No. We are not doomed. Not yet," Bardok interjected through the panic of his fellow enchanters.

"Bardok, what are you saying?" Lord Drek scoffed through the communication device for all to hear. "Prince Thor is." the quarryman turned enchanter began but his voice trailed off.

"Prince Thor..." Bardok's voice grew quiet in reverence for the fallen royal. A few of the other young scholars and volunteers muttered the ancient prayers as they whispered the name of their beloved prince. "WE are still here!" he pointed out to all that were gathered nearby. He gestured his hands at them. "There's still time," Loki's one-time apprentice spoke, "Convergence has not yet befallen us. We have to go through with the next phase of the plan," he explained

Jane Foster heard the Einherjar's words as they came through her communication device. The face of the device glowed with reverberations as Hogun's horrifying words came through. "The eagle has fallen" those words echoed onward in her mind even though Hogun had stopped speaking. She immediately snatched the Asgardian communicator which reminded her of some type of sundial meets iWatch with a sprinkling of a hologram machine off of her wrist. She flung it hard and furious. She watched the piece of expensive equipment splatter and shatter into a million tiny pieces amidst the vast rubble in the throne room. She had to get it away from her. It only contained messages of bad news and she didn't want to hear those bad words. She refused to hear those words. She didn't believe them. She couldn't believe them. She shook her head. She let out a scream. She fell to her knees behind the broken throne where she had stationed herself, she just couldn't believe that Thor was dead. Not her bold, brave superhero., not her fine and funny foundling from the desert, not her handsome prince. She shook her head. She refused to believe Thor was gone. She shook her head and blinked back hot fresh tears It wasn't right. She didn't feel like he was dead. Weren't lovers supposed to feel it, when the other was hurt or in danger or dead? Her father had died in a plane accident. He'd taken a small bush plane to somewhere remote for something he was researching. He'd been away for a few weeks, but her mother had been nervous and jumpy the day they'd gotten the call. The phone was ringing off the hook and finally, Erik had insisted that it be answered. (He was over for dinner,) She's wanted to answer it as children often do answering the phone seemed like such a big girl job, but her mother wouldn't let her it was so strange. Her mother finally obliged Erik and he answered the phone. When he did her mother ran out of the kitchen with her ears covered by her hands. When she got to their front door she ran outside to the porch and crashed to her knees and screamed I know.

The scientist's breath quickened. She felt like her heart was about to give out. She had swung back and forth frantically the Asgardians faded into the background. She didn't feel like Prince Thor was dead, but she was a woman of science and she had never lived her life based on feelings and hunches and intuition and things that could not be qualified or quantified. If Hogun said it, then it must be true. "NO! THOR!" the astrophysicist let a cry ring from the bottom of her throat. She screamed until she was out of breath. She wanted to push herself up off of her knees and run out into the City Square and tell Loki to kill her too. All the men she loved died. They left her. Maybe they didn't mean to, but they did and it hurt. It hurt so bad. She didn't want the pain anymore. She'd only felt it for a moment and yet it was already unbearable. She could run right up to the scaffold and stand right next to Thor's broken body and demand he kill her too. She didn't deserve to live. It was because if Thor was dead and that the Aether had even made its way back into the cosmos. Now it was too late and now everyone was going to suffer and die because of the wrath of Malekith and Loki. She had no right to try to run and hide and fight for her life. She might as well be killed and maybe she could make amends for the crime that she had committed. He'd have no problem doing it. He was a heartless beast. He'd strike her down without a second thought. She wanted to do that. To run to the square screaming like a madwoman and be struck down.

She kept telling herself to do that. She was willing herself to do that, but her body didn't listen. She remained in the spot where she had fallen right behind the big, heavy doors that lead into Odin's throne room. She was trembling and shaking and gasping for breath. "He's a monster, he's a monster, he's a monster!" Jane repeated over and over to herself as she pounded her fist on the floor. "Oh Thor," she wailed clutching her chest. "I tried to tell you! I tried to tell you,"She ground out as liquid pushed through her eyes. "I tried to tell you he was bad...he was evil..." she gasped and she shuddered. "You wouldn't listen...you wouldn't listen," the astrophysicist sank her teeth into her lips. Erik always said that about her father, that he never listened, now she realized how infuriating that was. She tried to suppress a scream but she couldn't suppress it anymore. It bubbled out and burst forth in a mighty blast. She let out a wail. It was deep. It reached all the way down to her soul. She hadn't cried this hard since her father died. "N-n-now you're gone..." the mortal woman mumbled. "You love him and defended him and... and...and..." the auburn-haired scientist hiccupped. "And he killed you," Jane finally looked up. Her eyes flung open wide with disbelief. She couldn't believe that for a moment she had started to heed Thor's words. She was still convinced Loki was evil, but the way Thor talked of him, that day when he'd shown her around Asgard she had started to believe that maybe once he had been a half-decent person, she had tried not to hate him with such vehemence for Thor's sake. Thor loved Loki, she would never love Loki, but she tried to hate him less so she could at least bear Thor's mentioning of his name with such fondness. But no, she didn't believe anything good about him; he must have been born soulless to do what he had done. And Thor loved him. That was the worst part of all of it that Thor truly had loved and all he'd done was use that love to turn around and kill Thor. She started to hear a little more static coming through the communication device. With horror, she looked down at the advanced piece of equipment. It was sleeker and more advanced than even the newest piece of Stark Tech to be rolled off the assembly line. Instinctively, reflexively, Jane started to hurl the communicator from herself. She couldn't bear to hear any more. The communication device that seemed to be made of diamonds and flashed with brilliant electric light flew across the throne room and shattered as it hit the ground. Lady Jane was left panting. "Thornononono," she continued to murmur to herself. While tears washed down her face, she nodded to herself as she still cried. She reached her hand back toward the quiver full of golden arrows that Lady Sigyn had provided her with. She pulled one out and hugged it to her chest and sobbed all the more.

"Lady Jane?" she heard a timid voice ask her. She looked up and she saw the face of young Bardok. His face was pinched and contorted and maybe housed just as much pain as hers. She rose to her feet and took him by the hand that he had offered her. She immediately flung herself at him.

"Thor! Thor! Thor!" she sobbed into the young Master Mage's robes. They were once an illustrious purple now they were tattered and so covered in mud that they were brown. They were once long and embroidered and hand-stitched, but now the sleeves and hems were tattered ripped, they looked like rags. She looked up at him hopefully, but his eyes only housed immense sorrow. " It's not true! It can't be true!" the auburn-haired scientist protested.

He dropped his gaze. "I saw that monster strike him down," Bardok replied seething. "I'm sorry Lady Jane Foster," he bowed his head. " I didn't want to believe it either," Loki's old apprentice breathed Jane nodded slowly. "But with Hogun's words..." the enchanter's voice trailed off. Her legs all of a sudden felt like spaghetti. She nearly collapsed in the young enchanter's arms. "Lady Jane! Lady Jane!" he cried urgently as he did his best to support her. He started to swoop under her legs to carry her, "Come let us move you. We will see if we can hide you. Give your remote to me. I will use it to start the reactors," he expressed.

"N-no," Jane shook her head as she rallied herself. "I'm staying...I'm fighting," the scientist declared.

"Lady Jane there is no need...' he started.

She pulled away from him and nearly growled. "There is much need" she insisted. "I'm the inventor," she pointed to herself. "These reactors are mine and now...now... they may be our only hope," she explained her voice dropping to something softer. "Our only hope," she repeated as her big brown eyes batted back tears.

"They are our last hope now," Bardok admitted swallowing the thick lump in his throat. "But this is our fight," Bardok pointed out.

"This is everyone 's fight!" she stomped her foot. "I wish the rest of the realms knew so they could fight too," Jane went on. "You know we Midgardians aren't just cowering wretches," Jane stated almost jokingly. She watched as Bardok's lips almost formed a grin. But now was no time for smiling or laughing and his facial expression immediately faded.

"You're right," Bardok nodded. "I wish we had Prince Thor and the rest of your Midgardian heroes to help defeat Loki once again... the...the Avengers?' he posed.

"So do I," Jane confirmed. She placed her hand on Bardok's big shoulder. "But they're not they're not here, but I am," Jane stated proudly. "Thor's not here either," Jane stated once more and her voice cracked a little. "Thor's not here either! She said once more loudly reminding herself. "Loki that insane mad man he killed the love of my life... I won't stand by and do nothing; I won't run away and hide. I intended to be an Avenger," she swore to him firmly. "His Avenger!" she looked Bardok dead in the eye. "And I will avenge him," she gritted her teeth and clenched her hand into a tight fist

"Are you sure?" Young Bardok questioned. "The Dark-Elves will be heading for the palace any minute," he told her in a rushed tone. His eyes darted around. They could have been about to burst through the doors at any minute. " They'll still have to do it here," he pointed to the spot where they were standing. "Malekith will still have to release the Aether from here if he wants to spread his ravenous darkness to the rest of the realms"

Jane's breath was hitching, "but they'll only have a small window of time right," she tried to remind herself more than the young enchanter who stood before her.

"Convergence only lasts a few minutes about 25 to be exact, but if Loki uses the tesseract, he'll be able to hold the ports open as long as he wants," Bardok told her once again nervously. "The soldiers are trapped in the Center Square, we won't have the reinforcements that we planned to have and I...I... we won't be able to protect you, Lady Jane," Bardok informed her with regret. "Not like we should," he shook his head. "I'm so sorry. Prince Thor would never forgive you if something happened to you," his voice broke off as he looked her in the eye.

The auburn-haired astrophysicist nodded. Then she stuck her hand out in the air halting the young mage mid-sentence "I came up with these gravitational reactors," she stated in a quivering voice as she tapped the cold, metallic instrument. "And I'll use it," she whispered. "We'll use them," she expressed to Bardok. "It's just 2minutes, with the reactors we can hold them off for 25 minutes," she nodded her own assurance and took a deep swallow.

"Yes, yes, I suppose' Bardok looked down at the reactor that he had made as well. The technology was solid enough for a Midgardian invention. Maybe the reactors would be enough to stop Ragnarök completely. "Asgard may be lost," he started sorrowfully. "But at least maybe we can keep the Nine realms from perishing," he concluded. "Without the soldiers, I doubt we'll be able to hold the dark-Elves from overrunning us," he shrugged with regret.

"Well not without a fight!" once more the mortal woman protested. "That's not what Thor would want!" she reminded him. " And from what I hear that's never been the Asgardian way," despite the tears that stained her big brown eyes she managed to wink and crack half a grin.

"No, it's not," Bardok mouthed.

"it's not the human way either, we don't lay down die without a fight!" she re-stated sternly, "and I intend to fight for my life!" she declared. "I'll use this too," Jane declared a steely look in her brown eyes. It made them look hard and fierce. She flashed a magnificent arrow before the enchanter's face. They were so beautiful, resplendent gold of the highest quality beset with the rarest jewels and decorated with peacocks' feathers. They looked like an ornament to be displayed in a museum, they didn't look like a weapon meant to kill without objection or mercy, but today they'd serve their purpose.

Young Bardok nodded. He pulled out his communicator and turned it on. "Everyone, get ready," he ordered. He cupped his hands around his mouth as he continued to shout. "Move back into your places. We fight for our lives, for our realm and for our fallen prince," he explained. "Don't do anything until you get the signal," he continued as he marched across the throne room where rubble and debris were still scattered.

The scientist heard his words and on shaky legs proceeded to go back to hiding behind the throne. The throne where she knew that Loki would march right up to and take his seat. She'd have a surprise for that murdering, monster. Loki had proven that he was indeed a powerful mystic. She'd seen what his powers were able to do how they were able to destroy and kill and how he did so heartlessly and indiscriminately. he didn't care who he killed or who he hurt. he felt nothing as he beheld death and destruction. He was good at what he did and his enchantments seemed to work. "Don't fail me now you trickster," Jane muttered to herself as she pressed her back against the cold gold of the broken throne and stared down at the arrow in hand. "I will avenge you, my love," Jane swore as she crouched down behind the gilded chair and clung fast to the arrow in her hand.

Lady Jane could no longer hear the communication going on between the Einherjar and the Master Mages who were overseeing the group inside the palace." Hogun! Hogun!" Lady Leoma called into her communication device. She was hustling back toward the courtyard where a few other young scholars were stationed. Lady Leoma started telling the other scholars where to stand. She tried to give them pep talks. She was the consummate mother. She could only pray that she would have the chance to say encouraging words to her own children when this day was done. She patted one young woman who had been her student on the shoulder, she told her to duck down and hold her position. She would be one of the last reactors that they would call to action. Lady Leoma surveyed the other enchanters. They were shaken but poised and positioned to do their civic duty with the invention the human woman had created. Lady Leoma moved to her position "Sir Hogun, please come in," she called. "Do you have any more visual on what is happening in the City Square?" the silver-haired enchantress asked. The fountain which was once flowing with crystal clear waters that leaped and danced of their own accord had been replaced with the disgusting burning ash of the Aether that piled up in pools inside the fountain. The fountain had a depiction of the legendary Aegir, he was one of the original leaders of the initial Aesir clans. He was the leader of the tribe that lived by the sea, it was the clan that Lady Leoma's family had originated from. He was a great seaman The Aesir under him were the first to Sail the forever sea and explore the shores beyond Asgard and connect the realms. Through trade, before the Bifrost was created, and helped the humans learn how to not fear the water, he helped the mortals learn of the bounty that the seas could truly hold. He placed one of his sons to be in charge of a small group of humans if his son was able to lead a tribe of mortals then he would believe that his son would be able to lead their clan of Aesir. His son Njord, led the mortal tribe to become seafaring Vikings. The humans were so grateful to him that they took his name for their tribe even after he had returned to Asgard. The tribe grew into a great civilization, the humans continued to be called the Norse, for thousands of years. Aegir was always portrayed as a very handsome sailor and he had been considered one of the first kings among the mortal Vikings. But the handsome Aegir had fallen. His head had fallen off of his shoulders. Lady Leoma couldn't help, but look at it as a bad omen a sign that their beloved prince had also suffered the same fate.

Hogun heard Lady Leoma's gentle and frightened call through the communication device. He rallied himself for just a moment. The silent warrior would have hated to admit it to anyone, he was known for his stoicism among his troops, but he was too lost in his sorrows and his feelings of guilt and grief. When he had thought that Loki had died, he had felt similar sorrow for a friend, but this was tenfold time the horror of what he had felt that he had felt then. Still, he had abandoned his position as a lookout. That was disgraceful. He was too hardened of a warrior to give in to such emotions. He bowed his head once more and whispered the ancient rights. He called out mentally to the kings of the past, maybe Thor was already among them, to have the strength to not give up the fight and to win the day. He chided himself for a moment, thinking, that Thor would have never wanted his friends to stop fighting even to mourn his death. Hogun couldn't quite bring himself to smile, but in the back of his mind he could hear Prince Thor's voice, he could hear his jaunty laugh "I had no plans to die today my friends, don't you plan on dying either," in his mind's eye he could see Thor flipping back his golden mane in laughter. Thor had his life taken by his own brother, but he gave his last in hopes that Asgard and the Nine Realms could live. Hogun knew that he could do no less in honor of Thor. He reached his hand to clutch his morning star weapon. He'd do whatever it took to give his people a fighting chance to give the realms a hope of another dawn. He'd do what needed to be done he'd confront Loki for his betrayal and he'd exact justice for everyone who had ever been hurt by a person they trusted so much.

The silent warrior's mind reeled with his thoughts of vengeance. "Hogun! Hogun! Come in! What is happening out there?" a million voices seemed to demand from his all at once. His black eyes looked up for the moment and then squinted as faint slivers of barely-there light reflected off the brass and iron of the armor of the people. He thought he saw Loki and Malekith's monstrous forms looming over Thor. Hogun started to feel angry, he was stuck up here. He should be doing something, not let Loki and those scoundrels have the honor of desecrating Thor's body. He didn't think that he really saw it. He couldn't have really seen it. It had all happened too quickly. It was a twinkling of an eye, a flash of green light. It was an energy that Hogun was all too familiar with. He'd seen such powers of mischief before. Tricks that had left their enemies stunned on the battlefield long enough for them to mount another attack/. The Einherjar general looked back down. Aether ash was flying in his face. He couldn't be sure of what he saw at all. How could he know it was real.? But as he blinked and rubbed his eyes, he saw that Thor's body was no longer lying in a crumpled, bloody heap upon the scaffold. Thor's body was...was gone. Hogun gasped momentarily, then immediately gritted his teeth. Was Loki so base and honorless that he wouldn't actually allow Thor's body to at least be cremated? Hogun was about to scream out. he was about to call back down to the rest of those Asgardians who were positioned in the palace. Then he saw Loki go to the edge of the scaffold where Thor had been. He watched as the self-proclaimed dictator and apparent murderer raised Gungnir in the air and then stamp it on the boards of the pulpit. All of a sudden, he held as a blinding golden ripple exploded from the king's staff. He watched as it spread out over the people. He heard Loki's voice bellow out "LONG LIVE THEHOUSE ODIN!" He saw the people move, move. It was the first time he had observed the people move in many minutes. They went from crouching and cowering a huddled mass of frightened, defenseless souls frozen in fear to standing. They rose up slowly at first. It had been like watching waves roll in from the ocean on a stormy night. The little rough ridges out on the stormy sea seemed so distant and minute as first. Just like the citizens in the square, they seemed so small, shaken and confused for a moment, but nonetheless, they were standing, rising. Soon, Sir Hogun heard the people of Asgard raising their voices. Just like the swells of the ocean, first soft and gentle, but soon it was the strong sound of crashing. It wasn't the sound from before, it wasn't the mournful, defeated cry of a worn and battered people that he had heard before. This sound was strong and defiant and it was the sound of people who were fighting back. They shouted and echoed the words that Loki had just bellowed.

Hogun's breaths came out quickly. His calloused hands swiped at the fresh tears on his face. Hogun was not a man who was acquainted with being overcome by many emotions. The tears were starting to fall more rapidly from his eyes. He didn't even know completely why he was crying anymore. He hadn't cried in so long. He hadn't cried since he was a small lad. His only association with tears had been as a heartbroken boy. He still felt a bit of heartbreak for his close friend and for his people, but now there was something new that was taking over him. It was a new feeling that was kindling inside. It was a feeling of hope. Hogun had never much-understood tears of joy. He and Sif had taken much pleasure in indulging in teasing those who were overcome with such emotion, but now he was beginning to see that there were some joys that could make a person cry. "The citizens are free," Hogun tried to state calmly, into the communication device.

"Come again? Come again?" a voice called back through the other end of the flashing glowing wrist communicator.

"The...the...citizens are free," the grim warrior announced once more.

"Impossible! How?" Lord Drek called back. "What of Prince Thor?" the mathematician demanded.

"Gone," Hogun reported quickly. His eyes still straining and squinting to see what was going on the in the distant city square. He rubbed his eyes still in disbelief. He couldn't help but allow a small grin to slip over his face. He watched as the people eagerly took to trying to rush the scaffold. They were pressing, fighting, trying and they were making progress, they were beating back the Dark-Elves forces one soldier at a time. The tiny smile that had been placed on Hogun's lips couldn't help, but spread across his face.

"We know, General Hogun...he is dead," Drek announced angrily.

"May...maybe...not...dead..." Hogun's voice was raspy... "But gone," he stated.

"What do you mean? Hogun?" another one of Asgard's master mages called frantically into the comm-pad that they had.

"Just...just...gone," Hogun elaborated in a breathy voice.

"Gone where? Gone how?" Lord Drek continued to demand. "For Asgard's sake Hogun this is no time for your legendary silence!" the enchanter shouted into his end of the communicator. He was breathless and frantic and frustrated as he tried to extract information from one of Prince Thor's boon companions. General Hogun was a great warrior his feats that had led him to such great fame were rivaled by precious few, but he'd be darned in the man wasn't as silent as the grave. It was infuriating at a time like this. "These are our lives! Our very fate!" he hollered. One of Lord Drek's students was standing nearby him. The apprentice started to rub his master's shoulders. Lord Drek had grown up in the mines and he was still a man of considerable size. He ripped his shoulders from the other man's grasp and continued to shout.

"Gone...in... a flash of green light..." Hogun explained.

All the Master mages who were near one another looked at each other wide-eyed. They couldn't believe...didn't want to believe. Not now they couldn't be bamboozled by the trickster prince himself once more. "General Hogun, how are the people free? What happened?" this time it was young Bardok whose voice was reverberating through the communication device on his wrist. The vibrations of his words sent wavy blue-lined images across the screen.

Hogun swiped the tears from his eyes once more. His lips stretched forth and allowed an uncharacteristically toothy grin to play forth on his face. "Loki," he called into the communicator.

---

The self-proclaimed king of Asgard was exhausted. The atmosphere was laced with the thick ash of the Aether. It hung heavy in the air, it obscured the vision and trapped heat. It made the Imperial City as hot as an oven even though they were approaching harvest as the city should have been starting to undergo the pleasant cool climate that Loki oft had looked so forward to. In his younger years he'd suffered so badly from heatstroke, sunburn and dehydration, it had taken the first 200 years of his life for his body to adapt to the blazing Asgardian summers. The Aesir loved sun and summer. But Loki had been ever looking forward to the cooler temperatures, Harvest time was a pleasant reminder that soon his favorite time of year would draw near. He had never felt an Asgardian Summer so hot and humid as what he felt as the power of the Aether permeated the air. It singed his skin and practically scorched his flesh. Perspiration rolled down his body like the liquid off a melting popsicle. He was sweating so much that it hurt. He felt like his pores were going to explode and no longer produce water, but spring forth with blood. He was panting heavily and still couldn't breathe as the vicious crimson particles stung his lungs. As he inhaled the Aether's violent misty spray he started to cough and started to gag. The Ash continued to clog up his lungs and burn his throat, so bad that he wanted to collapse. But he couldn't. That wasn't an option. He had to keep fighting had to keep going. He had to stop Malekith, by the Aesir more time.

His skirmish with Lord Malekith had only been going on a few minutes, but holding off the leader of the Dark-Elves and his band of cut-throats had proven to be a more difficult task than he'd actually anticipated. He knew of the power of the Aether. He'd known of it for centuries. For several years he had extensively studied the history of the Infinity Stones. It had been a fascinating study he loved arguing with his professors and other scholars over the origins of the stones. He and Lady Dagmar had had several stimulating debates about the origins of the stones. Dagmar had her theories the beliefs of the Vanir. That the Infinity Stones were sacred gifts from the spirits. She believed that they were the seeds of Yggdrasil. The very building blocks of life. He had continued to further his studies. He loved finding out their uses across the different realms and even in different systems throughout the eons of time. He knew how powerful the Aether was. How in a world without light the Aether had managed to sustain the Dark-Elves for thousands of years and make them one of the fiercest races in the Nine Realms. He'd read the countless histories, the accounts of how they took cities and kingdoms and laid waste to armies. Some believed that these blood sacrifices made the Aether even more powerful gave it even more capabilities. The Aether not only had the power of destruction but had the ability to augment realities. Loki had seen firsthand how its' energy blast could cut through a city that had been in existence since the dawn of time and reduce it to ash in less than a few hours. (The trickster loathed himself for how he had stood and watched the decimation of this glorious realm with almost fiendish delight. He'd been gleeful, glad beyond measure just a day ago. He shuddered at the thought of his temporary insanity, his incomprehensible madness was an utter disgrace to who had been raised to be. ) And yet, for all he had beheld with the excitement of a spectator's eye, fighting Malekith face to face with nothing but Odin's scepter as a defense against the powerful blows of the Aether he was made all too aware of how frightful the liquid gem really was. It was a horrible primordial ooze. It should have been destroyed, but it couldn't truly be destroyed. Perhaps Bor had tried, tried like he was trying, and found that his attempts had been futile. The way Odin had always spoken of his father when he and Thor were boys it had made Bor sound like such a scholar and sage, not only had he been a great king and matchless warrior, but he'd also been wise. (Such tails had given the green-eyed child hope, that his bookish ways could one day be celebrated by his people as well). He remembered asking Odin why Bor hadn't done more to try to destroy the Aether, curious young magician that they weren't mere matter, they were something deeper. His eyes had twinkled with excitement, "magic", he had called out enthusiastically. Odin explained that the Infinity stones could not be destroyed that they were a part of how the universe existed. The Aether was a necessary evil. It was necessary for balance; Forces of light and dark always had to be. There always had to be forces of creation and forces of destruction, beings of peace and creatures of chaos. In his lifetime he had always tried to do away with the darker tendencies that had seemed to lie deeper inside of his people were people of light and his family was good and his family had taught him how to be good, but then...then when he had found out that terrible truth ..that...that he was nothing more than a Frost Giant, he just gave into it. Yes, good and evil would always be in existence. Maybe they would always be. But he didn't have to be a part of the latter. He no longer had to be a part of the chaos. He didn't have to help Darkness try to overcome Light and he wouldn't. Not anymore. Maybe they wouldn't win. Their chances sure did seem slim, but at least it wasn't because of him any longer.

With that new notion planted in his mind and in his heart, Loki was invigorated to fight harder, longer and stronger. And so, he did. Malekith's men tried to double and triple-teamed him. The Dark-Elf warriors didn't hesitate to do everything they could to attack the thin Asgardian. Enchanter. They rushed at him shooting off their blaster, raising their swords and clubs. The self-proclaimed king didn't panic when he saw them coming. For the ones that were seeking to attack him with their steel swords and iron clubs, Loki maneuvered through them. Loki agilely managed to slink through them. The Dark-Elves were clunky and inelegant warriors. They weren't creative in their techniques or approaches, their distant relatives, the Light Elves were actually much more skilled in the martial arts thought not quite as war-loving. The Dark-Elves were only formidable because they at the time had advanced technology and that was because of the power of the Aether. That rare red power had the ability to change matter into dark matter and make weapons 10 times more deadly than what they already were.

As Malekith's men sought to attack him, Loki was able to slip up behind a few of Asgard's foes and with his knives, he'd quickly, nearly silently slit their throats. He pulled illusions and caused them to fire their blasters off at each other. He'd go to shoot a power blast at Malekith with Gungnir. The soldiers would rush to defend their leader and he'd throw out darts right into their necks. He'd project his image in the wrong spots. He'd make it seem as if he was standing defenseless in the corner. The elfin soldiers would then immediately begin to shoot their weapons, some in their haste shooting off as many as 10 blasts at a time, they'd fire over and over again, desperately trying to stop the trickster. Their vortex-forming blasters had gone off so much so that it looked like fireworks were going off. It would. have been a splendid display, the type that would light up the night sky and make children's eyes dance. The soldiers would shout to each other congratulating themselves thinking that one of them had managed to suck up the black-haired enchanter. Their guttural grunts would be cut short as they felt his blade swiftly thrust between their ribs and pulled out just a quickly allowing their life juices to spill about. Their black blood leaked out and onto Loki's hands and soon was splattered all over the scaffold. It was sick and it stank as their blood's repugnant odor filled his nostrils. Their black blood was slick like oil and normally agile and nimble warrior found himself slipping and sliding across the elevated platform. He ended up on his back and Malekith was about to make his move. The general's red eyes went wide as he beheld his men slaughtered. The Aether started to swirl and surge within him like an uncontrollable tempest.

In his mind, Malekith relived the moments from so long ago. In his centuries in hibernation, he relived that day over and over again. He dreamed it so much that he could hear every sound, see every sight and taste and smell all as it had been on that day. In his dreams, he could feel each blow that had struck him. He hardly had any other dreams while he was kept so carefully in the cradle of hibernation. A few times perhaps, he had dreamed of his childhood at best he would have called it unimpressive, but at least in those days he had seen the realm thrive. He scarcely ever recalled his early days of battle, the thrill of the first time he'd seen victory. He'd for a small amount of time dreamed of his wife. He'd remembered the ceremony for the marriage. He remembered her face, she had grace and beauty. he'd been pleased with her, but her knowledge of the Aether and her access to the Aether temple was what he truly prized in her. He hardly ever thought of the children he had produced with her, but more often than not he dreamed of that day so long ago. A day, just like today, when the Convergence was nigh and the worlds were aligning above him. He'd had the chance to have everything. To have the Nine Realms as his oyster and to be second in command of possibly all the cosmos and once again some Asgardian King had taken it all away from him.

"Malekith!" King Bor Ymirson called to the Dark-Elf. The Dark-Elf general had his hands raised in praise and victor as he watched as the shards of the Aether were flowing upward and into the unsuspecting realms. He couldn't wait to paint these newfound realms with their newfound freedoms and prosperities and lack of fear black. Their cousins the Light-Elves had centuries earlier broken away from them as Svartalfheim had become a wasteland. For a while they had been like children just running about in the forest, but they had grown into a mighty civilization. They had expanded and even gown to live among the mortals. The mortals no longer lived in fear of darkness as they should and now even the race of men was starting to rise. It had sickened him to his core to see the pathetic humans adore the other realms. Giving them honor and lavishing earthly wealth upon them. Well, no more. He'd make them just like his home, Svartalfheim."This is your last chance to surrender," the king called. "You must stop this!" the red-haired Viking king tried to reason with his enemy. "This is madness none of the people of the realms will survive this!" Odin called through the rage of battle and firing of blasters and bombs and clashes of steel.

"Yours may," Malekith chuckled as he spoke in his language. He kept his glowing red eyes on the prize. "Then you shall be our slaves," he continued. "You are not greater than us Asgardian and you shall know the same fate that you tried to force on us centuries ago," he chuckled. Finally, he turned around to face the prestigious Asgardian king. He was every inch how he had been described. He saw their armies battling and he loved every minute of the war and death and violence that it caused.

"You'll destroy everything!" Bor warned.

"Those who die are weak!" the leader of the Dark-Elves proclaimed, "And the weak deserve to die," Malekith explained the creed of his people. "And we shall feast upon their bones and drink their blood!" Malekith ranted on.

Bor twisted up his face. It was covered with blood and dust, it was worn but still distinguished. He called to his troops. He called to several of his finest officers. His Einherjar and they marched forward with their elect- swords and their taser staff, "The only people who shall die today our yours," Bor swore.

"Oh, you'd like to think that wouldn't you," Malekith teased in his own language. Then he whistled for his beast and the Kursed came running, like a dog being beckoned. The Asgardians stood astonished at the horned creature, it towered over them and they saw the strength and stamina it possessed. It was like none other. It seemed to feel no pain. It had been a great honor among their people to be chosen to bed Kursed. Malekith had coveted the position himself. He and Bor stood for a minute toe to toe eye to eye. He chuckled fiendishly as he watched the monster of his people rip through Asgardian defenses and tear through the soldiers. He wanted to watch the monster have the chance to savagely rip Bor from limb to limb. Malekith would have kept his severed limbs as tribute. The Kursed was doing good. He was fighting tooth and nail, but soon the armies of Asgard began to pull ahead. He watched in horror as Valkyrie charged forth on their winged Pegasi. More and more Einherjar flew in and started to decimate their force. Finally, he watched the Kursed fall. It had been his own cousin who he had allowed to become that misshapen creature. He watched as Aesir soldiers beheaded him. It was then the tide turned. The battle shifted in the Asgardians favor. He watched as their great floating vessels fell from the sky and the soldiers in his army lay scattered and confused and some even ran scared from the enemy. He watched in horror and anger the warriors of Asgard captured their sacred Infinity stone and carted it away. Malekith had seethed then thinking that the king would take it and lock it away in his great weapon vault and he would use it for his own purposes and how all the great power and strength that the stone possessed.

He watched as Lord Malekith rendered one more attack Lord Malekith shook himself and brought himself back to the present. He saw the same exact thing happening again. "NO!" Lord Malekith roared. The leader of the Dark-Elves had sworn that he would not lose to the house of Bor and he certainly wouldn't lose to some Jotun welp. Malekith once more brandished his black blade. He came charging toward Loki who was lying flat on his back gasping and trying to catch his breath for but a moment. His face was snarled as he attempted to bring his sword down and end that vile traitor's life. Loki's eyes went wide as he looked up at the dark broadsword that was ready to decapitate him. Quick as a flash he brought his daggers up and crossed them before himself and blocked Lord Malekith from rendering a death blow. Malekith gritted and strained and tried to press the blade deeper and deeper toward Loki's throat. Loki panted and his limbs shook as he tried to keep Malekith's sword from his neck. "This sword was meant to execute the last of the line of the house Bor," he reminded Loki. "It was meant to bear Bor's blood," he growled. Malekith leaned heavier on his sword, he put his full body weight on it and watched as Loki's thin limbs shook. "And you aren't even one of them! "He shook his head, his bloodless lips snarling, his gray teeth grinning. "Not even a true Asgardian," he reminded Loki. Malekith tossed his head back and laughed and looked into the sky still red as Helheim and tainted with the Aether. Loki still struggled and writhed beneath him. Malekith pressed deeper, the black blade was nearly touching the tip of Loki's pointed nose. "This is the sword of my father," Malekith hissed to Loki. The self-proclaimed king's gem-colored eyes were nearly cross-eyed as he beheld it. "But you, Loki are no man's son and you have no sword of your ancestors to carry," he stated and he pressed his own saber down further the steel of Loki's own daggers the only thing keeping the sharp broad sword from touching his neck.

"No," Loki confessed with a gasp, "No sword for me," his voice came out a wheeze. The enchanter winked his green eye. "But they did give me this,' Loki stated and he quickly dropped one of his daggers and retrieved Gungnir a weapon of kings. He shot a powerful golden blast at the Dark-Elf warlord. Malekith flew back a few steps then immediately shot forth a powerful Aether blast. The two energy blasts were perfectly matched a swirling vortex of red confronted with a pulsing, penetrating, blinding white light. The two warriors rushed at each other their forces squaring off, but neither necessarily had the advantage. Loki moved in closer. As Malekith continued to use the powers of the Aether it would be drained from him, without the Aether in his system Malekith would become more vulnerable. But Malekith was a battle-hardened Bilgeschnipe. His survival in so many battles was not purely because of the power of the red Infinity Stone that he so prized. He was a man of war, plain and simple. He didn't leave himself open for many attacks, but Loki's calculating green eyes found it. A chink in the general's armor so to speak. With every blast of dark energy that he let leak out of him, he raised his arm ever so slightly too high and exposed his ribcage. Loki saw the opportunity and decided to take it.

Lord Malekith swung his arm wide ceasing with his Aether assaults momentarily. He sensed that he was weakening and he needed the power of the dark-crystal for the moment when Convergence was at its peak. He swung with his broad sword in a feral move that nearly decapitated Loki. The dark-haired mage dipped and dodge right under Malekith's arm and snaked in close range at the Dark-Elf general. From there he was able to ram his concealed dagger right into Malekith's exposed side. The dagger that he had was sharp as a fang and with enough of a thrust it went through Malekith's thick armor that was not only made of iron but reinforced with the scales of a behemoth, a creature once native to the primordial world of Svartalfheim. The Behemoth had one of the toughest hides of all the rare beasts of the Nine Realms. Loki felt the blade dig into Malekith's skin, he felt the slight ooze of what he thought was Malekith's blood. The self-proclaimed ruler of Asgard panted as he forced his tired gem-colored eyes to look at Malekith. His mouth quirked into a hopeful expression at the thought that maybe It could be done that quickly. He was tired. He was so very tired. Still, he forced his heavy eyelids to remain open so that he could look Malekith in the eye.

When he had gone away for basic training among the Einherjar. Mother hadn't wanted him to go and the truth of the matter was that he hadn't wanted to go. Why would he want to go and sleep in a squalid barrack or even worst on the ground with droll plebians, but he knew that he needed to go to prove himself to the people of Asgard. It was just what an Aesir prince was supposed to do and there was too much chatter in court saying that he was too scared to go and wouldn't even last a year away from the palace. So, he went and besides using the time for learning the art of war sold, he tried to use that time to study why so many Asgardians seemed to have such a dislike for uses of the mystic arts in combat He had tried to bring a few of his tricks to the battlefield for the other young soldiers, the superior officers hadn't liked it, but the chiding was mild being that he was a son of Odin and he thought surely, they could see that it was a far superior, less messy tactic. He had at least proven that his powers were good at cracking into the storage vault for the liquor. He had particularly gotten into a heated debate with an old captain. He said that one time he had been officers wine cellar. The rest of the young men in his platoon celebrated their victory of liberating a few fine vintages from the cellar, He'd gotten into a heated debate with the captain.

"Mind if I join you and your friends, young highness?" the captain asked. Captain Marx was a grizzled and gruff man.

Captain," Loki said as he stood and saluted the officer. He found it troubling not to be the highest-ranking person in the room and differing to peasant born officers wasn't his forte, but Odin had admonished him to show respect for the officers many of who were high ranking officials on Odin's war council and who would have been all too eager to write the king and inform him that his son had not passed Einherjar basic training on account of insubordination. "At ease," the captain said to the young men as he pulled up a stole. I see you already are," he quipped and sat down with the recruits. He poured himself a tankard. "As you were," he offered after he guzzled a satisfying swig of golden mead seeing that all the chatter had stopped as soon as he'd sat down.

Prince Loki gulped and finished a glass of wine that he had. "The men were just saying how some of the illusions worked well today in settling the border skirmish." Prince Loki shrugged. "Do you agree?" Loki raised his inky brow as he took another sip. Captain Marx grunted something of an affirmative response.

"Enchantment ain't got no place on the battlefield, your highness, if you don't mind me saying," the officer expressed. He wiped his grizzly beard

"Loki's eyes widened. "But we won," he sputtered.

"Could have won without resorting to using your little tricks, your highness, if you don't mind me saying, if the troops were well trained enough, it was nothing but a militia," Captain Marx shrugged and guzzled more mead.

Loki shook his head, "but Asgard has always relied on magic in the heat of battle, think about the Berserker staff," Loki countered desperately. The other soldiers were just beginning to see, he couldn't allow this old seaman to take that away.

"And it drove most of those who touched it mad!" the captain declared as he slammed his mug down on the table. Some of the contents splattered back in the captain's face.

"That is beside the point," Loki quickly countered.

"No! That is exactly the point, your highness!" the captain quickly countered. "See when people utilize dark-arts they lose conscience...lose control," he muttered darkly.

"I wasn't saying that you had to employ dark arts," Loki tried to qualify.

"All the same!" the old man snapped. "I fought in a battle...a great battle once," the Einherjar captain began to recall. His eyes batted rapidly as he went back. "There was a wizard from Musepelheim who had been employed by the enemy army. WE had marched out and expected to face our foe on the battlefield, but just one lone man stood. I don't know what he did, but his enchantments were strong and he turned our weapons against us. He turned our swords against us," Marx was practically screeching. Our tanks crushed and fired on us and our airships, they exploded. "We tried to surrender," Captain Marx confessed. He took a napkin from the table and waved it like a white flag. The Einherjar hopefuls were shocked. None had ever heard of an Aesir surrender. Such was a disgrace, but Loki a student of history knew that they had been a few surrenders off the books, but even this confession had taken the second son of Odin by surprise.

Captain Marx started to shake his head. "He could snap neck, break bones and stop hearts" the captain continued, "All from a distance, he never looked a man in the eye to see who he was killing, to see if it was a good man, an honorable man, a man in love, a man in need, a man in pain, a man who scared .He slaughtered men that day like a coward," Marx explained. He didn't give himself a chance to spare a man's life if he could," Captain Marx went on. "He killed without feeling!" Captain Marx blurted out angrily The Einherjar had a code to look an enemy in the eye as much as possible so that they never forgot the price of war and always made sure that they were willing to pay it. " You don't get to not pay the price!" declared Captain Marx as he pointed a gnarled and shaky finger at Prince Loki's sharp nose. With that, he angrily hurled his goblet at the wall and then flipped over the table. The drinks went splattering all over the tidy mess hall. The drinks puddled around Prince Loki's feet. "You can stay behind and clean this up Prince Loki," the captain declared as his shoulders heaved. The other soldiers looked around back and forth at each other. Prince Loki had indulged following the directions of the commanders for the few months, but they doubted he would take kindly to such a debasing direct order.

Prince Loki seethed with his hands balled up at his side. "How dare you..." Loki started to growl

"Temper...temper, now my lord," Marx stated. I'd hate to report to your commanding officer that you aren't taking orders like a good soldier or have you been the first son of the royal family to not take on the Title of Einherjar since Prince Url nearly 4000 years ago," the old man chuckled. He signaled for one of the other young Einherjar to hand him a mop and pail to present to the second son of Odin.

Captain Marx and the rest of the Einherjar who had been with him walked out in fitful snickers thinking of the royal having to do the work of a servant. Loki waited for them to exit. His thin lips twisted into a smirk. Captain Marx must have been out of his mind if he thought that he would actually mop up the mess that he had made. With a snap of his fingers, he had instantly cleaned everything up. But Prince Loki knew he couldn't exit the mess hall just yet, everyone would know that he'd used his powers. He pulled out one of the stools and sat musing about the things that Captain Marx had said. He shouldn't have paid that drunken old fool any mind. Perhaps he was respected by a few of the soldiers, but Loki would see that he was promptly decommissioned once he came out of basic training. He was a tired old fossil any, the prince tried to remind himself. Maybe he was right about some enchanters. They didn't bother to get their hands dirty and they didn't have the integrity to look a man in the eye as they took his life, but that wasn't true for him.

He had made his first kill as a youth who would have resembled a Midgardian of the standard age of 1. His brother and his friends and he had been traveling to the Lake Country. They had been invited by one of their aunts for holiday for the annual Lady of the Lake festival. It was a fun regional fest. It was a peasant festival that most involved young maidens dressing as mermaids and competing in swimming competitions and boating tournaments, fly fishing, and river dancing. It was their first time to travel unescorted. Thor had been insistent that they didn't need such childish things as the security of having palace guards ride them to the Lake Country. It wasn't even two days by horse in the took the high-roads. The Lake Country was quiet and pleasant and no one would anticipate royals being in attendance of such a provincial peasant festival. Their caravan had been attacked by highwaymen nonetheless.. Despite the prowess that Thor and their friends had shown in their classes and training they were vastly outnumbered by the bandits and they were easily about to be taken, hostage. Loki couldn't let that happen. Thor was on the ground sword to his neck and Lady Sif, Volstagg Frandal and Hogun had all been tied up. Sif was still struggling and they were about to clobber her over the head with a bludgeon. He reached out his hand toward the leader of the bandits, a man who dressed like a pirate although he seemed to be quite adept at robbing people on land and strangled him without actually ever touching him. It was awful. It was horrible, feeling the man's life slip out of him. Feeling his breath grow shallower and shallower. Loki didn't feel anything. He felt everything. He felt his heartbeat and his pulse. He turned the man toward him looked him in the eyes and saw the horror there. But he also saw how heartless and cruel this man had been. His eyes didn't have pity or compassion, but they did house fear. Fear of death, but more so, Loki soon deciphered fear of him. The hedge robber struggled. He shook his head and looked at Loki with disbelief as he could not believe that it was the scrawny, knock-kneed lad that had bested him with parlor tricks. Soon those eyes started to bleed tears. Loki remembered the color of those eyes they were just simple brown eyes, simple and hardened, but they did plead and Loki nearly let him go. The rest of the band of brigands also held fear in their eyes as they beheld the young enchanter's power. They tripped over themselves as they ran away but when the act was done, Loki broke down and sobbed.

After that dreadful conversation with Captain Marx, Loki had vowed to whenever possible to live up to the creed of the Einherjar to look an enemy in the eye when he killed. He hadn't done that so much in the past few years. Loki regretted that. He regretted he'd broken so many of the vows that he had broken. Vows of the man he was before when he was a Prince of Asgard, a true son of Odin. When he had taken the creed of an Einherjar, to be loyal, brave and true. He wanted to go back, to be that person again, for his people, for his family...for himself. His breath hitched for the moment that maybe those traits hadn't just been figments of his imagination, that perhaps he had really possessed them after all, and could possess them once again even if this would be the last time, he'd ever had the chance to demonstrate them.

So, the self-proclaimed king of Asgard brought his tired green eyes to look into the nearly blackened eyes of Lord Malekith as he dared to thrust his dagger into the general's side Loki had to look him in the eye. He had to know if the sick warlord house any emotion in him other than malic and rage and wickedness. At best the raven-haired enchanter doubted that he'd see anything other than pain tear through Malekith's irises. Still, he pressed himself. He scarcely even allowed his own heavy eyelids to blink, so that he could search Malekith's eyes and search his very soul and then that have the chance to search his own. Were he and Malekith really so different? They'd both been used by Thanos as a means for the mad titan to accomplish his own ends. They'd both become obsessed with Infinity Stones and they'd both nearly destroyed the kingdoms they'd sworn they loved in a futile quest for power. If Lord Malekith thought that his life was over, would he feel any sense of remorse for the wrongs he had done? If Loki looked into those eyes, would he find any ounce of a redeemable being left them?

The dagger plunged in deep. It shot straight through the armor and sank into Malekith's ashen flesh. The Dark-Elf warlord let out a gasp. He looked genuinely shocked for but a moment and he slowly lurched forward nearly falling into Loki. And thus, causing the blade of Loki's dagger to go deeper and deeper into his own body so that the tip of the dagger was nearly rubbing against his rib cage and poking at the organs in his body. Malekith's eyes that were red with the Aether went wide. Sock and pain were emotions that clearly resonated through the eyes that were poisoned with the power of the Aether. That much Loki had expected, knew he would see. Even a bug scuttled for its life, but that didn't mean that the lowly creature had any real feelings. Loki felt the Dark-Elf's blood trickling onto his fingers. Sticky and thick, but still warm and the only warmth that Malekith ever exuded. And if it was him on the other end of this dagger, Loki realized that even that much warmth would not come from within him. The king of Asgard looked up into Lord Malekith's eyes one more time. Would that cruel general's eyes at least plead? AS his emerald eyes momentarily continued to search Malekith's he noted the swirl of red within the pupils from the Aether started to gleam and glow with a faint fiendish twinkle. Malekith's bloodless lips pulled into a smile. Before Loki could even raise a brown in a query as to what was causing the general his devilish delight. He felt something sharp and painful being jettisoned into his own stomach. It was pushed into his stomach so hard that it seemed like it was trying to find its way out the other side. Loki gasped and elicited groans of pain. The brutal stab was not only with one of his own daggers which he knew all too well how he had sharpened. They were sharped to perfection that was sharp enough that they could have scraped the bark off the rough side of a tree in the same fashion that one could slice an apple. Loki had even taken the time to put ridges into the knife so that when it was thrust into the flesh it tore when one tried to remove it. It was also tainted with the Aether which made it 20 times more terrible than any stab wound he'd ever face. Loki howled as he a burn that tore through his entire body as the Aether raged within him.

Loki fell upon his knees gasping and gaping from the blow. His hand immediately strayed to his stomach, his fingers fiddling trying to pull out the dagger. he hadn't the time. Instantly, Malekith's big black boots were pounding across the timber of the scaffold and he made his way to bridge the small gap between them. His rough hands reached out flung Loki's helmet off of his head. He took it by the horns and threw it to the ground. Loki's green eyes blinked, reflexively his hand already bloody with his own life juices stretched out toward the piece of his armor. Malekith then yanked Loki by his long, dark mane. He tangled his gnarled white fingers into Loki's ebony locks and pulled the mage's head back so that it revealed Loki's pale and slender neck. "You're pathetic!" the leader of the Dark-Elves spat. Spittle literally formed at his lips. "You could have been second in command to Thanos!" he went on shouting. Malekith's breathing grew rabid as he thought of how he had also once been promised such a golden opportunity. he had been offered the desired position. He would have served the mad Titan ever so willingly. He was powerful and Malekith had always been attracted to power so to speak. Also, Thanos understood that Darkness and Death, they were just as essential to the universe as light and maybe more so. They had the same goals. They had aligned so once, but he had failed Thanos and now Thanos had given his coveted position to another to Loki a soft welp at best. Malekith snarled. "Though you never deserved it!" he continued. "And you give it all up," Malekith's armored shoulders continued to heave. "FOR WHAT?" he questioned rabidly. He hollered in Loki's ear. Loki's eyes batted rapidly as they struggled to stay open, his hand still trying to pull out the dagger without injuring himself further. He gritted his teeth against the harsh words of the elfin general. "For sentiment," Malekith answered himself. He shook his head in disgust as he looked down at the false-king of Asgard. He made sure to keep his talon-like nails burrowing into Loki's scalp and make sure that his hand continued to twist his neck in an uncomfortable angle. Loki winced. Malekith's pit-like eyes looked down at him without pity. "So soft," he curled up his nose like he smelled something rotten. "He reeked of the foul odors of love and tenderness. Malekith couldn't stand it. With his free hand that was covered with an iron gauntlet, he slapped Loki across the face. He still held fast to Loki's hair and the hit was so heavy that he nearly caused Loki's neck to snap as it swiveled. He leaned into Loki's face. "You love family?" he asked mockingly in a baby voice. "Don't worry," Malekith went on with his mockery the same hand that had just slapped the spit out of Loki's mouth now patronizingly stroked his cheek, Loki tried to twist from the touches, but Malekith's grasps on him was firm. "You can have them," he assured him. "You can die right along with the rest of them," the general nodded. He once again raised his gleaming, black broad sword in the air. It caught the faint light of a sun that had risen as was trying to shine forth through the impenetrable darkness. "I'll skin your Frost Giant hide and I'll present it as a magnificent throw-rug for Thanos," he said proudly. He smiled a sick smile. " And everybody can tread upon you like the worm you are when they enter Thanos' throne room," Malekith continued to rant. He then let go of Loki and Loki collapsed on the scaffold still clutching his side trying to control some of the bleedings with his own powers. He shook and shuddered as he tried to push himself up to fail miserably and fall back down each time. He recognized the shadow of Lord Malekith's weapon looming over him. Malekith wore a malicious grin as he readied his blade. "I'll settle for decapitating this pretend descendant of Bor for now," he said to himself in his language. "Prince Thor will die soon enough," he said so that Loki could hear. Perhaps he heard a faint protest come from the master mage that was laid prostrate, pathetic and defenseless at his feet. "He raised his broadsword high into the air. The Aether ash whipped all around it. He started to bring it down, "Long live the house of Odin," he whispered.

Just then, Malekith started to feel a rumbling and shaking beneath him. He looked down over the edge of the scaffold and there he could see that there were several Asgardian citizens, what seemed like hundreds of the Aesir miscreants taking to trying to tear down the plants and boards that made up the scaffold. They'd trampled over his men. They've disarmed them. He watched as a few of the soldiers that he'd stationed on the outside came rushing forward. They were firing off their weapons, but their efforts seemed to prove useless as the Aesir seemed to have gained a newfound strength. They picked up pieces of debris and flung them at his men, striking them in the head and knocking them unconscious. His warriors fell over like timber. Then the Asgardians would rush to a fallen soldier and scoop up their blaster and use it against the others. It was a despicable display. Lord Malekith started shouting orders at the Dark-Elf soldiers. Trying to tell them flanking maneuvers ad different formations to assume. They couldn't seem to hear him. Even the young Aesir children who were trapped within the square had started to take up rocks and bricks to arm themselves They ripped their sleeves (most of which could no longer truly be counted as sleeves, just matted bits of blood and dirt-stained fabric) and used them as slingshots. Those who couldn't find anything better would take off their shoes and pelt the soldiers with them. The Dark-Elf soldiers were stunned and surprised by the recent developments. Just moments before, these people had been nothing but broken cowering wretches where had this newfound strength come from. They'd faced the might of the Asgardians before and as now the people were putting up more of a fight, they had begun to recall just how formidable this foe was in battle. The Asgardians are relentless, soldiers, general and king thought to themselves as they continued to fight their way toward the scaffold. Loki thought so with a smile as he craned his neck to watch the valiant effort that the citizens of Asgard were making to take back their city and save the Nine Realms. Blades slash through bodies, arrows flew through the sky striking enemies down. Fists pounded furiously, knocking out anyone they could Feet stamped and trampled as they drove the Dark-Elves back into a tiny defensive huddle. All the while the real battle cry rang out throughout the City Square. It ran out louder than the crashes of steel, louder than the burst of bombs, louder than the tortured screams and frantic cries that followed a death blow. "LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN!"

Lord Malekith looked on with horror. The people were ripping the boards out of the sides of the scaffold. "Come on men! Heave ho!" one soldier with plumage in his helmet called to a small group of officers who scrambled like animals to pull down the planks. But they were successful, they were barely 10 men but they pulled down the giant planks. They hoisted the large planks onto their shoulders and used it as a battering and plowed through the line of Dark-Elf warriors who were assembling in a blockade. Malekith raged as he watched his force being blown down like a deck of cards. He growled and grunted like a monster. No, it could not happen again. He could not lose again. He gritted his teeth so hard that he thought they would fall out of his mouth. He squeezed his hands into a tight fist. His talon-like, black nails managed to somehow puncture the metal of his gauntlet and his palms started to bleed. Lord Malekith shook himself. He reached down and then grabbed Loki by the hair pulling him up At first, he had just thought to slice the little trickster's throat. Now he was sure he'd whack his head. Clean off. He'd hold it up before those rebellious Asgardian swine. He'd break them! He'd break them he knew; they were already so close to being broken. For the Asgardians and maybe seeing their self-proclaimed king and newfound champion's headless form would be enough to knock the wind out of their sails long enough for his mission to be complete. The edge of his broadsword's blade toyed has the sweat, slick skin around Loki's neck near the Adam's apple.

Malekith started to chuckle sickly and deep within his throat. the edge of his blade ruthlessly toying with the supple flesh on Loki's neck. He cupped a hand to his pointed ear and listened to the rallying cry once more. It was long and strong and fervent, but it meant little now. "The house of Odin may live a little longer," Malekith notes with a shrug. "But your reign is at an end," He explained. "And not short enough it was. Lord Malekith readied his broad sword for the beheading, he knew he would have to have power in the arm to make a clean cut, but just as he was about to chop, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was a shaky hand with trembling fingers from one of the soldiers upon the scaffold who still lived. Lord Malekith was annoyed. He seethed and growled and he was ready to kill his own man as well for the interruption. In a split second, he thought of how he had so few men left he couldn't lose another. Then his pit-like eyes beheld the soldier in question, he was no asset to battle as he was severely injured. Still, the soldier's shaky fingers managed to slip past Malekith's pointy nose in order to reveal what he was looking at. The Dark-Elf warrior was so hurt that he couldn't even hardly talk. He grunted and groaned, but Malekith got the message. The tides were turning and now that the Asgardians we free they were easily starting to overwhelm the forces of Svartalfheim. He continued to watch as his men fell at the hands of the Aesir, despite the weapons that they had. He shook his head in disgust. Out the corner of his eye Loki too saw the skirmishes that were going on and he saw that the citizens of Asgard were standing fighting tooth and nail and they were prevailing a proud smirk trickled across his face.

"NOOOO!" Malekith roared as from his pulpit he watched as his men were surrounded and disarmed and made light work of. "Not again! Not! NOT AGAIN!" he yelled as he finally released Loki's mane and dropped him. Loki crashed back down onto the scaffold and that caused the dagger to plunge deeper into Loki's flesh. "RETREAT! RETREAT!" Lord Malekith hollered at the top of his lungs his soldiers heard his commands. They were relieved and made haste to obey their lord's commands. The citizens of the Imperial City were not quick to let them go, soldiers and civilians alike formed barricades around the frantically fleeing troops of Svartalfheim. Sometimes a soldier would seem to be surrounded by 50 or 60 Asgardians. The soldiers would panic and start firing off their blasters randomly Powerful vortexes formed all throughout the city square, they instantly sucked the citizens in, but the citizens had gotten smarter, wiser, they would form lines and hold each other down to keep one another from being sucked away. They may lose one Asgardian citizen, but they would not lose all. They would no longer be casualties or prey to the blasters and vortex technologies of the Dark-Elves. "RETREAT!" Malekith continued to holler to his men, but they couldn't break through the ranks of every Aesir, citizen, man, woman, and child who was giving their all to save their kingdom. Finally, Malekith could take no more. His whole being began to quake violently as the Aether bubbled and brewed and grew within him. He sent a powerful Aether blast jettisoning forth from his person. Shards of red and black spewed forth from him in massive amounts. They spread and reach to every corner and crevice of the city Square like the terrible tentacle of the legendary Kraken. Shards like jagged pieces of glass were flung indiscriminately about and about and slaughtered without care. They skewered victims old and young and fastened to the place where they died. Still, the more powerful blasts pushed the people back and flung them against the gates and against the stones and columns, leaving them busied and battered if not worse. And even those who did escape being actually hit by the Aether were forced to drop to their knees as the weight of the Aether ash loomed in the air blackening everything and making it impossible to breathe.

"NOOOOO!" Loki screamed raggedly as he watched the power of the Aether discombobulate the Asgardians. It sent them flying and scattering about with tortured screams ringing from their lips as they tried to get out of the way of the deadly tentacles which seemed to reach every corner and crevice of the Center Square. They did their best to escape to little avail they scuttled and scampered and tried to climb up the gates and pillars, but all their efforts proved useless as they still ended up with Aether shards in their backs. "Malekith! Enough!" Loki tried to call out, but he doubted that the general heard him over the hubbub and commotion, Loki hadn't the strength to scream it again. He watched as the Aether ash settled. It descended like a terrible cloud a thick fog that cloaked all in a hellish red haze that was so heavy and blinding that Lord Malekith and his men used it to sneak away. He'd concealed his men with the power of the Aether. They seemed to vanish right before Loki's eyes, but still, he knew where Malekith and his men were headed into the palace. Lord Malekith still had to await Convergence, he still had to wait for the alignment of the words and the worlds would align right over the Imperial Palace.

The Raven-haired enchanter managed to crawl across the blood-slick scaffold on his belly. The dagger slowly dug deeper into his flesh, making it nearly impossible to move. He didn't know if it was Aether's enchantment or his own that made the wound so excruciatingly painful. He couldn't bring himself to crawl another inch, but he did manage to roll on his back, he panted and gasped as his fingers fumbled to find the hilt of the dagger. He held as firmly as he could to the familiar hilt. He knew every cut and every stone every nick and engraving in the dagger's hilt and yet because of his hands that were slick with the blood of Dark-Elves which was slicker than an oil spill he couldn't get a firm enough hold on the knife's hilt to pull it from himself. Loki was left frustrated and winded for all his attempts. His head flopped into the puddles of black blood that pooled all around him. He shook his head. "Merciful Yggdrasil help us," he whispered to himself. So much destruction, so much chaos and agony. And it was all because of him. Had he had the strength Loki would have sobbed. His guilt consumed him. He had no right to even offer that much of a humble petition to the powers that be, but he was powerless and helpless not to. He deserved death, but the people of Asgard did not. His eyes slowly closed. "All-fathers, please help us," he begged through gritted teeth. His eyes slid closed. He was so tired. He didn't know if he had the strength to go on much more. But still, he could hear the screams of the Aesir people. "Help them..." he breathed. Some were panicked in horror, but others were echoing a triumphant chant still rallying for a day to be won, but with every passing second that was becoming less and less likely. "Help me," his hoarse voice rasped Loki forced his bloodshot eyes open once more. He had no right to be the all-fathers of the past for any help. He was not of their line in any way shape or form. He was not committed that would be to his everlasting shame he had no right to even claim he was an Aesir in spirit. But he asked futile as it was, he asked for them. For the true kings of Asgard wouldn't let Asgard for, would they? A second passed a mere heartbeat and yet it felt like a million years as he continued to hear the screams of the Aesir people. Loki's eyelids were so heavy, he could scarcely continue to hold them open, but he did manage to and as he did so he saw an incredible sight. He saw 5 forms, 5 proud forms catapulting over the thick crimson clouds of the Aether ad over the shivering, gaping, coughing crowd of Aesir citizens and onto the scaffold. Each one seemed so brave and proud and tall in form; Loki blinked in confusion. The way he saw them, they looked like they were in flight. The sword over the anarchy that ensued below them. He thought of the stories of old that his mother used to tell him of the angels and the Valkyrie who would come and chose the wounded Aesir warriors from the battlefield and rescue them to restore them to prepare to fight in the great day of Ragnarök. Stories that had delighted and enchanted him and left his green eyes twinkling. Well, surely this was such a time. Ragnarök was upon them, it was breathing down their necks and knocking on their doors. Were the angels who were as old as time and the creation of Yggdrasil itself going to take the people away whisk them to Valhalla, well surely, he wouldn't be in the number? Loki doubted the Valkyrie would have chosen him. He would have been slain by the warrior women for his crimes against Asgard and he should be by every right. And no Angel would take his hand to bid him entrance into Valhalla after all he had done. But maybe the Asgardians...maybe these proud and noble beings had been sent to rescue the people of Asgard if nothing else and he was satisfied with that. He took a deep breath and slowly allowed his tired eyes to shut.

He then heard a loud thud and several followed it as the figures landed on the scaffold before him. The king of Asgard's eyes were barely open. They stung as the Aether ash mounted all around him and they watered. They were weary at best and he could scarcely make out the figures before him. He forced his eyes to focus and then he saw that they were something less than divine. Their proud statures seemed to falter and he saw that their stances were quite so steady. No on the contrary they were leaning and bent over and bloody. They were broken and pained-looking. Their armor which Loki had seen as glistening in the pale rays of a desperate sun longing to shine on the citizens of Asgard was tarnished, dented, cracked and covered in mud and blood and ash. Loki thought he faintly could recognize them. He didn't have time to completely process who they were before one of them was looming over his sword in hand. His eyes batted as he prepared for his final moment perhaps the great kings of the past would execute their judgment then. Loki squinted as he tried to make out the figure, but he didn't have time to get a good glimpse of the person before they were on top of him straddling him.

Loki groaned as he felt the weight on him. It felt like it weighed a ton. Soon a hand reached down at ruthlessly snatched the dagger from his side. The snatcher didn't pay any attention to the grooves that the dagger had to make it hard to remove. They snatched it out despite Loki's anguished scream from the terrible tugs. Loki screamed and howled he was at the point where he was about to be begging for mercy, but then the dagger was removed. The searing pain from the removal of the weapon sent Loki's emerald eyes bulging out of their sockets as he beheld a familiar face. The blade of the weapon was immediately shoved toward his throat. He felt his own chilly blood drip on his skin. "S-s-Sif?" the reformed tyrant stuttered as he looked up into the bloodied, battered, and bedraggled face of the fearsome female warrior.

Sif Lady growled as she stared down at the black-haired monster who wore Aesir skin. Sif seethed and she'd showed all her teeth as she continued to growl at him. There were things that she did to monsters, like skin their hides and mount their heads on walls and it took all that was within her not to do that very thing to Loki. Not to end him here and now. One less enemy to kill. And she was sure that with Loki gone Malekith and his horde would fall easily. She was tempted. She pressed the point of the Tempted to end him. She pressed the blade deeper against Loki's throat and it seemed as if she would cut out his Adam's apple. Then she remembered the reason why she had leaped on the scaffold in the first place, the only reason that she would allow this miserable creatin one more moment to suck in air. "You have one minute to live, Loki, fill it with words," she warned him. "Fill it with words before I slit your throat the way Malekith should have done," she threatened

"Always the charmer, Lady Sif," Loki managed to croak out and he allowed a grin to play on his lips. Lips that were dry and cracked and bloodied.

Her brown eyes bulged, her pulse spiked, she gritted her teeth and then mashed her lips together to keep from screaming. He didn't deserve to smile. He didn't deserve to laugh to crack and make jokes after what he'd done. All he'd done. The monstrous things he'd done. It was too late... it was too late for him to redeem himself in her eyes. Even if Master Heimdal and Frandal and Volstagg wanted to believe that Loki had changed. They placed too much hope in him. Maybe it was a hope against hope. Maybe they were just desperate in the need to save their people, maybe they were just so desperate they would believe anything, but that didn't mean she would. Lady Sif growled viciously. She looked down at Loki, spindly and winded and wounded and it was not so different from the way it had been in their youth when they'd been playing or sparring if he actually didn't cheat and if he didn't use see any of his enchantments then that was his rightful position. To lose and be flat on his back beneath her. If she wouldn't have been so furiously, she maybe had been tempted to laugh Loki to scorn as she had done in their younger years. But the warrior woman was a far cry from laughter. It took all the restraint within her to keep the blade in her hand steady and keep it from slicing and dicing that thin lily-white neck of his. It took all that was within her to keep from wrapping her hands around his throat and squeezing the life out of him. He'd done no less to the Aesir people. the brunette Einherjar general let out a feral growl. It wasn't for this one question to which Loki was the only one who could provide the answer for she'd probably have killed him. She blinked and then looked him in the eye, bright, shimmering, mischievous jade eyes, the eyes that had changed from the maniacal tyrant and back into the boy she once knew. She started panting, breathing heavily. No, no, no, she reminded herself He wasn't that boy anymore. He was a crazed lunatic! A villain...Loki's lips started moving. Maybe he was about to utter some words, maybe he already speaking, she hated when he'd try to talk and twist things... so she didn't do what she always did when they were younger. She punched him in the face.

She socked him right in the eye. Loki yelped for a minute. Sif reached down and grabbed him by the collar, "WHERE IS THOR?" she demanded. "Answer me! Answer Me! Answer me! ANSWER!" Sif shouted relentlessly as she continued to shake him. "Loki's head flopped back and forth like a ragdoll. "She didn't stop shaking him. She couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop until she shook the truth from him. "Answer me! Answer me! Answer me, Loki, damn you! Curse you! Curse you!" she swore and now tears spilled from her brown eyes. "Curse you! You...you... you traitor! YOU MADMAN! YOU DEATHBRINGER! MONSTER!" she hollered in Loki's face at the top of her lungs. "TRAITOR!" she shouted once more.

"Sif! Sif!" Frandal called to her He stepped forth and grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her toward himself. He had to fight to hold her back as Sif was still trying with all her might to tear her way back to Loki. "That's enough, Thant's enough," Frandal tried to soothe her.

Loki's body flopped back on the scaffold, his hands strayed to hold both his wounded side and his neck He looked up again and this time he was surrounded by Volst, Hogun and Frandal surrounded him. Three of the proudest and most formidable warriors in all of Asgard. They didn't look much like the illustrious and renowned warriors of legend, warriors whose likenesses grace the palace walls and the great bastions of the Imperial City to honor their mighty exploits. These men looked a far cry from the conquerors they had been. They looked like bedraggled and defeated captives. They looked like they had been to Helheim and back. And they had. They had and it was because of him. Frandal pushed away from Lady Sif for just a moment he left her with someone else, but Loki didn't quite see who that was "On your feet," Frandal declared as he and the others brought their weapons out to surround him. Frandal wasn't carrying his normally grand and embellished sword-like usual it was just some old rusty blade that he must have found. Volstagg's beard was redder than Loki had ever seen it in all his days, red with blood, in his hand, he wielded a broken battle-ax. Lord Heimdal's gleaming, golden armor that had always been a great source of envy to many, the gold that made that armor had come from all across the Nine Realms. It had been passed down from gatekeeper to gatekeeper. Now looking at it, it was dented and cracked so badly that the body was left somewhat exposed. Its shining color faded to nothing, but a copper tone. "Get up!" Frandal demanded once more. He pointed the tip of his saber at Loki's nose. His left foot went to kicking Loki ruthlessly in the side.

The former dictator let out a grumble and a groan. His had still pressed to his side. He tried his best to heal himself, but it was proving to be a difficult feat. The stares of those around him were particularly impatient. Loki struggled to try to push himself to his feet. He pushed off the ground and fell back on his back with a pitiful gasp. "I...I... I can't" he confessed quietly.

The men who encircled him exchanged curious glances. In all the time they had known Loki he never said he couldn't do something. They thought about the dark-haired man as a boy. A child who was weaker, sicker and feebler than most other children in Asgard, but was eager to keep up with his playmates even if it meant that's head tucker himself out to the point of collapse. As he'd got older, he'd deflect say he wasn't interested when he was grown, he'd simply use his magic, but he didn't say that he couldn't do things. While Volstagg, Frandal and Heimdal gave each other quizzical looks about this Loki was still struggling to pull himself onto all fours. Volstagg saw his feeble attempts to get to his feet, one hand still clutching his profusely bleeding side. All at once the Viking was barking and growling. He dropped his broken battle ax. "But you can open your mouth and talk!" he yelled. "You slimy, soulless, gutless creature," Volstagg continued to rage. "Tell us where Thor is!" he demanded. He allowed more of his weight to weigh on Loki's back. The weight of Volstagg's armored leg was so heavy it sent Loki crashing back to the floor flat on his face. "Is he alive or is he dead?' Volstagg questioned more relentlessly. "What have you done with him? What have you done with him you monster!" Volstagg continued to demand his lead foot pounded on Loki's quivering spine. "Did you kill him?" he continued to rage the Einherjar's face turned red blood. "Did you kill him? Did you kill him like you killed everybody else you... you...you animal!" he spat upon Loki. Frandal hoisted Loki to his feet and spun the trickster around so that he could view his handiwork. FRandal's blade held him in place as he was forced to gaze out at the Imperial city. It used to look like a treasure chest, now it was a smoldering inferno. He saw the thousands of Aesir citizens some fighting, some running for their lives desperate to get out of the City Square and escape to the far hills where they could get out of range of the rapidly spreading Aether ash. The golden tiles of the city were gone now the square was bathed in the dark dust and blood. Everything lay in ruin and bodies littered everywhere. There were so many bodies. So many dead. So many dead and for what? For what? He questioned in his mind. He honestly didn't really know anymore. And he hated that. It made him want to scream Hundreds had lost their life for his futile quest and it was shameful and sinful. The feelings consumed him, nearly smothered him. He felt like he was suffocating in his guilt. He couldn't look didn't want to look. He bucked and groaned and shook his head furiously. He leaned right into Frandal blade and it nicked his neck and drew a faint trickle of blood, Loki squirmed a little, but Frandal didn't withdraw his sword.

"All these people are DEAD, because of you!" the golden locked warrior shouted in Loki's ear as he held him in place by his hair.

"I...I.. I know," Loki whispered as he hung his head. He allowed his neck to sink deeper around the blunted blade that Sir Frandal had found. He took the pain. He deserved it. He deserved so much worst. If it would have been Franda's normal saber then he would have probably been instantly decapitated. The dark-haired magician wasn't sure that that was a bad thing if it would have happened.

"You know, you know," Frandal called back in a mocking tone. "THIS WHAT YOU WANTED!" the normally kibbitzing blonde-haired warrior condemned.

"Nonono," Loki sighed and shook his head. The edge of the blunted blade pressed deeper into his skin. He started to sob.

"Crocodile tears from the Prince of Serpents!" Lady Sif hissed in the background. She fought furiously against the person who was trying to hold her in place. Lady Sif appeared to be like a wild dog on a leash. She was barking and growling and howling chomping at the bit to be released and freed to tear her prey limb from limb. The hands that held her in place could scarcely keep their grip on her. "He's a LIAR!" she shouted pulling away viciously from arms that were trying to hold her back with an embrace. "HE'S LYING! HE'S STALLING!" she continued to rage; her brown eyes wide.

The Einherjar generals heard their fellow warrior's words. "After all you've done you don't deserve our trust," Frandal reminded him. He yanked on Loki's thick dark mane. He pulled his head back so that he could look Loki in the eye. He had to look him in the eye. He hadn't looked Loki in the eye in so long. Once those had been the eyes of a prince, a prince who loved his people. Once they had been the eyes of someone who he had considered a friend. A friend who had shared his same mischievous spark, maybe 100 times fold but still, he and Loki had both enjoyed a good prank. He probably more than any other in their friend group had found Loki's ticks the most amusing. They'd shared laughs and jokes and side glances. He liked that Loki and he'd missed him. It was foolishness, but yet in his heart, he wanted to believe that Loki could still exist that he was real. He simply had to still be real, because they desperately needed him to be.

"You sure as Helheim don't!" Volstagg spoke up once more!" MY FAMILY COULD BE DEAD RIGHT NOW BECAUSE OF YOU!" he roared. The red-bearded Viking had never felt such vehemence and rage. He'd been in the heat of battle many times and he'd even held the power of the Berserker Staff in his hands once or twice. It had filled him with bloodlust, but nothing was like the thought of his family being slaughtered by Loki's quest for vengeance and Malekith's madness. Loki's breath hitched as he thought about Volstagg's family. Volstagg had a large family, he had his parents and several siblings and he was the only one of them to be married and have children. Volstagg's parents, Lord and Lady Duval. They had relinquished their titles over to Volstagg's oldest sister and her husband, but the elderly courtiers still resided in the Imperial City and frequented court and still often hosted parties at their villa and most of his siblings still lived within the city limits. He had a slew of nieces and nephews and the whole family was jolly and enjoyed spending time together. His wife, Valka, was, both of them as both of them had indulged in gorging for hours trying to claim the prize and finally, they shared the last pie down to the last crumb. His children were good-natured and jovial so much like their father and mother. He had two boys and girls and all of them had the same ruddy locks as their parents. Loki thought of when they'd come to court, how'd they rush up to him with wide and expectant eyes and beg for a magic trick.. He'd held each of them in his arms at infancy albeit it had made him very squeamish, but then he'd bounced them, showed them his magic. He'd made sparkles appear in front of their eyes and they'd laugh . Maybe that was when they became such fans of his enchantments. He nearly smiled as he thought of the way they had laughed. But the pleasant memory changed and he thought of the most horrendous thought possible. He thought of Volstagg's sweet young family being buried under Aether ash and rubble and stone. He thought of them being trapped in their house and suffocated by flames caused by his own vile actions. The thought of possibly being responsible for their deaths. He couldn't take it. It was more than he could bear. It wasn't right. And it wasn't what he wanted. It had never really been what he'd wanted. He never wanted To cause the death of all his friends and family. He'd...he'd only ever wanted to prove that he was a real Aesir, a real son of Odin's and that he was Thor's equal. Thor's equal. Thor's equal ...he'd wanted to prove he could be a good king someone who could make them all proud... . At one point he thought he'd be a good king, that he'd bring peace and prosperity to his people, but he wasn't...he wasn't a good king at all he'd only proven to be an awful, monstrous tyrant. Now it was awful. He was awful. and it had all gone awful and wrong. As he thought of the tortured images of Volstagg's family suffering some grim fate in the midst of the chaos that he'd rained down on them, he could not help, but also think about his own child. A child he never even held his arms Or saw with his own eyes. He'd never even had the chance to hear the baby's laugh show his daughter his illusions. A child who had never been to Asgard, his child who had never known the love of mother or father. His breath hitched with the thought. If the didn't stop Ragnarök from coming to his child and Volstagg's children and all the children still alive could die. And on the oft chance that they did survive and that was all that they would do would be surviving, for he had seen the deplorable fate that awaited those that made it through the tribulations of Ragnarök. Loki felt a shudder run down his spine. It was a fate that he wished for no one . He couldn't change the fate of those who had already fallen. He would bear the guilt on his soul for all time and he would suffer the condemnation of their loved ones as he rightly deserved, but he still had to try. They all still had to try, for the ones who were still living. There had to still be time.

"I don't... I don't," Loki confirmed his eyes were wet were unshed tears. "I...I...I don't deserve to live," confessed. "But I hope your family did, Volstagg...truly..."Loki confessed.

Volstagg's eyes grew wide as he heard the tyrant's word. Loki sounded sincere and broken and he wanted to believe, but he couldn't just believe without knowing the fate of his own wife and children. "Hold your silver tongue!" Volstagg threatened once more . "Don't you dare lie to me you cowardly snake don't even know if my family is alive or dead now because of you," Volstagg's voice broke. The vehemence faded from his eyes welled up with tears. He couldn't imagine living without them. . Even if this day was won, without Valka and the boys and his little girl it would hardly be worth it. Volstagg shook his head and his sloppy beard slapped him in the face. "I won't know about the truth of what happened to my family until all this is over," Volstagg gestured wildly with his plump hands. "And if they are dead," the pudgy member of Thor's band began as he yanked Loki's hair and leaned his head back so that his bloody lips were against Loki's ear. The raven-locked enchanter twisted uncomfortably. "Then I will end you. "I'll make sure of it." he breathed his breathing becoming haggard. "I'll make sure that your death is painful and torturous and that you bleed from a thousand wounds for the lives you have taken with no remorse," he swore.

"I have been warned..." Loki's thin lips parted and allowed the slight joke to pass through them.

"Shut up!" Frandal barked from his side.

"You have been promised!" Volstagg stated. He allowed Loki to fall the Loki groaned as his face collided with the wooden planks of the scaffold. He felt like the fall had broken his nose. He was trying to push himself up, but he didn't have time and he felt the strong hands of Volstagg and Frandal roughly tossing him onto his back. Volstagg did his best to lift his foot so that it was resting on Loki's chest. The action was painful enough for the large warrior because he had already broken his ankles. He fought through the pain to remain standing and he believed it was sheer adrenaline or the providence of the Norns that allowed him to remain upright for his ankles ached abominably. It felt good to elevate the busted limb. It felt even better to step on Loki like the worthless slug that he was.

Volstagg's booted foot felt like a ton of brick on Loki's chest. He was already struggling to breathe because of his busted ribs that were pressing into his vital organs." No, it felt even worst than that. It felt like being crushed by the weight of Mjolnir. Wheezing breaths escaped Loki's lips and he coughed beneath the boot. Loki remembered the weight of the powerful mallet, heavier and denser than h would have imagined. The powerlessness of being under the hammer was a feeling that Loki hadn't relished. This was very much the same. "Now tell us... us like your miserable life depends on it, for it absolutely doe," Volstagg pressed and he moved his foot so that it now rested on Loki's windpipe. "What did you do with Thor? Where is he? Did you kill him?' Volstagg snarled. "Did you kill him?" Volstagg continued to demand his foot resting heavier on Loki's throat. His emerald eyes bugged out of their sockets as he struggled for air. "Is this a trick?" he wondered aloud ruthlessly

The onyx-locked enchanter panted squirmed and groaned through the agony of having his throat crushed. He scrambled leg's kicking slightly, his long, pale fingers reaching up and frantically trying to push the ginger Einherjar off himself. "Thor's alive..." Loki managed to squeak out through his pain.

"What did he say?" the blonde-haired swordsman questioned.

Loki's eyes desperately darted toward the golden coiffed lady's man. "Thor's alive," he rasped once more.

"Where is he?' Frandal asked.

"I...I...I know exactly where he is," Loki expressed as he struggled to suck in air. His hands poked out flailing by his sides. His eyes screamed. Frandal tapped his rotund friend's heaving shoulders signaling for him to free Loki's neck from the weight of his boot.

"THEN TELL US YOU COWARDLY SNAKE, WHERE IS HE!" Once more Volstagg demanded. His whole face is as red as his facial hair.. The plump warrior continued to press heavily on Loki's neck. He wasn't paying any attention to Frandal's hand furiously tapping him or even when the swordsman started to pull on his arm.

"Sir Volstagg," it was finally the base voice of the gatekeeper that entered into the pudgy Einherjar's ears and then filtered through his psyche. He was seeing red and it wasn't just from the haze of the Aether or from the flames that engulfed everything. He looked down and Loki struggling and gasping and nearly turning blue. Slowly he allowed the pressure from his foot to be ever so slightly alleviated from the traitor's windpipe. His foot barely raised and as it did, he quickly brought his ax's blade back down toward Loki's throat.

The once self-proclaimed king of Asgard started coughing hard.. "Southern...Tower..." he managed to choke out as he went into a coughing fit, still desperate for breath.

"What did he say?" the blonde-haired member of Thor's band questioned the gatekeeper.

"Southern tower," Loki rasped once more, his voice weak.. Volstagg, Heimdal and Frandal exchanged curious glances at each other. The Southern Tower, Loki's old study? It seemed far too obvious a place. Why would Loki hide him there?

"He's lying!" Lady Sif declared. She tore away from the person who had been trying to hold her in place The gesture had been somewhat consoling and then just altogether desperate to keep Sif at bay, for Sif had no pity for a miscreant like Loki and she'd see him pay for his vile acts. "he's always lying!" she yelled the mores and tears streaked down her bloodied and muddied face. Her hair was wild, it was all over her head, caked and gunked and coated in mud. Lady Sif had never once cared for styling her air, but she kept it neat as a pin in her battle-ready ponytails. "Don't let him say another lying word, Master Heimdal!" the shield-maiden shouted" Or do you want me to do the honors?" she asked as she came up beside her companions, she was limping, but she unsheathed her mighty weapon and she wiped it off against her dirty armor. "Cut out his lying forked tongue!" she ranted the more. "Or should I do the honors?" she questioned as she raised an eyebrow toward Asgard's great gatekeeper. Heimdal's eyer piercing eyes looked pensive. He didn't speak, but pursed his full lips as he scrutinized the scoundrel that lied before him. Loki didn't deserve to live for what he had done. He'd sworn an oath to be the first line of defense for the people of Asgard and their enemies, but he'd failed so many times. If they survived this day he wanted to promise Odin and the all-father's of the past and even his own forefathers who slept that he would leave the post and give up this sacred duty for he was not worthy. AS he beheld Loki he wondered if he could trust the image that he had seen of a man who so much resembled a prince he had once known. He didn't speak but he raised his fist to hold Sif in place.

"Not...lying...not...lying..." Loki sputtered as he tried to get to his knees.

Lady Sif spat to the ground! "Your words mean nothing to me, monster!" She couldn't control herself she swung her foot out and kicked Loki square in the nose. Loki's head swung back. His long, pointed nose immediately began to bleed profusely. He thought he heard a gasp on his behalf, but perhaps it was just the wind.

"No...a...lie...not...lying...any..more," Loki started to confessed as he clutched his bleeding nose. He felt like every part of him was bleeding. Bright scarlet blood pierced through his lily-white fingers. "Y-y-you... think I...I...id did...all this to lie in the end?" he asked as he pinched the bridge of his nose trying to stop the flow.

"What you've done! What you've done!" Lady Sif hollered. The veins in her neck and forehead bulged. She shook her head. "YOU'VE DESTROYED US!" her voice rang out shrilly.

Lo ki was finally on his knees. He crawled toward Lady Sif, he sat before them on his knees, just as bloody and beaten as the crimson liquid crisscrossing in every direction across his narrow face, his eye green and glistening with tears. He reached out a shaky bloody pal to touch Lady Sifshe jumped back and looked at him like he was some mangy beast. he couldn't say that he blamed her. "I know what I've done and I will bear the guilt and weight of my actions and atone for the in Helheim," he confessed in a breathy voice. His head slumped into his chest and his licorice locks hung in his face obscuring the pained expression that he wore. Thor's my brother..." Loki stated...it had been so long since he'd said those words and meant them, but as they had come quickly and bidden from his silver tongue relished how good it felt to say them once more. "Asgard, my home..." he confessed weakly, his emerald eyes barely managing to stay open.

"Let me help you make amends, faster, you bastard," Lady Sif sneered, she raised her double-bladed saber toward his throat and gripped him by his raven man once more. "Because until all your blood is spilled like the people like the rest of people you will never atone in my eyes," Sif decreed

He winced in agony for the way the female Einherjar held his hair he felt as if she would rip it right out his scalp. "My time will come soon enough," Loki whispered his tongue swiping across his thin lips and then tasting his own cold sticky nasty blood. He managed to allow his thin lips to pull into a smile. "By your hand no doubt," he added. He had the audacity to add a wink with a black eye.

The shield-maiden growled. "I can only hope," "

"Sif this isn't about Loki," Frandal called to remind her. He was just as furious at Loki as anyone could be, but he also thought of the old times the old Loki, was he really back. It was too late to truly come back from all he had done. "This is about Asgard. This is about Thor. We have to find him and stop Ragnarök If Loki's telling the truth then we haven't a moment to lose," the fair-haired swordsman articulated.

Her breath came out in ragged huffs, "If he's telling the truth," the strapping shield-maiden grunted as she yanked Loki's hair even hared and craned his neck back deeper. He made sure her blade was against his Adam's apple. "Then we know where Prince Thor is and we have no further need of this worthless worm! This traitor," she spat and she allowed Loki to be released and fall against the wooden planks on the scaffold, he let out a groan.

Loki shook himself, each blow and fall exasperated his injuries, but he didn't want to fight against Sif or the warriors, he wanted to show them that he was there for them to help them and to even in the smallest way try to right the vile acts he had committed. Perhaps it was impossible, but he had to try. He shook himself as he climbed just back to his knees. "You still need me Sif," he tried to explain t her. "Malekith will still try to use the Tesseract and you'll need somebody who knows how to wield it in order to stop him. Besides," he started, struggling to get to his feet "I... I...I constructed a box.." he stammered his eyes looking up at only boots around him, The stood like pillars in the hall of judgment. "It can contain the Aether for a little time if we can cause the Infinity Stone to go into stasis," he explained.

"LIES!" Lady Sif blurted out once more. "You expect us to believe this!" she raged. "No! NO MORE!" she yelled in his face. She slung her double-bladed javelin back over her shoulder. She readied it in a kill position she'd ended many monsters this way. He'd be no different. Her face was firm as flint and her eyes glistened with so much anger and confusion and fear like she'd never felt before.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry, I'msorry," Loki mumbled profusely. "Please," he said from his knees. Not daring to look any of them in the eye only staring down at their legs.

Sif's hand trembled as she held her blade. She should do it. She should do it because she was an Einherjar and a sworn defender of the people of Asgard, she was a sworn defender of the crown. She should do it because the ancestors and great kings of the past demanded such an act of blood just be done. And she should do it for Thor. Wonderful valiant Thor, stupid foolish Thor Who had insanely believed in Loki to the last only to be led like a lamb to the slaughter. Well no more. She bit her lip and stifled her tears. Warrior didn't cry when they took an act of rightful vengeance during the war. She raised her bade high. Loki's head was down, severing head from neck would be easy, painless ad that was more than he deserved. She went to go and make a swiping motion and bring her weapon down upon him. Just as she did Loki looked up at her. He looked up at her with a dirty besmudged face, with cuts and bruises and red lines marring his porcelain flesh and with blackened eyes, but despite the black circles around his eyes the pure emerald of his irises. It caused a gasp and shudder to take over her form. She recognized those eyes. Those pleading eyes are like the time from so many centuries ago when she was a scrawny and gawky youth waiting like a wallflower to be asked to dance. She had been standing in the center of the floor and all eyes were on her and she would be a disgrace to her family if they thought her uncourtable (she didn't care, but yet despite herself she didn't want to be mortified or scorned). She had felt her cheeks starting to burn and her ears growing hot. Then she looked down and saw those same eyes entreating her to dance. She and Loki had always had a tenuous relationship. He was a prince of the realm and she'd owed him some honor and respect, but he hadn't acted the way she thought a prince should. He was Thor's younger brother and she tried to tolerate him, but he was an annoying snake. But when she looked down at the dark-haired boy and his emerald eyes were sincere and his smile wasn't quite so slimy, but rather kindly, it was the first time she had really seen Prince Loki as a friend. Then she had smiled widely and with uncharacteristic demureness that would not soon be repeated. Then a smile had rippled across her face unbidden and uninhibited. Perhaps a tear had filled her eye as well. As she looked down at the one-time prince in such a similar position she couldn't keep her tears at bay. One single tear trickled from her chocolate eyes down her cheek. It cleansed away the blood and the grime and ash and it threatened to cleanse away all the bitterness and anger and hatred that she had in her soul toward the tyrannical murdering fiend before her. But one single tear would not stay her warrior hand when it went to serve justice for her kingdom. She went to swing. Determined not to be made a fool again. She bared her teeth and her face contorted in a terrible grimace that made her face look horrid.

Just then Sif felt her arm caught. She looked down to finger her wrist being held tightly in a brown fist. Lady Sif was left gaping. Her eyes were wide as could be. "Master Heimdal," she said, "stand aside," she demanded. "Let me serve justice for the fallen," she carried on still tugging against his strength. There were few stronger than the mighty gatekeeper himself. Breathlessly, with her hair tossed about her, she stated, "unless you want the honors yourself,"

Heimdal inclined his head, "I do want the honor," the massive guardian stated simply. Sif raised an eyebrow and even Frandal seemed surprised by the most esteemed warrior's reaction. He dare, not stop him though. Softly in the distance, there was a gasp and a trembling, quivering "no," was uttered. Lady Sif relinquished her weapon, into the hands of one of Odin's most trusted advisors. In her heart, the brunette maiden felt a small twinge of relief in her heart at not having to commit the deed. She placed her grand double-bladed javelin into capable hands. Heimdal took hold of the weapon. Lady Sif's double-blade was heavy in his hands and he took lumbering steps closer to where Loki sunk on his knees. Heimdal had always had a proud and strong gate. His weighted footsteps fell like a beating drum, but his gait was now off, he was limping terribly. Blood poured from the side of his hip running over the cracked and tarnished armor that the wizened guardian possessed. He raised the blade high and his lips twisted in a full forlorn frown. It was hard for Heimdal to keep Lady Sif's blade raised so high as his arms ached and one of his shoulders was dislocated. The pressure from the rubble on his shoulders had caused his clavicle to crack, but still, the determined warrior raised his muscular arms high over his head and the veins in his arms bulged and puckered out from his richly colored flesh from the strain. He was only a step away from Loki's slender neck and he wouldn't have needed to take another step to split him in two. When Sif's blade was folded it could reach up to 8 feet easily. Heimdal breathed heavily through his nostrils. Loki, the self-proclaimed ruler of Asgard, looked up at Heimdal through black and blue and bloodshot eyes. He could hardly even open his eyelids enough to see who was there, but he knew who it was. Heimdal, the gatekeeper, his old tutor, his old mentor, his old friend.

Loki gaped as he stared up at the massive man, he looked weakened and tired and hurt and Loki couldn't remember a time he'd seen Asgard's guardian in such a state. He was always tall and strong and steadfast, a pillar of their society. For a moment he remembered the many times when Master Heimdal had tutored, he and Thor when they were young, still too young to attend the academy. He taught them of the stars and of the realms and their vastness. It was so incredible to think about, his world was so small then, he knew so a little outside of the safety of the palace walls. But Heimdal's stories fascinated him so, he snuck from under the watchful eye of his nursemaid Helga and made his way to the Bifrost. He'd just learned a simple trick of how to make himself invisible. Well not quite perfectly, he couldn't make his clothing disappear and although he was incredibly quiet and knew how to sneak awfully well, he should have been able to guess that the eagle-eyed watchman would have spotted him right away. Heimdal kept his steady golden-eyed gaze staring out at the stars. "Hmmm," The guardian started to moan. "Is that the fair son of Odin I see," he teased.

Loki gasped and went to him behind one of the objects in the Bifrost, but Heimdal caught him by the collar of his emerald green pajamas. Loki instantly turned made himself wholly visible. He smiled a gapped tooth smile with the appearance of a Midgardian child of the age of 6. "Surprise!" he yelled out, but he was met with a stern gaze from the strong face. His playful smile melted away to a shamefaced look.

"Not quite," Heimdal qualified as he released him. "I saw you coming," he gave a wink to the child.

Loki poked out his thin lip, "Course you did," he crossed his arms. Mother had explained to him about Heimdal's powers, he didn't know why he had thought that he'd be able to sneak ass the gatekeeper, but he was learning a few tricks and he was always interested in testing his own limits. His eyes popped open, immediately nervous "Are you going to take me back to the palace?" he asked shyly finger to his lips.

"Eventually," Heimdal stated calmly. "I saw you coming," he reiterated. "I could have alerted your father that you were leaving then, my prince," he said.

"So why didn't you?" the green-eyed prince inquired.

"You're a curious sort of child, Prince Loki," Heimdal stated with a chuckle. "So am I," he added. Loki's features twisted. Heimdal was a huge man and he was at least as old as his mother if not older, why would he refer to himself as a child? "I wanted to know why you left the safety and security of the palace?" he expressed.

"I don't leave the palace much," the youngest son of Odin explained somewhat shamefacedly. He shrugged his shoulder and dragged his foot around. His older brother was allowed to go to school now, but he still stayed in the palace with private tutors, but he had been happy to have Heimdal as one of them. "Come, c

"Yes, I know," Heimdal's deep voice was slightly bemused. "So why did you decide to come tonight?' the gatekeeper asked.

"Well," Prince Loki started slightly gaping as he stared up at the proud golden-clad warrior. He seemed so much like a giant. But all the giants that he'd ever heard about were big and mean ad scary, but Heimdal was good. "Well...well after the lesson you taught me today... I...I wanted to learn more... see more. I wanted to learn more about the cosmos," he expressed rapidly.

Asgard's gatekeeper gave him a mild smile. "Well the library is full of books you can learn from." he pointed out.

"I brought my books," Loki practically exclaimed. He then produced a few old tomes from out of thin air. "And my telescope," he chimed in and pulled out a pocket-sized telescope.

"You truly are a scholar, aren't you, young prince," Heimdal hummed. Loki nodded. "Come, come if you wish to see," he beckoned the alabaster-skinned child forth. He didn't wait long for the son of his king to respond. He immediately hoisted Loki up in his large arm and placed him on top of his shoulders coated in thick, heavy gold armor. Loki giggled as he sat upon the mighty guardian's shoulders. He pulled out his telescope and stared out at the vast cosmos. He pointed out things that he saw. He asked questions about the stars and the constellations.

"Look there look at that one, that blue one," Loki pointed out eagerly. "That's the home of the Kree?' he asked

"That's Jotunheim, my prince," Heimdal corrected.

"Jo-jo-tun...heimmm," Loki said between yawns... He could no longer hold his telescope steady. "can't be," the dark-haired boy protested with a weak shake of his head.

"Why?" Heimdal asked as he started to sway on his heels rock the child on his shoulders

"So pretty," Loki admitted. He rubbed his hands sluggishly across his face. "can't be," he continued to mumble.

"There is beauty there, my prince," he assured the boy.

"Can you show me?' Loki slightly perked up.

"Not tonight, my prince,, but I will," Heimdal stated as he patted the child on the knee. " I think you need to rest," Loki had started to lean over onto his head, hardly able to keep his body upright anymore.

"I...I...I'm not sleepy," Prince Loki protested.

"A son of Odin need not lie," the gatekeeper expressed to the young royal with drooping jade eyes.

Loki nodded and rested his chin and head upon Heimdal's gilded helmet. "I'm sorry... I am sleepy," he admitted allowing his eyes to close.

"Then you should rest, young highness," Heimdal's voice was smooth and gentle in the young child's ears

"but...but... but can you show me how to see things like you?" Loki asked anxiously his bloodshot red eyes popped back open and he gave one last glance to the wondrous surroundings.

"Yes, my prince," Heimdal said assuring as he patted Loki's knobby knees. "not tonight, but when you are older and not quite so sleepy, I will" Instantly the young prince was fast asleep on top of the gatekeepers shoulders.

There were times when he'd trained Loki showed him how to use foresight and take glances through crystal balls and mirrors to see far-off places and distant lands for a brief amount of time.

And over the year's Asgard's great gatekeeper continued to keep a watchful eye over the youngest prince of the realm. And maybe his interest went beyond that of mere professional duty. When the young prince went away for the first to study abroad in Alfheim. He watched with concern as he saw young prince Loki had made some new and interesting acquaintances. Acquaintances he pushed Loki to use his powers to cause trouble a stir up mischief, maybe more so than Loki would have done on his own. Although that was debatable, Loki was mischievous by nature Still, Loki's newfound friends had prompted Prince Loki to enter into several wizard duels. Challenging mostly other young scalars. These were mostly contenders who Loki could easily outwit. For winning the duel Loki would usually win their horses, or chariots, jewelry, but Loki didn't keep his winnings he was quick to bestow the treasures on his newfound friends. But the friends were greedy; more thieves than scholars. They kept pushing prince Loki to harder duels over petty matters with more challenging opponents. When Loki returned home briefly from his studies, the golden gatekeeper confronted his young highness on the matter. "Master Heimdal," Loki greeted him eagerly one morning. "I have scheduled for some friends from King Thranduil's court to come a spend a weekend respite here in Asgar," the teenage prince practically beamed. He presented a slip of paper to the Bifrost keeper. "These are the coordinates to where they will wish to leave from." he pointed out.

"Is that the fair son of Odin, I see?" Heimdal asked but he didn't turn to face the dark-haired prince.

The prince's features quirked, "Why yes, of course, it is me, Master Heimdal," he shrugged. " Don't tell me your eyes have weakened after your many years of service," he remarked playfully.

"My eyesight fairs the same your highness, still 100 times sharper than an eagle, sire," Heimdal said with a sad sigh.

"Well that's good to know," the youthful young mage replied. "Then why would you ask such a silly question?" the teenager smartly replied.

Heimdal had been gazing out of the Bifrost opening. His eyes were on the great forms of the constellation, Finally, Heimdal cast his golden-eyed gaze upon his prince, "I only asked because I scarcely recognized you," he stated as he looked Loki up and down.

Loki followed the gatekeeper's stare. he looked at his own boots the were black and shining so much so that he could see his reflection in them, just the way h liked it. He was in his best vestment, clad in green and gold and brown, Prince Loki shrugged. Loki shook his head. "Mother said the same exact thing," he expressed. "She says I'm about a foot taller," Loki squared his thin shoulders and stood upon his toes proudly.

"That wasn't exactly what I meant, my prince," Heimdal replied with a sigh and he turned his gaze back toward his post. He quickly looked down at the coordinates written upon the parchment which Loki had given him. "This is not the normal Bifrost spot, my prince," Heimdal said as he took the parchment in his hands dismissively.

"Yes, I know but this location is more convenient for them.. It is closer to the university so that they do not have to cross the frozen lakes of Minoss," Loki explained somewhat chipperly. He placed his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels expectantly.

"And you do like to make things more convenient for them don't you," Heimdal remarked somewhat quietly.

Loki's green eyes snapped to attention right away, "What's that supposed to mean?" Loki asked indignantly. "They're my friends aren't they?" he continued.

"Aren't they?' the guardian of the realm repeated.

"I don't understand.." Loki shook his head. "Of course, they are my friends... They are my friends and they are guests of this realm and..."

"Friends who use your powers to settle their own scores.." Heimdal qualified.

Loki's emerald eyes blinked rapidly, his silver tongue stammered for a minute. "How do you know of such things?" he asked aloud. It was a rhetorical question for he knew exactly how master Heimdal knew of such things. "You've been spying on me," the youth's voice grew dark, his inky brows knit together and was practically red as a tomato.

"I cast my gaze toward you, my prince, you do not write often and your parents were concerned," Heimdal tried to explain. "Yet every time my eye fell upon you were in an arena performing a wizard's duel taking things that you do not need," Heimdal continued.

"I was collecting the spoils from the battles I have won," Loki insisted as he pointed to himself.

"I have never known you to be one to rush foolhardy into battle, Prince Loki, a son of Odin..."Heimdal started.

He was cut off by a cackle that seemed to burst forth and bubble forth from Loki's throat. "Don't tell me that a son of Odin, a prince of Asgard wouldn't rush into battle or challenge another who offended his honor to a duel, because Thor does so all the time," Loki countered. "yet I never hear any chastisement coming his way," Loki pointed out.

"Your brother has been warned against his quest for battle.." Master Heimdal began.

"by who? By you?" Loki accused. "Certainly not by father or by the generals of the Einherjar," he contradicted.

"As the second son of Odin, you are privileged to learn from your brother's mistakes and not repeat them..." Heimdal reported but he kept his gaze straight and stared out at the stars.

"Mistakes, mistakes?" Loki continued to scoff. "What mistakes? This whole realm would have me believe that Thor makes none and I am to simply follow in his footsteps," he proclaimed. "And I have. I have!" the emerald-eyed enchanter protested. "I have won," Loki jutted out his narrow chin. "I have brought honor to my realm and my house," Loki continued to boast.

"Brought honor through challenging the members of King Thranduil's court, making his mages and magicians look like fools. You went there to learn not to insult," Heimdal reminded him. "You have been in 10 duels since your time there. You have picked easy fights and there is no honor or glory in that. You will strain the relationship between the House of Odin and the House of Thranduil if you continue," Heimdal scolded, but he did not look at the prince.

"So, now what? You tell, father?' Prince Loki was nearly sulking. He folded his arms across his thin chest. "How dare you!" Loki around and yelled. "I'm practically grown," he rationalized. "I have to finish my studies..." he continued to ramble.

"No," Heimdal stated firmly in a deep voice. Loki turned to him mouth gaping in confusion. "The deeds have already been done and the all-father has much to concern himself with. I hope he need not be concerned about your behavior as well. Your father trusted you to go there as an ambassador representing your people and your house well. I trust that as a son of Odin you know how to do that by this age," Heimdal stated. "I hope that after this conversation you will choose not to go forth with the next duel," the guardian admonished.

A scowl stretched forth across Prince Loki's narrow features."I'm not a child! I don't need your lectures," he snapped.

"Then, I trust you will do the right thing?' Heimdal raised his brow.

"I'll do what's right for me!" Loki growled. His pale white hands curled into tight fists. "Not what you think a 'Son of Odin' should do," he mocked the tall golden clad warrior's deep voice and put quotation fingers up around the words as he spoke them. Loki's thin lips quivered as he snarled once more at the gatekeeper, his old friend and confidant. He turned on his heels and started to storm out of the golden observatory.

"You are born royal Loki and therefore these childish pranks of yours have more ramifications than you may consider," he tried to explain tenderly.

"I know my birth! I know my rank!" Loki turned around snapping. His thin shoulders took on a cobra-like hunch. "I am a son of Odin! Not a son of Heimdal!" he ranted.

"Then you need to act like it," Heimdal continued. "Have honor..." he tried to reason with the teenager.

"I am acting like it," Loki proclaimed. "A son of Odin fights battles, wins wars, that's what I'm doing!"

"Picking easy fights, not respecting your elders and teachers, throwing your lot in with common thieves is not the legacy of your family or you," Heimdal admonished once more.

"ENOUGH!" Loki shouted in the gatekeeper's face. Loki didn't bother to turn back around and listen to his old mento's voice. He skulked out of the Bifrost. His feet stomping with each stride. "Make sure that you pick my friends up from the Bifrost site," he grumbled as he left.

"My prince," Master Heimdal called after the young royal as he shook his head with sorrow. In a few days' time, Loki returned to the Bifrost. He was looking quite sullen and contrite. Heimdal stared out at the beauty of the cosmos vigilantly as ever. The stars shone in his golden eyes.

"Master Heimdal," Loki's crisp voice spoke quietly.

"My prince," the strong armor-clad guardian stated he didn't turn to the youth. "How was the duel?"

Prince Loki pursed his lips, his dark brows furrowed together. "I suspect you know," Loki shrugged.

"I know not my prince, I honored your request and kept my gaze off of you," Heimdal said as he closed his bright eyes for but a moment.

"I didn't go through with it," Loki blurted out abruptly. "The duel was foolish and it was against one of the professors, a senior, a man possibly off his rocker and he was king Thranduil's mentor when he was my age...much like you are to Thor...and me," he whispered at the end. There was a moment of silence between them. Loki sighed blew an exasperated and embarrassed breath out the side of his thin lips. "Everyone thinks I'm a coward, but I thought you would like to know," Loki stated. He bowed to the older Asgardian. Although Heimdal's back was turned. Loki started to leave.

Heimdal turned as Loki was mounting his faithful Pegasus, Luna. He cupped his brown hands around his eyes, he made out as if he was squinting to see in the distance. "That's him! That's the fair son of Odin I spy!"

Heimdal turned the sword to Asgard. It hummed as the power of the Bifrost was ignited sparks flying. The energy swirled around in blinding neon rainbow colors. The Bifrost shot forth instantaneously a figure was transported through the Rainbow Bridge. The figure was cloaked head to toe in a dark a heavy cape. It obscured his features. A few more soldiers came through the Bifrost as well. They were wearing their armor but it was dirty and tarnished from battle. Despite their haggard appearance. They were laden with chest and chest of treasure. A jaunty baritone voice called out to those who had just arrived. "Is that him? Is that the conquering hero? The Fair son of Odin I spy?" Heimdal asked.

The crowd of soldiers started to cheer. But an alabaster hand raised high in the air, halting the cheering and guffawing. "See that those spoils get to Odin's treasure vault," he ordered. The soldiers snapped to in obedience. Huddled and marched in formation across the Bifrost making their way into the Imperial City. Normally after a conquest, the citizens of the city would flood the streets for celebration. But today it was rainy and dismal. No victory parade had been scheduled and Loki was glad of it. He did not feel like a hero. He felt like a heartbroken fool. As the warriors left Loki kept his face straight and firm as flint as he addressed Master Heimdal. "Do you intend to mock me and make sport of me, Lord Heimdal?"

"My prince?"

Prince Loki watched as the last of the Aesir soldiers mounted their horses and made their way down the path of the bridge before he spoke. "You mock me in front of my subjects!" he spat venomously. "Calling me hero, Son of Odin," Loki echoed the sentiments in a mocking tone.

"I am known to be one to call it as I see it, my lord," there was nearly a chuckle in his tone.

Green eyes flickered. They looked at him and shot daggers. "Then your senses are dull! Your eyes are blind and you cannot see at all!" he railed. "There are many people after your job and perhaps it should be given to them," Loki went on spewing.

"Your highness, where is all this coming from? I thought you would be pleased with the praise." Heimdal's massive shoulders raised. "Would you have preferred I had said nothing, my prince?"

"Yes!" the words came out as a hiss. "Yes!" he hissed again. "I'm a trickster and a liar!" Loki declared in a shout and pointed to himself. "You think you can just lie to me mock me?" His face turned bright red. Instantly, he tried to gain his composure. The red dropped from his flesh and it returned to a cool tone. He straightened himself and stood dignified and tight-lipped. "I've been mocked once...I won't tolerate it again," he warned the gatekeeper with a finger in the air. He then removed his helmet. It was so heavy. "I won't," he continued to whisper looking down at his horns. "I'm no hero," he announced and blew breath from his thin lips. "Isn't the hero supposed to get the girl" he questioned; scarcely able to hold the sarcastic smirk on his face as his lips quivered. "Not be betrayed..." Loki swallowed, shook his head and his emerald eyes gazed at the dirty gold helmet. He hated dirt. His free hand absently traced across one area that wasn't completely tarnished. In it he saw the reflection of the face of a beautiful, but a deadly woman whose skin matched that of Heimdal and whose hair was red as fire. "Isn't the hero supposed to keep the enemy out?" Loki asked once more.

"You did just that, your highness," Heimdal tried to destroy the royal son.

"I LET HER IN!" he hollered in the guardian's face. "I let her waltz right in here...and...and...and," his chin shook as he talked. "I let her right in the weapons vault. Told her all our secrets...gave her access," he bit deep into his lips so much so that he was sure that he would draw blood and he wanted to.

"Then the fault is mine, my prince," Heimdal stepped away from the Sword of Asgard and stood in the second son of Odin and dropped his head in apology. He hadn't exactly trusted the priestess from Musepleheim, but Loki seemed so smitten with her and he, besides for in his times of mischief was so often melancholy that he hadn't wanted to put a damper on the tryst. That's all that the gatekeeper thought that it would be, a tryst, a short story for the tabloid scrolls, but when nuptials were spoken of he realized perhaps he should have followed his intuitions a bit more.

"No," Loki refuted. He shook his head his severe lips forming a broken laugh. "No, no, I'm not a child and a real son of Odin should have seen that harpy for what she was. Thor...saw...Thor...saw...that simpleton saw...and...and...I...I guess that makes me the fool," Loki went on rambling.

He probably would have kept right on prattling had Heimdal's strong hands not reached out and touched his shoulder. "A son of Odin did discover what she was after and he did stop her," Heimdal assured him.

Loki kept his gaze averted. "Yes, Thor tried to tell me, but I... I was foolish... I wouldn't listen...I thought he was jealous... I...I" Loki's voice cracked.

"Look at me, Loki," Heimdal said in an authoritative tone. Loki complied, he brought his eyes upward to face his old mentor like a recalcitrant child. But he knew after his foolhardy ways he needed a good scolding. He would have had enemies of Asgard given some of the most powerful weapons in the cosmos. "Yes, I always know a real son of Odin when I look them in the eye," he stated. He looked Loki firmly and squarely in the eye. "You discovered the plot that Angrboda was behind," he pointed to his chest. "You didn't allow her to go throw with her schemes, you trapped her and lead an army to stop her," Heimdal reminded. "Now, hold your head, high, because that's the true son of Odin I spy."

Heimdal's face had been fueled with a type of fury and rage that was plain on his face as he gritted his teeth. But as he looked into those eyes, those same eyes he felt all the anger and shame dissipate. It was replaced with pride and relief and hope. His arms that were so chiseled and strong that they were made of onyx stone lowered. The Sword of Asgard fell by his side. Sif's eyes went wide as she watched him sheath the weapon. He took a few steps closer to Loki whose beaten, blackened eyes had finally slipped closed. His head was lowered and his narrow bloody chin lay slumped against his chest. Heimdal's had caked with dirt and blood reached out and cupped Loki by the chin, he raised his head so that their eyes met, just as they had so many times when he knew the prince. "Look me in the eye Loki," came the soft command from the baritone voice and Loki complied. His eyes watered and his lips trembled. "There he is," Heimdal's stoic face cracked an uncharacteristic smile. "That's the fair son of Odin I spy!" he declared. Loki's face broke into a grin as well and he felt himself being pulled into an embrace.

"Master Heimdal," Loki muttered gratefully and tearfully as they looked at each other. "I'm sorry! I'msorry, I'mssososorry," he blubbered.

Heimdal soothed him, he shushed him. "Welcome home, Prince Loki of Asgard," the gatekeeper stated he clapped him on the back heartily twice. "I saw you coming," Asgard's guardian told him with a wink.

Cracked lips formed a chuckle. "Of course, you did," he admitted his voice raspy and tiredly. Loki looked up and he saw Frandal and Volstagg come to stand by his side. There was some skepticism in their eyes. They looked at each other. There was distrust for a moment. They were both worried, Loki had done so much wrong so much evil, but here Heimdal sat trusting him. How could he? How could they? How could they not? What other choice did they really have? Seconds were winding down and Convergence was there. Loki didn't need to trick them anymore. What more did he have to prove? What more tricks did he have to pull? If he wanted to win, he'd already won. If he wanted to kill Thor he could have. If he wanted to be seen beating his brother well he already had. Maybe he was sincere. Maybe.

Loki felt hands come and rest on top of the armor on his shoulders. He felt the weight of the palms that rested there for a moment. He felt the familiar touches of his friends. Frandal had a touch that was light and jovial. He had a tendency of rubbing the shoulders of the person. Loki didn't like it. It made him feel squeamish, it was hard for him to even admit he liked a hug, much less someone rubbing his shoulders, He'd usually scold the swordsman and say that he wasn't one of Frandal's tavern wenches. Frandal would laugh and tell him that he wished he'd had such magic hands because unlike Loki he didn't have to use spells to get a woman into bed. Still, in the moment wasn't so annoyed by the circles being rubbed on his tense shoulders there was something rather consoling about it. Like being a child crying over a lost toy and having an adult rub his back and tell him it was ok. Then there was Volstagg, the red-head behemoth had hearty meat hooks. His hands were experts at wielding battle axes effortlessly on the field. Volstagg had also been a champion boxer back in their days at the academy. His plump, red knuckles could pummel most without even a weapon in hand. Yet for all that, Volstagg had never been mean-spirited, although somewhat hot-tempered, overall he was a jolly giant and when he embraced a person he had the habit of tapping them. The taps were heavy-handed and Loki's frail bony body had often been left bruised by the hearty backslaps, but now as he thought of what he deserved when he thought of how he deserved to be beaten into a blood-pulp. To be picked up and slammed into the ground and be buried alive for his crimes he couldn't help be feel a sense of joy at receiving the affectionate taps. Loki looked up at them, he could scarcely make them out from the dark haze that swirled about them. His own eyes watered as he looked up at the two proud warriors who had once been his good friends, he offered them a shy grin. He couldn't know if he could truly expect to receive their forgiveness or if they would ever consider him a friend again. He deserved no man's friendship, but at least for the moment in the faintest sense, he was not their enemy. He was surprised by the sincerity emitted on their faces when they smiled back. Their smiles were cautious, weary, but they also housed a twinge of hopefulness. They too remembered the old days, when Loki hadn't been an enemy.

"The enemy of my enemy," Volstagg stated his hand tapping Loki's shoulders in time with the words that he spoke. On his knees, Loki listened intently to the ginger's words. He listened like a child, no, like a dog, practically panting with desperation to hear those desired words.

"Ally!" the swift-talking blond-haired fencer added quickly. "Ally," he qualified and looked down at Loki with scrutiny in his battered blue eyes. Loki mashed his thin bleeding lips together. His shoulders grew rigid and then slumped. He nodded and accepted their words.

"Is he? Is he?" Lady Sif's shrill voice interjected with horror.

The gatekeeper pinned the warrior woman with a stare. He held out one mighty hand and tried to silence her, but Sif was hardly a woman to be silenced. "Loki, are you truly ready to help us?' Master Heimdal inquired seriously he kept his pointer finger and thumb on Loki's chin forcing Loki to face him and look him in the eye. "To be our ally once again?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Loki bobbed his head in earnest. He went to clutch Heimdal's hand and he would have scarcely kissed his hand.

"No tricks?" Volstagg qualified, he yanked back on the trickster's shoulders a little

Loki nearly yelped. Instead, he just winced. "No tricks...no tricks," he panted through gritted teeth.

"You swear," Sir Frandal made sure as he put his hand to his sword.

Loki swallowed deeply and his head nodded vigorously. "I swear...I...I...swear on my life," he raised his hands.

"Lies! Lies!" Sif hollered in the background. She couldn't take it. She couldn't bear to see her friends fall for Loki's words once more. She grabbed at her own tussled brown locks.

"Where is Thor?" Heimdal asked once more.

"The Southern Tower," Loki breathed as he felt Frandal and Volstagg let go of his shoulders. He lurched forward and was on all fours body bowed before the golden gatekeeper.

All the warriors looked at each other giving shrewd glances. "Here let us hurry!" Frandal exclaimed. "We haven't a moment to lose! We must get to Thor."

"I'll go...I'll go," Loki expressed as he pushed himself to a sitting position.

Sif stepped forward and finally pulled away from the person who had been holding her back who also came sprinting toward the front of the scaffold. "Like Helheim, you'll go! Not on my life!' the brunette shield-maiden declared. "So, you can execute Thor! She started to rant.

"I have to go Sif! I have to go, Thor needs to be healed and unless you have time to get Eir, he won't make it!" Loki pleaded in his explanation.

"Whatever has befallen him has come of your hand!" she accused.

"I know," Loki stated as he looked down briefly. "Thor still needs a healer and there's something...else," he muttered.

"What else?" Sif asked suspiciously. She didn't give the tyrant a chance to open his thin lips once more. She was charging toward him and soon her hand was wrapped around his throat. "WHAT ELSE!" she shouted in his face. She slapped him when he didn't respond in a millisecond. Loki had honestly expected the worst. Still, he bristled and his green eyes flickered with a natural retaliatory instinct at the assault.

Red-cheeked and with a clenched fist and jaw he managed, " A device...a...a...vice...a container I've made that can hold the Aether." he looked from Sif to Heimdal. "The Aether can't be destroyed," he explained. "But a blast from Mjolnir and Gungnir could put it in stasis for just a few minutes. It'll be long enough for me to get it into the container if it is done..." Loki stated and looked askance. He had poured all the chemicals and ingredients needed to hold the Infinity stone. It was made of the right materials and he'd set the 3D printer and modeling machines to the right settings so that they should be just about done making the containment box. But still, he couldn't be sure until he was there, there might be finishing touches that were needed.

"I don't believe you!" The Einherjar maiden declared. She looked back toward her good companions. They too seemed skeptical, but they were also desperate.

"It's the truth! I have no need to lie! Not now, Sif, please," Loki entreated her and reached out his hand. She recoiled, the way he'd expected her to. "Muzzle me, handcuff me," he begged. "I'll go in chains, but I have to go," He continued to protest.

"Oh, I'll muzzle you and chain you like the worthless dog you are with pleasure!" Lady Sif roared and she searched her battered coat of arms to see if she had a pair of handcuffs. She was sorely disappointed when the obvious answer was that she didn't and neither did any of her friends. "Get me some rope!" she shouted. Darn it, there had to at least be some rope about. Maybe there was Frandal started to look about for a good piece of hemp

"Let Loki go, Sif," Lord Heimdal's deep thunderous voice stated.

"Lord Heimdal," Lady Sif shook her head. "We can't trust, Loki not after all he's done..."

"We have no choice, but the trust him now, good lady Sif," Heimdal confessed to her. The Convergence was drawing nigh. He could feel it. He could sense the alignment of the planets. "And I do trust him," the gatekeeper confessed as he took a deep breath and he placed his steadying hands on Loki's shoulders once more.

"And I," Volstagg cleared his throat and squared his big shoulders. He didn't exactly smile. He wasn't sure he was happy to have to trust the trickster. He still didn't know if his family was alive or dead. If they were dead that was because of Loki and he'd never forgiven that monster if he lost his little ones because of his tirade, but he couldn't think of that now. There was still too much at stake. "For now," He added and he made sure his brown eyes stared squarely at Loki.

"For now, you have it," Frandal replied. "Don't betray it, because this blade still itches for your blood," He pulled out the magnificent hilt of the broken sword.

The self-proclaimed king of Asgard nodded and gulped. "Fair enough," he said flatly. "I won't betray you," he pledged. "Not this time! Not this time, my friends," he looked around at the group of people. People that he'd known all his life. "I'm so sorry," he started...

"You can keep your apologies and shut up, silver tongue!" Lady Sif growled. She wiped the blade of her javelin along with her armor and sharpened it. "I'll make sure you don't betray us...because I shall go with you," she stated firmly.

"We should all go!" Frandal suggested toward the group.

"No we can't," Heimdal countered. "Even as we speak Malekith and his hoard are heading for the throne room to unleash the Aether for Convergence. The warriors who are stationed in the palace need every sword they can to save us all.

"I'll go, I'll go and make sure we bring back Thor and if I can't do that I'll make sure this one doesn't live to see Ragnarök," She gave Loki a shover.

Frandal, Sif, Volstagg and Heimdal embraced one last time. As they did the figure who had been standing in the background came rushing forward. Loki squinted in the haze he could hardly make the person out. Slowly as they drew closer the silhouette became clearer. The shape was distinctly feminine and it was approaching with a hobble, but moving rather quickly. Loki's emerald eyes squinted. He fanned the red mist away from his eyes and then saw the ripped and tattered clothing that clung to bare bloodied and dirty skin. The flesh was so filthy it looked like it belonged to a sow, but it was no farm animal who approached. "Sigyn!" Loki gasped. He immediately ran toward her. She froze in her tracks as she watched him run. When he was right up on her he went to reach out for her, but he stopped as he was forced to look at her. When he'd seen Sigyn when this nightmare of a day had first dawned she was wearing a lovely gown. It was an elegant dress fit for a princess, she'd had on bangles and charms, now her clothing was reduced to rags. She was so dirty, covered from head to toe in unimaginable grime, her hair which was yellow as corn was so caked with dirt and refuse that it looked as if she had been born with hair dark as his. Her eyes. Those innocent wide as gold doubloons eyes, that had great dark circles around them, were blackened and bruised and bloodshot and swollen and puffy. Her whole face was cut up and scratched up, banged up and beat up with smudges of red and spots where blood trickled down her cheeks and from her nose. Her sweet lips fattened from being hit in the mouth one too many times. She looked like she had been through tortured plains of Helheim and back. But she was living and she looked gorgeous. Loki's breath hitched as he looked her up and down. He left leg was bleeding, her hip was sticking out a little too much. Her exposed shoulders had burns on them. Loki's breathing hitched. His pale hands went to reach for her. "Are you alright?" he asked stupidly. Only to find the same words were coming out of Lady Sigyn's mouth as she addressed him.

Amazingly enough, Lady Sigyn's battered lips folded into a soft giggle. If the moment would have been more pleasant she might have called out jinx and told him he couldn't talk until she kissed him. She thought that he with his impeccable silver tongue would have beat her to the punch. In the past, he probably would have left her mute for days. She shook her head. It was a dumb question to ask, Loki looked awful, "You're hurt," she pointed out and pointed to his bleeding side.

Once more the pair had found themselves uttering the same words at the exact same time. This time the raven-haired mage cracked a smile, but it immediately changed to horror as he pointed to the trickle of blood coming from her forehead. There were so many wounds on her body. He didn't know where to begin. His emerald eyes scanned her. Her dislocated hip seemed like the most likely place to start. He reached his hand toward her hip to try to heal the wound, but as he touched her exposed skin. She felt a heat radiated against her leg. She felt her leg snap back in place and a numbing sensation take over. It was wonderful. Then she looked down at Loki his brows furrowed with concentration. His eyes closed as he focused harder. It was done and he was sweating profusely from his brow. She looked down and the hole is his side from where he had been stabbed by Lord Malekith was starting to bleed again. Lady Sigyn resisted the urge to reach out to him. But she had to do something her hand was twitching. She slapped him hard. His head swiveled so hard, so fast he was sure that he'd cracked his neck. He slowly turned his emerald eyes but to face Sigyn's tearful, nearly fearful golden ones. She curled her trembling fingers into a quivering fist. Loki caught her wrist and pulled her fist toward his face. "Go on," He confirmed eyes closed, nodding and his voice barely audible. "Hit me again or scratched my eyes out...or...or worse...I...I...deserve it," He confirmed, and against her balled-up fist Lady Sigyn felt the wizard bob his head. "I deserve more I deserve so much more," he proclaimed in a broken tone. Lady Sigyn's quivering first opened to a palm against his cheek, she felt the lumps and bumps and bruises there. She felt him tense and the way she trembled while the fresh saltwater ran from his jade eyes down his cheek.

"You deserve for everyone on Asgard and across the Nine Realms to hate you!" the queen's handmaiden spat. "What you've done," her voice cracked, her pretty mouth twisted into a scowl. "What you've done...what you've done...what you've done," she kept declaring as she wagged her finger. She pointed around to the ruin and destruction all around them. Buildings made of gold and marble and white limestone were reduced to piles of ash and rubble. She pointed to the bodies, the city was overrun with dead bodies, men, women children, none of them cleaned up none of them removed and carried to pyres to be burned. They were left dead in the streets or buried under heaps of bricks and metal and wood. A disgrace to Aesir. The City Square was nothing more than a bloodbath. The bodies were skewered and scattered about contorted and distorted and skewered mercilessly. And most were just average citizens, warriors in their own right, but not necessarily soldiers who'd pledged themselves to fight to the death for king and country. "YOU DESERVE DEATH!" Lady Sigyn yelled in his face. She pushed him back!. Loki stumbled over his own leg.

"Yes," his head fell lower, licorice locks in his eyes. "I know, I know," Loki mumbled.

Sigyn was out of breath from the act of aggression. Her whole body was shaking. She'd drawn a blade and she had it raised, but more like she wanted to hurl it at him rather than ram him straight through. "YOU'RE A KILLER!" she declared. She pointed the weapon at him. "And you live by the sword you die by the sword!" she warned him with a growl. Her leg was set in place and she walked quickly toward him, the sword still drawn. She stepped right to him. He raised his head and noted that the broken rusty blade was aimed at his heart. His eyes were wide as he stared into hers. He heard the clank of the swords as they hit the wooden planks. "But...but," the blonde-haired lady in waiting to Queen Frigga began, "I never wanted you to die," she whispered, she bit her lip.

Loki's eyes snapped open for just a moment, "Why? Why? Why?" he asked as he gripped her by the wrist. He felt the way her pulse throbbed, her skin was warm, her wrists were scraped. Lady Sigyn offered some resistance and tried to pull away from him. He didn't let go, didn't relent, he pulled her toward him, she slammed into his armored chest. They were breast to breast. She could feel the way his heart raced beneath the golden breastplate that she wore. It was palpable that he might as well have not had on any armor. She felt the chilly blood from the wound that had been inflicted right under his ribs. It seeped and leaked onto her already blood-drenched clothing. "Why?" Loki asked his enchanted emerald eyes entreating and begging her for an answer

She shook her head. Why hadn't she wanted him dead? She wanted to want him dead in those moments so a short span of time ago. She wanted to hate him. She was an idiot not to. She was an idiot she told herself. But then she looked into his eyes those deep green eyes, like the sea, like a jewel and the way they shimmered when they were filled with tears, the way they flickered when they were hurt, or the way they danced when he laughed and when he laughed it was radiant. "I always knew there was still good in you," Lady Sigyn stated with wide eyes looking up at him. "And I believed in you," she admitted and she shrugged and gave a weak smile. "I knew...well... I hoped...you would save us..." she dropped her eyes.

"Oh Sigyn," he murmured. He let go of her wrist and his hands fell to rest on her waist. "You...You...you shouldn't...after everything I've done... to everyone, to Asgard to...you...I," he stammered.

She put her dirty hands on his even filthier mouth, "I never gave up on you," a smile lit up her smudged face. "You started this," she pointed to him. "You have to end it."

"I'm not sure I can now Sigyn...it may be too late," Loki rambled quickly. "But... But I'll try," he stated to her more firmly. "I swear to Yggdrasil and to the Norns I'll try," he swallowed deeply. He took her hand again and kissed her bloody knuckles. "And to you...I'll try."

Her hands hurt, but the sensation of his cool lips against her skin brought momentary relief and she wondered if it was his powers or just the power that he had over her. She nodded. "I...I...I believe in you," she told him. "You and Thor can do it!" she encouraged she squeezed his hands back.

His lips barely quirked into a smile. "I have got to go get Thor," Loki blinks as if it has just dawned on him again. "You should get to safety," the words come out as almost an order. "Leave! Leave!" he warned her. He cocked his head to the side motioning toward some of the other Asgardians who were desperately trying to flee from the Center Square now. He looked out amongst their ranks. He could only hope that Frigga, Asgard's queen, his mother, was still alive. If his fit of madness had taken his mother's life when this was all over Lady Sif would not have to worry he would end his own wretched life himself.

"Not a chance!" Lady Sigyn shook her head. "I've come too far not to be there to fight for us in the end," she explained. "I'm going with the others. We need every person we can get now," she assured him. Loki wanted to protest, but before he could contradict her she added, "And now we have you on our side too!" she declared happily.

"Loki!" the voices of Sif and the warriors beckoned. Him. He turned around gaping.

"We don't have much time!" the blonde-haired maiden confessed. "Go! Find Thor! Be a hero!" she admonished him.

With that, Loki made his way back to Lady Sif, Lord Heimdal, Volstagg and Frandal. "Let's go!" lady Sif barked as she tied some rope tightly around Loki's thin wrist. "Don't even think of trying anything!" she ranted.

"Or you'll kill me?" the raven-haired trickster raised his eyebrow.

"With pleasure," the Einherjar general declared with a snarl. She yanked the rope tighter and secured it with a sailor-level knot. "Now take me to Thor," she ordered.

Thor felt the familiar weight of the dragon's-tooth dagger in the palm of his hand. His calloused fingers traced the edges and grooves on the hilt of the knife. He knew it so well. He could remember being a boy so thrilled to have gotten such a rare gift from Julenissen. The hilt was made of the wood from the hollow of Yggdrasil, so the legends said. It was overlaid in the purest most refined gold from the dragons' cursed treasure itself. It was filled with jewels mostly rubies and diamonds. The curve of the knife, the dragon's own fang. Some of the dragon's tooth daggers held venom in them. Some were fire-resistant. The one he had received well it was the sharpest of all. He loved that weapon. Daggers were Loki's weapon of choice, but he'd carried it with such pride in his younger years. After he'd learned that the gift wasn't from his favorite holiday patron, he'd been too embarrassed to thank Loki, but he'd never let go of the weapon. A symbol of how well Loki knew him of their brotherhood.

In Asgard, it was customary that during weddings and betrothals the two parties were supposed to present symbolic gifts to one another. Thor had been tricked into an engagement to a beautiful and deadly siren, Lorelei. When they were married, as man and wife and became one under the branches of Yggdrasil well... she would be able to wield Mjolnir and that was all she wanted. But on the night of their betrothal, he presented her with the dragon's tooth dagger. "What's this?' the lovely siren asked as they lay in the bed together.

"It's a dragon's tooth dagger," Thor shrugged nearly giggling as he looked at her beautiful face.

"It's lovely," she said as she studied the elegant weapon. "These are rare, priceless," her eyes lit up as she studied each jewel on the hilt. "I have never seen," she explained as she held it.

"You are rare...and beautiful too," he swooned.

She purred as she snaked her leg around his, "and dangerous," she arched her sultry brows. "is that what you think of me?"

"No," he expressed. "My brother gave this to me when we were children," he explained.

"So, it's a toy. Is that what I am to you Prince Thor, a toy?" she sneered and pouted.

"No...no...no," Thor wrapped his arms around her tightly. "My brother's the person I trust most in the world," he expressed.

"Trusting Loki may not be so wise," She stated with a smile as she leaned her luscious crimson locks back on Thor's strong shoulder.

"But...I...I do trust him," Thor explained his rough bronzed fingers twisted their way through her hair. "But now...I'll trust you the most," he pledged.

She smiled and stroked his beard, "Perfect," she said sinisterly.

In the end, he hadn't been able to trust Lorelei one bit. She was a deceptive siren after power and not love. She had him under her deep-sea enchantment with her intoxicating voice. Loki had tried to tell him then, tried to warn him that he didn't think that the Siren's intentions were pure, but he hadn't listened. He was going to go through with a wedding ceremony under the seas and when the wedding was over, his lovely new bride had planned to leave him "shipwrecked" while she wielded the hammer in his stead and sought revenge on Asgard and other worlds, but Loki saved him. He took his place at the wedding ceremony and had a legion of Valkyrie, led by Lady Sif waiting to fight Lorelei and her sirens. He made sure that Lorelei wasn't able to take Mjolnir or their kingdom. When he came out of the siren's spell, he was embarrassed but grateful that he had his brother on his side then. He'd felt like an idiot for giving such a sacred trust to that woman over his brother. Loki told him that it wasn't his fault. He kibbitzed with him saying that he was an idiot, but that this time it wasn't his fault. He couldn't help being enchanted by the voice of a siren. No man could completely, but that was why had brought in the Valkyrie. Maybe that had been true, maybe he hadn't been able to help it, but he still felt foolish and he'd vowed to not trust his brother again.

He trusted Loki then, he trusted him so completely. And he'd trusted him up until the bitter end. Even after everything Loki had done, even after he'd let the Frost Giants into Asgard and even after he'd lied to his face and told him that their father was dead and after he'd sent the Destroyer after him and leveled that tiny Midgardian town, and after the way, he'd tried to destroy Jotunheim with the power of the Bifrost, even after the madness that had ensued on Earth with the Tesseract and the Chituari, after he'd let the Dark-Elves practically annihilate Asgard, still somewhere deep within him he just couldn't help, but believe, he couldn't help but cling to some sort of desperate, juvenile attachment about words uttered from so long ago about always being there for each other and about always being able to trust one another.

Thor let out a thunderous bellow. "ARRRRHHHHGGGG!" he roared. He had no trust for Loki now after everything he'd done. He should have never trusted him in the first place. NEVER! He hated himself for every time he had ever trusted that lying snake. Now, all of Asgard and the Nine Realms would suffer and be consumed by the power of the Aether and plunged into darkness.

Still, he wondered why had Loki given him this dagger? Was it just meant to be some type of torture or mockery of brotherhood that never was? Was he to be saddled with carrying this symbol of their trust as a reminder that he should have never ever put any trust in Loki? Or had the Norns given him such a despicable fate, his curse and eternal punishment to wander through the afterlife with this possession as a reminder of his stupidity, naivete, and his heartbreak? Thor started to scream in rage. Loki could never let a joke go. He'd mock him for all eternity. For all eternity he'd see that giddy smirk playing on Loki's face as he'd had the last laugh at last. Thor wanted to scream with fury and cause thunder to split the sky, but instead, all he could do was cry. He cried because of the unspeakable pain that his body was in. He cried for his realm, his realm that had been counting on him. He cried for Jane, that he'd never get the chance to hold her in his arms once more. He cried for his parents, but mostly he cried for Loki. His brother never was.

The crown prince of Asgard didn't know how long he had been sobbing. It hurt to weep as swollen as his eyes were. It felt like he was crying blood. He cried long and hard his tears soaking into the carpet. That's when it dawned on him that his cheek was pressed against plush carpet. He felt the regal feel of Afghan and cashmere against his bloody cheek and it was nearly comforting to his bruised and damaged skin. As his tears continued to soak into the carpet aroma was emitted and he smelt the fresh crisp scents of ever, fresh-pressed linen, embers from the fire, it smelt like old tomes and it smelt like musk. It smelt like Loki's study. "The Southern Tower?" Prince Thor muttered in confusion as he kept his face pressed against the rug. No, no it couldn't be. How could he be here? Why would he be here? Was this another curse of the Norns, another punishment that he had to bear? Was he in some type of personal Helheim designed by Loki's twisted mind? Or perhaps...perhaps...was he actually alive?

Prince Thor felt himself gulping for breath, everything around him felt real and seemed real. The feel of the rug was distinct and undeniable. Loki didn't let him in his study often. Loki was private and secretive, he was also very meticulous and he'd usually make those who trespassed into his laboratory take off their shoes so as night to muddy and sully all the fine items he procured. And the smells were crisp and fresh like Loki had been in the room recently. Then there was his pain, the inescapable anguish that he was I, he surely couldn't be dead and be in this much pain. Asgardians loved life. Their lives were so wonderfully long and they were a strong people, not so well acquainted with pain, but his mother had once told him that for other races, such as mortals death could often seem like a relief a chance to escape their pain. He was in so much agony that he doubted he could have truly tasted death. He shook himself trying to muster any strength he had left. He admitted to himself that it was failing, every passing minute it seemed he was growing weaker, but if he was still alive...then he still had to try. He owed it to his family and his friends and his people and all of the cosmos. That was the sacred duty that he had sworn when he accepted the title of the heir, the was the time-old decree of the Norns that he should defend the Nine Realms and that was his pledge to the people as an Avenger. Thor clenched his teeth and balled his hands up into shaky fists with determination.

Frantically, the golden-haired son of Odin fiddled with the dragon's tooth dagger. He maneuvered it to pick the lock on the manacles. He had already tried to break free of the bonds, but his arms were far too feeble for that now. Amazingly, enough it was Loki who had taught him how to pick a lock with his daggers. They were young, just boys, they'd been out playing in the woods. They often played there but recently it had been thought that a band of thieves had taken up lodging in the Great Wood that separated the Imperial City from the Dales and other rural communities. They had no business being there, but he had been convinced that they could catch these thieves themselves and bring them to justice. Loki had doubted if they would be able to catch anyone if the royal guards couldn't. But the day was pleasant and it was fun to be without supervision for a few hours with his brother. So, they ventured. They were playing pretending to catch robbers and not really looking for them, but then the warm day made them want to go for a swim in a small pond that they stumbled upon while playing. Absentmindedly, they tossed their fine, silk tunics and expensive leather trousers and boots to the side. They left their jewelry about, they left their horses, horses marked with imperial seals on their saddles. Well, they did come across the thieves, rather the thieves came across them. They pulled themselves from the cool, refreshing waters only to find a bad of cutthroats waiting for them when they went to retrieve their belongings. The thieves were mocking them with sinister smiles and menacing grins.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" the leader of the brigands as he motioned for a few of his thugs to round up the young princes.

"YOU FOOLS UNHAND US!" Thor bellowed.

"We don't have any money," Loki lied quickly as he put up his hands.

"Oh, I don't think that's true, now," the leader of the thieves laughed as he pulled out the dragon's tooth dagger from inside Thor's tunics. He played with it observing the facets of the jewels. "Tie 'em up! We'll hold these two nobles for ransom," he explained and his men cheered.

"HOW DARE YOU ATTACK THE SONS OF ODIN!" Thor bellowed and he began pulling and pushing against the men who were trying to hold them.

"Thor!" Loki called out aghast that his brother would let their enemies know so a thing.

The head of the pack tossed his head back and laughed. "Sons of Odin, hey? Oh we hit the jackpot, boys!" he cheered.

"We won't be held for ransom by the likes of you!" young Prince Thor declared. He immediately elbowed the thief who was holding him in the gut. He took off running toward those who were holding his brother. He punched the man in the face allowing Loki to break free. But running on bare feet sopping wet didn't allow the princes to get too far. They were caught and chained. The thieves drank their ale and danced around the campfire as they celebrated their new score. They danced and drank their way deep into the night and fell asleep. "We've got to get out of these shackles!" Thor complained as he grunted and groaned against the strain of the shackles. "I get to bust out of these things," Thor grumbled as he slumped against the post they were tied to. "Loki, use your magic!" Thor mumbled to his brother as he gave him a kick.

"Don't you think I've tried that already, brother?" Loki groaned. He leaned his dark-haired head against the same post as his brother. "They're magic proof," he sighed.

"Magic proof! Impossible!" he boomed.

"Not so impossible," the younger prince confessed.

"Well, what are we going to do? We can't let them ransom us, Father will be furious," Thor confessed. "We weren't supposed to be playing in the woods anyway," His blue eyes were almost frantic.

"Just give me a minute to think," Prince Loki muttered in exhaustion while closing his eyes. Loki sat silently for a moment in deep concentration with his eyes closed. In the background, he heard the older brother's continuous grumblings about disrespect and about father tanning their hides. "I've got it!" Loki's green eyes snapped open. "Thor where's the dagger?"

"It's with the leader," Thor stated flatly. "I don't think now we should be worried about retrieving our belongings, Loki," Thor huffed.

"Don't tell me what we should worry about!" the younger Odinson. "Now be quiet," Loki admonished somewhat harshly. Thor hushed and watched as Loki's young face pinched with concentration and he whispered ancient words and shakily managed to wriggle the dagger from the head thief's hands while he slept. The weapon floated through the air and then it floated next to Thor's shackled hands, the sharp blade of the dagger fit its way into the small facets of the manacles picking the lock and freeing the eldest prince.

"Loki!" Thor called excitedly as he felt the chains fall from his aching wrists. "I thought you said these shackles we magic proof?" he asked in surprise.

"Shhh, shhh, they are, but no magic was required to pick a lock with a blade that sharp," Loki pointed out in a harsh whisper. "Now come on, do the same for me," Loki urged wriggling his pale hands that were tied behind his back.

"Right," the blonde-haired son of Odin nodded giddily in the dark. He crawled over to his brother. "How?" Thor asked breathlessly as he looked down at the weapon and the shackles.

"Ugh, Thor do I have to do everything?" Loki inquired and had his hands been free he would have slapped his forehead or slapped Thor's. Loki told him what to do, how to pick the lock. He wriggled the sharp blade, then twisted it deep until he heard it click. With that, both princes were free to run back to the palace and tell the guards about the thieves' camp.

Thor reached behind his back and flicked the dagger. Blindly, he fumbled and allowed the tip of the blade to try to find the latch for the lock that was tied to his shackles. It took a minute, but it felt like hours, but finally, with dogged persistence he found it. He was ecstatic for a moment. Then he remembered what Loki had taught him all those years ago when they were, but lads, "Three twist right, a quarter turn left, upward, down and back, left then right and open the latch," he muttered. He felt his wrists break free. Prince Thor's arms shook, they were weak and trembling despite their muscle, it took all the strength within him to stretch them wide and allow them to stretch forth just a tiny bit. Thor was winded and panting. "All-fathers give me strength," he prayed. He pulled his aching, beaten back from the ground. His vision blurred and he felt dizzy and on the verge of collapse. His side was dripping, hot red liquid all over the rug staining it from gold to red. His sliced abdomen ached as he bent over to try to unlock the chains. His big, thick hands shook fiercely as once again he tried to pick the lock. His hands were made for carrying Mjolnir not nimbly twisting daggers, not now after so many centuries. Still, Prince Thor made valiant and painstaking efforts to unshackle his ankles. The shackles fell off and his ankles were free, if only he had had the energy to stay awake, he wanted to get up, he wanted to go on. He had to they didn't have time for him to collapse, but he found himself passed out on the floor.

"THOR!" Lady Sif shouted as she watched her prince fall to the floor in a puddle of blood just as she and Loki teleported into the Southern. She rushed to his side, but she didn't move in time to catch him. "Thor! Thor! Can you hear me?" she called frantically. He looked a mess. He looked like a piece of meat dangling from a butcher shop window. "Thor! Thor no!" she gasped in horror. "Is he dead?" she asked looking quickly at Loki. Loki's emerald eyes opened wide. His heart nearly stopped as he took in her words. "HE'S DEAD!" she shrieked. Immediately she lunged toward Loki. Her scarred face resembled a tigress as snarled at him. Her claws came out as she wrapped her fingers around his slender neck. Her knee assaulted his groin only long enough for him to lean over and feel the tip of her blade at his throat. "He's dead!" the warrior woman roared furiously. "You said you didn't kill him!" she accused and tears seemed to well up in lady Sif's dark eyes. "You brought me here to see his corpse! You brought me here to see my best friend's corpse!" she shouted in his face. "I will finish you!" she declared mercilessly and shoved Loki against one of his curios filled with vials and raised her double blade to strike him down.

"No," Loki gasped from Lady Sif squeezing his windpipe. "He can't be dead," He stated. He pushed past the warrior woman and made his way to Thor's side. No, no, no, Thor couldn't be dead. He had timed everything calculated everything. He'd taken so much effort to not kill Thor. He couldn't. He could bear if his brother's blood was truly on his hands. The crown prince of Asgard was limp and bloody, his vital signs were low and Thor's pulse was weak and his normally bronzed and beautiful skin was turning ghostly pale. Loki's pressed his own alabaster fingers into Thor's neck as he checked further for a pulse. "He's not dead, he's not dead," Loki muttered ecstatically. His heartfelt like it would explode. His mouth broke forth in a smile bright as day, his eyes welled with tears. The Einherjar rushed back to Thor's side. She too placed her hand against Thor's wrist and felt for a pulse. Relief flooded her sense at finding the thready beat. "But he won't be for long," he expressed. "Sif! Sif! Get me some of the water from healing oasis," he ordered.

Amazingly, enough Lady Sif sprang to, She immediately started searching through the endless shelves for what Loki was talking about. "Where?" she shouted back.

"It is in a yellow bottle," Loki told her. He continued to stare down at Prince Thor who with every moment seemed to be drifting further and further away. "Hang on, brother," he muttered. "Sif!" he yelled back after a minute.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" the shield maiden responded as she ran back toward where Loki and Thor were carrying several yellow vessels. She dumped them onto the floor. Loki immediately reached for the one that he needed. It was a yellow battle with pictures of a tree and a pond on it. Lady Dagmar had gotten it for him from Vanaheim. In the oasis in Vanaheim the pond had a deposit of healing crystals, the crystals had been harvested, but the water maintained the healing properties. He poured a drop of water into the palm of his hands. The drop started to glow, blue and bright in his palms. He applied the tiny drops to Thor's body. He allowed the water to be poured on the areas that were worst off like his face and his sides and his thighs. He concentrated long and hard on the glowing of the water that was splashed on Thor's body and in his palm started to glow more and more intensely. Until the Southern Tower was filled with an intense neon blue light.

The piercing light shone for just a moment, Lady Sif shielded her face with a nearby book that was laying on one of the coffee tables. By the time she lowered the book down from her face and looked back at Thor she saw that he was healing. His swollen black eyes that had resembled that of a panda started to come back to their normal hue. The swelling had gone down from his busted lips and nose most of the blood seemed to be sucked right back into the cuts and it returned his face to its handsome form. The lacerations on his arms and legs quickly seemed to mend leaving no visible bruises or cuts. The deep scarring on his abdomen and back wear he had had wounds that would have caused him to bleed out were soothed right before her eyes. His broken and damaged flesh was rapidly restored new skin replacing old. Even his armor was repaired to a gleaming breastplate that was fit for a king and not a mangled mesh of mashed and matted metal. She watched as Thor's breathing eased, the rise and fall of his chest became steady and rhythmic. Loki's palms quivered as they hovered over Thor's rejuvenated body. His whole body became wracked with shivering. He slumped forward-leaning on his knees. His hair sopping wet with his own perspiration. He was out of breath and his pointed nose was dripped crimson fluid.

Blue eyes batted open slowly. Prince Thor took in his surroundings hazily for just a second. "Thor!" he heard the distinct voice of a shield-maiden that he knew called to him. He looked up to his left the see the battered, brunette warrior standing over him. He smiled up at her. He was so glad that she was alright. "Thor! Thor! Thank the Norns you are alright," she said as she wrapped her strong arms around his once sturdier frame.

He hugged her back. "Lady Sif, are...are you dead?" He asked.

"Not yet," she responded with a near chuckle as she looked at his face. "And you're not dead either," she assured him.

"But how?" the golden-locked son of Odin questioned.

"It appears in the nick of time someone changed his mind," Sif said in a bitterly smug tone as she inclined her head toward the self-proclaimed king of Asgard who struggled to rise to his own feet.

Thor immediately turned to face the raven-haired mage who was still on his hands and knees. Thor stood up and marched over to him. It only took one giant step of Thor's great strides. Loki rolled tired, bloodshot, jade eyes to look up at Thor who stood strong and strapping like the true hero he was. "Surprise," Loki whispered with a weak, wavering smirk on his face.

A/N: READERS! YOU MADE IT! PLEASE GIVE YOURSELVES A ROUND OF APPLAUSE! That chapter was a long one. I think it's the longest chapter to date. It's the longest chapter to date and we didn't even get to the battle! Ahhhh! (Hangs head in shame) Ok, ok, but hear me out! So I really wanted to get to the battle, but I didn't want people to forgive Loki too quickly. Loki has done so much evil and I didn't want to let him off the hook too quickly. I think that is always so unrealistic in movies. Like in Captain America Civil War. Cap just forgave bucky way too quickly, but at least falcon called him out on it. hehe. Well in a movie they have to worry about pacing, but at least in fanfiction ;D the story can be as long as it needs to be. Ok, I REEAALLY Think that the battle has to be the next thing I write will be the battle! I thank you all so much for your continued interest in this story. Now you have come tooo far and read tooo much not to leave a review, so come on don't be shy the story's almost over!

!Once again there is a lot going on in this world, but no matter what you are going through the answer is in the Lord. God Bless