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?

62. It Has Begun

A/N: HELLO READERS! OMG, I did not realize how long it had been since my last update. I'm so, so, sorrrrryyyyy! Please forgive me! I am always thinking of this story and of you all, but life gets busy with work, school family and friends (But it's good to have full schedules again after all the Covid lockdowns right) Anyway, I thank you all so much for your reads, reviews, fallows and favorites. I'll value each of them so much. Your continued interest in this story have kept me writing it for this long. That being said this chapter was really difficult to write. There was so much I was trying to fit into it and I didn't even get close to fitting in the whole battle (hint/hint or spoiler). None the less this is a very long chapter, Probably my longest chapter to date; so please, grab some cookies, milk, popcorn, settle in. Happy reads and writes and God Bless!

Chapter 62

They arrived to the Southern Tower in a puff of gray, black and green smoke. Their arrival from the Center Square into the palace had been nearly instantaneous. They needed instantaneous. They didn't have a moment to spare. Every second that ticked by moved them closer to Convergence and then the possible release of the Aether and then Ragnarök. If she wouldn't have been so strong it would have sent a shudder down her spine thinking of how close they were to their prophesied doom. She should have been grateful for the quick travel that was afforded to them, but she was seething and snarling as the smoke dissipated from them. She coughed and felt slightly woozy as she attempted to dig her heels deep into the floor with the plush green rug to make sure that she was somewhere where she could stand on solid ground.

Lady Sif hated teleportation. She would have rather stormed the castle gates or climb the castle walls than have poofed into a location like a cloud. In this case they just didn't have the time. She had often taunted Loki for his use of his enchantments in such away. She hated having to resort to such methods now. She loathed needing to use his little tricks. She said it was sneaky and underhanded for him to just appear and disappear as he pleased. He said she was jealous because she was a subtle as a bilgeschnipe heifer in heat. She remembered him as a boy, young boy, they were all young then, she and Loki closest in age for humans they would have been near the age of 6. He was just a few years older than her by Aesir years, he'd not let her forget it, but she'd not let him go without saying that she'd lick him good no matter how young she was. She was sure that she'd hurled out the insult that newborns could lick him. "But newborns can't do this," the raven-haired prince had said with a wink. Then they'd watched as scrawny Prince Loki made himself disappear, but not quite completely. His royal tunics still remained. Still, Volstagg had applauded and so had Hogun. Loki beamed with pride at having impressed his playmates. Even Prince Thor had been impressed with his younger brother's achievement he hooted loudly for the novice magicians first trick.

"It's not so much!" Sif responded scolding as she scrunched up her nose and looked at Loki. Thor had just been clapping for her doing a remarkable cartwheel right into a backwards somersault.

"More than you can do!" Loki shot back angrily.

"I can do cartwheels! Things with my actual body," Sif licked her tongue out at him.

"That was with my body!" the dark-haired son of Odin retorted in a huff.

"You only did it half way!" the dark-haired little girl pointed out. She pointed to Loki's clothes. "I still saw your cape, your boots, your trousers!" she went on.

Loki's inky brows knitted together and he glared at Sif, "Like I said," he spat, "More than you can do!"

"I could do it if I wanted and you can't do it all the way either," Sif licked her tongue out at the youngest prince of Asgard.

"Well let's see you do it then," Loki cocked his head and crossed his arms over his small chest. The heads of their friends turned to face her. Lady Sif could feel their eyes on her even just for the smallest second and she could feel her ears starting to burn.

"I don't want to do that!" Sif quickly remarked, she too crossed her arms.

"Because you can't!"

"Neither can you!" Sif continued to argue.

Prince Thor threw his head back. He rolled on the ground and laughed. "Alright you two, alright," he jumped up and wrapped his arms around two of his favorite people. "I've got away for you to solve this. Loki why don't you perfect your trick and Sif if Loki is able to make himself disappear completely and you have to try your hand at magic," the blonde-haired prince inclined his head toward her.

"Oh, that's a good one! That's a good one, Thor," Volstagg hooted.

"Oh, shut up, Volstagg!" the Viking girl snapped. "I'm not agreeing to doing," she shook her head.

"Why? Scared you'll lose," Loki taunted from behind Thor's back.

"Oh, C'mon Sif, it is fair," Frandal pointed out. Sif's brown eyes shot him a glare that made the talkative nobleman's son shrink back and gesture like he was zipping his lips.

"Fine," she finally agreed, she stuck out her hand and the two shook on it. Loki's lips put on an impish grin. For the next few days Loki worked tirelessly on his disappearing act. He read through his old manuscripts and even asked his mother for help. He practiced and practiced til he was sure he had perfected the technique completely and made sure that his clothes disappeared completely when he did. When he'd finally gotten it all right and made himself completely invisible his mother ran up and kissed him on the cheek and told him how marvelous he had done. His cheeks were red when she was done kissing him, but whether the redness was from his mother's lip-paint or his own embarrassment at how she gushed over him well no one would ever know.

"That was fabulous, darling, simply fabulous!" she told him as she hugged him tight and her sweet blue eyes looked into his innocent jade ones.

"Really, Mama, really?' the young prince asked. "All the way? I disappeared completely?" he inquired. "Yes! Yes! Completely!" she nodded emphatically. "All your friends are going to be amazed," she exclaimed.

The raven-haired boy beamed up at his mother. He'd finally perfected the trick completely or so he'd thought that he could win the little bet before the week was over. He was thrilled. He was so eager to see Sif have to finally acknowledge his talents. He also wanted to see Sif have to admit that there was something she couldn't do. Sif was so much like his own brother they always seemed to be good at everything. They were both good at every sport, good at riding horses, good at making friends, but just like Thor, he bet that Lady Sif wouldn't take well to practicing enchantments. That took too much brains for their types. He couldn't wait. He called forth his brother and Sif and Volstagg and Frandal and Hogun to watch him. "Alright! Alright! Alright!" he called ecstatically to the other children playing in the courtyard. "Now, you all watch," he practically squealed with excitement. "Prepare to be amazed," he added eagerly he bounced on his heels. The children gathered round. There were a few others about on the palace grounds, servants and some palace officials, he and Thor's nursemaid, Helga and few other of the queen's gentlewomen were about talking. They all cast bemused glances at the children. Prince Loki closed his eyes and concentrated. He thought of all the things that his mother had taught him and shown him. She was a great teacher. He thought of what he had read in his books. He could practically see the words floating off the pages and into his mind. This time he was going to get it...he was going to get it right and Sif was going to see. Loki concentrated. He concentrated fully brows furrowed and face pinched. He whispered to himself and concentrated wholly on making his clothes disappear. Unfortunately, that was the only thing that he made disappear. Loki finally opened his emerald eyes, his face radiated with a broad smile. He expected to find his friends with their jaws dropped open and looking wide-eyed all about trying to find where he had gone. He was stunned when he saw the other children doubled over rolling on the ground, pointing a jeering yelling with raucous laughter as they stared at him. It wasn't exactly as if he had pulled a funny prank. He couldn't imagine why they were laughing so hard. He started to hear mutterings from the adults who were spread across the court yard.

"Oh gosh! Oh gosh! It's just like that old story... it's just like that old story," Frandal wailed and cried with laughter as he pointed at the pale prince standing before him. "The All-father's new clothes!" he looked to Volstagg, but the plump boy's belly was shaking so hard from laughter that he couldn't answer the blonde-haired boy. All he seemed to be able to do was roll on the plush green grass with his pudgy legs kicking in the air.

Thor seemed like at first, he tried to contain his laughter. He snickered through his fingers, but eventually he couldn't contain the flood-gates of his humor. He let out a thunderous guffaw that seemed to draw everyone's attention to the corner where the children were gathered. Tears spring forth from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. Prince Thor fell to his knees practically hiccupping as he tried to collect himself enough to speak. "Well...well...well," he started. "Well brother... at least you figured out how to make your clothes disappear," he continued cracking up.

"Huh?' the younger child gasped in horror. His emerald eyes quickly darted down and he noted his bare feet and his legs uncovered by trousers.

"Wish to Yggdrasil that he'd figured out the rest of the trick! Ewww, nobody wants to see all that!" she declared as she covered her eyes. "COVER UP!" she yelled as she giggled.

Loki didn't even have the chance to let her words resonate long enough to make his clothing reappear on his thin, naked body before he heard the horrified shriek of his nursemaid, Helga. "PRINCE LOKI JARL ODINSON! What in the name Asgard do you think you are doing?" she demanded of him. She didn't give him time to answer the question, she was immediately traipsed across the garden toward him, he wrinkled face a terrifying combination of anger, shock and embarrassment at her young charge's actions. "You are a prince of Asgard not some wild Jotun urchin," she snarled as she marched up the path toward him her skirts and aprons raised as if she was ready to wrap the young prince up like a mummy in her own garments. "Put on your clothes!" she ordered.

Loki's eyes were wide and brimming with tears, he crossed his arms across his chest and crossed his legs as he stood doing everything, he could in the moment to try to cover himself. His efforts seemed fruitless as his bottom was still exposed and all his cheeks were reddened. He bobbed his head immediately and obediently. He quickly caused his clothing to reappear on his body and then he took off in a green flash racing toward the palace.

He ran pass the guards and interrupted his mother's meeting with the female delegates from Nornheim. He burst through the crystal door and came in sobbing running right into Queen Frigga's arms and jumping in her lap and burying his face in her bosom. "Mummy, Mummy, Mummy," he blubbered into her chest. "I didn't do it... I...I... I, "he hiccupped.

"Shh, shh, there, there, my love," Queen Frigga said as she rocked him slowly, she stroked his licorice locks and kissed his forehead as she cradled him against her heart. "Ladies if you will excuse me," she stated to her guests. The Nornish women were gracious in excusing the royal woman they bowed politely to the all-mother and they offered as much comfort as they could to the young child they ruffled his raven-mop of hair and some even offered him sweets and had he not been so humiliated he may have even enjoyed being showered with so much attention, but in the moment all the young royal could do was bury his face deep in the crook of Queen Frigga's neck and sob all the harder.

When the noblewomen had left Frigga took to gently rocking her son and rubbing soothing circles on his trembling back. It took a few minutes, but finally his sobbing subsided into soft muffled whimpers. "My darling, what happened?" the wife of Odin inquired softly she kept her eyes tight around her little boy. Loki shook his head vigorously, but finally spilled the beans to his own grave mortification. "Oh, sweetheart!" Frigga gasped in horror for a moment. Loki had worked so hard and she knew that he knew how to do the trick. She knew how badly her youngest child wanted to impress people. "It's alright. It's alright," she said to him tenderly as she took the edge of her silk dress and wiped the tears off of his face.

"I...I...I... I can't go back!" he gulped.

"Oh, my dear, you know how to do the trick. I know you do, you just put too much pressure on yourself," she explained.

"I... I was trying so hard," he explained as he looked her in the eye and then leaned on her chest.

"Trying too hard," she tapped him on the nose, "remember the things I have taught you. Your powers are innate, they are part of you, trust yourself, you can do it... " she offered him a smile.

Loki's lip still quivered; he shook his head. "I...I... I can't go back...I can't show my face ever," he expressed to her as he started to suck on his thumb.

"Well, I should think them seeing your face would be the least of your worries now," the Queen of Asgard teased with a wink. To this joke the boy only started to cry all over again. "Oh no, no, no, my angel, don't cry it is fine. I will show you something that will impress them all, when they see what you can do, they will not laugh or remember this mistake," she told him.

"Everyone will remember," he insisted.

"Nonsense!" she flagged him off. "I will show you how to teleport," she winked her gorgeous blue eye at his still shimmering green ones.

His dark locks fell in his face as he hung his head. "Oh, Mummy, I...I... I can't even turn invisible... how can I..." he started.

Frigga put her finger to his trembling lips, "You can become invisible," she stated to him firmly. "You can do anything you put your mind to, Loki Jarl Odinson," she said to him firmly. "Believe in yourself, I believe in you," she assured him. He bobbed his head obediently to the queen's words. Gently, she started to slip him off of her lap and allow him to stand on his own two feet. "Come," she ordered him as she took him by the hand and he followed behind her still sucking his thumb.

"But, but, but," he started. "I already lost the bet," he hung his head.

"Well, didn't you have a week to perfect your trick?" Frigga asked. Loki's response was once more a timid nod. "Well, it's not quite a week, you have til tomorrow, you will have to practice very hard though tonight," she explained.

They practiced all night and Prince Loki did not even do his lessons with the palace tutors the next day. Thor had recently taken to going to the primary academy with other rich youngsters from the Imperial City. When he returned back to the palace he rushed up to Loki's chambers. "Loki are you decent?" the blonde-haired son of Odin sniggered as he wrapped on the large gilded door to his younger sibling's bedchamber.

"Yes, I'm decent," Loki muttered miserably from behind the closed door.

"Well, come on out. Come outside and play," the elder prince insisted.

Loki timidly opened the door, "Are all your friends here?" he asked green eyes darting downward.

"Why, yes of course, they came over to play come on," Thor beckoned. "After everyone saw your pale arse we all know you could use the sun," Thor laughed.

"I'm not coming out there for you all to laugh at me again!" Loki insisted and he stomped his foot and crossed his arms across his chest. "And... and...and you're not supposed to say that word," Loki reminded him.

"Well, you're not supposed to be naked!"

Loki's eyes grew wide. "Forget it! I'm not coming!" he yelled and started to slam the door. Thor wedged his boot between the door and blocked Loki from being able to close it. He then caught his younger brother by his spindly arms and then yanked him out of his room. "Thor! Thor! Let go of me!" Loki declared as he felt himself being hoisted in the air by the other boy. "I don't want to play! I don't want to play with you!" he cried, but his protests made little difference to the child who looked to be about 9 years old and then had the strength of an ox. Despite his best attempts to wriggle free, Thor held him in a headlock and led him out to the courtyard.

"Well, well, well, gentlemen look who I convinced to show his face," Thor declared with a jaunty guffaw as he brought his brother out before his friends still kicking and screaming.

"At least that's all he's showing," Frandal kibbitzed as he elbowed Volstagg in the ribs to illicit a laugh from the chubby child.

"We don't want to see anymore!" Sif taunted.

Loki poked his lip out and placed his hands on his hips. "We'll you're going to see more!" he pointed a bony finger at the young Viking lass.

"Please no!" Hogun cried out.

"I'm talking about of my magic, you fool!" Loki snapped.

"Loki, you know maybe you better take a break from that, you don't want to embarrass yourself anymore," Thor slung his arm around his younger brother's frame and whispered in his ear.

"I'm not going to be embarrassed!" Loki snapped pulled from of his brother's protective stance. "And a bet's still a bet," he told them.

"You already lost," Sif yelled.

"No, I didn't! Today is the last day!" he insisted.

"Aww, come one Sif, let the little guy try to redeem himself," Volstagg chuckled as he held his belly and laughed and ruffled Loki's black hair. Loki glared daggers at the older boy and swatted Volstagg's hands away from himself.

"You have to honor, the bet Sif," Prince Thor stated firmly he crossed his hands and stood by his brother's side.

"Ugh, fine," the brunette girl mumbled. The group of children took their seats on the well-manicured lawn of the palace. Loki rubbed his pale hands together and licked his lips. He closed his eye slowly and took a few deep breaths. He concentrated, but not too hard. He let the enchantment that he had learn come to his mind. It was already in him already apart of him just like his mother had said. And then it happened. He faded away completely, from head-to-toe tunics and all he'd vanished.

"Hey, where'd he goes?" Asked Volstagg with his mouth agape.

"He did it! He did it!" Prince Thor cheered.

"No way! No way!" Sif protested she jumped up from the grass.

"I think he did it," Hogun uttered quietly. The nearly silent child had a grin on his face. He had always enjoyed a good magic trick and he didn't know any children who could do something like that.

"Uh Huh! No way!" Sif continued to protest. "He was out here naked, yesterday," she reminded them. "He'd probably naked somewhere hiding behind a tree," Sif's brown eyes scanned the premises of the garden.

"But...I mean... we watched him with our own eyes," the redhead child stated.

"Frandal, go search for Loki!" Lady Sif ordered. The blonde-haired little boy started to dart away to search for the youngest member of their band, but no sooner had he turned around to go and check the large oak tree did he find that his belt hand been slipped out of the loops from his trousers and all of a sudden, the were pooling around his ankles. Frandal tripped over his own legs and ended up with his bare bottom face up. Hogun immediately shot up and went to aid his fallen friend, who was still struggling to pull up his pants, but soon he'd found that the same unfortunate situation had befallen him. Hogun's eye looked around and he saw that Prince Thor and Volstagg had also been caught with their pants down and were scrambling to get their clothes about them.

Loki then appeared out of thin air. He stood over his former tormentors laughing loudly his giggle turned into a cackle and his cackle quickly became an irreverent snort. He snorted like a pig and nearly caused himself to fall on the ground. "I win!" the green-eyed child finally stated proudly as he stood proud and tall and fully clad in the midst of his half-dressed peers. Loki couldn't help but add to his little practical joke by putting a little bit of paste on the legs of their trousers so their hands got stuck on them as they desperately attempted to pull them up. He turned his gaze to the only girl member of Thor's band of playmates.

Sif's eyes went wide, she immediately reached for a stick that she found. She pointed it at him. "Don't you even think about pulling my pants down, Loki, I'll poke you in the eye!" she threatened with her wooden weapon. She jabbed with it in the air and aimed it right toward his green eyes.

Prince Loki blew an exasperated breath out the side of his mouth. "That wasn't part of our bet," Loki told her. "And I win, so you owe me," he stated.

"Well, whatever that bet doesn't count," Sif shook her head and licked her tongue out at the dark-haired boy.

"Yes, it does, Sif!" Loki protested. "You have to let me do a trick on you," Loki confirmed.

"No, I don't!" the girl shot back.

"Oh, come on, Sif just let him do the trick!" Thor called as he continued to trip over himself as tried to pull up his pants that seemed to be stuck to being around his ankles.

"No!" Sif wailed once again. She didn't usually argue with Prince Thor. They had so much in common after all, but she didn't really trust his younger brother for beans.

"Sif, come on!" Frandal hollered "everybody is going to come outside and see us soon!" he explained. "My mom said that if she caught me pulling my pants down around maidens again...I would be in big trouble!" he whined.

"My mom will be furious if she catches me with my pants down!" Volstagg added. His hands were feverishly trying to reach down to grab at his trousers, but they kept slipping away. "She said if she seems me like that, she's going keep my pants down and give me a good swatting," he called nervously.

"Come on, Sif what do you say, you don't want everyone else to get in trouble do you," Loki sang to her as his skinny arms crisscrossed over his chest and he put on the telltale smirk on his lips. She hated that smile that he wore, it seemed like he had the upper hand.

"No!" Sif yelled out and she took off running. Now, Loki was pretty fast, Sif had to admit, he wasn't super athletic, but he could run. Still, she was sure she could out run him. She'd run right inside the palace and right to her mother. She wasn't the type of child to run to her mother much, but she'd do it to keep Loki away from her. She was running. She was running full speed. Loki was eating her dust as he should be. She looked over her shoulder and she didn't even see Loki in the distance. She laughed heartily as she continued to run. He probably got winded. He always did after a while or overheated. They'd find him panting and sweating slumped next to a tree or bush. He'd never catch her. She turned back to face the direction where she was going, but Loki was there. She yelped as she saw the younger prince of Asgard standing with his arms outspread to catch her. Lady Sif let out a scream. She tried to backpedal, turn around and run the other way, but it was too late. She felt Loki's pale hands reach out and grab her by the wrists. "Let go! Let go!" the dark-haired girl protested. She took a swing at Loki, but the raven-haired prince dodged her blow

"Sif, come on stop," Loki protested as the young noblewoman tried to fight him.

"No!" the girl let out a frantic yelp.

Prince Loki held fast to her wrist, but Sif was frantically pulling away from him and he was scared he was going to pull her arm out of the socket. "You know you're the one always calling me a dirty liar, but here it's you!" Loki finally protested and he let Sif go. She fell back flat on her back; her feet flew up in the air and one of her sandals popped off of her foot. "You're the one...you're the one who won't honor your word," he rolled his eyes.

Sif set up in a huff, "I'm not going to let you turn me into a toad, Loki!" she licked her tongue out at him. Loki nearly laughed. She looked like a toad when she did that. It was funny, Sif seemed to think he knew more than what he did. It pleased him. He squared his shoulders proudly. He couldn't turn her into a toad. He was scarcely able to make himself invisible. He could change himself, but usually it had to be something inanimate.

"Fine, then admit you're a liar too! I'll tell everyone you're a coward," Loki pointed out and inclined his head toward the group of boys who were still flopping on the ground with their trousers down.

Sif's brown eyes grew wide. "No!" she practically shrieked. She'd never been called a liar. Everyone had told one or two lies at least she supposed, but she hated lies. But she could have gotten over being called a liar, but a coward...never! Her father and brother had told her that that was the worst insult in Asgard. She'd not allow Loki's lying mouth to sully her good name. She watched as Loki's hands formed to cup around his thin lips. "Stop!" she reached up and grabbed at his arm halting his silver-tongue before it could form that torturous word. Loki looked down at her, there was a gleam in his bright green eyes. He flashed his signature mischievous smile. He reached for her hand. She hesitated, but finally gave it to him. In an instant she felt her body become all tingly. Everything around her started to swirl and spin and blur right before her eyes. She felt like spiders or ants were crawling up and down her body. She was sure she was screaming, she had to be screaming, but she looked around trying to see Loki, but he wasn't there. At least she couldn't see him. She couldn't see anything it was this constant whooshing of black and white. Then it was over, it was over so quickly. It much have been instant, but it felt like hours. When Sif opened her eyes again, she found that she was looking down. She was looking down from way up. She was looking down at her friends who were screaming and desperate to try to get their pants up before their parents came out into the courtyard, but it was too late for that for Queen Frigga and her handmaidens were starting to pour out from the great gilded doors and the servants were starting to bring out refreshments as well. "Loki! Loki! LOKI!" Sif squealed from her spot as her body dangled off the end of a branch of a tree. Her other sandal dangled from other foot and eventually fell off as she was kicking her legs so furiously.

Prince Loki fell on the ground laughing. He clutched his stomach as he rolled on the ground and kicked his legs about. Loki laughed until his face was nearly red. He chuckled so profusely that he started to snort. It was hilarious. Sif who was always acting so brave and tough and like she wasn't afraid of anything, well she certainly seemed to be scared now. Honestly, he'd never heard her scream so much.

"Loki!" Thor called. "Can you stop snorting like a pig and end this little joke!" the elder prince was scrambling, still fumbling with his britches that still seemed to be stuck to his ankles. "Mother is coming," he inclined his blonde-haired head toward the regal woman who was walking daintily across the grounds with her hand maidens and foreign dignitaries. Loki continued in his fit outburst of guffaws, he tried to stop snorting, but he couldn't control the impish glee that had overtaken him with the delightful success of his prank.

"LOKI!" Volstagg bellowed in his desperation.

"Loki," Hogun panted from far away. The quieter child scarcely raised his voice ever, even in play. "My aunts our coming," he declared. "If they tan my tail for this, I'll be sure to tan yours," he threatened. Loki's eyes grew wide at Hogun's words. If Hogun was making such a threat it must have been pretty seriously. Hogun's aunts and cousins who had taken him in were simply were merchant class, not courtiers. They were wealthy enough and had been able to afford to send Hogun to the same school as the young princes. Hogun had had no formal education when he came to them and they pressed upon him to make good of his expensive education. If he would have stayed in the hill country among the goatherds, he would have most likely been illiterate all his life. He was grateful to his aunts and he wanted to please them. They had benefitted from him to, his burgeoning friendship with Prince Thor and Loki had gotten his aunts and invite to tea with Lady Helga, the princes' nursemaid, she inspected all the potential playmates of the young heirs to the throne. Who knew, soon they could meet the queen even. But a display like this could cost them that and they'd be none too happy about that. In hearing the urgency in Hogun's voice, Loki finally managed to control his laughing long enough to allow him to wriggle his fingers and free his friends' pants. Quick as a flash the children pulled up their pants just as the parents came.

"LOKI!" a high-pitched scream came from above. "Get me down from here or I swear!" her fist flew and hit the air and her feet kicked crazily about her. She was bouncing on the branch as she dangled like a piece of fruit. All her movement was causing the branch to weaken. It was on the verge of snapping.

The youngest son of Odin noticed. He gasped and finally stopped giggling. "Sif, stop moving," he called out as he sat up.

"Don't tell me what to do!" the Viking girl hollered. "Just get me down from here!" she ordered all her limbs still flying about.

The queen and Sif's mother emerged out of the palace a servant carrying a parasol over their heads to shield them from the sun on the warm day. "Oh, my goodness! My baby!" Sif's mother cried. "I say that girl not to climb trees! I tell her!" She shouted frantically as she looked in the queen's face wide eyed.

"Guards! Guards!" the queen called and she and a few of the other ladies went rushing toward the great oak tree where Sif was hanging from. The queen continued to call for the guards, but they weren't nearby.

Loki watched as the branch continued to threaten to break. He'd put her high up. Maybe too high up. She would really hurt herself if she fell. He gasped. He didn't really want to have her get hurt. "Hold on, Sif," the young prince called. He climbed to his feet and ran up toward the tree. He closed his eyes and concentrated. In a flash he was there, he disappeared and reappeared standing on a branch near the one that Sif dangled from. "Sif take my hand," he stuck out his pale fingers toward her.

"No!" she shouted still fighting while the branch grew ever weaker.

"Come on! Come on! Take my hand," he inched every closer to her cautiously on the branch. She didn't him her hand, she gave him a fist, a fist that she hoped would knock out of few of his sickeningly straight and white teeth. Just then the bough snapped. Sif let out a shriek as she went tumbling down. Loki caught her wrist she gaped and gasped. She heard her mother scream something, the queen was screaming something too.

Just then she felt it again. She felt that strange tingling feeling again. "Oh no, not again!" Sif was sure she had said it, but her voice seemed to be inaudible inside the whooshing and swooshing, swirling and twiring vortex that she had seemed to find herself in. She felt like she couldn't breathe as light and darkness seemed to collide rapidly and frantically all around her. It was horrific and horrible feeling. Her heart raced and her stomach felt like it was becoming tangled and twisted in all sorts of horrible knots. She started to feel light-headed. Maybe she was about to die. She had been up so high. Sif thought that she had let out another scream, but as she opened her mouth, she found that her feet were once again planted firmly on the soft grass of the palace courtyard.

Sif looked around she saw her friends and her mother and the Queen of Asgard and a few other handmaidens rushing toward her. "Sif! Sif! Sif! Oh Sif, my dear," her mother called as she raced toward her. "What were you doing climbing trees! I told you about climbing trees," she chided her daughter as she came to inspect her. She gripped her daughter by the shoulders and spun her around to face her. Sif who was always ruddy and well looking looked practically flushed after the ordeal. She was feeling light-headed and woozy, like she had never felt before.

"Loki! Loki! Oh, my goodness," the queen exclaimed as she looked at her young son. "Loki you teleported! You teleported just like we practiced," the all-mother beamed radiantly at her son. The dark-haired boy smiled back at his mother. Perhaps she wouldn't be too pleased If she found out that his teleporting was the very same reason that Sif had been caught in the tree in the first place. But for the moment the queen didn't know. She was simply smiling down fondly at him, her beloved son and stroking his hair lovingly. "You did it! You did it! I knew you could. I told you everyone would be impressed. Look how impressed everyone is," she pointed out and she pointed to the crowd that was gathering around them.

And indeed, the crowd did seem pleased. Loki's emerald eyes glistened as he beheld the maidens and servants who encircled them now. Their eyes were all aglow. They were clapping and applauding for the youngest son of youngest son of Odin.

"Oh, my goodness!" the crowd muttered amongst themselves.

"Where did he learn that?"

"And at his age! So advanced!" they cheered.

"What a masterful young mage!" the applause rose and the smiles of the courtiers seemed to grow wider. Loki's heart filled with glee.

"Way to go brother! That's the way to woo her!" Thor teased and as he raised a fist and woofed.

Frandal stood beside him and grinned ear to ear making kissy faces and smooches in the younger boy's direction. "Rescuing a damsel! Classic move to win a maiden's heart!" Frandal called out.

"I'm no damsel!" Sif called from over her mother's shoulder. She raised a fist toward her friends.

"Sif! Sif!" Her mother plucked her on the shoulder. "Don't you have something to say to Prince Loki?' she eyed her sternly. "Why if it wasn't for his cleverness, you could have broken your neck," she scolded her. She turned her brown-haired daughter around to face the raven-haired prince. Loki was shorter than Sif, but as he squared his shoulders with pride it seemed as though he stood 10 feet over her. Sif shook her head in protest. She wasn't about the thank that slimy snake. "Sif! Now none of this! You will not forget your courtly manners. You will not forget all your father and I have taught you. You will not shame us!" she scolded her daughter.

"Fine!" Sif muttered to herself. She had no intention of thanking or praising Loki. He'd stuck her up there and he'd done that terrible teleportation on her. Her head and stomach reeled from whatever mystical workings he had placed upon her and she was going to make sure that she caused him just as much pain. She was sure that her mother would disown her for what she was about to do, especially in the presence of the queen no less. She was convinced that she could be made to go and rot in the stocks, but she didn't care. At least she'd go down fighting and die like a warrior, just like her favorite hero the Valkyrie, Isis from her favorite holo series. She pulled quickly out of her mother's arms and marched the short distance toward Prince Loki with stomping feet and her hands balled into tight fists. Her head was still pounding and her stomach still felt nauseous, but she was determined not to let Prince Loki get the better of her. She raised her fist toward his smooth face and pointy nose. But as her fist went flying toward his face so did her stomach start to bubble and her food come flying back out. Sif's mother rushed toward her once again as her daughter started to sob in pain and embarrassment from getting sick in front of everyone.

Lady Sif shook herself from the memory, thinking about that time from so long ago made the warrior woman want to slug the enchanter once again, to finish what she had started and never gotten the chance to do. She supposed she had punched and hit and beaten Loki down enough times to account for the disgrace he had caused her. She had never cried in public before that day and never before her friends. She had never wanted to do that. Her older brother Leif had told her that such things were shameful. She and Leif quickly grew apart as they aged, but in her younger years he had traits she admired. Traits Asgard admired. She believed the things he said and took them to heart. This only fueled her indignation at the trick that the prince had pulled on her as Leif laughed her to scorn when she returned how.

Sif's cheeks burned as she continued to feel that same anger and rage. She always felt it each and every time he had teleported them, she had felt like punching him and beating him up again as she had wanted to do when she was a child. Teleportation still made her feel sick just like it did then. It was still all whoosh and blur and flashing light that left her dizzy and unsteady on her feet for just a moment. It made her feel out of control. Something was happening and she couldn't fight it, she couldn't stop it. She was powerless, but to go where someone else wanted her to go. She was powerless but the succumb to the pitiful feelings of her own physical limitations. This was not something that the mighty warrior of Asgard was accustomed to. It was something that she thought that she could have trained herself out of. Years of warrior training had left her nearly impervious to all manner of attacks, but Loki's simple teleporting could still leave her winded.

As they instantaneously appeared into Loki's old study the proud shield maiden felt herself sway on her feet ever so slightly. She thought that she felt cool hands touch her forearm steadying her for just a minute. She mashed her lips together and steeled herself. Her body was already battered from the fight beforehand. Still, she had to be strong. The shield-maiden would not give into familiar touch. She'd not allow herself to lean into his palm for even a moment. No. Loki was a monster, still through and through as long as she was concerned. Lady Sigyn saw Loki as some hero (she was foolish) Heimdal saw Loki as their fallen prince (he was wise but foolishly desperate), her friends saw Loki as an ally, they were tentative, but still willing to take him back (they were foolishly desperate). She saw him as a means to an end and nothing more. She'd still hoped that he'd die this day. He'd brought all this on him. This was his fault! His doing. She glowered at him as she felt his cold hand. She wished to spit upon him. She hated him. She kept swearing to herself. She still hoped that he would die this day and she could only pray that the all-fathers of the past would grant her the ability to do that.

She yanked her arm away from his cool fingers although she still felt dizzy. She could practically feel his green eyes lighting up and his thin lips curling into that imperceptible grin. He always wore that smug smirk when he worked that teleportation on her. She hated the times that she had to admit that it was useful. Many times, it had gotten them into an enemy base camp or over some fortress. She'd argue with him, not wanting to use enchantment in the midst of battle especially if the other armies weren't using them, but he'd have sound reasoning to convince Thor or the others that his tricks were necessary. Sometimes their armies had already taken heavy losses, he'd urge them to see that too many lives would be lost if they didn't employ his under handed techniques. Sometimes the tide of battle only had a split second to be turned. They didn't have the time to punch their way out of every situation. This was one such situation. They had only hours to spare and barely that. Every second brought them closer to a long-prophesied doomsday. She truly loathed that she'd needed him now after everything that he'd done.

Lady Sif closed her eyes. She counted to 10. If she turned and looked at him and saw him smirking at her waiting for some sort of praise, she would not be able to be held responsible for her actions. When she opened her brown eyes, they fell upon Prince Thor. Her fists unclenched. Her mouth fell open, her eyes bugged from their sockets as she beheld the heir of Odin lying in a helpless heap in a pool of his own blood. Seeing so much of the red liquid around him made her heart race like a stampede of horses. She couldn't hold back her scream. "THOR!" the warrior woman wailed. Immediately, she flew to his side. His armor was saturated in blood, crimson fluid seemed to oozed from every crease and opening in the armor. "Thor! Thor! No!" she cried as she turned him over. "Thor, can you hear me?" she called desperately. His body was heavy and limp within her grasp. He didn't bat an eyelash. Lady Sif's breath hitched. He was still and pale, she'd never seen his form so pale. He was so beaten. He was nearly unrecognizable. The beautiful blonde prince looked like a piece of chopped liver. Her hands shook as she traced the lines of the cuts along his jaw and forehead. "Is he dead?" she questioned. She bit her lip and looked at Loki in sheer rage. "HE'S DEAD!" the Einherjar general shouted as she looked up at the trickster who stood clutching his side and struggling to breath himself.

Sif's eyes only saw red. They saw the same shade of red as the red that Thor was drenched in. It was scarlet and it was screaming for her to avenger her fallen friend. Loki was a monster!1 He was a monster! He'd murdered Thor! He'd awakened Ragnarök. He'd destroyed everything. Sif's hands were instantly on her double-saber. "AHHHHH!" she let out a horrid, ragged, desperate scream as she stared into Loki's eyes. Soulless eyes, heartless crocodile eyes. Eyes like a gemstone...but the keyword was stone...cold and unfeeling. Lady Sif was quickly on her feet. She immediately lunged toward Loki. Her hands were around his slim neck feeling his quivering pulse. Her claws were out. Her nails were digging deep into his jugular. With every fiber of her being she wished to rip him to shreds with her bare hands. Only then would she truly be satisfied. Only then could she truly feel as though she had done her people, her king and her friend any true justice. Her knee assaulted his groin only to make him double over so that his neck was grazed by her mighty blade. She held the blade in place and Loki was in too much pain to lean away. "He's dead!" she spat at Loki once more. Even while doubled over and with a sword at his throat Loki craned his neck and stared at Thor. He stared at his brother's broken body wide eyes. "You said you didn't kill him!" she shield-maiden accused. Her voice coming out as a shriek as her eyes filled with tears. "You brought me here to see his corpse! You brought me here to see my prince's corpse. You brought me here to see my best friend's corpse!" she muttered bitterly. She glared at Loki. She whipped her sword around so that the blade was no longer beneath Loki's neck but above. "I will finish you," Sif swore.

"No," Loki stated breathlessly as Sif's strong hands were still squeezing on his windpipe. "He can't be dead," the trickster said as he shook his head. He pressed pass Sif and practically stumbled over toward Thor. Thor just couldn't be dead. He just couldn't be dead. He'd times everything, planned everything, he'd done so much to get to this moment. He didn't want Thor dead. He'd never wanted Thor dead. It was madness that had made him blind to that fact for so long. He couldn't have his brother's blood on his hands. He looked down at his hands, they were trembling, and they were dripping red. So much innocent blood had been shed, but to add Thor's blood to his hands it would be unbearable. He'd find no peace in this life or the next if he'd done such a terrible thing. Loki's hands finally made their way to Thor's neck as he felt for a pulse. His fingers felt like they were digging, digger through the mud and blood, Thor's body was cool and Loki's held his breath as he finally felt the tiny gentle beat that grazed his fingers. He'd nearly wept for joy. He'd nearly wept like a little boy. Perhaps he allowed his face to radiate with the with the sheer ecstasy that had over taken him. "He's not dead! He's not dead!" He cried. Sif moved immediately. She shoved Loki out of the way and placed her hands upon Thor's neck and felt for the pulse as well. She felt as though she would have been able to burst when she found it. She wanted to raise her voice in praise to the Norns, but before she could even utter a sound Loki was scuttling back next to her, "But we don't have long," he observed. He did a vitals' scan of the prince. And almost all of Thor's systems were on the verge of shutting down. He'd been through so much, his body was under stress and duress, he'd lost so much blood, he was so weak, he had suffered several traumatic blows to the head. Thor was a fighter and even in this unconscious state he was still doing all he could to stay alive and it wasn't for himself, it was for Asgard. It was for all of Asgard. He was fighting, but as Loki continued to scan his brother's body using his powers, he could see that this was a battle that Thor was surely going to lose if he didn't get some reinforcements soon. "Sif! Sif! Get the water from the healing oasis," Loki expressed.

He'd never seen Lady Sif obey his words so quickly. She sprang to her feet and went rushing toward Loki's trove of vials and bottles and containers all filled with mystical elements and magical elements, potions and tonics and elixirs. Some were thousands of years old. Her eyes scrambled and roved over the endless walls and endless shelves filled with bottles. "Where?" she called.

"It's in the yellow bottle," Loki called to her. "Hold on, brother," he whispered to Thor as he watched him shudder with every painstaking breath. Sif looked about Loki have many shelves and each one had the vials organized in a different way. Some were organized alphabetically; some were organized by size or color and others were categorized by the date in which they were concocted. Loki was so fastidious and only he could find his needle in this haystack.

Finally, desperately Sif just grabbed all the yellow and gold bottles that she saw. "Coming! Coming!" she yelled back frantically as she juggled ever jar and vessel. She dumped them on the floor before Loki and Thor. They rolled about all over the place. The mess that she made Loki's skin crawl, but he hadn't time to worry about the cleanliness of his chamber now. His eyes scanned the vials of varying shapes and sizes that were scattered before him. He found the one he needed and plucked it from the pile without hesitation. He held the vial in his hand he thought of the quest from so many centuries ago when he and Dagmar had journeyed to the Healing Oasis. Once very realm had a source of ultimate healing. In Asgard, they had once had Idunn's apples, on Midgard similarly they had had the Tree of Life and on Vanaheim it was the Healing Oasis, but it had been rumored to be dried up. Much of Vanaheim had suffered from a dreadful plague during the time when they'd found the water. Dagmar was convinced it was the only way to save her father. "He's dying, Loki, he's dying!" she shrieked at him through the holographic communication machine they had.

"I'm sure that we can request for Eir to come and visit," Loki tried to explain to her calmly.

"She'd too far away," Dagmar expressed and shook her head. "The work she is doing of Musepleheim is important. She's trying to set up the hospital..."

"I'm sure the rest of the healers who are with her can handle the work well enough...I can send a command for her to come..." he stated, trying to keep his voice even as he beheld her distress.

"No, no," Dagmar continued to shake her head. "Besides, I'm a healer, I I should be able to help my people...save my father," she wrapped her arms around herself as she looked at her father's slumbering form.

Loki wished he was there, in Vanaheim so that he could comfort her. "You put too much pressure on yourself Dagmar, you have been training under the master healers in your realm, you're a great healer...but you are still learning of course and... you are just too close to the situation..."

"That's not what it is," Dagmar grabbed at her raven locks in distress. "I'm just not powerful enough," she protested.

"That's not true! You're a great healer! You are," Loki's hands reached out to her. It was just a hologram, a projection an illusion, but she reached for them nonetheless. He gulped as he looked her in her shimmering starlit eyes. He hated to see them filled with tears and fear. "There...there are just somethings...that...can't be cured," he muttered.

She looked up at him her lips twisted. "Would you accept that?" she demanded sternly. "If it was your father or mother or Thor or...or..." she started to sputter.

"You," he finished, his voice a whisper and his emerald eyes wide.

"Would you just accept it?" Lady Dagmar tried to wipe the tears from her eyes. "Just let them die without even a fight?"

"No," Loki replied flatly. "I'd go to the ends of the world to find a cure," he assured her.

"Then will you help me Loki, will you help me Loki, please," she entreated him. "I found a map," she explained.

"A map to where?' the second son of Odin inquired.

"To the ends of the world," she whispered and produces and old and decrepit looking scroll.

Loki's emerald eyes squinted as he tried to make out the images and the ancient dialect on the scroll. "The Healing Oasis," he stated and then he blinked at her, "Dagmar it's just a myth," he tried to explain to her. "You are better off questing for Idunn's Apples," the prince tried to explain.

"Idunn's Garden is too far!" Dagmar protested.

"But at least it is real," Loki remarked.

"Stop it!" she exclaimed. "There wouldn't be a map to a mythical place and you know it," she pointed out sharply. "Loki, please," Lady Dagmar's voice was once again tender and fretful. She caused the focus of the holo transmitter to be on her father. The elderly man looked like he was clinging to life as he sank into the quilts of the bed. I can't lose him, Loki... I can't! He's my father...he's all I have," she expressed as she clutched her heart.

He wanted to tell her not so. That she wouldn't be alone in this world, that he'd be there for her, protect her, provide for her, spoil her, love her, but instead he said, "I understand..."

"So, you'll help me?" her eyes shined for the first time since their conversation and not with fear and sorrow, but with hope. He nodded. "We don't have much time...I don't think my father will last more than a week without the water from the Healing Oasis," she expressed breathlessly.

"I'll be in Vanaheim at first light," he promised her. It was a grand quest, across scorching deserts and high mountains, facing terrifying mortal dangers, quicksand and firepits, trolls and all manner of vermin and they'd faced all of that together, side by side and by the time they reached the Healing Oasis they were both in need of such Healing that they had had to crawl to the pool. "Come on, come on Dagmar," He whispered to her he pulled her along as best he could, but they were both weak.

She flagged him off as she stumbled along behind him. She slumped against the jagged rocked the jutted out from the sides of the ridge. "I must rest, I must rest for just a bit," She pleaded as she draped her hand over her forehead. The sun was blazing hot.

"You'll rest when we get to Healing Oasis," Loki's crisp, but tired voice was in her ear. "Imagine the water, it'll, be cool and deep, crystal blue and they'll be shade," Loki gave a faint hopeful smile, "think of the fruits that'll be growing on the trees...pomegranates," he tempted her. He took her by the hand.

"Sounds nice," Lady Dagmar hummed, her voice soft and distant. Sweat rolled down her forehead. She took a deep breath and tried to muster her strength, to push herself up off of the rocks, but she immediately slumped over once more. "Go on Loki," she urged. "Go on without me," she pressured. "If the Oasis is there...please...please bring the water back for my people...my father," she begged as she clutched his hand tears welling in her eyes. "Show the people how to get here," she practically begged as she took him by the hand.

"Dagmar, hush, we'll make it together," he assured her. "I'll carry you if I have to!" he said to her in earnest. "Just a drop of the water and you'll feel well and strong again," he nodded and squeezed her hand. They were only a few miles away based on the map. They could make it by sundown, he was sure. Dagmar's tired silver eyes looked up at him, she could see that Loki was sincere, his hands were attempting to peel her from the spot where she was leaning so heavily on, but Loki was weak as well, she doubted that he would be able to carry her fully.

Her resolved was strengthened. "Just help me," she stated and he did they leaned on each other heavily, but they made it.

Prince Loki fought to pull himself from the memories. He stared down at the vile, he thought of Dagmar's bright and elated smile when they had tasted of the sweet waters and found that it not only tasted like ambrosia, but it cured their ailments and wounds immediately. He thought of the way they had bathed in it, they swam and played and laughed and frolicked. He scooped her up around her waist and spun her around. "You did it, Dagmar, you did!" he called to her in elation.

She looked at him wrapped her arms around his neck. "We did," she reminded him her hand on his cheek damp with the water from oasis and healing the small scratch there. "We did it," she reminded him again and pushed his damp, dark locks back behind his ear. "I wouldn't have gotten all this way alone," she told him.

"I would have given up..." Loki replied back still smiling as he held her up.

"We've always been a good team," Dagmar continued her chest rising as she stared into his emerald pupils.

Loki shook himself. When they'd delivered the water to her people, Dagmar had then sent him a vial. She said it was a tribute to their quest and that she knew he would need it since he was so prone to being ill. Just for an instant a smile tugged on his lips. But just as quickly his mouth formed a deep frown. That via...that vial l had been there, it had been there when Dagmar had died in his mother's chamber. It had been just sitting there on his shelf collecting dust and left to rust for centuries. If he hadn't been locked away in that wretched prison, he could have saved her. He could have saved her. Loki's heart hammered in his chest. If he hadn't been trying to bring about this terrible Ragnarök in the first place, if he wouldn't have been conspiring with the enemy, they wouldn't have gotten to her and been able to her. He'd failed her, let her die. He'd killed her. He'd not let the same thing happen to his brother. He'd not be responsible for the death of anymore of the people that he loved. Loki quickly plucked the cork from the gold vial and let the water splash against his dirty hands. The water was cool and refreshing. Loki's hands tingled as he felt it brush against his flesh, just as it tingled when he and Dagmar had first dived into it. They were so tired and thirst that they felt like they could have drunk the entire lake and they felt like they could have floated in the crystal pond for an eternity.

The water from the Healing Oasis, slowly started to wash away the dry, scarlet blood from his pale hands. Loki's emerald eyes were momentarily entranced by the flow of scarlet away from his palms. It was amazing, his hands had been so dirty, so filthy, so, so completely covered in every evil thing that he had ever done, that he didn't think that a million baths could have ever rid his flesh of the traces of the abominable acts that he'd done, but then here in this moment he was finally starting to see a tiny bit of cleansing. He was breathless as he beheld the water turn the dirt on his hands to a muddy river that flowed between his fingers. It flowed right into Thor's side that was already cut and exposed. Loki's jade eyes went wide as he panicked for a minute thinking of the dirt and blood getting into Thor's wounds and only causing him further injury. He poured more of the water in his hands and the water immediately started to glow in his palms. Gingerly, he started to apply the glowing water to Thor's worst injuries. He applied it to the terrible gash in Thor's side, he poured the water to the contusions of Thor's face and forehead, he plashed the water on the puncture wound right under his ribcage and he doused his chest in the healing water hoping that it would able to heal Thor's lungs that had no doubt been deeply injured from inhaling the Aether ash. The enchanter concentrated deeply, he breathed deeply and placed hands over Thor's body. He moved hands backward and forward in languid, fluid motions, the water rolled up and down Thor's body like a wave. All the while, the water glowed deeper and more intensely until the whole of the Southern Tower was filled a brilliant glow of a neon blue light.

What was left of the Imperial City was still mostly a smoldering inferno of violent red and blaring orange as flames and Aether ash swirled all about and threatened to engulf the entire metropolis. But the brilliant, neon blue glow burst forth from the window of the Southern Tower and stood out like a beacon. Soldiers and civilians rushed to get to the safety outside of the Center Square. They were coughing and limping and hobbling as they dashed frantically out of the Square. As they made their way to the outskirt of the city limits, Queen Frigga, Mistress Eir, Lord Algrim and several members of the Queen's Guard stood protectively around the encampment of the Imperial City's feeblest citizens. The saw the steady stream of other citizens coming quickly the young and the old the rich and the poor. Queen Frigga's heart stopped and formed a lump in her throat as she watched her people coming to her, practically crawling toward her. She sat upon her high horse, but she longed to jump down and to run up to each one of them to take them in her arms and kiss them and dry their tears. That was what she should do, that was her duty as queen, as the all-mother. Yes, it must have been her sworn duty, she couldn't control her instincts, she broke forth from the line with her guard and went racing up toward the Aesir. She could hear the Captain of the Guard shouting at her back, telling her to come back, but she couldn't help herself. Her eyes were wide with horror as she saw them. They did not look the people of Asgard. The people of Asgard were always strong and brilliant and proud, but these people looked broken and dirty and dragged by the wayside. They looked like the undead. As she rode up closer to them, she was sure that she was sure that she would hear nothing, but wailing and moaning and gnashing of teeth, and there was some of that, but mostly she heard a chanting, "LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN!" Queen Frigga's blue eyes went wide and filled with tears.

"What has happened? What has happened?" Queen Frigga questioned aloud. No direct answered came.

There was a little girl riding upon her father's shoulders as they walked pass the Queen of Asgard. "What's that?" the child pointed out the bright, divinely blue light that seemed to pierce through the impenetrable veil of hellish red that now suffocated and smothered the golden city.

"it's a sign, my dear, a sign," the father told the child. He tapped her on the knee.

"That we can still win?" a broad smile spread across the dirty face of the little girl.

"Yes," her father assured her.

The child's face was red with her own blood, but still she managed to clap her little hands together. She pointed to the light and exclaimed "LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN!" as loud as she could. The mass of citizens from the Imperial City heard her and they all turned around and started to cheer as well.

The captain of the guard from Kytheria rode up on the Queen of Asgard, "You're Majesty, what is going on?" he demanded confused by the scene such a strange mix a brokenness and hurt and yet the people were not crushed not completely obliterated within their souls. "Where is that light coming from?" he questioned.

"The Southern Tower," Queen Frigga whispered with tears in her eyes.

"The Southern Tower?" The Captain of the Guard shook his head. "But that means..."

"Loki!" the royal woman exclaimed as tears streamed down her face. "LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF ODIN!" the Queen of Asgard cried.

Loki continued to work his mysticism over his brother's body. The glow from the water from the Healing Oasis caused her to need to shield her eyes. She immediately picked up a book off of the marble coffee table. It was the first time she had been grateful the mage's love of literature; the book was thick and hid her face well, but she finally lowered the book she was amazed at what she saw. Prince Thor was healing! Lady Sif watched as his blackened eyes that made his face resemble a panda slowly morphed back to their normal hue. The swelling went down from all over his body. His busted lips that had swelled to the size of bloated red balloons came to be their proper size as dis his legs and the rest of his face. The blood that had crisscrossed wicked red designs across his face seemed to instantly be sucked back into the cuts that they sprang from allowing his handsome face to be revealed. The lacerations on his arms and legs and the burns from the taser pikes all seemed to mend rapidly. The scars from the whips on his back that alone could have caused him to bleed out started to slowly dissipate. Lady Sif watched as the brutal wounds closed and the skin was stitched back together. The broken and damaged fleshed was restored to health and color and form in full vibrancy new skin replaced old almost like a snake shedding its skin. The healing water cleansed his skin, it looked fresh and sparkling like he had just come from a bath. Even his armor was mended the chinks and dents and holes that had been present vanished. It was completely repaired to a breastplate that was fit for a king, once more it was gleaming and polished and no longer a mangled mesh of metal that only a gladiator slave would wear into a battle that they were destined to lose. Finally, Sif watched as Prince Thor's breathing eased. Before it had seemed like he was barely breathing, but now Lady Sif beheld as Thor's chest rose and fell calmly and contented. Loki's hands quivered as they hovered over his brother's rejuvenated body. His whole body was wracked with a terrible shivering. He slumped forward and leaned on his knees, he panted heavily, his long licorice locks fell into his face his hair sopping wet with his own perspiration, the sweat from his hair ran down his dripped from his pointed nose along with a crimson liquid. Loki barely had time to suck in a sharp breath to steady himself before he felt the warrior's strong hands shoving him out the way.

Prince Thor's bright, blue eyes slowly batted open. They were no longer bloodshot, but a brilliant crystal blue like the sky on the clearest day. Prince Thor took in his surroundings hazily for a second. Although his eyes were clear, his vision wasn't. "Thor!" Sif called to him excitedly. Her hand resting on his shoulder. Thor recognized the voice immediately, he looked up at the bruised and battered, mud covered shield-maiden. He let out a smile in her direction. It was so good to see her face. "Thor! Thor! Thank the Norns you are alright!" she exclaimed and wrapped her arms tightly around Thor's sturdy frame. She was so glad that he felt strong and muscular once more.

Thor managed to fold his muscular arms around her and give her a warm embrace as well. The free and easy movement of his limbs felt foreign, foreign and wonderful. He engulfed Sif, she seemed to melt into him, cling to him. She shuddered. He thought he heard her let out a sob, but then Thor couldn't believe his ears, Lady Sif never sobbed not really, especially not tears of happiness. He chuckled at the thought of Sif giving into such emotions. Still when the broke off from the hug he looked into her deep brown eyes and they were shining. "Lady Sif...are...are...are you dead?' Thor asked breathlessly.

Sif cocked her head to the side, "Not yet," she chuckled, "You're not dead yet either," she tapped his shoulder and assured him.

Thor smiled and sighed in relief. He looked down at his hands, they were strong and clean and uncut. He felt at his sides, his ribs had been broken were healed, for a while it had hurt to breathe, every breath he'd taken had caused his broken ribs to moved and jam into his organs leaving punctures. His lungs had ached abominably. Now he felt nothing. It was glorious. His big hands patted his body and face. "But...but...how?" He inquired like child.

"It appears," Lady Sif started, her voice rippled with anger. "In the nick of time," she added and her voice dropped, "Someone had a change of heart," Sif cocked her head to the side where the self-proclaimed king was struggling to climb to his feet.

Thor's neck gave a sharp turn in the direction of the raven-haired mage who was on his hands and knees panting seeming as if he was barely able to rise. Thor stood up effortlessly. He practically sprang to his feet and started to march over to Loki. The enchanter's limbs shook as he still tried to press himself into an upright position. Thor took long strapping strides in the emerald eyed mage's directions. Thor's footsteps were powerful enough to set Loki's arms to quaking so bad that he nearly fell flat on his face on the plush green carpet in his laboratory. It took all his strength to keep from doing so. When he opened his eyes once more, he saw a pair of black boots beneath his nose and sturdy steady legs that matched. Loki's emerald eyes rolled upward as he tried to look Thor in the eye. His eyes batted tiredly, barely able to stay open any longer. Loki looked as if he would keel over, but Thor caught him. He nudged his thumb under Loki's narrow chin so that Loki stared up at him. "Surprise!" Loki whispered with a weak and wavering smirk on his face.

Thor stared back at Loki's haggard face. Thor's bright blue pupils saw red as they stared into Loki's emerald green eyes. All that had happened was because of Loki. All the death and destruction and pain were because of Loki. All those people had been so broken and fearful chained to ash covered ground that had once been the Center Square. Loki had heard their screams, their pathetic cries begging for mercy and he hadn't shown any restraint he went further. He allowed those vicious animals that Malekith had the nerve to call an army, he set them on the people of Asgard and they preyed upon them without remorse. Thor's thick lips formed a snarl as his looked at the smirk carved on Loki's thin cracked lips. That smirk, that smug grin that used to make him laugh when they were boys, that let him know that his younger sibling was plotting some great scheme. Something that the two of them would be cracking up about later. It was that same smirk that Loki would give when he'd taken a joke too far and maybe he'd hurt someone, Loki wasn't always quick to apologize. Loki was always so gifted with words, so skillful with speech, but when it was time to say the words sorry, he somehow, forgot his tongue, would try to avoid the words at all cost, but if he did manage to say he was sorry he'd add that smug little grin and somehow that was enough to convince people that Loki's hadn't been as vicious and malicious as they had seen. He thought of when they'd captured Loki on Earth and taken him to the Helicarrier. Loki walked pass the window in chains, smirking all the while. His smirk had unnerved the rest of the team, but for Thor it had been a reminder of different times and he thought, for the faintest second and despite his better judgment that maybe Loki was just playing some type of game. A game that he was way over his head in, but a game nonetheless and he had wanted to defend Loki and convince his new found friends that there was good in the trickster.

That had been nearly 3 years ago now. He had thought, that when he took his brother back to Asgard that things would be different. Loki would have to pay for his war crimes yes, but he thought that Loki would get better, he thought that Loki wanted to be better. But he had been wrong, he had been so wrong. Loki had gotten worse! He'd gotten so much worse! He'd gone further and further and he's nearly destroyed them. Thor wouldn't be deceived again. He couldn't be deceived again. He'd been a lamb to the slaughter every time for Loki's schemes. Well, no more! No more the thunder-bearer swore to himself. He'd not fall for another one of Loki's tricks again. If Loki thought that he could come back now after all he'd done and say "Surprise!" and think that all would be forgiven well then, he was the one in for a surprise. Thor would kill him. Asgard may not survive this day, but with everything within him he'd make sure that Loki didn't either.

Prince Thor mashed his lips together angrily. He could control the growl that rumbled forth from his throat as he continued to look at the vile traitor's face. He wanted to slap that lopsided grin off of Loki's pale face. Thor's hand clenched into a fist by his side. He wanted to pound him. He wanted to pound Loki's face in for everything that he'd done. He could have broken his nose and busted out his teeth and then used Mjolnir to...to...to...finish the job if necessary. Thor's massive shoulders heaved as he looked down at the dark-haired dictator who had pretended to be a brother for thousands of years. Loki's smirk started to waver, his eyes batted and struggled to stay open much longer. Thor's solid thumb was the only thing supporting Loki and keeping him upright if Thor removed it Loki would easily crash against the ground. "Surprise," Loki uttered again weakly, his voice sounded like he was trailing off and about to fall asleep. Thor growled even louder as he felt Loki's cheek lull against his thumb. Thor gripped Loki by his tangled black mane and yanked his head back. Loki gasped, "Thor!" Loki croaked out as he rallied himself.

"Surprise, surprise indeed!" the blonde-haired son of Odin uttered angrily.

"Br-br-brother please," Loki stammered green eyes looking up pleadingly at the Crown Prince of Asgard. Thor didn't give the reformed tyrant a chance to utter one other syllable, his hearty, hammer-holding hands shoved Loki back. Loki's thin, limp body flew back what seemed like yards across his own laboratory. His limbs flailed as they crashed against the vials and test tubes and shelves and shelves of books that decorated the interior of the Southern Tower. Finally, Loki's spine collided with a one of his shelves that was full of old tomes and scrolls. Loki yelped as his back hit against the books, the cabinet of books fell down crashing on top of Loki's head. Loki was practically buried under an avalanche of papers and parchment. Loki pushed his way through the papers and looked up at Thor with bleary eyes. The blonde behemoth still loomed over him threateningly. "I told you not to ever call me that again," Thor muttered miserably.

Loki let out a soft scoff as he tried to stand, but the efforts proved futile. "Funny, you called me that," he stated softly as he wiped the blood from his nostrils.

The prince growled once more. He hoisted the traitor to his feet as he grabbed him by the collar of his cape. He slammed him against the marble bookcase once more. The raven-haired man let out a muffled moan as pain danced across his back. "And that was a mistake!" Thor thundered as his mighty mallet wielding hand came a wrapped itself around Loki's slender neck. He thought of that moment which seemed like a lifetime ago and he saw Loki dangling from the side of the Bifrost. Loki's gem-colored eyes were large and pleading and full of water. His hands white knuckled as they'd desperately clutched to the fantastical bridge and Loki had said that same phrase, "Brother, please!" Loki's voice was so strained, so desperate and pleading and Thor remembered the way his heart crumpled as he heard Loki's seemingly innocent plea. In that moment Loki had proven himself to be little more than a madman, but when he heard the familial moniker all the boiling rage that he'd felt overtaking him seemed to instantly vanish. He called Loki his brother all his life and he couldn't ignore his brother's cry.

A faint tear shifted into Thor's blue eyes. He was so ruefully angry at himself for ever seeing Loki as his brother, Afterall where had that led them to? That had led them too here. HERE! Horrid here! Where Loki was a ravenous animal, a snarling maniac and Ragnarök was beating down the door. It was those thoughts, those dreadful beliefs in a farce of a brotherhood that had brought this doomsday upon them. He could have stopped this so long ago, back when Loki first came to Midgard, his friends, the Avengers, they'd wanted to kill him, but he'd defended Loki demanding that he take his wayward brother home and he'd thought that in time, Loki would return and he'd be himself again and be the brother he'd always known, but that wasn't the case at all. Loki was a savage! A death bringer! A monster! NO! Thor shouted at himself in his head. NO! NO MORE! He'd not be tricked or conned by emerald eyes, impish smirks or forked silver tongues again. He wouldn't be a fool and believe in the fairytale of brotherhood anymore. He didn't know if he could stop Ragnarök now. He wanted to and he'd try with all his might, but he wasn't sure, couldn't be sure could stop Ragnarök now, because Ragnarök was certain so. It would come one day, horrible as it was, one day, the sun would rise no more on Asgard or the Nine Realms, it may be this day, it may be another. Yes, he didn't know if he could stop Ragnarök, but he could certainly stop Loki. Here and now, once and for all. No matter what happened he had the power to stop Loki from spreading his lies and chaos once and for all.

"Finish him, Thor!" Sif shouted as she quickly came up behind him. "After everything he's done!" she said as she brandished her double-bladed saber and raised it right next to Loki's face. "Frandal and Volstagg, they counted him as an ally..." she tried to explain as she shook her head. "But he's no ally," she managed to utter as she stared into Loki's weak eyes. "We can't trust him," Lady Sif was panting as the words tumbled from her lips. They couldn't trust Loki. Never again! "Even Master Heimdal...even Heimdal somehow seemed to think that this devil...could be..." his voice broke off.

"Heimdal?" the golden locked prince questioned.

"He thought that Loki could be redeemed...could change," Sif continued her blade shook as she inched it closer to his face. "I...I... I" Sif started as she looked at Loki pressed against the bookcase; frail, bleeding, flailing about...pitiful. Sif mashed her lips together and looked away. He didn't look so much like that crazed, maniacal dictator who had been standing on the scaffold not even an hour before imprisoning all of them in the very ground and letting those vicious animals' prey upon them. He didn't look so much like a wicked wizard who had come to release an ancient curse upon unsuspecting and powerless victims. She wished he did. He wished he looked more like the two-bit Frost Giant scum that he was, but he didn't. He looked so much like that little boy who she had known who played tricks on her. He looked so very much like that embarrassed lad who had stood momentarily naked in the palace courtyard. He resembled her friend from so long ago. Yes, Loki had vexed her more often than not, he could really infuriate her, he was stubborn, a know-it-all, arrogant and a million other things that she detested. He had proved to be every bit the evil sorcerer that she'd accused him of being, but for all that there were moments of friendship. He'd made her laugh more than a time or two with his mischievous antics, he'd taught her more than she'd care to admit, they'd sparred physically and verbally and there had been times that she'd enjoyed it. Although, she'd never admit it. There were other things that she'd never admitted about Loki, like that fact that they had had things in common. They both went somewhat against the grain for their sex. She hadn't encouraged Loki to practice his enchantments, but there had been a tinge of happiness when he did. It had at least meant that she could keep going too. They had been friends once and she saw it as she stared at that raven-haired weasel wriggling and struggling for life.

No. Lady Sif girded herself against feel pity for Loki now. She'd trusted him once and look where it had led them. She couldn't be deceived again. She couldn't let Asgard fall again. Maybe Loki had stopped in his devilish tirade, but what did that matter? Countless Aesir were already dead, their lives couldn't be brought back. The Imperial City was little more than a junk heap that lies smoldering and burning and left to rot and that was because of that snake who wriggled within Thor's firm grasp. The shield-maiden started growling again. He'd done it, he'd done it all. Sure, he'd done as he'd said, he'd kept Thor alive and he'd brought her to the Southern Tower, but what did that mean? What did that matter in the face of all the atrocities he'd committed. She had only used him to make sure that she had the chance to see Thor, all they need was Prince Thor once again. Once again, their mighty and valiant prince would rise and ride and fly high and he would be the one to save them, not Loki. Loki was the villain here, plain and simple. Loki couldn't be trusted. She wouldn't let herself trust him. Even as she beheld as he squirmed like the worthless worm that he was beneath Thor's mighty hand she couldn't be sure that that traitor didn't have some trick up his sleeve. Sif's brown eyes searched and scanned with a warriors' wariness. She looked at Loki's hands watching to see if they twitched or twirled in even the slightest way. She wouldn't have been surprised if he had a dagger up his sleeve that was tipped with poison. He'd heal Thor just to poison him. He was so cruel; he'd do it right before her eyes to torture her. Well, she'd not let him have the satisfaction she swore. Her blade was right by his head and she'd make sure that she'd sever it from his neck before she'd allow him to hurt Thor, her or the people of Asgard once more.

"I...I... I" She found her voice unsteady and she hated it. She also hated the way her deep chocolate eyes were starting to mist. She utterly loathed how the blade slightly quivered in her hand. "I told you before Thor," she whispered and placed her hand upon the son of Odin's heaving shoulders. "A wolf just can't be trusted," she uttered in Thor's ear and took a deep breath and stared at Loki.

Loki's eyes anxiously darted back and forth between the shield-maiden and the prince. He deserved the hate and malice that rippled off of both of them. He deserved every bit of it. And maybe he should have been pleading for his life, but he didn't even deserve such an honor. He'd done everything to make all see his life as completely worthless and maybe it was. He didn't see his own life as so salvageable and that was good and well, but in these last fleeting moments of his life he wanted to try to do what was right...with all his might he really wanted to try to do what was right. Loki's green eyes continued to roll around. He stared out the large arched window of the tower. He could see the position of the sun, making its way higher and higher into the sky, marking the time and mocking them all. When the sun reached its peak and noon, Convergence would begin and if Lord Malekith was still in possession of the Aether, he would be able to unleash that deadly red ooze across the Nine Realms and bring about Ragnarök. Loki shook his head. They didn't have time to waste trying to kill him. Every second that they lost was a second that brought Asgard closer to the end. They didn't have time, Asgard didn't have time. They just didn't have the time. Loki truly didn't have much time he feared. Pressure mounted on Loki's slim throat and his pulse quickened beneath the weight of Thor's thumb. His breath came out in a quick wheeze. Sif was a warriors' warrior, an Einherjars' Einherjar, her oath was everything to her. He'd hurt her too much. He couldn't blame her for her hatred of him. He couldn't blame anyone. His emerald eyes turned toward his brother, "Thor...please...listen," Loki choked out as his hand clawed at his neck trying to remove Thor's fingers from around his windpipe.

"Listen! LISTEN!" Thor roared, his fist clenching even tighter around Loki's pale neck, he raised Loki off the ground ever so slightly so that his feet partly dangled in the air and he scrambled and kicked a bit. "LISTEN!" Thor hollered once more tears pricking from behind crystal, blue eyes, "When the people of Asgard were crying out, did you listen?" Thor demanded.

"Yes," Loki rasped with one of the last breaths that he had within his body. "I...I...I... heard it all... I heard the...the...the song," Loki said as he tried to swallow, but Thor's hand was pressed so tightly around his throat that he could not.

"Lies!" Sif spat out against him.

The dark-haired enchanter shook his head, "Not...not...lie!" Loki stammered. "The...tears...of Asgard...only... a... moment..." Loki huffed out each word of the old hymn. "My...dream...recurring" He struggled to say. He tried to offer Thor another faint glimmer of a smile, but with the crown prince's throat pressed so tightly around his neck his attempts fell flat.

Thor's face was bright red, the veins in his neck bulged, he bared his teeth as he looked deep into Loki's blood shot jade eyes. He didn't know what he hoped to find there, Loki had already proven himself to be a worthless, soulless wretch. Still, that was the way of the Einherjar, the way of the Aesir, always look an enemy in the eye if you could before execution. Thor blinked and broke eye contact for a moment. Loki's frantic eye movements and erratic breathing were becoming more than he could stand. "We all learned that song when we were children, but knowing the lyrics doesn't mean a thing to me now," Thor confessed. "You may have sung it in the temple once, but look what you have done!" he pointed out harshly and shook Loki a bit more. "Did you listen to me," the golden-haired thunderer's voice broke as he continued to try to look Loki in the eye, when I begged you..." Brother...please," he uttered those pitiful hapless words that hand desperately tumbled from his own lips when he'd been bound to the scaffold only to be a martyr for the Asgardians to see.

"Yes," The words were hardly audible as the fell off of Loki's slacked lips. He tried to nod his head. "You're...here...didn't kill," Loki dis his best to explain as his breathing became shallower. Loki's frantic grip became weaker as air became harder to obtain. "I... I felt...it too," he tried to express. A tear trickled from his eye and mixed with the rest of blood and sweat and grime on his face. Thor was panting furiously, but Loki's words dawned on him. Loki hadn't killed him, Thor mused for the moment. He could have. He surely could have, he was bound and helpless and so were all the people, there was no one coming to save him, no Einherjar, no Valkyrie, no Avengers, no one, but...

"Loki?" Thor gasped. He uttered the name of the ruthless tyrant breathlessly as if it was just dawning on him who he was talking to. Could it be true? In those moments when he thought that his life was forfeit and he'd wanted to look at Loki one last time, he'd searched Loki's eyes for a semblance of the child he'd shared his childhood with, for the young man who had been his confidant and companion in battle and in life. He didn't really expect to see it shining back through a maniac's eyes, but to his surprise it was there. It all at once had filled the blonde-haired prince with both horror and hope. He couldn't stop the flood of memories that had rushed to his mind in that instant when he thought he was about to meet his end. It was only a moment. It was a twinkling of an eye. No more than 10 seconds, yet Thor was sure he had relived a whole lifetime. He saw all the hugs and laughs and jokes, the pranks and the adventures they'd shared, along with the deep conversations they'd had the secrets they'd kept just between the two of them and the unforgettable lessons they'd learned together, side by side. Thor's breath hitched to the pace of Loki's pulse that beat beneath his mighty thumb. He'd thought that maybe Loki had seen it too, but...

"I...I... I felt...it too," Loki continued to croak. "Happ-I-n-ness," Loki's voice was so soft Thor wasn't really sure he heard the words that came from the traitor's mouth or if he just read Loki's stuttering, stammering chapped lips. In his palm he felt Loki's Adam's apple attempt to bob as he made an effort to swallow, "Fr-fr-friendddship," Loki's eyes gave one last gaze toward Lady Sif before going back to focusing on Thor. "Br-br-br- brother... hood," every word was painstaking. His throat ached abominably. "Long-g-g-ging," Loki's voice cracked. Yes, he'd felt the longing. It was the longing that had been so prevalent. He thought that would he'd feel from Thor would be true unadulterated loathing, but instead he felt this unabashed longing for what they once had. Despite it all. Despite all the evil that he had done, Thor still longed for his brother. The longing chipped away at Loki's resolve for a moment he didn't know if he could really go through with the betrayal of the mad-titan. But the final emotion that he'd felt from Thor was, "Love," Loki finally uttered as his eyes fluttered closed. His hands were still clasped around Thor's wrist and with the fading energy that he had he tried to project the feeling of warmth and love back to Thor.

A warm pulse went through the carrier of Mjolnir's body. It went up his spine and into his mind. It wasn't unpleasant, oh the contrary it was more of a delightful haze like finally being able to rest when being terribly drowsy. Thor didn't fight it, he let it sink in. Let the memories sink in: A dark-haired toddler, teetering behind a quicker fair-haired boy. They scampered around illustrious furniture and ornate decorations, nearly knocking over all the fine crafts. "Come on, Loki you can't catch me!" the elder child teased in a sing-songy voice to the toddler. Loki's arms out-stretched and hands desperately tried to grab hold of Thor's tunics only to be evaded every time. Loki's brow knit together in frustration, he concentrated and caused his little legs to run as fast as they could until he finally caught up with the older child, he couldn't stop himself, the collided, went tumbling into a heap against the lush, plush carpet. They were a fit of giggles.

"Gotcha brudder," the green-eyed youngster declared his hand still clasped firmly around Thor's sleeve.

"Yeah, you got me, Loki," Thor looked down affectionately at his younger sibling. He ruffled Loki's licorice mop and Loki laughed a little harder.

Loki slowly sat up and crawled onto Thor's lap and gave him a hug, "My Tor," he declared.

He saw them a little older. He had just started to go to school with other children, it was more for socialization than for education, but Loki still stayed in the palace with the tutors and Helga. He came into Loki's room. "Hey brother! Look what I made..." The thunderer declared. He wasn't surprised when he found Loki slung across his bed cuddled up for a nap. He went over to him and shook his shoulder as gently as he could which wasn't very gently. He seemed to rattle the scrawny boy's whole body. "Loki, wake up!" she called.

"I'm up! I'm up!" Loki yelped after being startled into an upright position.

"Look what I made in school!" he pulled out a fairly simply crafted wooden sword. "It's marvelous, isn't it?" he asked as he raised the sword over his head. "It's just like father's!" the eldest son of Odin continued to boast.

"No, it's not!" Loki crinkled up his pointed nose.

"Of course, it is!" Thor shot back. "Let me show you how to use it," he stated. Loki didn't have the chance to reply with whether he wanted a demonstration or not, he was immediately forced to watch Thor, perry and thrust and swing his sword about. Thor wasn't exactly a graceful child; big, tall and strong for his age Loki would have often described his brother as lumbering, but he had to admit Thor looked excellent when he wielded a weapon. Loki was a bit entranced by his brother's elegant movements and power of command of his miniature blade. Thor made it look so effortless. Loki leaped off his bed.

"Let me try," Loki asked reaching for the toy.

Thor indulged his brother's request and tossed the fake blade toward his younger brother. Loki did his best to copy Thor's precise and accurate movements. A child in green who practiced doing a proper perry and thrust with a little wooden blade, "Look, brother, look what I can do," He called out to the older boy. "See, I'm just like you!" he exclaimed. Just then, as Loki attempted a lunge with the blade, he lost his balance and fell onto his green rug. Thor tossed his head back and let out a hearty laugh that sounded like a clap of thunder.

"Goodness, brother, you're never going to learn to fight, are you?' he asked as he bent over and reached for Loki's hand to help him up.

Loki slapped his hand away, looked up at him with a glare, he stuck his thumb in his mouth for a moment, "Yes, I will!" Loki retorted. He darted back toward his bed and pulled out something from behind his pillow. "Look what I made, today," He stated a bit shyly as he showed a piece of fresh white parchment with two figures carefully painted on it. Thor stepped closer and observed the caricatures. He thought he recognized them, a golden-haired child in a red cape with an actual sword in hand, not just a little wooden one and a dark-haired boy with green swirls spewing from his fingers. "So, Lady Astrid...she told me that you had to connect with an emotion to make great art... n she said think of something happy... so..." Loki started to explain.

"You drew us?" the older child asked as he reached for the drawing. His bright blue eyes were big, Thor had a few missing teeth, but his mouth stretched into a grin. Loki bobbed his head. "Loki, here! Let's trade," Thor offered. Loki raised his eyebrow; Thor wasn't the best at sharing and he hardly ever wanted to trade. "You can keep the sword, but can I have the picture?"

He saw the Einherjar recruits gathered outside of the palace gates. There seemed to be about 800 new recruits assembled outside of the palace gates. Some were on horseback and some were in wagons, but many were on foot, carrying the banners of their cities and families. Captain Theed blew the battle horn and summoned Prince Thor out of the palace. Thor was already standing near the drawbridge eagerly awaiting the opportunity to go and join the Einherjar. It had been nearly 172 years since he had performed the Einherjar's feat. He had been named the youngest Einherjar in the history of their people, but yet there were some, some like Leif and his band of followers who had mocked him. They said he wasn't really an Einherjar because he hadn't even gone through Einherjar Basic Training camp. Maybe he could kill a Bilgeschnipe, but that was only because of his incredible strength and that didn't mean that he could live on his own and endure the hardships of a good soldiers for nearly 3 years. They even had a wager going that he couldn't well of course Thor simply couldn't allow that.

He headed down the drawbridge to join the other hopeful young men. They were hooting and cheering and applauding loudly as they saw the first son of Odin stepping forward to join their ranks. Thor couldn't help the valiant smile that spread across his face. The smile was cut short for a moment though. He had said goodbye to mother and father and the palace servants. He'd miss them all truly, but he hadn't said goodbye to his brother. He tried not to feel slightly, but Loki's disinterest in seeing him off had stung. Loki said he had some project that he had to work on for his studies. Still, Thor had thought that his egghead brother could spare a moment to bid him farewell since he would be gone for nearly 3 years. 3 years was but a heartbeat for most Asgardians, but still it was the longest amount of time the two of them had ever spent apart. It was hard to imagine having such a big adventure without Loki at his side. Thor looked around one more time hopefully, thinking that Loki might appear, but when the raven-haired young enchanter did prove to be nowhere to be seen, Thor clicked his tongue to send his white stallion into a gallop so that he could catch up with the rest of the troop. Just before Thor's horse could cross the threshold of the drawbridge and ride toward the rainbow bridge, he heard a clipped, articulate voice calling after him." Thor! Thor! Thor!"

Golden-haired prince turned around to find his brother riding horse back at full-speed to catch up to him. "Brother!" he beamed as he turned around to face him. His smile so open and bright like a sweet, trusting puppy. "You came to say goodbye," Thor expressed jovially as he hopped off his horse and went to meet Loki. The younger son of Odin dismounted as well.

"I suppose I had to see you off," Loki expressed as he composed himself and straightened his tunics that were rumpled from the quick ride.

"Because you're going to miss me?" Thor inquired his golden brows arched and blue eyes expectant like a puppy's looking for a treat when he stuck out his paw.

Odin's younger son scoffed, "Hardly," Loki rolled his dancing green eyes and pushed his ebony hair out of his face. He smirked a bit. Thor's face looked downcast and hurt like a wounded dog. "I've been waiting centuries for my chance to be an only child!" Loki practically exclaimed. It was true. Thor was a pain and Loki had been anticipating the moments to have the attention all too himself. To have a chance to spend private time with his father, Odin was a great user of enchantments and yet he'd shown Loki so little of what he'd known, perhaps now, with Thor gone for just a little while they'd spar with magic or with arms. He wanted the chance to be alone among their group of friends of course the thought had crossed his mind that perhaps with Thor gone they wouldn't even want to have him around, but he tried to banish the thought...they were his real friends, weren't they. With him being the only prince in the Imperial City perhaps he would find fame and admiration among the people at last. The people had grown slightly distrusting of his, his magic had grown significantly he thought the people would be amused and delighted, but he supposed his mischief had grown as well. They were antics, pranks, things to get noticed and get attention. But now with Thor gone maybe he could just be Loki and get noticed. There was almost a smile on his face at the thought.

Thor nodded, "Well this is your chance," Thor said with a scowl. He wondered would Loki really not miss him at all. When he told his brother that he was going to Einherjar Basic Training, Loki's reaction had been stoic at best. "Three years..."

"Three years," Loki repeated. "That's merely a heartbeat," he laughed and patted his chest. "I'll hardly even notice you're gone," Loki reported playfully.

Thor smiled back at him. "That's right I'll be back before you know it," he warned.

"Ohhh, then I better make the most of this time while you're away," Loki added and winked.

"Haha, well don't get too comfortable," Thor pointed his finger at Loki's nose and then flicked it. "And don't change my room,"

"Oh, that's the first thing I plan to change," Loki rubbed his pale palms together. "I'm going to paint it pink," his thin lips turned into a tiny grin.

"Loki," Thor rumbled testily. Before the young Einherjar could utter another word, he heard he heard Captain Theed blow the battle horn once again. It had been made clear to him that once he was among the Einherjar he wouldn't be treated like a prince. He was a simple foot soldier, no better than any other soldier and would be treated as such.

Loki clicked his tongue, "better get going soldier, or they'll strip you of your horse a make you march all the way to the training grounds," Loki added.

"You're right," Thor said as he gazed over his shoulders. The shoulders were moving out quickly and the higher-ranking officers were driving the new recruits at quite a pace. he felt bad for the commoners who had to march on foot. Thor leaped on the back of his noble steed once again. "Well, I guess this is goodbye brother," Thor nodded and he extended his hand to shake Loki's. "I guess I'll see you in three years," he shrugged and tried to come across as stoic as Loki.

Loki moved a bit closer to Thor's white stallion he held the animal's reins steady while Thor mounted. Loki's eyes darted upward as he stroked the horse's muzzle, "won't you be back for Solstice, at least?" Loki's voice almost sounded nervous.

Prince Thor shrugged, "I don't know. It is supposed to be 3 years, but perhaps..."

"There is no way Mother and Father will let you miss Solstice," Loki stated shaking his head. "Father will send a decree. Mother will march to the Training Grounds herself and order Captain Theed to let you and all the other young men come home," Loki laughed.

"Now that would be quite a sight," Thor started to laugh to. He threw his head back and laughed like a roll of thunder.

The horn sounded one more time, fast moving hooves stamped as they rode up on the two princes of Asgard who still lingered on the drawbridge. "Prince Thor!" one of the Einherjar Generals shouted at the royal. He hopped off his high-horse and stood squarely before the two princes "Can you not hear the call? That means move out!" he declared. "If you have no intention to follow orders, your highness," he hissed, "or if you think that we are here to wait on your leisure you are sadly mistaken. If that is what you want stay at the palace," he grunted and inclined his head toward the illustrious golden structure just behind them. "Good day to your highnesses," he inclined his head. He didn't give another command. He got upon his horse once more and then trotted off briskly.

"Guess I had better go," Thor said cheekily. He made a face at the Einherjar leader behind his back.

The younger prince laughed a little, "I bet after a month of taking orders you come crawling back to the palace where you can order servants about again," he stated.

"Oh really, how much you want to bet?" Thor remarked." I'll bet my life, not on my life will I give Leif and his goons the satisfaction of thinking I couldn't become a real Einherjar," Thor started to growl.

"Come on, Thor stop," Loki's eyes went wide for a moment then he flagged his brother off. Thor was always saying wild and grand things, too grand and too rash. Loki feared for him. What would he do on his own with others who were hot blooded and wild without him by his side. "Don't bet your life, it's nothing it was mere jest. Lief didn't even pass basic training," Loki added. "You have nothing to prove to him," he shrugged. "Or to me," he finally stated. "You'll be victorious, as you always are," Loki gave a lopsided grin for good measure.

Thor reached down his hand tapped Loki a little too roughly on his pale cheek. Loki nearly bristled at the rough slaps along his thin, chiseled jawline, but when he saw the tender affection in Thor's eyes his cheeks were red not from Thor's palm. "Wish me luck, brother?" the golden son of Asgard asked nearly begged for assurance.

Loki shook his head, "You don't need luck," he dropped his head and stated.

"Write me!" Thor said hopefully.

Loki raised his raven-coiffed head. He stretched and yawned. "If I have the time," he said as he covered his mouth from the yawn, "I'll be sure to let you know all the juicy court gossip," he added. He watched with his shrewd jade eyes as the young warrior recruits rode further and further across the Bifrost Bridge, soon they wouldn't be on the bridge at all. "You...you better go," Loki pointed to the horses and wagons racing away in the distance. Thor nodded and then struck the flank of his horse and sent the stallion galloping to catch up to the others.

"THOR!" Loki yelled as he saw long, blonde locks about to disappear into a sea of future elite soldiers. "BROTHER!" he hollered as loudly as he could. Thor turned once more on his horse. "I'LL MISS YOU!" Prince Loki declared as he waved vigorously at his older brother.

Another vision came to Thor's mind. It was tender, it seemed like it had been centuries ago like so many of the others, but yet it had only been 4 years ago. It had been such golden and glorious day. It had seemed like it was meant to be the best day of his life. The sun shined brightly. The air was warm and sweet and wonderful. The palace was filled with a symphony, music piped and echoed from every spire and balcony, it was alive with color and teeming with people. There had never been so many people in the palace, people from all across the Realms, all his friends and even distant relatives had come and yet he remembered there being only face that he really wanted to see.

He guzzled goblet after goblet of the finest wine as he tried to steady his nerves. He down each mighty helping in less than 10 seconds flat. He tossed each magnificent golden and bejeweled chalice into the large flame of the hearth and bellowed for "ANOTHER!" He marched down the large regal steps that were behind the atrium pensively as he awaited to hear the trumpet blast. He had worked with the court composer Master Baldr to compose the perfect anthem for his coronation, but as he waited for the might trumpets to blast and the thunderous organ to play that glorious march, he spotted an all too familiar shadow appeared behind the shear golden curtains. Prince Thor couldn't help the sigh of relief that over took him in the moment when he glimpsed those mischievous rounded horns. There was pep in his step when he strolled briskly down the corridor, that mere seconds before had been so dauntingly long and lonely. His feet were light as he made his way to stand by his brother's side.

"Nervous brother?" Loki's smooth voice spoke soothingly into Thor's ears, calming his jitters.

Thor tossed his head back a let out hearty guffaw, "Have you ever known me to be nervous, brother?"

"Well, there was that time in Nornheim..." Loki reminded Thor slyly.

"That wasn't nerves brother," Thor blurted out. "That was the rage of battle!" the blonde-haired son of Odin declared.

Loki rolled his jade eyes and scoffed good-naturedly to himself, "Oh yes...of course... right"

"How else could I have fought my way through 100 warriors and pulled us all out alive?" he boasted.

"Well, the way I recall it... I was the one who veiled us in smoke...and"

"Yes, some do battle, others do tricks," the elder Odinson mocked as his cupbearer, Pontious came along chuckling as he bore another goblet of the finest, most expensive wine from the palace cellar that he could find for his soon to be king. Loki didn't take kindly to the insult to his pride. With a wave of his hand black and purple snakes slithered from the contents of the goblet. Pontious yelped and dropped the golden goblets and spilled the precious liquid at Thor's feet. Pontious cowered slightly as he hurried to gathered the vessels. He was horrified.

"Loki!" Thor's voice was a mild chide, "Now that was just a waste of good wine," he scolded while chuckling. The burly and proud future king of Asgard was relieved to share the childish laugh with his closest companion once again. The weeks prior to his coronation had been so long and grueling and wearisome. All day long everyone talked about the overwhelming responsibility and great and daunting task that lied in front of him. It was good to know that somethings would never change.

Then he heard Loki's mirthful voice as he said, "Just a bit of fun, right my friend?' Loki teased, he waved his hand and the illusions of the slithering serpents dissipated. Pontious nodded humbly at Prince Loki's statement, he smiled slightly at Loki's joke at his expense, but he hastened to get out of the presence of the dark prince. As the cupbearer disappeared, the two brothers stood their laughing, giggling really, barely able to contain their amusement at each other, so much like when they were little boys, like after they'd put pepper in Helga's tea or thumb-tacks on the chairs of the delegates.

Soon their laughter fell softer more contained. The head guard who was serving outside of the antechamber where Prince Thor and Loki waited for the grand coronation ceremony slipped in and presented Thor with his helmet. It was polished until it had a spectacular shine. It glistened like the sun itself as the glow from the torches caught the silver. Thor took it in his hands. He twirled it and twisted it tossed it and played with it in his strong hands and tossed it up in the air slightly. It felt so much heavier than it ever had. Somehow in those moments he heard the words of a figure from a dream. It was the image that he had seen when he went to the Temple of Tribute so many centuries ago. He'd seen a figure, like himself but older and stronger and wise and he head he wore the same helmet. When Thor had beheld it, he had wanted it desperately, coveted it, craved it. Still, he could hear his other self, this distant future self, that proud strong and virtuous king challenging him, asking if he could bear the weight of his crown. For a moment he felt his mind flood with doubts he started to relive the vision, he started to think of the horrors that he had seen. But before the blonde-haired king-in-waiting's mind could replay all the horrific images that he'd lived through in the Temple of Tribute, he heard his brother's youthful voice, "Nice feathers," he clicked his tongue and his green eyes glanced downward at Thor's helmet.

Thor's lips formed a broad smile, "You don't really want to start this again do you, cow?"

'I was being sincere!" Loki feigned his offense

"You are incapable of sincerity," Thor countered playfully.

"Am I?" Loki pretended to be aghast.

"Yes!" Thor countered a reply all too quickly.

"I've looked forward to this day as long as you have," Loki started, his voice careful and articulate. That was why he was their silver-tongued prince. "You're my brother...and my friend," Loki expressed his jade eyes stared into Thor's blue ones with familiarity. There was a gentle smile on his narrow face. "Sometimes I may be envious," he admitted, dropped his emerald eyed gaze and shook his head. He sighed. Thor was shocked, he didn't think that Loki had ever actually told him that he was jealous of him before. Other people had told him that his brother was jealous of him, but he never exactly believed them. Still, he didn't truly have time to ponder the gravity of Loki's words as Loki kept talking and like always his clever words like a snake's colors and movements ever charmed its victims. "But never doubt that I love you," he confessed sweetly at the end.

Thor looked into Loki's eyes and he felt sensed the warmth and sincerity in his words and he felt it. He felt the brotherly loved that they shared, a pure and a stronger bond well at the time he could not have imagined. A smile a bridled rippled across Thor's face, such a sincere, happy trusting grin. He couldn't help it, it meant everything to have his brother by his side and to know that he'd always have one true friend. It took away his doubts. His fears seemed to have been abated and he felt pride and strength once again. The beauty and expectancy and excitement of the day had now returned to him. He reached out his hand and wrapped it firmly and tenderly around Loki's neck. "Thank you," he muttered.

Thor was so soft, tender, sentimental and best, but Loki, impish as he was could never leave a tender moment a lone. "Now give us a kiss!" he teased.

Prince Thor swatted at him, slapped him mildly on the cheek. Loki let out a mild snow and was all teeth laughed. "Stop that!" Thor warned ever jovial. Loki continued to blow a kiss at his older brother and they both continued in their merriment and laughter until once again their chuckles fell silent.

Loki's grip s grew lax around Thor's wrist as he stopped projecting memories into Thor's mind. Thor's sky-blue eyes were wide and blown as he stared down at the man who had once been his brother. He shook his head and mashed his lips together. Those memories were so vivid, it had been like he was there. Every bit of it palpable. The feelings they felt so real and familiar. There had once been so much fun and trust and love between them. It was something that he had depended on. It had been like an anchor. He believed in it. He believed in it until the very end, but what had that done. That had led them here. He'd had countless opportunities to end Loki and he'd spared him, foolishly. Well, no more. "Thor...please...there's not time," Loki tried to express as he gasped for air.

"No, Loki for you there's no more time at all," Prince Thor declared. He squared his massive shoulders and tried to squeeze hard around Loki's throat. "There's no more time for you to lie and connive and

Loki scrambled, his eyes bulged, he kicked and bucked about and desperately clawed at Thor's hand to try to pry his fingers away from his windpipe. He heard Loki's breath hitch, he saw the tears streaming from corner or his emerald eyes. Emerald eyes that had once looked at him with such fondness and affection and love. He could feel it, those feelings of pity and love and longing creeping back toward him as well, but he couldn't be deceived, he couldn't beguiled once more. "You...must... must... listen," Loki begged his green eyes nervously darted toward the window where the red of the Aether ash swirled about and then glanced a table where a contraption hummed as it finished the final touches on a vial.

"NO!" Thor thundered. "I'll not listen to your lies anymore," he declared and there were tears in the blonde-haired prince's eyes.

"CONVERGENCE!" Loki screamed out as loud as he could with Thor's had around his neck. "Have...to...stop...Malekith...the box," Loki huffed out as he was desperate convey his point. He pointed toward his work station where the machine hummed as it put the finishing touches on the finally crafted container it had made for the Aether. Thor looked at Sif and both proud Asgardian's eyes followed Loki's frantic and twitching finger as pointed toward his ivory lab table.

Thor inclined his head and lady Sif moved quickly to grab the black chest from out of the printer. She traced her hand over the craftsmanship and was impressed by the onyx stone that overlaid the wood from the Everwood trees. Sif brought it back to Thor the pair of them examined it with scrutinizing gazes. "What is this? "Thor demanded. "What is it!?" He yelled ruthlessly in Loki's face. He rattled him the more with the mere blast of voice. "Planning to trap the strength of every Aesir citizen," He raged vehemently.

"Contain...the Aether," the black-haired mage uttered as best he could.

The crown prince of Asgard once gain looked down at the vessel. "I wish I could trust you, Loki," Thor muttered bitterly. He shook his head. His sweaty mane slapping him in the face. "You've done everything to destroy ASGARD!" he shouted in his face. "To destroy ME!" he continued to rage. "I can't be blind... I can't be a fool anymore...and believe in a brotherly love that was never there," Thor said with a sob. "So... I, Prince Thor of Asgard here by sentence you to...to...to" Thor stammered, Loki's breathing was becoming shallower and shallower in the palm of his hand, Loki's eyes were closed and he wasn't putting up much of struggle anymore... Thor reached for the Dragon's Tooth Dagger that Loki had given him 1000 years ago. Loki had been going to use this dagger to execute him. But he didn't. Thor reminded himself as looked up at the beautiful blade, with its rounded curve and sharp edges. It was masterfully made, the symbol of heroes the symbol of brotherhood. Loki was collapsed in his arms his life so easily forfeit. He could snuff him out and no one would know but he and Lady Sif and no one would object, but it his mind he heard the sweet simple words. "Never doubt that I love you," it was whispered so genuinely and Thor's hand had instantly been around his neck then, but it wasn't to kill him, it was to embrace him.

"Thor don't!" Sif called out by his side. She placed her hand on his shoulder. She looked at Loki pathetic and collapsed in Thor's grasp, no effort no struggle left with in him. Surely, he could have shot some magical blast to make Thor get off of him. Surely, he could have at least made himself vanish, but he hadn't done any of those things, he hadn't fought back or even used his trickery. He had accepted his punishment, if Thor wanted to kill him, Loki wasn't going to stop him. He seemed to be just as contrite as he had been on the scaffold in the Center Square, where he had bowed down before them all, begging for forgiveness and for a chance to help. Loki had always been a manipulator someone who did his best to control others, but it seemed for once he'd relinquished the control. She saw him there, his life in Thor's hands, his body limp, barely conscious and his nose bleeding profusely. And for the first time since Loki had fallen from the Bifrost she saw her old friend and she felt pity for him. "If... If...If he must die," She started sternly, "Don't let it be by your hand," she stated and squared her shoulders. "Don't let it be said of your that you committed the same abominable act that he would have committed. You have been virtuous toward this snake..." she curled up her lips. "Let me do it," She pointed to herself. "My sword has always been yours my prince, let me take this burden from you," she sighed and she bowed and raised her double blade sword in the air. Her arm shook slightly as she held the weapon high. She crossed her fist across her chest. "I'll do it for you Thor," she nodded. "So, if this day be won you won't have to be consumed with the guilt," she expressed.

Thor shook his head, "what guilt would I have for destroying this monster?" he asked with his thunderous voice. He let out a bitter snarl. "Look at everything he's done!" Thor declared his arm still outstretched muscular and strong as it held Loki fast against his bookshelf. "Everything he's done to US!" Thor reminded her. He'd betrayed US! He's tried to kill us all," Thor continued to rationalize. "He...he...he doesn't deserve to breathe another breath!"

"No, no, he doesn't..." Lady Sif started, her sword still raised high in the air. "And I'll be the one to take his miserable, wretched life," she told him in earnest. "You have been good and righteous through it all Thor, no one would blame you for killing Loki," she rolled her brown eye in the direction of the mage who hung limply midair in Thor's hands, dangling like some pathetic, broken ragdoll. "We'd all herald you as a great hero, sweet savior of Asgard, but would you see yourself as a hero...would you be strong enough to do it with no remorse?" the shield-maiden questioned. "Kill your brother?" she raised her dark-eyebrows. Thor's arm twitched; Loki's slack body became dead weight in his hands. He finally released Loki. He let him fall to the ground. His body was listless and sprawled out on top of the ancient scrolls and text that had been knocked from their secure spots. Loki, let out a small groan as he hit the books. His breathing eased a bit though now the blonde-haired son of Odin's fingers was no longer squeezing his windpipe. He didn't open his eyes though.

Thor gazed down and Loki. There was disdain in his crystal blue eyes, but as he looked down at the disgusting traitor, lying there helpless and unconscious, and bloody. He could feel something pulling on his heart strings reminding him of old times and making him think of the day when they'd fought by each other's side, days like when he had stupidly quested to kill a Bilgeschnipe, it had been one of their most exciting adventures, but it had been foolish and when the night was over, he'd found Loki much like this; broken and bloody and seeming like he was half-way dead after having saved his life.

Thor's heart-ached with those memories. That was when he had made his brother the ring, the ring from the bilgeschnipe's tusk. When an item was made of a bilgeschnipe's tusk it was considered priceless and rare, worth its weight in gold. When that type of gift was presented, it was made to last forever signifying the relationship would last forever. It was funny, he'd made Britta a pendant, but their relationship hadn't even lasted more than a few years. She had attempted to give the pendant back to him after they had broken up. Britta, was honorable, noble and Einherjar's daughter through and through and said that he should keep the pendant and give it to the true person that he loved the most. He'd allowed Britta to keep the trinket though, he didn't need it returned he knew that he'd given a bilgeschnipe ring to someone who would always be in his life. Thor hung his head. He steeled himself. He reminded himself that that person, that brother, that he'd known and loved all those centuries ago was gone and never to return. "Can you kill a friend, Sif?" Thor asked as he looked up eyes pleading and wet.

"I've told you before, Loki was never my friend," she swore.

"Very well, Lady Sif," the golden-locked prince agreed.

Sif rose to her feet; her face was firm as flint as she took a few small steps toward Loki's unconscious body with her blade raised. She'd do it. She'd do it. She would be the one to end this dictator, this tyrant, this monster! She would! She would. She'd do it! She'd do it! She'd have no remorse. He was never her friend. She'd told herself that with every step. They were never friends. They never played together as children, tackling and chasing and racing. They'd never talked and shared laughs in their youths, they'd never helped one another learn and grow as warriors or people, they'd never spent the holidays together or fought side by side. It didn't matter, Sif told herself. This was justice. It was her warrior's duty to kill all of Asgard's enemies (even if that enemy was once her prince, even if that enemy was once her friend). Even if that enemy had seemed to change. Sif closed her eyes for a moment as she walked on and came to looming over Loki's body. It was just clever ruse, by a master illusionist. Loki was an expert liar and even after all she had seen him do, that lie smith's silky words could almost convince...After all she'd watched as he'd set the people of Asgard free, watched as he'd bowed before them all and begged for forgiveness (Loki was so arrogant, he'd never bowed before). She'd seen as he'd told the truth, Thor was indeed alive and safe in his own chamber and he'd healed Thor. He'd healed Thor so completely and utterly that her beloved friend was strong and bold once again, he was strong enough that he could have snapped Loki's neck like a toothpick. He healed Thor despite him the fact that it seemed to suck every ounce of energy out of his body and he offered no struggle or defense for his own life when it was threatened. "Perhaps he has changed?" the brunette shield-maiden muttered to herself as she took hold of Loki's body and set her blade at an angle to kill. It didn't matter she reminded herself. He must atone for his crimes. All must he'd atone in this life and then he'd atone in Helheim for all she cared.

She hoisted him up a bit and his head lulled back. His thin, cracked, bloody lips twitched, his ghostly pale eyelids fluttered open and those bloodshot emerald marbles rolled about until they came to focus on her. "Sif," his voice was just a breath. He reached out a shaky hand in her direction. He summoned the well crafter vice to hold the Aether out of her hands, "need...to...take...it," his words were sputtered and garbled as his unsteady hand clung to the box. "Stop...Rag...rok" he tried to explain. Sif scowled. She pictured how she should do the act. Just mercilessly stab him clean through or should give a gentler ending to this scum

Prince Thor had turned away. He should have watched. He should have relished in watching this villain fall. He should have been strong enough to be the executioner himself. It was the honor of a king to destroy the enemy of his kingdom. Still, he looked away. His eyes focusing on the weapon in his hand. It wasn't even an hour ago that this weapon had hung over his hand sentencing him to a similar fate. And then it seemed that it hadn't been so long ago that this weapon had been presented to him, by his favorite fable and made him feel like the mightiest of warriors, like a true hero when he was only a very small lad. Until he had gotten Mjolnir, it was his greatest possession, not because of its beauty, although it was dazzling, not because of its power, but it was one of the sharpest blades in the Nine Realms, but because of what it meant. "Never doubt that I love you," the smooth words accosted Thor's ears once more. Were those words ever true? It didn't matter now. It didn't matter anymore...he didn't love Loki anymore... Loki wasn't his brother, his friend, Loki was a dragon that would devour them all. Yet, he'd spared his life in the moment when he could have taken it, no one was there to stop him. He'd set the people free when they were at that mercy of the Dark-Elves, he'd come to heal him and he'd given him the opportunity to have his revenge with no protest. Thor could hear his heard hammering against his chest. The beat of it was powerful and rapid like Mjolnir banging and beating on the walls of an enemy stronghold. When Mjolnir struck nothing withstood its matchless might, walls just tumbled down. His chest felt like such a wall, ready 2 cave in. Thor clenched his jaw. He didn't have his magnificent mallet anymore. Loki had stripped him of that and had left him and the people of Asgard defenseless against the power of the dark crystal. He'd left them without a weapon and a means to fight back. That could not be forgiven. He didn't want to. He shouldn't...couldn't. he shook his head. Once more his scant glance toward the weapon. He remembered the lessons that his father had taught him as a boy about being a king. "The people of Asgard are Asgard's heart and must be your heart, son, The throne of Asgard is its glory and it is your glory as well, but the strength of Asgard is the bond of brother's." Maybe Loki had taken away one weapon, but perhaps he had taken away one weapon, but perhaps he hadn't stripped them of all their strength, maybe... maybe their strength could be restored.

"Never doubt that I love you," Thor muttered to himself, his eyes went wide, his palms were sweating and he tried to take a firmer hold on the hilt of the dagger.

"I'm not sorry Loki!" Lady Sif shouted as she raised her sword toward Loki's throat. "I'm not sorry!" she shouted once more as tears rolled down her dirty, smudged cheeks and they washed the stains away.

But just as she was about to bring the blade down and finish Loki off once and for all the stainless steel of her double-bladed saber collided with the priceless, ivory of the Dragon's Tooth Dagger. "Thor?" Lady Sif gasped as she saw the resolute posture of the Crown Prince of Asgard. Sif pushed harder against Thor's blade. "We don't have time for this...Asgard doesn't have time for this," she said through gritted teeth as she tried to push pass the small dagger. Sif's blade was made of fine Asgardian Steel. It had been furnished in the fires of Reat. Reat was the sacred forge of the Einherjar. Her father had paid Eitri the dwarf nearly 2000 pieces of Asgardian gold for him to make her blade. She was surprised her father had paid such a hefty sum, but when he was finally over the fact that he would probably never have to pay a dowry for her as his daughter, he decided to celebrate the fact that he had a child that had achieved one of the highest honors in all of Asgard. Her blade could sever limbs like blades of grass, it could slice through the tough hide of a behemoth like a piece of bread, her double-bladed javelin could even cut through the matchless metal elements in the Destroyer and yet she could seem to drive her sword through the Dragon Tooth Dagger. Sif' was painting with every effort that she took of flexing, her burning muscles and putting in all her strength, perspiration dripped from her head, she had her teeth clenched so tightly and fiercely that she thought she tasted blood shooting from gums. But that stern look remained in Prince Thor's crystal blue eyes. It was stern and strong and filled with thunder and lightning. Sif knew that look well. It was wildly attractive to her. It was ferocious like a tiger, loyal like a dog, protective like a warrior (that was the most attractive part) no even more loyal than a warrior...like a brother. Lady Sif lowered her mighty slowly, her shoulders moved up and down rapidly as she caught her breath. She lowered her head and pushed her chocolate tresses away from her eyes. "Brotherhood is the strength of Asgard," she muttered to herself and she smiled. "We need all the strength we can get," she nodded as she took a step back.

Thor nodded back at the shield-maiden. Then he eyes grew wide as he rushed and turned toward Loki. Loki was still slumped against his books. His body broken and limp on the literature. His skin sickly pale and blood-smeared, like some type of haunting phantom. He coughed miserably as he tried to sit up. His weak limbs shook and he was unable to do so. Thor was at his side and pulled him to an upright position. His arms that had only a few seconds ago been feeble now held the strength of ten men, they were toned and no longer held even a scar or a blemish, they held Loki up. "Loki! Loki!" Thor called as he rallied the sluggish magician. Loki's eyes barely managed to flutter open, Thor's handsome visage swam in and out of focus before the tyrant. "What is this... what is this for real," he begged as he present the containment chamber to the trickster. It was finely crafted, but so ornate that it looked like a jewelry box. "No tricks." he warned.

"C-c-containment," the black-haired master mage coughed. As a bit of blood flew from his cracked lips.

"How does it work, Loki, how does it work?' Thor continued to inquire as he searched Loki's narrow face for any sign of duplicity.

Loki swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbed deep within his throat, he licked his lips that were moist with his own blood, despite that fact that his silver tongue felt dry as a desert. "It... will...hold Aether...once...in stasis..." Loki's tongue staggered.

"How?' Thor demanded all the more. Ruthlessly as he shook Loki a bit. Loki's jade eyes were hardly able to stay open. "HOW?" he shouted in Loki's face.

Loki blinked, "Mjolnir...Gungnir...can...put...Aether...in... stasis," Loki expressed as best he could. Thor saw red for a moment. He squeezed, perhaps, too tightly on Loki's shoulder his fury and strength could be felt even through Loki's armor. The tired trickster winced. "You stripped me of Mjolnir!" Thor railed at him. The old emotions flared with in his gut and danced down his spine. He had surrendered his power, his strength in an attempt to save Loki's life. Thor started to shake, but all that had done was led to this, it had led to the inevitability of all of this, it had led to Ragnarök knocking on Asgard's door and it had led to their defenselessness. "You did that Loki!" Thor muttered bitterly. In that moment when he had surrendered his all, given his all, he'd felt so powerless and weak when he had lost the might of his beloved hammer. It had happened before, his own father had taken his weapon from him, but he had the power to receive it back at any moment as long as he proved himself worth, but this wizard had concocted a way to take away from him forever. "YOU TOOK IT FROM ME FOREVER!" the thunderer bellowed. Tears bubbling up and pushing though blonde lashed. "I...I... I'll never forgive you for that," Thor had to remind himself. Sif growled in the background as she heard her friend's bitter confession. Loki was simply despicable. His depravity knew no bounds! Just when she had thought... that maybe he could be spared...

"Nnnno...not f-f-forever," Loki slurred. His finger wagged gently in Thor's face. "Just til Convergence..." he explained. "As... long...as...as...as... we keep Malekith...from...releasing...the. Aether" Loki panted. "Distract...distract...Malekith...keep him from releasing...he won't have the Tesseract," Loki did his best to explain. "You...still need...my help," Loki stated and his chapped thin lips cracked a smile.

Thor shook his head. This was foolish! Foolish to keep believing hoping, but at this point all that they truly had was hope and it was only a fool's chance for their survival anyway. His eyes were wide for a moment as he looked at Sif. He was surprised to watch the soldier give a slow nod and sheath her blade." Oh, Loki, do you really want to help?" Thor sniffed as his eyes misted.

"Yes," The enchanter consented.

"This doesn't change what you've done, Loki," Thor stated as firmly as he could. "It doesn't make amends," he warned him. "I promise you; you can hope for no better but death yourself if we even survive this! So don't think that you can be forgiven! You can never be forgiven!" Thor yelled in Loki's face.

Loki's thin lips cracked into a discontented smile. "Not... looking...to...be...forgiven," Loki uttered and his breaths were so painstaking and weak like they could be his last. He coughed and sickening red liquid spewed forth onto Thor's already blood drenched tunics.

"Then what?' Thor asked as he fought the impulses to soothe Loki's distress, he'd tried to hold his face firm as flint as he stared at Loki's sniveling and shivering.

"To-To-d-d-do...the...the...right thing...?" Loki's bloodshot unfocused emerald eyes looked up at Thor once more pleadingly giving every effort to stay awake, but failing miserably and started to droop. "Please," Loki coughed. His nearly translucent and trembling hand reached for Thor's. "No... no...no time," his pupils darted toward the window in his chamber, everything outside of it was crimson and darkened and then soon it would all be black if they didn't act. "Take...it" he urged and glanced down at the container he had made.

Thor looked down at the vessel that Loki had crafted so meticulously, could this strange little prism really be there only hope? Maybe it was the exact opposite of what Loki said. He supposed he had no way of knowing, if they didn't trust Loki, they'd surely have no better chance of survival. "Sif," Thor called, his voice boomed loudly though the warrior woman was right behind him.

"My prince,"

"Fetch that vial with the water from the healing oasis," he ordered. It was only a few steps away. She brought forth the yellow bottle. it seemed like there was no more than a dropped left inside. She shook it around as she brought it to her prince. Thor took it and noticed how scarce its contents were as well. He frowned and his brow furrowed beneath his golden locks.

"Loki used most of it on you," Sif explained. "You were so broken...half dead...I suppose...he thought..." she went on. Thor quickly poured the last few drops of the healing water into Loki's gaping mouth and he took a deep breath. He didn't know any enchantments, he thought that Loki had tried to teach him some healing once...or maybe it was Dagmar, maybe it had been both of them. He had been foolhardy and brash, rejecting much wisdom as always, he said all he needed was a healing crystal. He only hoped that the properties with in the water was enough. He waited with baited breath for a moment. He watched as Loki's eyelids slid closed and he thickly swallowed the tiny amount of liquid that lingered on his parched tongue.

"Loki?" Prince Thor inquired as he gripped the trickster by the shoulder. He was met with only silence at first. His blue eyes went wide. He looked back to lady Sif; the shield-maiden clutched her fist tightly around the handle of her sheathed blade. She dropped her eyes. This was what Loki deserved. The Norns had sealed his fate or perhaps the kings of the past. It didn't matter now. He was gone. he deserved to be gone. She told herself that the moisture that pricked behind her brown eyes was only for Prince Thor's sake. But as she looked up once more, she saw bright green eyes sprang open.

---

The Dark-Elves stormed through the palace, but their ranks were severely dwindled. "Formation! Formation!" Lord Malekith shouted to his men as they assembled outside of the dungeon holdings where prisoners were led out into the square. Moments before they had been leading Asgard's most beloved prince out like a lamb before the slaughter. He had relished in such a moment of glory. It was a moment his forefathers could have only dreamed of and that glory had been his. He feasted on it and had made him strong; the Aether had swelled with in him like a great balloon. And now all that had been snatched from him, in the blink of an eye it had been snatched from him. It had been snatched from him in the most obscene and disgraceful way, trickery. "AHHHHHHHH!" Malekith roared like a beast. He was so full of uncontainable rage and fury, the Aether surging like a bubbling cauldron within his belly, it spewed forth out of his bloodless mouth like fire from a dragon. The blast of it shot forth and caused art of the ceiling to collapse. The fact that he Lord Malekith, King of Svartalfheim, General of the Dark-Elves, Doer of 10,000 Dastardly Deeds, Master of an Infinity Stone could be bested by a worthless Frost Giant whelp... oh it was a disgrace.

The soldiers that Malekith had left did their best to barricade and reinforce the drawbridge that the Aesir people were clamoring against. They could hear the people banging, banging, banging. They seemed to be pelting the drawbridge with anything that they could get their hands on, bits of broken metal, other planks of wood, rubble of the bricks from the Center Square. They hammered at the drawbridge with the golden bricks. They took up their broken weapons and tried to ram them through the thick cedar. Outside of the drawbridge the Dark-Elves heard shouting. The Asgardians seemed to be trying to organize. They had every intention to rip up the scaffold and use the wood from it as a battering ran to break down the drawbridge and the gate which the Dark-Elves had retreated behind. "HEAVE!" a group would call. A chorus responded, "HO!" and the Dark-Elf warriors heard the boom like thunder of wood crashing against metal and wood in every effort to break the drawbridge down.

"Lord Malekith, Lord Malekith," One of the captains of the Svartalfheim hoard cried. "What shall we do?" he asked.

"Hold Formation!" the general ordered without hesitation. The Dark-Elves scuttled and rallied into their positions. The tallest and strongest of them aligned the perimeter of the drawbridge, with their backs pressed against the inside to reinforce the structure. The rest flanked around and scattered with their weapons drawn and ready to fire if there was to be a breech.

"Hold your ranks, men," one of Malekith's other officers ordered the soldiers in the tongue of their people. "The Asgardians made their fortress to be nigh impregnable," he explained. "Except until the likes of us," the leader boasted. "These hobbyhorses and farmers shall not overcome the drawbridge, "he continued. All the while the gates creaked and were dented by the might of the men and women of Asgard as they continuously thrust their beams of broken scaffold made battering ram over and over again into the drawbridge. The warriors from Kytheria and the citizens of the Imperial City all worked together and rammed about fifteen broken beams against the drawbridge. They were relentless.

Malekith's soldiers could feel it. The bridge eager and ready to give way to battering rams. "More! MORE! MORE!" Malekith hollered as he ordered other warriors in his troop to come and reinforce the drawbridge. They did as he said until almost his entire army seemed to be piled one on top of the other desperate to hold the bridge. Minutes had passed, but the Aesir people didn't stop. Slowly the Dark-Elves began to notice grappling hooks being swung around and looped over the top of the drawbridge.

"HEAVE! HO!" the cry from outside the drawbridge continued to be shouted endlessly. They expected the people to sound weaker, but with every chant their resolve grew strong and their voices grew louder. Soon the drawbridge was breaking and they were practically pulling it down.

"There's too many of them, Lord Malekith," one of his soldiers cried desperately. "They'll over run us!" the soldier's voice went up in horror. Their hand pointed out that arms and legs of the Aesir were starting to creep through the top of the drawbridge.

"DIE HORDE!" shouted from the Aesir rang out as they threw down what that had and pelted their enemies with golden bricks and some with simple sticks and stones and the armor and weapons of the fallen. "FOR ASGARD!" they continued to exclaim as one by one they watched their crude weapon of warfare take out their foes. Each blow to a Dark-Elf head was a bolster for Asgard's strength.

"We must retreat! We must retreat, further into the palace Lord Malekith," the soldier cried desperately.

Malekith's bloodless lips curled into a vicious snarl. He skulked over to where the warrior who was crying retreat stood. He did not hesitate the draw his dark saber and jam it right through the soldier's side. His blackened face didn't flinch as his dark broad swords ended the soldier with one foul blow. Only a few of the other warriors around seemed to take note and even offer a sound of objection at the senseless loss of one of the few members of their race. It was a female Dark-Elf. It was a shame to lose one of their women. They had so few. He was sure they only had about 5 or so female members of his army left. She had had to be an exceptional soldier to have survived in his army for this long. But a woman who did not obey orders was trouble. (That's how his wife had been in the end). A soldier who did not obey orders was worthless. They were too close, too close to having everything that they had already fought and bled and slept and waited more than 5000 years for to be ripped from them. They'd come too far. He wouldn't let this victory be ripped from them, from himself once more. Thanos would see! The worlds would see! His shoulders heaved with the thoughts coursing through his mind and the Aether coursing through his veins. The body dropped and none went to her side. Perhaps she let out a little yelp. Malekith simply stepped on her head as he stood up and shouted. "NEVER SURRENDER!" unto his people. With that the warriors of Svartalfheim let out mighty bellows and huzzahs as they pressed with all their might to keep the Asgardians on the other side of the drawbridge at bay. The strength and the resolve of the Aesir was legendary for a reason and that reason was no mere fable or fantasy. They were creeping through the cracks and the ones that had managed to get through the opening between the top of the drawbridge and the wall were not merely throwing down weapons and rubble, but they were jumping down from the heights leaping on and attacking the Dark-Elves. They would rip off their helmets and reveal their bloodless faces and bash them in the heads. Frantically, the Dark-Elves started to fire their weapons, blindly. They shot their blasters off wildly in all directions, doing everything they could to try to beat back their Aesir assailants. Vortexes and thin-air black holes formed all over the sucking up Aesir and Dark-Elf alike. Many Asgardians were horrified to see more of their brethren fall prey to the blasters of the elves.

"TARGET THEIR WEAPONS!" shouted the Commander of Communications from Kytheria. He was now stationed at the top of the drawbridge with about 50 of the citizens who formed the ragtag volunteer army. They did as he commanded without hesitation. With many of the Asgardians already being expertly trained marksmen and hunters it didn't take long for them to smash mean of the blasters to bits with nothing but bricks and rocks. Malekith became enraged as he watched their weapons destroyed and his numbers dwindle down to what seemed like nothingness. One last blaster went out. It fired out its vortex in a flash of lightning. It hit against the drawbridge and instantly the strong, cedar and Everwood planks that were overlaid in gold and iron and that had withstood 1000s of battles were sucked into the black hole. The drawbridge was lost. It was the only barrier that seemed to protect the Dark-Elf soldiers from the onslaught of Aesir citizens. The children of Asgard rushed in like a flood against their enemies. They shouted with their hands raised, balled up in tight fists, some carried nothing, others held a myriad of weapons, from those which were noble and regal and finely furnished to those that were makeshift; anything that they could find and anything that they could carry. Even children joined in the charge with no fear.

Their voices rang out loud and strong and proud as they ran at full speed. "TAKE ME IN MY DREAM RECURRING!" Lord Malekith's men scrambled desperately. They were easily about to be overrun. Malekith's dark as a pit eye grew wide as he beheld how his men stood on the brink of being taken out by bands of children, and elderly and untrained me. He would not let it be so.

Lord Malekith let out an irate and feral growl as he unleashed a powerful Aether blast. The shards of that angry crimson sludge poured like lava from a volcano out of every opening of the elfin leader's body. Like a vast current of blood, it shot from his fingertips. It spewed like an evil projectile vomit from his mouth and nose. The flow of it never seemed to stop. It pushed them back and froze Aesir bodies in terrible, twisted and pained positioned. It left them like statues painted black and red looking like that had either been tarred or bathed in blood. It was a horrendous sight that seemed like something from the most nightmarish visions of Helheim that the priests may have described to them. Their screams and songs instantly silenced amidst the deafening screeching sound that came from an Aether blast.

"MOVE OUT!" Lord Malekith screamed to his men as he walked through the terrible garden of gnarled, charred figures. He plucked one. It was an old lady. She was holding an arrow in her hand. The deep furrows and wrinkles in her skin could easily be made out despite the garish coating she was in. Malekith plucked the image of her and it was instantly reduced to nothing but a pile of Aether ash. Such was the power of the infinity stone; it had the ability to change and transform all that was life into darkness and death. Malekith ghoulish face formed a hardened and emotionless scowl as the ashen remains of the old lady fluttered around him. "To the throne room!" he yelled to his soldiers. "We must get to the throne room, quickly," he breathed in deeply as he tried to steady the swirling, Aether. The stone roiled within his being." We have but a short window for Convergence," he warned them.

With that Lord Malekith and his soldiers went stomping their way up from the bowels of the dungeon to make their way toward the throne room. In their wake they left the decimated drawbridge opening and dark-shadowy figurines of the Asgardians who had given their all to stop this evil day from its dreadful arrival. The Dark-Elves sounded like a thunderous stampede of raging bilgeschnipes as their lungs filled with horrendous hymns of horror which the sung to echo their sentiments of death and destruction as they marched on. Malekith was at the lead. He didn't relent he urged them onward and onward up 1000 flights of ancient steps.

While the Dark-Elves made their haste, Volstagg, Frandal and Heimdal raced toward the palace. "Frandal have you had any luck in contacting, Hogun?" The plump Viking asked as they ran side by side with the two other warriors.

"No success yet," the blonde reported. He frantically pressed the buttons and dials on his communicator. "Hogun come in! Hogun come in!" he called over and over into the voice box.

"Try to send a rune-writ, message," Volstagg suggested as the ran pass the bodies. So many bodies of their people that were strewn in the streets. It made Volstagg sick as he saw so many dead with weapons sticking out their backs and abdomens. The sloshed and splashed through endless pools and puddles of thick red liquid. Volstagg wished he could pretend that it was like the time of the festivals when that red was from the fountains that overflowed with the finest wine in all of the Nine realms. Wine so good that people would scoop it off the streets and the dogs and cats and birds would lap it up and all creatures of the kingdom were merry.

"It's not working," Frandal reported. He tried to trace his finger over the screen of his communicator, but nothing showed on the face.

"Well, here! Here! Use mine!" Volstagg insisted as he slipped his communication device off of his wrist and tossed it to his friend. His communicator looked in better condition than did Frandal's. Frandal quickly tried to send another rune-writ message. Although he was able to write on Volstagg's he was no more successful in actually sending the message.

"The signals are weak," the swordsman pointed out with frustration. "It is all this Aether ash," He pointed to the particles of hellish red that fluttered throughout the atmosphere. It was blocking the sun and soon the thick red clouds of darkness would spread throughout all of Asgard if they didn't do something soon. "Everything is red!" Frandal growled bitterly. He was tempted to fling the communicator as all their efforts proved futile.

"Keep trying! Keep trying!" Volstagg urged. "Try to broaden the range. I have a wide range," he pointed to his device before Frandal could toss it to the abyss that was the Center Square.

"It's useless!" Frandal hollered. "Everything is jammed. Those Dark-Elves must have cut off all the communication currents and power to the city," Frandal reported.

"With Loki on their side they'd have known how to do so," Volstagg muttered miserably. The red-headed warrior let out a growl. Loki's betrayal was beyond personal, not only did it hurt Asgard to its core to think that a son of Odin, one who the Aesir had pledged to honor and respect and one who had pledged to protect them could lead such a massacre against their own people, but it was strategic genius. Loki had always been the master strategist. Working with Loki had enabled the Dark-Elves to have access to all of Asgard's most valuable military and government secrets. Even if Loki was on their side now, they were still in the disadvantage from his betrayal.

"Loki's left us sitting ducks!" Frandal shouted. "How do we know trusting him now isn't a mistake," the swordsman countered. He said it, but they were all thinking it. Such a drastic change so rapidly it didn't seem possible. How could they trust him now? Were they just gullible fools falling prey to Loki's schemes over and over again? Were they enchanted by this mage to be led into his web of schemes once more.

"We must hold faith, Young Frandal," Lord Heimdal's steady voice spoke up. "We have nothing to lose now," he said in a steady tone. He spoke plain truth, he believed Loki. He believed that there was good in the second son of Odin. He had always believed that there was good in him, from the moment the King of Asgard had brought the Frost Giant's offspring to Asgard's gate he had thought that there could be good in him. He'd been proven wrong by the shapeshifter so many times, yet in his heart when he looked into Loki's green eyes, he saw the eyes a young man who was long forgotten, but a young man who was strong and wise, caring and who wanted to be someone his family and kingdom could be proud of. In truth he considered that Loki could be lying, he was a master Con artist who had fooled them all numerous times, but even now, even if it was a trick well none of Loki's schemes could make them any worse for the wear. They were too close to destruction for Loki's conniving to make their fall any harder now. All three men grunted as they acknowledged the simple truth of the gatekeeper's statement.

Shadows of doubt slowly managed to slither there was into Master Heimdal's heart. Asgard's Gatekeeper hater the thought of leading the people of Asgard into further destruction to responsible for their defeat once again. He'd let enemies slip his watch and that is what had brought them to this, to Asgard snarling at their door. They had the chance to kill Loki and even if they couldn't stop Ragnarök, even if they couldn't save their kingdom or the Nine Realms, they could have killed Loki. They could have ended that villain and at least exacted justice from the abominable sins that he had committed against his family and his realm, but he had kept them from that. If that had been the wrong decision than Heimdal wouldn't be able to forgive himself. He would fight to his last and if he was not slaughtered in battle, he'd gauge out his own eyes. He'd go into the afterlife a blind wretch for he'd not count himself worthy of the gifts which the Norns of old had ordained for him. He'd give them back and live out his punishment as a blind slave before the Dark-Elves if he had to.

But just as Lord Heimdal's heart was filling with both dread and resolve for what was to come his golden eyes spied the faint glow of a mystical blue light. He spied it coming from the Southern tower. Heimdal's bloodied lips formed a smile as he beheld the light. Loki must have been telling the truth about Prince Thor's location. Heimdal recognized the brilliant sapphire gleam that broke through the crimson. He had seen that same enchanted glow coming from the pools in Vanaheim many centuries ago. The beautiful blue light was soon mixed with the soft rays of golden sunlight that dared to peak through the thick black clouds of Aether ash. Dawn was becoming morning that tried to push through with hope riding in its wings. Master Heimdal's smile grew deeper as he watched the two lights mingle and form a greenish tint. The great gatekeeper nearly laughed. "That's the fair son of Odin I spy."

"Look!" called out Volstagg jauntily. His face lit with excitement as he pointed to the drawbridge that led toward the palace. It was down. "The warriors from Kytheria and the citizens they must have broken through," He exclaimed breathlessly. He smiled at Frandal.

The golden-haired swordsman threw his head back. "Huzzah," Frandal raised a broken blood-drenched sword into the air. "Thank the Norns!" he cried. "Surely, our troops have held them off a bit, come on let us join them," he called and immediately went racing toward the drawbridge. The two younger warriors ran as fast as they could toward the drawbridge opening. Frandal ran at full speed. His back ached fierce, but he couldn't stop. He stumbled a few times and clutched his back as he ran, but he kept up a dizzying pace. Even still, it wasn't as fast as he could have run, he had run so much faster before. Soon, he grew winded. He found himself panting and he slowed to Volstagg's pace. The redheaded Viking was running as fast as he could. His gate was unsteady and every plodding step that hit the ground caused a searing pain to shoot through his busted leg. Volstagg's leg had nearly been crushed when Loki had caused the ground to engulf him. His hip had been pulled out of the socket. His knee was on the verge of giving out, but still he kept running, running as best he could to get as quickly as he could to join their comrades and protect the throne.

Master Heimdal, froze in his tracks. His golden eyes spied what the hopeful young Einherjar did not. "No!' the guardian gasped as images came rushing to his eagle eyes. As he stood many yards off, he beheld horrific sights. He saw monstrous, gnarled forms, blackened like charcoal.

"Hurry, Master Heimdal, hurry!" Prince Thor's two boon companions shouted as the continued to make haste toward the drawbridge.

"I can make out their forms!" Frandal pointed out. His pace had slowed to a jog, but he was still moving with valiant effort to get to the drawbridge as quickly as possible. Yes, he saw forms, strange forms. They looked like nothing, but still shadows, frozen pantomimes like the game they used to play in their childish days when they would act out great battles and make each other freeze. The figures that the saw didn't seem to be moving at all. Still, Frandal blamed the sight on the Aether ash that was violently swirling about them. It was fitful tempest of red that obscured everything. He didn't hear the sounds of skirmish and battle, but young Frandal told himself that that was only because of the roar of the winds that carried the power of the Aether on it.

Volstagg brought himself to the quickest pace that his broken leg could carry him. They had to help. "FOR ASGARD!" he roared as he leaped over a toppled statue of one of the Einar rulers of the 7 Asgard. His large body went sailing through the air. The blade of his axe was broken and blunted from the fight, but he was sure that at this height and speed it would be able to whack off a few of the white masked heads. Volstaggs eyes were wide as he wanted to behold having the chance to slaughter his enemies. He hoped that he could catch Malekith himself unawares, he could come crashing down on him and end this whole thing. There was nearly a smile on his face despite the agony of his leg. But as his eyes grew wider and his vision came into focus, the portly warrior noticed that he was not crashing into a mighty fray, but rather a horrid sculpture garden of tortured figurines. The red-bearded Viking let out a scream and shielded his face as he came crashing down on the figures. He wished he could fly, could reversed his course, but he could, the rotund form slammed down on the harsh stone and concrete that made up the dungeon floor and, in the process, his bulbous body flattened one of the forms below.

The form shattered into a million tiny black and red pieces, it looked like dark confetti all around him. The Einherjar's hands shook as he tried to knock the Aether ash off of him. He gazed up and beheld the sickening blackened, petrified forms all around him. He was horrified to find that they were images of Aesir warriors and citizens alike. Some were poised and ready to attack. Their hands holding cleavers and butcher's knives and bats and bricks, others were cowering or in mid run as if they had been trying to flee, but none had seemed to be fortunate enough to escape. Volstagg's blue eyes welled up with tears as he could make out the familiar faces of the warriors of Kytheria. Those soldiers could have been enjoying one last moment with their families, but instead they had mounted up and ridden to defend their land. "Commander?" Volstagg muttered as he took in the image of tall charred figure, he was shouting into his communication device, but his body had been twisted in an unimaginably painful angle. Volstagg attempted to get up, but once more a searing pain shot through his leg and he went back down. His eyes then beheld the image of a young girl. She was so small. She couldn't have been more than the human age of 10, though she had already probably lived triple to life of even the oldest human. She was so small but might, her hand clutched at an adult and in her free hand she'd held a stone. Her face now coated in what looked like molten lava with sick red lines crisscrossing where the veins should be. Her face obviously held fear and pain in the frozen position. Her hair in 2 curly, puffy ponytails. He was sure he recognized this child. Surely, it was one of his own daughter's classmates. He looked around wide eyed. He was so scared that he would see the form of one of his own children in such a state. He desperately wanted to get up, to get up and search through this dark sculpture garden, but he could scarcely push himself up.

"Volstagg, that's the way to take out the enemy!" he heard the ever-jovial blonde cry from a distance as he came rushing forward. The redheaded warrior shook his head. Even in the direst of situations. He always looked forward to his friend's optimism and mirth in the heat of battle. But surely, Frandal's eyes had not seen this ghastly wretched sight which he was forced to behold. One that was so horrendous that he could not make himself look away. No, Frandal had not yet seen this, for even his wisecracking friend could find this no laughing matter. "Smash them, ole boy smash them!" the master swordsman came calling as he raced to where the drawbridge was down. Then Frandal's eyes beheld that the drawbridge was not truly down, but merely nonexistent. It had been obliterated. Finally, his feet stopped running and they slowly fell still. He reached his hand down to try and help Volstagg up. Volstagg took hold of his fellow warrior's hand with a groan. He expected a joke about how it would have been easier to help a bilgeschnipe out of the mud. Perhaps he would have welcomed a dig at his expense now, but the talkative fencer kept his gaze upon the pitiful and twisted, mangled Aether ash coated forms that stood before him. "What has happened here?" he questioned as his blue eyes took in the terrible sight. "What has happened here?" he turned around and demanded of Master Heimdal who had slowly crept up behind him. "Loki?" he inquired angrily as his fist clenched tight around his sword.

"No, I do not believe this is Loki's doing," Heimdal placed hand to rest of Sir Frandal's heaving shoulder. "This is the power of the Aether," he explained as he shook his head. His inescapable golden eyes beheld all the distorted Aesir people, all like the skeletons of trees after a forest fire.

"The Aether? The Aether!" the blonde-haired Einherjar shouted. "I've never seen the Aether do this!" he pointed out. He pointed to each of the bent and twisted bodies that looked they had been chipped and hewed out of some kind of tainted black and red marble.

"The Aether had many capabilities, young Frandal," Heimdal stated. His voice the same steady and wise tone that it had been in his childhood when Heimdal had taught him many a lesson. "Malekith knows it's workings better than many of us ever will," He explained. "As Convergence draws closer, he will be able to harness more and more of the powers of the Aether." Heimdal said warily.

"Well, what can be done for them?" Volstagg asked enraged. "What can be done for them? WE HAVE TO DO SOMETHING!" Volstagg hollered his face turning a brighter red than even his beard which was caked with mud. "We can't just let them all...all die," he gasped. "Not...not all of them...not the children," Volstagg moved through the frozen forms a touched the cheek of the young girl with the curly, puff ponytails.

"What can be done for them now... they're... they're... they're gone," Frandal muttered bitterly as he saw the face of the Commander of Communications from Kytheria. Poor chap, the blonde thought. He was not a man who was used to being in the heat of the thickest battles. He had gotten in military education at the finest academies in Asgard, he had studied, codes, linguistics, strategy and how to establish communications amongst troops in the direst of battles. But he had worked in toward and in war craft ships. He was one to relay important messages to troops and generals, but he had not been one to lead men into battle, but he had this day. He had led them into the biggest battle of their lives against insurmountable odds. "You are an Einherjar, my friend," Frandal whispered to the commander's form.

"The Aether is an Infinity Stone. It is the Reality Stone...it is mostly destructive... but perhaps," Heimdal whispered. His voice broke off and fell still. His shimmering golden eyes looked and mangled, marred and charred figures. Like a distorted sort of collection that someone had on display. He cringed. He didn't know them all personally, but at one time or another he'd cast a glance upon them seen a small moment in their lives here and there. Even if just overlooking them at a festival or banquet held for the citizens. He'd taken an oath as Gatekeeper to watch out for them, but he'd broken such a sacred duty and now the people perished. With all of his heart he wished to undo his negligence and save these souls.

"There must be a chance, Master Heimdal, there has just got to be a chance," Frandal urged.

"Perhaps young Frandal, perhaps," the statuesque guardian stated. "But we can't worry about that now. Our objective must be in stopping Malekith and keeping him from doing these abominations to the rest of Asgard and the Cosmos," Heimdal warned.

The fair-haired fencer didn't like the gatekeeper's words. He didn't like taking those words for an answer. Some of these were fellow Einherjar and warriors they shouldn't be given such inglorious deaths. Their ending shouldn't be just to be decorative pieces to add to Malekith's trophy case. They were citizens, they shouldn't have had to give their lives like this. "We can't leave them like this!" Frandal protested as he shook his head. "We have to cut them down," he insisted. His eyes glistened as he looked at the Commander of Communication. "They deserve honor in death..." He huffed out as he looked down at the ground. He saw the Aether Ash from the poor person's form that had been crushed. Cremation was the way of the Aesir. At least if they were dusted perhaps, they would have the chance to be immortalized in the stars. Frandal raised his broken sword high into the air, he was ready to cut them down and let their bodies and souls rest in peace.

"Frandal, no!" Volstagg hollered as he caught his friend's wrist, "No." the ginger Viking warned. "They might still be able to be freed, but for now, we must carry on with the mission," he stated firmly. Frandal's shoulder's heaved as he slowly sheathed his broken steel blade once more.

The three warriors were about to take off and head toward the direction of the path that the Dark-Elves had most likely taken. As they were going, Volstagg's communicator began to chime. It was a faint buzz at first as the signal was slowly detected. Quickly, Frandal stated to fiddle with the contraption to widen its range. A muffled, deep gravelly voice started to call through the device. "Big...Big...Big...Big Boar...come in," The words finally managed to breakthrough.

Frandal's eyes became wide, an ecstatic smile stretched across his bloodied mouth. "This, this is Swordfish, Big Boar and Eagle Eyes we copy," he expressed as he looked at the other men with him.

"All of you! All of you are there?" the normally stoic tone of the Hogun exclaimed. Frandal couldn't get the wrist communicator to produce an image, but he wanted Hogun to know that they were all there.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" he nodded emphatically and Volstagg and Master Heimdal called behind him and gathered around Frandal's outstretched wrist. They raised their voices so that they could be heard on the receiving end of the device.

"Thank the Norns," Hogun breathed. "I...I... I feared the worst," he expressed to his friends. "What news do you have? Is it over?" he asked quickly.

"Far from it," Frandal responded.

"What has happened? I saw something from my post but...I... I it was unbelievable...I couldn't be sure to believe what I saw," he muttered.

"I saw it with my own eyes and I don't believe it..." Heimdal said nearly laughing. "But I am glad that I have lived to see this again, when two sons of Odin fight for Asgard once more," Heimdal proclaimed proudly.

"Unbelievable, hard to believe...hard to trust," the silent warrior's words were barely audible. "Do you truly think Thor still lives, Master Heimdal," he asked nervously.

"I believe the first-born son of Odin lives," he confirmed. "Though I have not seen..."

"Lady Sif went with Loki to get Prince Thor from the Southern Tower," Volstagg blurted out.

"Sif! Thor! Loki?" Hogun sputtered. "It could be a trap," he stated. "Perhaps we can spare a few of the men we have here to go and aid Sif and Thor..."

"No! No! Hogun there's no time to explain everything that has transpired, but Malekith and his army our on their way to the throne room!" Frandal informed.

"They cannot be any means be allowed to unleash the Aether," Heimdal instructed.

"They are coming from the dungeons..." Volstagg's voice started to break up.

"They will have to cut across the courtyard to take the quickest bath to the throne room," Hogun stated. "I will try to send a message through to the people we have posted in the court yard, maybe they can cut them off," Hogun reported.

---

Heavy, relentless footsteps raced across the cobblestone and alabaster stone paths that ran through the palace courtyard. They were roaring and racing. The heels and the spikes in their boots tearing up the lawn. They roared and hollered as they stampeded across the courtyard which had already been decimated from their last attack. Malekith urged them forward as he took the lead. He shouted obscenities at his troops and filled their hearts with even more hate and rage as they hastened. The Dark-Elf soldiers growled like rabid dogs as they listened to their general's words. He reminded them of all they had suffered at the hands of the Asgardians before. How the Asgardians had destroyed their families and their cities, how they had had to sleep for 5000 years awaiting this day. Today was that day and they would not be robbed of that glory and honor and victory anymore. He reminded them that the House of Bor would not triumph over them a second time.

The army's hearts swelled with pride and hate as they recalled the time before the Light. Some of the soldiers started roar out the names of the ones they had lost, they cried out for the things that they wanted to see regained once the day was won. "SHEEYEN!" Malekith's voice prevailed over the chanting of his men. In the old tongue of the Dark-Elves it meant recompense. And that is what he intended to have this day. He would have recompense for everything that he had lost. He could have ruled over all the cosmos. A cosmos that was bathed in darkness and steeped in chaos where the only order that the worthless slugs that he allowed to live there as slaves would find would be his order. He'd lost it once and he was too close to lose it again. Not to the likes of some weak, simpering, soft-hearted excuse for a wizard, who pretended to be an Asgardian, but was truly no more than a Jotun's bastard. Malekith grunted like a bull as he pressed himself to run full throttle. He felt himself running nearly taking flight. The Aether bubbling and boiling deep inside of him. With every moment that Convergence drew closer, the power of the Aether grew ever stronger. It would be so glorious and so easy now to unleash the power of destruction on an unsuspecting galaxy.

Loki's betrayal was pitiful and pathetic just as he was. How could he have done such an act? He had everything in his grasp. Thanos had put it there. Thanos was as cruel as the grave. Malekith loved that about the Mad Titan, but despite the titan's indescribable cruelty and love of death and pain, Thanos was a man of his word. If he said he would do something then that Is what he would do. Mostly, he promised death and suffering, but if he promised a reward to those who achieved his purposes then he would have given it. Loki could have had everything. To be second in command to Thanos. Even Malekith wouldn't have challenged the words of the Mad Titan then, begrudgingly he was ready to give that weasel deference as King. And Loki had let all that go. Let all that go for what...for sentiment. Thanos was a man of his word...honest, but he had picked a trickster, a charlatan, an illusionist to carry out his decrees and that had been a foolhardy decision. Loki was at best a dishonest man and you could never trust a dishonest man, because you never knew when they would do something incredibly stupid.

As the thoughts came to Malekith's mind he let out a powerful scream. Shards of the Aether shot forth from his mouth and blasted a crater into a balcony of hanging gardens. Behind him the Dark-Elf general heard his warriors chanting his own words behind him. "SHEEYEN! SHEEYEN!" they raged. Their white fist thrusting against the horrid scarlet backdrop. They fired off their blasters proudly and confidently for a moment. The vortex forming weapons released their blasts into the atmosphere and their electric, white light looked like a firework against red haze of the newly formed Aether cloud that had puffed out of Lord Malekith's mouth. The vortexes sucked up columns and mighty trees, it sucked water from the founts and streams. They evaporated bits large portions of the palace wall into thin air, like they had never been there at all. Theis caused the beautiful walls of the golden edifice to crumple on top of each other. The palace was smoldering, folding and falling apart before their pit eyes.

Nothing could stop them now, they were confident. Perhaps Loki had tricked them and for what it was forth the Aesir had put up a valiant fight. But would it have even have been worth calling a victory if they hadn't had to fight their old opponent to the death? The army of Svartalfheim had no subtlety, they had no need to. They had taken care of the enemy at the drawbridge. The last of the Aesir Citizens who had tried to fight for their home world were behind them. The palace had been deserted and left defenseless. They began to cheer for their leader. "MALEKITH! MALEKITH!"

The leader of the Dark-Elves lapped up the praises of his soldiers. The soldiers celebrated the moment. They were sure and confident that nothing would stand in their way just as Lord Malekith had said. Their black eyes were blinded to those that hid in plain sight. The young Aesir, nobles and scholars and soldiers and citizens had scattered around the courtyard. Many had sat in crouched positions nearly cowering, shaking like leaves and biting their nails. They hadn't had a chance to see what was happening in the Center Square. They had hoped for the best. They had hoped that Prince Thor would rise valiantly, like he had in so many times past and be the savior of Asgard. Yes, they had hoped for the best and feared for the worst. With each scream and cry and crash and rumble and every terrible roar and blast that they heard struck fear into their hearts and broke their resolve that Prince Thor would rise. It nearly broke their spirits as well and made them feel as though their chance of saving Asgard was nearly hopeless. Then they heard and saw their enemy marching across the courtyard, they were running and stampeding across acres and acres of endless green ground that had once looked as fruitful as jungle. They were like a rushing river, too quick to stop. The Aesir lied in wait. They had hidden behind the lush columns decked in long ivy and grape vines, but the blasts of the Aether had destroyed they delicious fruit and left it as nothing but crusted shriveled little things that could not even be called grapes. They came from hiding behind trees that was once stood tall and rich and full, ripe with plump fruit ready for the picking, but now they had been turned to barren ash trunks. They'd taken their post behind benches and fountains and gazebos that had all been rendered little more than rubble and if the Dark-Elves wouldn't have been so consumed with their easy and unblocked path to the throne room they might have noticed the Aesir poking their heads out and rising up.

The people had almost forgotten their purpose in their positioning in the courtyard. It wasn't to cower and hide, it was for combat. This was that moment. The leader of that group a cousin of Captain Frell, held up her fist and signaled to those around her mostly other young men and women of Asgard who had been studying at the university during the attacks. They nodded and readied themselves for the attack. Stealth, was not the normal tendency of Aesir warfare. They preferred to fight their enemy head on, but this was the best strategy. The Dark-Elves never saw them coming. Silently, the Asgardians slipped forth from their hiding spaces without shouts or hollers or hoops. They stood like ghosts next the broken gazebos and tattered trees. Their faces grim and grimy, their hair matted with blood. They were armed, but not with the tradition Aesir weapons. They weren't armed with weapons of steel or of bronze. They weren't armed with swords or spears or even bows. They came out of the shadow some clutched the strange metal contraption that they called reactors. They created a silent formation and made a circle around the Dark-Elves. Their numbers were not great. It seemed to be a few dozen of them. They were pleased to find that the Dark-Elves had also lost a few of their ranks, but still the invaders far outnumbered the Asgardians present in the courtyard. Those who were carrying the reactors stepped forward a bit in the circle, their partners held the remotes and lingered in the background.

One young scholar ran right in front of the horde from Svartalfheim. He attempted to block their path from the throne room. It just seemed to be when the scholar stepped forward that Malekith even noticed the Aesir had them surrounded. Malekith smirked and curled his bloodless lips. "Stand down," he shouted to the Aesir as he continued to run, "And I may let you survive this. May let you be my pet," he taunted. His army started to laugh as they fell in step with their leader. Their faces obscured by their pale masks, but they sounded as if they were full of glee. A few more Aesir came to the forefront and once more stood between the enemy and the palace. They held sturdy positions and showed no fear on their faces although son had shaky as their trust in the contraptions which they held was not so steady. It was not the Aesir way. This was not knowledge of the Aesir it was a puny, Midgardian woman's invention, what could she possibly know, but still it was their only option now and if they could find favor with the kings of the past perhaps it would work.

"TAKE THEM!" Malekith hollered indignantly. He was angered as he saw the pitiful defense that the Aesir were trying to mount against his might force. They would not prevail he would not let them prevail. The Aether roiled and boiled with in his blood, it bubbled within his veins, desiring only to consume and to destroy, but he had to wait save the power so that it could be used perfectly and so that the beauty of blackness could be spread abroad to the Nine Realms. He'd let his men deal with the small band of weary looking warriors of Asgard. Malekith's men quickly obeyed his commands. They marched on and shot off their weapons. The vortexes formed quickly around the Aesir. The Aesir dodged the blackholes. They fed them with stones and sticks to cause them to quickly shut. Then they countered by hurling the reactors at the Dark Elves. Likewise, the Dark-Elves were able to jump out of the way of the strange oblong contraptions that came sailing toward them like javelins. The warriors of Svartalfheim rapidly shot blast after vortex producing blast and filled the courtyard with the terrible scream of the blackholes. They took steps closer and closer to the Asgardians. "BEYOTT BEYOTT BROSHEV!" Malekith continued to bark out orders to his troops. His blackened eyes were wide with horror as he noted that not a one Asgardian had fallen prey to their weapon this time. They evaded them with ease now.

The Dark-Elves were becoming desperate they were firing in every direction, furiously trying to cause their opponents to fall with little to no avail. Suddenly, their blasters started to jam. The soldiers tried to take the time to figure out what was going on with their weapons. "NOW!" the young scholar who was their leader called to the rest of the citizens position in the courtyard. Then, those who had been holding the remotes twisted and cranked up their remotes. Instantly, the white masked soldiers from Svartalfheim disappeared from the courtyard. They vanished into thin air like they had never existed. Expressionless faces swung left and right as the pit-like eyes of the masks searched for their comrades. Others in their blackened armor tried to run and grab the metal devices that were plugged into the ground. They tried to pull them out, but when they touched the reactors, they too found themselves immediately taken from the place where they were. Lord Malekith breath-hitched. His eyes grew wide and reddened as they beheld his men being taken from him. His army was being reduced to near nothingness right before his eyes. "BEYOTT BROSHEV!" he yelled once more in the words of his people. He commanded his men to use their machetes. The Dark-Elves obeyed. They unsheathed their weapons and dropped their blasters on the ground. When they did this the Aesir used the invention of jane Foster to cause the blasters to disappear as well. Nearly, defenseless, the army went rushing toward the Aesir who were still formed in a scattered circle throughout the courtyard. As each one of them picked up their swords to ram into an Aesir heart more and more reactors were tossed about the courtyard that sent out pulses that took the rest of Lord Malekith's soldiers from him. Malekith looked around in horror. "SORCERY!" he cried as he stared at the bedraggled young scholars who were closing in on him.

"Oh, it's not magic," Captain Frell's cousin spoke up. She carried one of the reactor pegs in her arms. She looked to the rest of her fellow scholars. She gave a wink. "IT'S SCIENCE!" they declared all in unison.

"No, matter," the general muttered bitterly. "I have the Aether, infinite power," he told Asgard's best and brightest. He stretched forth his hands and attempted to summon the great power that was within him. He started to look as his he was swelling up. His whole face turned black as coal as the Aether spewed forth from his mouth like a terrible red vomit. It spready like the tentacles of a kraken, shooting forth in all directions and shot down the Aesir in the courtyard. They flew back, smashed against the walls and tossed into the fountains, shot up into trees. But just as the stream of violent ooze continued to spray from the Dark-Elf's general's mouth, a reactor fell right next to his feet. He didn't notice it.

With a dying breath the leader of the small band of proud Aesir citizens who had done their best to defend the throne cranked up the dial on the remote. "FOR ASGARD!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, as loudly as she could and she hoped that Malekith could hear her words over the roar of the Aether that was flying from his bloodless mouth and heartless vessel. He must have heard her for he turned his head in her direction, just as he felt a strange electrical pulse take over his body. He hollered for a moment and then he was gone.

---

The Dark-Elf general awakened to the sounds and jeers of about three of his soldiers. They were all frantic. They shook him and tried to rally him. "Lord Malekith! Lord Malekith!" their voices like lost children's in his ears. Malekith's abyss like eyes flew open. His two white-knuckled hands flew to form fists around the necks of the two soldiers who were standing over him. He hoisted their feet off the floor as he jumped up. He smashed them against the walls that he hardly noticed. Their feet kicked and scrambled in the air as they struggled to breathe.

"Are we dead?" Malekith demanded of his soldiers. Their porcelain faced masked bobbled and fell off of their faces as they shook their head. They were unable to speak since Malekith's fists were wrapped tightly around their throats.

"No, my lord," the one soldier who wasn't having his life choked out of him by his leader declared. He pointed to the advanced computer that was before them revealing that they were in the palace's communication tower.

Malekith's dark eyes observed the computer, "Where are the rest of the men?" he demanded of the soldier. He immediate unsheathed his black blade and threatened his warrior with it. The soldier raised his hands defenselessly. He didn't even have his vortex blaster and there was no defeating Lord Malekith in hand-to-hand combat, especially with the might of the Aether welling up inside him.

"I don't know, I don't know," the soldier stated rapidly as he shook his head.

The general growled, "This cannot be all that is left of us! The Asgardians cannot win!" he railed to the few warriors that he had left. "Not again!" he yelled as he stalked over to the computer.

"The men, probably aren't dead, my lord if the same thing that happened to them happened to us," one of the Dark-Elves who had dropped on the ground after a brutal choking reported, nervously as he picked himself off the ground and dusted off his garments. He hobbled over to his leader. Malekith's violent shaking had caused him to lose his mask. The face underneath was just as bloodless as the disguise he'd worn. His face was marred from the wars before.

"Why would the Asgardians let us live?" questioned the other soldier.

"They didn't!" Lord Malekith snapped. His black eyes glowed around the rim as the Aether welled up with inside him. "It was a Midgardian device," Malekith mumbled to himself. The warriors of Svartalfheim muttered to themselves in confusion about how powerful this machine formed by mortals really was. "The Aesir are more concerned with thwarting Ragnarök, than killing us," Malekith explained. "Convergence is still but a few hours away, if they can keep us from unleashing the Aether by Convergence then they believe they will prevent Ragnarök," Malekith surmised. "They can take the rest of eternity to kill us if they'd like because once we miss the Convergence it'll be over!" Malekith shouted at the pitiful excuse for a soldier.

"Lord Malekith, it matters not if you are able to unleash the Aether, my lord," the hobbling soldier wheezed toward Lord Malekith. "We have already conquered Asgard," He started to hack a cough in his excitement. He raised a fist in the air. His fellow soldiers started to applaud their leader's effort. "You've defeated them! You defeat them! We can still conquer Asgard and turn it to New Svartalfheim!" His eyes were wide and he started to clap even louder and more wildly for his general.

The three soldiers started to cheer for their general. They started to chant his name. "MALEKITH! MALEKITH! MALEKITH!" they roared as if the battle had already been won.

Malekith's blood boiled. His shoulders heaved and his breathing grew ragged. "SILENCE!" the general raged toward the men. The red power of the Aether, flew from him unbridled and slapped the men against the walls and into the screens of the computers. His soldiers screamed as the power of the Aether singed them. "YOU FOOLS!" he blasted them verbally. His voice kept the shards of the Aether bouncing off the walls all around him and looking for a target. "NOTHING IS WON! NOTHING!" he yelled vehemently. "Nothing is won until the Aether is unleashed, pure and free and allowed to ravage these light poisoned realms," he explained. His bloodless had reached out to play with the shards of the Aether. The mystical scarlet ooze swirled and slithered around his hands like a pet. "Of it were we born," Malekith murmured as he became lost in the feel of the wine-colored sludge. "It is our very life force!" he shouted at them as he inhaled the floating sanguine liquid. He snorted it right back through his bloodless nostrils. His nose flared as he took it in. His eyes glowed burning and hot. "We will reclaim all that we have lost!" he declared with a clenched fist. "The house of Bor will die!" he railed all the more furiously as his few frightened foot soldiers. "Thor on that scaffold, on an altar before his people," Lord Malekith muttered all the more furious as he thought about it. "And Loki," he shook his head bitterly as he thought about that dirty little trickster. "I'll see him writhe!" the general's fist raised high into the air. "I see him wriggle like a worm on a hook," he shouted. "Then he'll die for his betrayal," he spat at the ground. His thick inky spittle hit one of the men in the face.

"But Lord Malekith, how can this be accomplished with but so few of us left now?' the battle worn soldier from centuries before offered. Malekith shot the warrior a glare that could kill.

The other two soldiers exchanged scant glances as well. Looks of horror were etched plainly on their bloodless faces. Not that they hadn't been thinking the same thing, but they dare not utter it for if Lord Malekith's looks could kill (and they weren't completely convinced that they couldn't) sure they were near death.

"Heed him not, my lord," the other Dark-Elf who had Malekith's spit on his face shook his head and tried to cover for his comrade. He shook his hands in front of his face.

"Aye! Aye!" the other chimed in, "perhaps the rest of the warriors are still alive as well!"

"Yes, yes, yes indeed they must be," the bruised and war scarred Dark-Elf soldier finally echoed the sentiments of the other after receiving a firm slap on the shoulder. "For we all were attacked by the same weapon," he reasoned.

Malekith ground his teeth and grunted he only wished that they had been scattered by some powerful weapon from Odin's weapon vault, at least that would have had some semblance of dignity to it. But to be defeated by an invention of the Midgardians. Oh, it was a dreadful disgrace. When he'd known Midgard, their race had been the most timid and primitive of creatures. They of all the realms were so fearful of night and darkness so easy to conquer, lower than children like cowering creatures. Simple beasts of burden. How dare something of theirs's be used...

"This is the communication room is it not?" the soldier with spittle on him questioned as he looked around. He saw an intricate overlay of systems and computers of screens and monitors. "If we get our communications back up, we can still have the rest of our men converge on the throne room," he explained to the general.

"Yes! Yes!" Malekith nodded as he rubbed his hands and paced around the expansive chamber full of technology. "Get the communications up!" he ordered his soldiers. The 3 soldiers scrambled to their feet to obey their rulers' commands. None of them were particularly literate about the machinery of the Asgardians. The elves of Svartalfheim had developed impressive technology for their time. The Aether had helped them master cloaking their ships and had given them advanced weapons. Those vortex forming blasters that they had been created after analyzing the Aether's properties of destruction. But aside from the navigational computers on their T-shaped ships they hadn't had much use for other computer systems. Millenniums had passed and the systems in the palace were much different than anything that the men had seen. A few minutes went by and the Dark-Elves were able to figure out how to turn the monitors on. Things got humming immediately from there. The computer seen to spring to life as the flat panels lit up and buttons and gears twirled and hummed and glowed. Holographic images were displayed.

The soldiers muttered in their tongue amongst themselves as they tried to figure out how to get word to the rest of their force. Maybe some of the soldiers had made their way to the mothership. The palace computer seemed to pick up on the Mothership very easily. On one of the flatscreens it showed a detailed 3D imaging detailing the terrible T-shaped ship. One of Lord Malekith's men frantically started to type into the keyboard and tried to cypher through the codes to hack into their ship's computer. Glaring red flashes kept being projected across the screen as they found it hard to access into the mainframe. Their ship, the Annihilator did not recognize the signals that the palace was trying to send out. It was rejecting the unidentified signals. "Leave a message on the ship log," Malekith told the men. "Hopefully some of our forces are there," he muttered as he continued to wring his hands. "Tell them to empty everything in our arsenal!" he pointed to the picture of the Annihilator that was before him.

"We can't break through, Lord Malekith," the soldiers tried to explain. "It does not recognize, the palace computer," they insisted desperately.

Malekith growled and snapped like a snarling dog. The soldiers quickly bowed their heads to show deference. "DON'T GIVE ME YOUR EXCUSES! CONVERGENCE COMETH!" he bellowed. His ire was kindled greatly and powerful blast of the Aether shot forth from his hands and singed part of the computer.

"Master!" one shouted in horror as he saw the central command control blown to smithereens.

"Oh, what does it matter!" Malekith threw up his hands. "You incompetent morons can't get a darn thing right!" he snapped. He tugged his talon like licorice nails into his own flesh and teared at his own blackened skin. The warriors of Svartalfheim were desperate to impress their general and to regroup with the rest of their army. They continued to put forth furious effort in pressing keys, knobs and buttons and in hitting the touch screens.

"I've got it! I've got it, sir!" called Dark-Elf soldier excited. He had tapped into the palace's intercom system through his random tapping and pounding on the touch screens. All of a sudden within the Communication Tower they started to receive a terrible feedback and static sound. It was nearly deafening and enough to drive Malekith and the men insane.

"TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF!" Malekith railed. He didn't hesitate of give the soldier a chance to respond to the words that had just been spoken. He immediately lashed out and swung with his hand. He walloped the soldier who already bore the scars of a battle from 1000s of years before. Malekith had no pity or thanks to give to the man who had already lost much in his service. He slammed the elf's face down against the computer. The sorry soldier's nose started to bleed profusely. Greasy, midnight liquid flowed from his nostrils and poured into the openings and crevices within the control panel. Sparks started to fly from the machine.

"Lord Malekith, Lord Malekith," the bloody warrior whispered brokenly as he tried to peel his face from the broken keyboard. "I...I... I only meant that we can send a call out through this system to our men," he struggled to stay awake after the brutal beating.

"And reveal our plan to the enemy?" another soldier spoke. "The Aesir have already proven to be ready for us," the soldier expressed nervously.

Malekith listened to the ideas of his men. For once they did not seem as his mindless drones and puppets to him. He smiled a sickening smile in the direction of the soldier. He reached out his hand and watched as the man recoiled. Malekith's rough, white-knuckled hand gave a firm, mocking and pleased pat to the soldier's bloodless cheek. His smile wide and his teeth sharp. "You shall be rewarded," he told the man. "The Aesir do not know our tongue, nor do they know how we wail," he explained wide eyes. The men smiled as they understood his meaning. It was true. The citizens of Asgard had little reason to ever think of their language. It was long dead to this universe. They were truly all that was left of their kind and they had slept for nearly 5000 years. No one used their words anymore. But even if there was a linguist among them like King Loki even, he would be dull to the meaning of their wild cries. They had used their cries to terrify and confuse their enemies for centuries. It had particularly worked well when they invaded Alfheim. The Light-Elves, their kin had similar dialects and were able to interpret much of what they had planned if they got hold of their documents. So, they began to wail. They would wail like banshees in the night to a code that only they code decipher. Their shrieks were horrifying and baffling to those who heard. Not to mention painful. The constant hollering and the high-pitched sounds that they were able to emit from their throats oftentimes drove their enemies insane. Lord Malekith instructed his men on what to say. Soon they started to speak and holler and hoot wildly like a back of rabid wolves into the microphones scattered around the chamber.

While the three soldiers kept busy following his commands with the enthusiasm of children given free reign. Malekith tried to find a signal that would give him access to Thanos' domain. Thanos had been locked away from the Nine Realms. He'd been sentenced to a prison in the deep underbelly of the cosmos. He was cursed by Bor and the King of the Norns and the Elders of the Vanir to remain in such exile to not access the branches of Yggdrasil until the next Convergence. Still, Thanos could contact those outside his domain in Sanctuary. That slimy serpent Loki had used his enchantment and the power of the tesseract to transport them there even if only in a metaphysical sense. Still, Malekith was convince that there had to be away for him to communicate with Thanos directly. He had done it before, 5000 years ago, he'd not had access to the Tesseract, he had never beheld any Infinity Stone besides the Aether, but he communicated with Thanos via electrical means. When he had awaked from his long and laborious 5000-year slumber, Thanos' favorite minion, The Other, immediately contacted him through the means on his ship. If only he was near his ship, Annihilation, then he could look onto the ships log computer and trace the signal back to its place of origin. Still, there was no signal to trace here. Lord Malekith continued to growl and foam rapidly. His fist pounded like a hammer on the keyboards and flat screens as he tried to input signals that went unrecognized. Each time he punched something in the screens would flare and glare and flash neon signs in his face. It mocked him and told him its efforts were futile. It spoke in a gentle, but robotic voice "No entry. No data available. Error. Unknown." Malekith screamed. His talons started to claw away at anything on the computer that he could find. He turned the dials and changed frequency. He put it at the highest section so that it could scan as many regions as possible. Still nothing came of it. He looked at one of the invisible flat screens that displayed the star charts. He searched through the deepest, far-reaching quadrants. He saw many strange worlds float by, places that he had heard of like Knowhere. His people had harvested many resources from Knowhere for centuries. He had even had a few brushes in with the strange figure that had inhabited there for 1000s of years before him.

Malekith let a greedy smile ripple across his face. He pressed the signal that allowed him to connect. Immediately when he connected the pretty face a pink skinned woman appeared. "Greetings!" the alien said chipperly. "You have reached Taneleer Tivan, The Collector," she announced pleasantly and gave a bow. "Here, in this hallowed treasure trove he has assembled for his pleasure and your own the largest collection of interstellar Ferna, fauna, relics, artifacts and beings," she explained.

"Allow me to speak with your master, wench!" Lord Malekith ordered.

"My master, Taneleer Tivan, The Collector, he has many duties to attend to," she explained as she waved her hand and the screen enabled Malekith to see the ancient being's extensive collection. It had been an impressive menagerie we the leader of the Dark-Elves had first encountered it, but now it was a sprawling, dizzying agglomeration.

"PUT HIM ON NOW!" Malekith shouted at the slave girl. She looked only slightly taken aback and startled then immediately her expression returned to a placid, automatic smile.

"I am not allowed to interrupt my master for anything that is not urgent," Carina explained. There were many who sought The Collector, sought audience with him to acquire his priceless treasures, but The Collector had not time to be bothered by every urchin who came to call.

"IT IS URGENT!" Malekith fumed. He had no patience for the pink-skinned woman.

Her pink lips once again formed and unphased smile. "I can determine if it is urgent based on your answering a few simple questions," she gave her trained response. It had taken many years and many mistakes and many punishments for minor errors to train the young, alien woman to know exactly what her master considered important enough that she should take him from his favorite pastime of viewing and occasionally teasing and taunting the things (and people in his possession)

"I HAVEN'T TIIIIIIIMMMMEE!" Malekith screeched like an eagle. His eyes glowed with the bright, and burning hellish red of the Aether. He couldn't control the shards of thick black and red spears and splinters that flew from his hands. She heard a few screams come from the background.

"Ooohh!" she squealed with excitement. "You appear to be powerful. My master does like those who are powerful," she rubbed her fuchsia-colored hands together. Her mistakes were severely punished by her master, but like she could be significantly rewarded if she did something that pleased him. Sometimes it was just a few extra morsels to eat. Other times he would let her pick out a new piece of clothing from the wide array of vestments he'd amassed over the centuries. The Collector loved to festoon himself as well. But on the rarest occasions if he was truly impressed with her work, he would let her out to interact amongst the thieves, knaves and scoundrels who populated Knowhere. Quick as a little bunny and full of a childlike glee she flounced off to find Taneleer Tivan.

It didn't take long before Malekith heard the distinct voice of the man himself could be heard off screen. "Carina," he said testily. "I hope you have not bothered me for nothing," he grumbled. "I was so enjoying viewing the Tyrannasaurous chase the Diplodocus," he chuckled to himself. "I had not seen them at their full size in 65,000 years," he chuckled to himself.

"It is! It is, Master," Carina expressed with a giggle.

"I should hope so," he huffed. "For your sake," he cast an eye in her direction and then clicked his tongue. "I would hate to bring out the bullwhip again," he shook his head. Carina made her way back to the screen where Lord Malekith awaited her impatiently. He seethed and foamed at the mouth when he beheld her once more. With much perk and enthusiasm, she once again rattled off her announcement. "May I present to you my master, the great Taneleer Tivan, The Collector," she moved away from the screen and slowly, as if he was on display in one of his collection cases Tivan turned around. He was arrayed in an assortment of finery, white furs from the rarest beasts across the stars, pelts and skins and hides to make his fine leather, his fingers were beset with beautiful bejeweled rings. His face was tanned with the marked designs of his culture long forgotten on it. His hair was white as snow and he wore brilliant black spectacles with a long spying manacle that protruded from one of the lenses in order to for him to inspect his collection thoroughly.

"I am Malekith," the Dark-Elf general announced.

Taneleer at first stood unimpressed by the name. His lips turned up as was the white face elf from the other side of the screen. Then he pressed the side of his manacle and inspected the being who he only was seeing through a holographic image further. The manacle moved all about. Finally, Taneleer Tivan lowered his black spectacles. "Do I know you?" he inquired.

"5000 years ago, yes you did, we struck a few deals. I am Lord Malekith, leader of the Dark-Elves of Svartalfheim," he stated proudly,

"Malekith...Malekith...Malekith," The Collector muttered the name as if he was tasting it. "Dark-Elves! It can't be!" he gasped. Glasses all the way down. "But it is," he pointed his onyx painted fingers toward the holographic image. "Fascinating!" he practically purred. "But your kind vanished from the face of the galaxy 5000 years ago," he expressed.

"WE have been awakened by the Convergence and the Aether,"

"Aether. Infinity Stone. I must have." The Collector demanded.

"And I must talk to Thanos. You and he had dealings all those centuries ago and I believe you still know how to access him now. Connect me to him!"

"The Mad Titan seeks you out... you do not seek him out save you want to court death or have something to offer. I have sought to offer him the stones if only I can possess them for a little while." The Collector licked his lips. "But promise me the Aether and I shall surely transfer you to his frequency in Sanctuary," Taneleer Tivan offered.

"Not on your life! I am the only one who shall possess it. It shall be mine forever!" Malekith railed.

Taneleer Tivan shook his head. "Thanos will have that stone," he pointed out. "And since you shall not make a trade we have no further business here," he allowed a slick grin to play on his lips and wiggled his fingers to say goodbye.

"CONNECT ME!" Malekith screamed desperately.

"You can't get something for nothing you know. Especially, not from me. Even information has a price," he rubbed his fingers together.

"How about I let you keep your miserable life when I bathe the cosmos in blackness once again!" the general hollered as he lifted up his head.

"You don't seem in a position to make threats," Tivan snickered.

"I will give you one of men when this is over for your collection," Malekith said like a pouty child.

Taneleer Tivan massaged the black goatee that painted onto his face. "To have one of your ancient race, thought to be extinct for millenniums...priceless" he grinned ear to ear as he rubbed his greedy palms together.

"Then we have a deal!" Malekith urged frantically. Moments were passing by. Moments he couldn't get back. The Aether raged within side him. It caused him to shake violently.

"We can't shake on it," The Collector stated. "And I have steep penalties for those who have tried to swindle me," he expressed.

Malekith began to fuss and curse in his own language. Taneleer only smiled as he heard the guttural words. In his collection he had many books on dialects and in his seemingly endless life he had mastered myriads of them. "I SWEAR ON THE AETHER!" he finally yelled out. His voice ragged with desperation. He was panting and fuming as he held onto the screen.

The Collector's smile was calm and confident. He nodded slowly. "Very well. We have an accord." he agreed. "But know this. When payment is due. I intend to collect," With that the eccentric white-haired gent faded from view. For a minute the images on the screen that Lord Malekith had been staring at went fuzzy. Malekith's mouth dangled open. In the background he heard the blood-curdling voice of his men screeching the words of their plan into the microphones. They were doing the best they could. he could only hope that there were more of his troops left alive, but he was desperate to get in contact with Thanos and let him know of this vile betrayal. Fuzzy, pixelated static took over the screen. Malekith held fast to the monitor with his hands. He cried out as he read the words SIGNAL LOST. "NOOO!" he wailed. He could not be conned or tricked again. He yelled and tried to rip the monitor down, but he could not as it seemed to float on thin air. Enraged all the more he sought to ram his fist through it or better yet his head, but just as he was about to drive his cranium through the device the invisible plexiglass screen flickered off and on black and then a new face appeared.

It was a horrendous hooded figure decked in black and blue drapes. The vestments were somewhat regal, but the face was too ugly to be royal. It was as if the face was caged as shiny metallic open wiring crisscrossed the face. It revealed much of the face including the disturbing blood teeth. "Malekith!" the Other grinned. "What need have you to use such provincial means to contact us?" he inquired immediately. "Has it begun?" he asked with pleasure. "Is Loki using the Tesseract to free Thanos from the squalid prison?" he panted gleefully as his bloody teeth dripped. The Dark-Elf general could merely shake his head. "Is it finished?" he asked once more. "Do not just sit there wagging you head!" the minion of Thanos snapped. "Answer me!" he commanded. "Answer him," he hummed a little gentler. "What news do you bring us of the Convergence?" he pressed.

Malekith lowered his darkened eyes for a moment. He took a few deep inhales through his sharp nostrils. "None that is good," he finally responded.

"What!" Thanos' right hand squawked.

"I must speak to Thanos," Malekith's tone was nearly pleading.

The hooded figure nodded. "Indeed, you must. Malekith, you know the consequence of what shall happen to you should you fail? Should the Aether and Tesseract be kept from us," the Other shook his head. "You and all your men will wish that you had never been awakened," he reported. Instantly, The Other's horrid face was no longer on the screen.

Another, face proud and strong, chiseled as a statue, hard as stone and purple as a grape appeared before the general. "Convergence is at hand Malekith," the Titan stated his tone firm. "I know that you have the Aether and the Tesseract in your possession, but I did think that the Aesir would offer you and Loki more resistance. I did not expect news of victory so soon. But I must say I am pleased," Thanos inclined his head.

"It is not victory, yet, my lord," Malekith reported.

"What then? For you should still be fighting!"

"It is news of betrayal," Lord Malekith expressed nervously.

"How?" Thanos rumbled as he drummed his mighty fingers on the edges of his chair. Malekith explained all. He told of all that Loki had done and he spared no detail for the great titan's years. He watched as his words etched a deep frown into Thanos' mouth. His coloring going from plum to crimson. Malekith's voice began to drift from Thanos' mind. He saw Loki a mere few years ago a cowering wretch bowing before his grandeur as all before him had done.

"I have a gift for you Prince Loki," Thanos said tauntingly as he sat upon his stone throne. Loki looked up at him with shifty, nervous green-eyes. Thanos smiled down at the Jotun in Aesir flesh. Loki was shrewd, calculating, manipulative, but he had kept the trickster on his toes with enough torture and tricks of his own that he'd made him fearful enough to be capitulant.

"Thank you, Mighty Thanos," Loki said as he kept his eyes downcast.

"Don't you want to know what it is?" the titan questioned.

"I suppose I should just be grateful whatever scraps I get," Loki added sly, still not looking up.

"This is no mere scrap," he turned up his lips. "It is a long-time acquisition. I have long sought an enchanter powerful enough to use it. Even my son, Maw has not had such a privilege," Thanos explained. The Mad Titan's words were enough to titillate the raven-haired mystic enough to arch his brows. Thanos clapped his massive hands and the Other appeared in a quick flash. The hooded figure carried something regal looking in his grubby double-thumbed hands. Loki eyes grew wide as he beheld the beautiful staff. It had a long golden hand that was fitted in black platinum one of the rarest and most expensive metals in the galaxy. It had two might blades shaped liked sickles and they guarded and gleaming blue jewel. It truly was something fit for a king, Loki licked his cracked lips as it reminded him of Gungnir the weapon that was rightfully his that he held for but a moment. "This belonged to your great-great-grandfather once," Thanos explained as the Other marched on carrying the weapon. "Ymir," Thanos spoke the name slowly. Loki cringed as he heard the Frost Giant moniker. He wished he'd said the name of Buri, the great king who he had been raised to believe was his ancestor, but Thanos took great care to remind him of his true lineage. "They say, that he used it to make all the Jotun hearts as icy as their world so that they could survive. But perhaps that is just an old, old legend. Thousands of years later in order to save the Jotun home world that was suffering from a dreadful global warming he traded it to the Norns for the Casket of 1000 winters."

Loki mashed his thin lips together. The Casket of 1000 winters was one of the most dangerous and powerful relics in the Nine Realms. It was Jotunheim's pride and glory, their prized possession and yet to think they had something as wondrous as an infinity stone in their frozen grasp once was truly incredible and they'd traded it away, how very foolish and how like them it was. The infinity stones drifted out the collective consciousness of most of the people of the Nine Realms, even Odin rarely spoke of them, but The Casket. The Casket was what Odin had wanted when he found him, had sparing his life even been Odin's first choice? Obviously, his life hadn't been Laufey's first choice. Thanos continued talking, reciting the long history of the Scepter. He talked of the powerful hands and kingdoms that had possessed it for a century or two. "Can you believe even the King of the Norns possessed it once," Thanos stated as purple fingers slid their way over the blades. "He used it to make a woman fall in love with him," he explained. "To use such power on cheap sentiment," the titan shook his head. "Pathetic," he spat as he looked down at Loki. Thanos talked on and continued his lecture. Loki would have smiled, for Thanos may have loved history nearly as much as he did and Loki though that Thanos might have liked to talk even more than he did and that was saying something. The conclusion of the matter was it had been lost in a battle. "Isn't it so funny, all these eons it would find its way to me...and subsequently to you," he chuckled low in his throat. He pointed the tip of The Scepter at Loki's bowed head. "It will take a great enchanter to unlock the capabilities of the gem...is that you?" Thanos asked mockingly. He tapped Loki on the head, then lowered The Scepter slightly so that the tip of the blade nudged Loki's narrow chin up and forced Loki's tired, bloodshot, black-circled green eyes to look up at him. Loki eagerly bobbed his head. "If you are worthy," Thanos proffered the relic, "The gem will yield itself to you," he reported sternly. "And if you do good service for me, you shall be handsomely rewarded with a world of your own to rule," he explained.

Loki nearly salivated as he heard the words. He licked his ashy, chapped, thin lips; power was a nutrient that had been sorely lacking in his diet as of late and he was famished and malnourished for it. He had never been considered worthy. He was not considered worthy by Laufey to be his heir; he was not even by Laufey's standards worthy of life. Odin had never considered him worthy to rule Asgard, by choice. Mjolnir had not considered him a worthy-wielder (he would never forget, trying to lay hands on the magnificent mallet only to find it wouldn't budge from the spot it had fallen to.) His friends had not found him worth to be king of Asgard they had planned a coup against him. The Norns themselves seemed to have not considered him worthy as his reign was short lived and ended in him falling into an abyss and taking up residence in this wicked place. But as he looked up at Thanos something akin to hopefulness seemed to fill him. Perhaps Thanos found him worthy. What would he do be worthy just once in someone eyes, to be worthy in his own eyes. Desperately, he reached up his hands to take what had been offered to him. Instantly, Thanos pulled it away. Loki's mouth dangled open, in bewilderment as once again what he craved could be so close and yet out of reach. "Ah-ah-ah," The Other shook his head. "Not so fast," he chided. "First you must pledge yourself to him," his garbled voice uttered.

Loki nodded and swallowed hard. "Oh, Mighty Thanos, I, Loki Laufeyson, the Rightful King of Asgard and Jotunheimm do hereby pledge to you my undying fidelity," he said in a small, low voice as he stared up at the Mad Titan who stood towering over him.

"Rise," Thanos ordered in voice booming off the granite and metal that made up his dark throne room. Loki did as he was commanded and The Other presented him with his gift. His hands twitched as he took hold of it. The cold metal at his fingertips filled him and fueled him. His green eyes slowly turned the same brilliant sapphire color of as the stone insider The Scepter. As he took it, he felt all his emotions surge and rush and swarm within his heart. The rage and hatred in him boiling over. "Take it, study it and in 3 days' time The Other will test you to make sure you know it's inner workings," he explained.

"Undying," Thanos ground out the words that Loki had repeated the words that Loki had said to him a few years ago. "He should have chosen his words more carefully," Thanos muttered angrily. "Now he will suffer and unimaginable death at my hand for his betrayal," Thanos said as he clenched his fist.

"Give me the honor, Lord Thanos, I will may him suffer!" Malekith declared. "He will rue the day he crossed you! And me!" Malekith railed.

"NO!" Thanos barked. "I'll do this myself!" he corrected. "Just make sure that you are able to carry forth the plan as before, make sure to release the Tesseract and the Aether during the peak of Convergence so that I may be freed,"

"The Asgardians have scattered my forces! And the time grows short. How shall we make sure to defeat them? Loki knows our plans, our tactics now"

"The Aether is the Reality Stone, you have yet to even scratch the surface of its capabilities." Thanos explained shaking his head.

"I have wielded it mightily Lord Thanos!" Malekith insisted. Most of his life he had devoted to learning how to harness and control the power gem. "The blast that I can create..." he started to boast.

"Are nothing!" Thanos spat. "You know nothing of it's true power," the purple skinned titan expressed breathlessly. He shook his head. As he watched Malekith's shoulders heave through the screen.

"I WILL SHOW YOU! I WILL SHOW YOU!" the dark-elf general began.

"LOWER YOU'RE TONE!" The Other's bloody toothed face appeared instantly on the monitor. It half-way startled Lord Malekith.

Once again, the leader of the Dark-Elves was face to face with the Mad Titan. He raised his great hand that was clothed in a golden gauntlet. "You've always been ambitious, Malekith. Ambitious, ruthless and doggedly focused. Those are fine qualities. But you lack. You have always lacked vision and curiosity. You never thought to seek more of what the Aether could do. It can do much more," Thanos breathed. 'it doesn't simply alter matter to dark-matter, but alters realities in illusions. And that is what you will need now. You'll need that to beat a trickster at his own game. Now, listen carefully little child as I teach you for we haven't the time for me to repeat myself."

A/N: Hello Readers! WOOHOO! Looks like you made it! I know that was a loooooonnnggg chapter and I know it, but hopefully it was worth it. Anyway, give yourselves a pat on the back, round of applause and a big hug for pushing through that chapter! Well at least I kept my word and got to the tip of the iceberg with the battle scenes, but please know there is more to come and hopefully the best is yet to come. I know I threw in the lot at the end but hopefully it kept the story connected and you all were able to enjoy some nice cameos as well (hehehe). Think of it as a little Dr. Strange Tribute (though I haven't seen it yet) Also I tried to make sure to add some final flashbacks, the flashbacks are always my favorite to write. But I'd love to know what you all think! Come on don't be shy, we are so close to the end of this tale and if you've been reading this long you deserve to share your thoughts.

P.S: Have any of you seen Dr. Strange? I'd love to hear some thoughts and opinions I'm still debating on if I'm going to see it as I'm not a big horror fan or Dr. strange fan...

P.S.S Please continue to pray and send your best wishes for the people in Ukraine. Let us all pray the violence can stop and peace can resume. We live in a world full of violence as we continue to hear about numerous wars all over the world, please know that the Bible predicts all of this and has the answer to the problems in this world which is JESUS CHRIST. If you would like to know more about him please feel free to message me. Until then Jesus loves you and God bless.