Odin
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The battlefield was ominous, with the explosive fall of the palace ringing out. Loki watched his home, which had dominated the landscape of an entire Realm since long before his, or even Odin's birth, collapsed into nothing but dust. Fenrir was the cause, or at least part of it. The great wolf let out a great howl, head thrown back and drool hanging from it's maw.
The purple crackling around the stones thrown from the palace suggested another culprit.
Loki searched the battlefield, it didn't take long.
Thanos was too large to miss.
Surprisingly, he hadn't seen much of the Titan so far. Sparks and flashes of crackling lilac, lavender and violet shooting up into the sky was an occasional reminder, but otherwise…
The fire which Loki had been drawing from Asgard dissipated and the power slunk away, leaving them in the dark once again. Thor's lightning calmed too, until they were both back to something resembling normal.
Brunnhilde broke him from his musings, "If you try to throw me into the dungeons," She said, low and defensive to Thor, "I will kill you."
Loki was torn between confusion and the urge to rip out her tongue for the threat.
Wait. No, less confused.
"What?" Banner stared at her, then whipped around to glare at Thor, "Why?"
"I won't," He said, hands held up placatingly, "My brother's Loki. You seriously think I have a problem with your girlfriend?"
Loki balked, whipped round and glared at Thor, "Since when-"
"You are very obvious," His brother said, rather smug, "I'm just glad father is oblivious."
If Loki's face had been pale before, he was probably white now. Or at least a sort of periwinkle blue. He'd never thought that his complete… Lack of interest would have been picked up on. Least of all by Thor, the great oaf himself.
Banner was staring, eyes flicking between the Asgardians, "Uh… So, you guys have racism and homophobia. Nice. At least we can agree it's bad, this time?"
"Is that what you call it?" Brunnhilde said, the tension falling from her shoulders, "So. No dungeons?"
"Even if they still existed," Thor joked, gesturing to the palace, now just a pile of rubble, "No dungeons."
They sat in relative silence, looking out on the battlefield.
Loki took the opportunity to pick up the Casket, return it to the pouch on his belt and stare out at his ruined Realm.
The two children shuffled over and carefully sat next to him on the rubble. A moment later and his left side had two little figures leaning against his arm.
A soft sound from somewhere and Loki glanced over, only to see the others staring at him. Thor smiled, Brunnhilde smirked and Banner looked shocked, with one hand clapped over his mouth.
"What."
"I tell everyone you're good with kids and they never listen," Thor shook his head, then pointed, "I told you two."
Brunnhilde and Banner slowly nodded.
Loki scowled and made to pull his arm away from the children, but when a pair of little arms snuck round and snared the limb in a hug… He sighed and let them, glowering at the Idiots Three, daring them to say anything.
They did dare.
"Why, Loki," Brunnhilde smirked, "That's almost cute."
Redirection time.
"There is no possible scenario in which we reclaim Asgard."
The teasing air dropped away immediately and was replaced with apprehension, "You just had to ruin the mood."
"Of course," Loki smirked.
Thor sighed, "He has a point."
Silence. Broken only by the shifting of rubble and distant explosions. Above them, skiffs twirled and died in streaks of fire, lighting up the pitch-black night just enough for the Æsir to see. It was beautiful, in the way that destruction could be. The death of a Realm, and most of its people, too. All because of a daughter’s wish to rule. Or perhaps be seen as worthy. Or perhaps her wish to please her father.
She had led Thanos to their doorstep. And now she lay dead.
"So…" Banner said, hesitant, "What do we do?"
"Salvage what we can," Thor said after a moment, "We cannot let Thanos escape. And if Ragnarök is the only way to stop him…"
Loki knew it was a rational solution. Logical, even. Didn't mean he liked it.
"That's the death of the Gods, right?" Banner whispered.
Thor grimaced, "Hopefully not."
"But," He seemed to be grasping at the idea, "Your planet will be gone."
"We do understand the concept," Loki snapped, "We can't let Thanos reach the rest of the Nine. Or get the weapons in the vault."
"Ragnarök, then," Brunnhilde stood, turned to face away from them, "Of course, we have to destroy Asgard the moment I come back."
Thor stared at the mound of broken masonry which was what remained of the palace, uncharacteristically silent.
At Loki's side, the children seemed to be following the conversation just enough, eyes wide and brimming with tears. A little hand reached out, grasped at his sleeve and Loki looked down, into the boy's face.
"Ma really isn't coming back?"
"Yes," He said, quiet and doing his best to be reassuring, "But I will ensure you are looked after."
A halting nod, "Okay."
Thor spoke up, still staring at the palace, "Surtur's Crown and the Eternal Flame are here. In the vault," He stood, flickering fire which sputtered in the rubble bathing him in a soft, red glow. Turned to look at them, "Who wants to go?"
Loki didn't hesitate, "I will."
"Shouldn't it be me?" Banner asked, quietly, "The Hulk doesn't want to come out, but I'm sure he will if I'm about to die. I'm tougher than you guys."
"The prophecy said ‘child of the King’," Loki smiled, a sad expression, "I always thought it a nasty rumour, nothing more."
Thor sighed, "Apparently not."
"And, none of you can teleport," He stood, gently pried the children off, hiding his fingers in his sleeves to do so, careful not to burn them, "I'll take the orgy ship. You idiots try to keep these two safe," He gestured to the little Asgardians.
"Are you forgetting that father bound your magic?" Thor didn't seem too worried and no one else was putting up a fight.
Loki patted the pouch which housed the Casket, "Yes, but you do remember how the Frost Giants got to Midgard without a Bifröst, right?"
A hum of acknowledgement, but neither party moved.
"I'll be fine, brother," Loki said, stepping closer and clasping his shoulder, gentle so as not to burn through his armour, "In and out, then we can save our people."
No response other than his own shoulders to be held, then the back of his neck and it burnt, but not enough to make him pull away.
"Do you trust me?" Loki asked.
"Of course I do."
"Then we'll do this. Together."
"Together."
He pulled away, a teasing smile replaced his softer, far more genuine one, "Even if I do die, you won't be able to forget me with that braid," He reached out and flicked the dangling twist of hair, one lock blonde, the other black.
"You can't say anything!" Thor grabbed his wrist, uncaring for the blue-black mark it left on his own hand, "That is clearly a hair braid bracelet."
Loki laughed, "My, your powers of deduction are truly impressive."
In the background, Brunnhilde snorted and spoke to Banner, "Are you certain they were trying to kill each other?"
"Very certain."
"I don't see it."
"Me neither."
Loki glanced at them and shrugged, "I'd best get going," Back to Thor and he offered as encouraging a smile as he could muster, "Take care of the little ones."
"I will," Thor said solemnly, the previous mischievous spark buried beneath worry, "You take care of yourself."
"I'll see what I can do," Loki summoned twin knives of sparkling ice and felt for the ancient power of Asgard beneath his feet, letting it rumble through him, though it was somewhat muted. Flipped the daggers and turned away, leathers flapping around him as he made his way towards the edge of their little clearing. Back into the fray.
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Loki didn't bother with truly fighting. The knives slashed and bit at whatever was directly in front of him, slicing a way through the crowd. He dove and rolled and, at one point, kept running through a skiff's strafe, rubble and dirt and bits of vaporised, chitinous meat spraying him.
It wasn't far to the Sakaarian ship - only a shallow incline, atop a ridge of rubble and bodies. Already, the Chitauri army had engulfed the area around it, bearing down on where his brother and friends (when had Brunnhilde and Banner become his friends) were readying themselves for yet another clash.
Loki reached the ship, leapt inside and smacked his open palm against the switch which shored up the sides. A few Chitauri managed to clamber inside before they were shut out, but he dealt with them quickly, spraying icicles from his fingertips and a flung knife for good measure, they went down.
A moment later and with dead bodies already starting to stink, Loki strode to the cockpit. On the walls, he heard the thud of fists. Joined by more and more, until the entire ship rocked and reverberated with the clang of metal on metal, dull smacks of hands and the occasional burst of whining, the hull absorbing energy from a bolt most likely.
This was an orgy ship; it wasn’t built to endure battle and the growing dents demonstrated that.
Loki was flicking switches and pushing buttons before he was even in the pilot's seat. Moments later, he felt the familiar hum of engines powering up. Grabbed the throttle and flung it open, tightened his grip on the stick and he was off.
Rising above the battlefield, one last angry thump and he was free, could look down on his Realm from above.
The first thing he searched for was Thor.
Where he had left them; the group of Asgardians and singular honorary mortal were on the verge of being engulfed. They ran in a group, Banner and the children, wielding the little ice knives he gave them, at the centre of Thor and Brunnhilde who pounded along at the sides. One crackled with lightning, the other wielded Tyrfing, blackened by Chitauri blood.
As Loki passed overhead, his brother looked up, waved, and continued. No time for anything more.
Even though Thor was no longer watching, Loki waved back. A little, hesitant twitch of his hand. Which he immediately felt stupid for moments later.
And then promptly returned his focus to the important task ahead.
Above the battlefield, he got a good look at the destruction which had been wrought on his home.
It truly had been flattened. Even that stall in the market was destroyed; the one which had remained standing long past stone buildings gave way, defended by the Jötunn. The palace, city and streets were gone. Not even the cobblestones remained. Carnage spread outwards from this pile of rubble, into the countryside. Trees were keeled over, huge boulders flung against their trunks and debris covered the fields. In the midst of it, Thanos' huge form barrelled through knots of Æsir and Chitauri alike, seemingly uncaring if he harmed his own army.
In the skies above, the throng was just as dense.
Skiffs from both parties dominated the air, loomed over by Chitauri command ships and, dwarfing even them, the Sanctuary II. Explosions rocked the air seemingly without end, the aerial battle close enough to batter him in his seat, thrown about like a stuffed toy. If the orgy ship could barely endure pathetic hits from the Chitauri on the ground, it wouldn't be able to withstand a single blow up here.
Loki raised his eyebrows and huffed out a breath. Gripped the stick with both hands and focused.
First, he pulled up steeply and shot towards the open sky above. Felt a wave of air press against the tail end of the ship and grit his teeth. He rocked, nearly fell from his seat and wanted to curse whoever designed the cockpit without fucking seatbelts. Who needs safety when it gets in the way of a BJ?!
Thankfully, nothing seemed to be damaged other than the smoke coming out the back. For a crash landing, Brunnhilde had kept it surprisingly in one piece. It would last long enough. It had to.
Above the aerial carnage, Loki managed to breathe again, his half-dead ship no longer buffeted by explosions. Below him, the dance of golden Æsir skiffs and the black Chitauri copies continued. Few saw him - locked up in their own struggles of life and death. Those that did probably hadn’t the time to wonder who he was. He wasn't an enemy. He wasn't an ally. Therefore, he was forgotten.
Story of his life, until a few short years ago.
Loki rolled his eyes at his own musing, glanced over at where the palace lay in ruins.
How would he get to the vault?
Above the fray, he was ignored. If he tried to pass through again…
Well. He’d just have to see. Hopefully he’d be lucky again and get through unscathed.
Until he arrived at the pile of broken masonry, he had time to wait. Perhaps relax a little as he cruised towards the palace.
As if sensing the lack of adrenaline, Loki’s stomach and shoulder began to ache and he groaned, curling over at the middle. Grasped at his abdomen, only for his palm to come away slick with blood, “Shit,” He muttered.
The sheen of ice over it had fallen away, apparently. A moment of concentration and there was another one, stretching over the wound, keeping the oozing purple inside. It wasn’t healing as fast as he would’ve liked, but simply being able to move after a fight with Hela was something to be thankful for.
Loki wasn’t the thankful type.
If Odin didn’t awaken and restore his seiðr soon, he’d just try murdering the old bastard. That should work.
No matter how powerful the magic Asgard offered to him was, it paled in comparison to his own. Not because he was somehow more able than an entire Realm, but because the fire it gave him wasn’t his. Thor must have found it easier, having grown up with the lightning offered up to him every step of the way.
However, no matter how strong his brother was, Loki couldn’t help but worry.
It was too dark for Thor.
The night was dark, far beyond that of a usual Asgardian night. Clouded over with enemy ships and squadrons of skiffs chasing each other across the sky. Yes, the fires of the battlefield lit things a little but… It wasn’t enough. Not when he was already missing an eye, though he seemed to have gotten somewhat used to that after fighting for so long. If he hadn’t, there would be a Thor kebab instead of Hela’s decapitated body lying half-buried on the battlefield.
Thor’s supposed adjustment to only having one eye didn’t shake Loki’s feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong.
And then he was above the palace’s remains.
Below him, Fenrir looked up, teeth bared and Loki returned the expression, saw confusion then anger in those dull green eyes.
Predictably, the wolf leaned back on its hind legs, stretched up, maw hanging wide to snag the ship from the air.
Loki grinned, tightened his grasp on the stick and shot forwards, weaved through the closing teeth and grimaced at the drool which coated his windshield. But he had no time to be truly disgusted, as the creature was whipping around for another bite. If nothing else, at least his reactions were being tested today. His bloody sanity, too.
Being bitten at by a huge wolf whilst piloting an orgy ship. Lovely.
With a yank on the controls, hand gripping the throttle, Loki came to a dead stop mid-air. As he hovered, slammed on the lever and just as Fenrir overshot, teeth chomping together barely a metre from the ship’s nose, he dropped, engines stalling. Loki grinned, staring into the wolf’s single visible eye, waved a mocking, two-fingered salute before flinging open the throttle and shot forwards, diving down towards the palace.
It was far away at first, practically invisible beneath the seething carpet of skiffs buzzing about, some barely clearing the huge blocks of stone as they skimmed across it, ducking and weaving.
Loki scowled, readied himself, glanced at the little screen which showed what was behind him, flung the stick to the side just in time. Fenrir’s huge paw slammed down on a skiff - Asgardian by the gold - and roared. Loki dove into the writhing mass of ships, going far too fast and only barely weaving his way through, air brakes dragging through the air and turning him just enough. Without his Jötunn eyes and reflexes, he would surely have died. If he hadn’t gotten over his… Aversion...
With a screech, he pulled up, stones scraping the underbelly of his ship and huge stones looming too close to avoid and-
Loki heard more than saw metal crumpling around him before the press of glass against his shoulders and upper back slammed into him at force, comparable to being kicked by a bucking horse. And then it smashed, became hard and sharp and cut into him and he was out, through the hollow metal rectangle of his shattered and deformed windshield, tumbling head over heels.
Hit something solid.
Darkness descended.
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Everything was too hard and sharp.
Loki groaned, lifted a hand to his head and slowly righted himself, blinking blearily until he could make sense of where he was.
Stone, towering up with alternating smooth and jagged edges. They looked how he felt. Rough and broken. Add exhausted to the list and it would’ve been complete.
How long had he been unconscious?
A glance down, a little to the left and Loki saw the Sakaarian ship. Flames spilled from its sides, roared upwards but had yet to spread to the liquid pooling about its base. Fuel?
Loki stared at it for a moment.
And then he scrambled upright, turned and ran.
Seconds later, the explosion flung him from his feet and into yet another slab of stone. Fucking great. If he didn’t have permanent brain damage by the end of this, the Norns were at work. As they always seemed to be with their favourite cosmic punching bag.
Loki stumbled back to his feet and continued, palms scraping on the rough rubble as he picked himself back up, sometimes almost-falling again as his boots caught on the harsh, jagged rubble.
When the flames no longer licked at his heels and the general burnt sensation along his back had numbed somewhat, he paused to breathe, panting. Looked back, only to see that the entire ship was engulfed in flame.
That was too close. Way too close.
Even when fighting Hela, he’d had more control than that. Even against the Hulk he hadn’t felt as helpless as lying, unconscious, right next to a ticking bomb.
Loki heaved in a deep breath through his nose, out through the mouth and tried to calm the rapid thumping of his terrified heart, pounding staccato against his ribs.
Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be many Chitauri scrabbling over the palace’s remains. There were certainly bodies buried within it, as evidenced by the faint distressed clicking he could just about make out. The deep crags in the rubble darkened with blood instead of only shadow.
What an Asgardian way to go out, even if it was just a building. Going to fall, so it fell on half an army. Loki smirked, tinged with an odd sort of fondness.
All he had to do now was find the entrance to the vaults.
Beneath what could be half a mile of collapsed palace.
Loki sighed, a pickaxe formed in his hand and he got to work.
Splitting the larger rocks, he kicked the smallest ones from his path and ice slithered out from the soles of his boots to heave others away. He could’ve moved them himself, but why put in the effort when magic did it quicker and with less sweat?
He dug down, shifted corpses and stones and descended into the dark dust.
It took far too long to find a corridor. Loki squeezed down through a tiny crack in the roof, then fell into the deep black, the only light came from the hole in the ceiling.
When he hit the floor, it was all at once. Flaring pain in his ankle as it twisted, his other injuries protested as well. The rubble that littered the ground was practically invisible, even to his eyes. Above, at least there was fire and the occasional peaking star to light the way; enough for him to see. Here? A ray of barely-there light drifted down from the crack far above him, not illuminating the floor at all.
Loki sighed, let himself sit for a moment rubbing at his throbbing ankle. It didn’t feel broken - no jutting bones or spiking pain, just the ache of a sprain. A bad one, admittedly. And with the hole in his shoulder, stab wound in his stomach and who knew what else… It wouldn’t heal nearly as fast as usual.
When he got out of this, he was having a well-deserved break. If anyone disturbed him for a year, they would be turned into a frog. Which wouldn’t sufficiently cow Thor, since he’d spent a few weeks as a frog already… That had been when Loki had first figured out how to transfigure living things and ‘Throg’ had been quite hilarious.
He’d rethink the threat later. When he wasn’t stuck in the depths of a crumbling palace without a torch.
Loki slowly edged forwards, feeling the way with his feet and pausing at every minor drop, cautiously patting at the ground until he found something solid to stand on.
At which point he remembered that the Casket of Ancient Winters glowed.
Precariously balanced on the fractured stone, Loki reached into his pouch and brought it out. Almost immediately, his vision improved, the previously indecipherable murkiness cleared and he was left staring down into a pit only a few feet from him.
A moment, in which he blinked to make sure it wasn’t just some hallucinogenic dust in his eye.
Then he scrambled backwards with a yelp, only barely keeping hold of the Casket as he fell flat on his arse.
“Shit,” He groaned, scrambling a bit further away until his back pressed against a huge piece of masonry.
Well. He wasn’t going that way.
After a few seconds to just breathe, Loki got to his feet, the Casket throwing deep shadows as it swung in his grasp.
Now able to see, he gave that highway to Hel a wide berth, skirting around the edges of the large corridor. Large enough, thankfully, that he didn’t have to get closer than a few feet.
Probably could have iced it over, but Loki preferred slow and steady to death by falling. It was less the death than the falling that scared him.
When he was across, it was just mindless trudging.
The steady glow from the Casket lit up the hallway to either side, and not too far in front. Far enough to make sure he didn’t stumble into anything deadly.
As he walked, the debris was spread thinner and thinner across broken flagstones. Flickering shadows fell on the occasional body, curled in on themselves, either crushed by piles of stones or inflicted with numerous types of wounds, none of which were caused by Chitauri weapons. So Hela’s force had tackled the palace first?
Was the mother of those two children he had saved somewhere here?
No matter. They were all dead now. Dead and gone.
Loki trudged on.
Rubble would fade away, leaving only the bodies then fade back in. Concentrated in areas where the ceiling had collapsed, dirt rained down and the tinkle of glass as the ruin shifted. It was odd to see the empty windows looking out on nothing but black. The usual view of slowly, lazily drifting smoke and bustling streets was gone. As was the pervading smell of campfires, pine needles and spices. It was replaced by dust, ashes and blood.
Even broken and collapsing, Loki knew the turning corridors like the back of his hand. It didn’t take long for him to wind his way through and around blockages, to the previously well-guarded stairwell which led to the vault.
Stood at the top and stared in, down.
The bodies he and Thor had come across before were still there. Warriors and guards and Einherjar gripping weapons, dying to protect the civilians they had brought to what was supposed to be the safest place on Asgard.
Newer corpses also littered the steps. He could tell by the sticky blood and way they flopped as he kicked them aside - rigor mortis had yet to set in.
Loki made his way, cautiously, into the vault, Casket held out before him.
Civilians littered the floor, just as last time. No new deaths, here.
It seemed undisturbed.
Loki padded on.
Nothing jumped out at him. Thanos didn’t leap out from some shadowy corner and Hela didn’t rise from the dead to strangle him.
All in all a success.
Slightly more confident that he was alone, Loki hurried in and began his search.
Firstly, important things he really needed to know.
The Gauntlet.
Gone.
Loki stood before the plinth for a moment. Not really shocked, but he would’ve been happier if it was still there. At least he knew what Thanos had been doing for the first half of the battle.
No time to think it over. He moved on to his next stop - the Tesseract.
Also gone.
Which left him to go to Surtur’s Crown and heft it. Looked to his left, saw the Eternal Flame lazing in its bowl the next space along.
Loki walked over to it. His palms were blistering from the Crown’s heat but he didn’t wince. Just stared into the fire which would doom all Asgard.
He didn’t have a choice.
Thanos had the Gauntlet.
Thanos had the Power Stone.
Thanos had the Space Stone.
He couldn’t be allowed to leave Asgard.
Loki placed Surtur’s Crown amidst the flames. Final decision made.
Now to survive the aftermath.
Fire exploded outwards and all that saved him from a painful death was the shield of ice he summoned with the Casket.
Next; figure out how to teleport with it.
Loki did his best to ignore the howling, snarling fire surrounding him, focused on the seiðr flowing through his arms. Dove into the source of it, only for something else to blindside him.
Bursting through the very core of his being-
Magic.
Against his mind, Yggdrasil opened to him, the raw power which coursed through those branches flooded into him and Loki gasped, nearly dropping the Casket. Green sparks, mixed with blue and red, shot along his form, dancing over his skin and deep within. Warmed his very bones until he crackled with his seiðr.
Roared over by the whipping flames, Loki laughed, then sidestepped, out of the vault and to his brother’s side.
It was sudden - one moment, he was seconds from burning to death. The next, he was in the midst of Asgardians as they furiously pushed back the oncoming horde of Chitauri.
Loki blinked.
No rest for the wicked, apparently.
He felt for Asgard, reaching for the unfamiliar fire it gave him but all he sensed was an ember.
Ahead, Thor dropped from where he had been hovering. The lightning buzzing along his figure fizzled out.
Ragnarök.
A force collided with his legs and Loki whipped an arm down, knife in hand but he stopped dead still when he saw the two small forms which had barrelled into him. At least the children were alright.
Loki dissolved the blade and offered them a reassuring smile as he carefully tried to pry them off.
A yelp and he looked up, right into Banner’s shocked face.
“You’re back!” He sounded oddly… Joyful? “Thor!!”
“I’m busy!” Was the answering roar from somewhere in the throng.
“It’s Loki!!” Banner yelled back.
No answer other than a huge crash. After which, Thor reappeared in an instant. Behind him, the hole his presence left was filled in by Æsir.
“Lo?!” He barrelled into Loki, far faster and far harder than the children, who were shaken loose as the legs they had clamped themselves onto were lifted from the ground, “You’re alright!”
Loki flailed for a moment, a blade automatically appearing in his hand before he consciously dispelled it and heaved in a calming breath, “Of course I’m ‘alright’.”
“Sure?”
“I won’t be if you keep breaking my ribs,” He smacked the broad back, “Off, off off off-”
A laugh and he was set back down. Somewhere, Banner was doing his ugly little snort-chortle and Loki shot him a glare.
But then Thor’s face grew serious, “Did you...?”
“Yes.”
A slow nod, but he didn’t say anything else.
Banner stepped closer and it was no longer just his arm stained red, “How did you get out?”
“My seiðr-”
Loki’s eyes widened, cutting himself off and he stared into the distance.
His seiðr had been returned.
Which meant Odin was awake!
“Odin!” He burst out, grabbing Thor by the shoulders, “He’s awake!”
Immediately, the slightly worried expression evaporated into a far more hopeful one, “How-?”
“My connection to Yggdrasil has been restored,” Then he smirked a little, "Or he could be dea-"
That was cut off by a scowl and a light smack from Thor. Loki laughed.
“You can use magic again?” Banner guessed.
Loki sighed, “Essentially.”
Thor drowned out any reply with a triumphant shout. As if they had already won.
He turned to the gathered Æsir, one fist held above his head victoriously, “Odin Allfather has awoken!!”
Over the roar of battle, he was heard and similar cries went up, echoing out from Thor to the edges of their group, then in the distance, the shouts of other gatherings as they heard.
As if sensing their sudden levity, a huge shadow loomed over them.
Loki turned, craning his head back to see Fenrir, jaws slavering and tiny green eyes lit with malice.
Thor’s fist fell back to his side.
Banner swallowed audibly.
“We should run,” Loki suggested.
Just as the entire group turned to do just that, Brunnhilde barrelled towards them, “You idiots!” She yelled, reached them and grabbed Banner by the wrist, dragging him behind her.
Loki grinned at the sight, scooped up the children, careful to keep them away from his skin and ran after her, Thor on his heels. Behind them, a reverberating thud as something stomped down where they had been, followed by the click of teeth snapping together, then a strangled scream.
“My lightning is gone.” Thor puffed out besides him, panting from the exertion of the protracted battle.
“I started Ragnarök,” Loki winced as his sprained ankle twinged. Thankfully he’d had a respite on his stroll through the palace, “Your power comes from Asgard. Asgard’s dying.”
“Right,” He huffed out between laboured breaths, troubled.
More crunching and screaming behind them and Loki hefted the children into a more comfortable position - heavier than they looked.
Brunnhilde spoke up between panting breaths, “We’ve got to fight it!”
“Any suggestions?” Loki hissed back.
“You’ve got a magic ice box!”
Loki scowled, then twisted to her, “Take the little ones.”
She balked for a moment, then eyed something behind him, high up and grabbed the children.
He slid to a stop, whipped out the Casket and turned on his heel, only to find Thor at his side.
“You should keep going-”
He was cut off, “Together, you said.”
Loki sighed, gripping the Casket, “Together.”
A flick of seiðr and a torrent of ice exploded from between his hands, wrapped around Fenrir’s leg. Yelps of pain and confusion and the great beast flinched, skidding to a stop. It hopped back on three paws and Loki turned the beam on the other limbs.
Howling, Fenrir had to put a paw down to support itself, which was when Thor struck.
Far faster than his frame implied, he dashed forwards, scooped up a longsword as he went. Came to a sliding stop at the creature’s front paw and swung, turning his momentum into a blow.
Just as it hit, Fenrir was lunging, jaws open and ready to close around Thor’s torso, but it never got the chance.
Loki unleashed the Casket on its head and maw, froze them agape. Then watched as the previously entombed limbs grew spiraling cracks in the ice and were free. Thor was kicked viciously and he was sent flying, longsword fell from his hand.
Which only left the younger brother.
Fenrir’s muscles flexed, fur on its neck rippling as white lines blossomed in the ice around its head, still being poured onto by the Casket but every piece he froze, more chunks fell away as it shook and began to paw at its jaws.
Loki snarled, gripped the Casket tighter and tried to urge more from it, watching with dread roiling in his stomach as it slowly failed.
The wolf bore down on him, saliva trailing from its exposed fangs.
Yelling and it was distracted.
A spear of ice launched itself from the rubble barely feet in front of Loki and buried itself in Fenrir’s neck. But from the other weapons similarly stuck in its thick fur, not much damage was done.
Thor launched himself back in, this time with a battleaxe and hacked at the nearest limb. Loki kept the head distracted, moving in and letting himself draw upon Yggdrasil alongside the instinctual Jötunn magic.
Multiple of him spread out, each with a Casket and each spewing bolts of fire, ice and conjured knives. The floor itself came alive with ice growing from cracks in the rubble, stabbing and launching at Fenrir. Thor danced about the beast’s legs and blood had begun to coat its paws red.
Despite this, it would not stop. Lashing out, teeth and tail and claws tearing into any Asgardian which tried to help. And the vicious swipes didn’t miss Thor, either. Soon, it wasn’t just Fenrir’s blood which coated the Prince.
And as he glanced back, towards where their group of Æsir were fleeing. Brunnhilde was doing her best, Tyrfing a blur of silver and black spraying blood as she attempted to protect the entire clump of exhausted soldiers and terrified civilians. But they were falling. A man, elderly and stumbling along was skewered through the back and fell with a whimper as Loki watched.
That wouldn’t do. Brunnhilde needed help.
Loki took a deep breath, spun a web of fire and ice towards the huge wolf, “Go!”
At first, it seemed that he hadn’t been heard.
Then; “What?!”
“Go!!” Loki yelled, louder, his throat raw from the force of it, “Find Heimdall! Get the rest to safety!”
“No, Loki!” Thor bellowed.
“I will be fine!”
Then Thor was at his side.
“Do you trust me?” Loki said, quieter now, barely audible beneath the roaring of Fenrir only moments from devouring them both.
“Of course.”
“Then go. And keep our people safe. We can’t lose any more.”
Thor smiled a little, “You go,” He said, “I won’t lose you. And anyway, you will be the better King. Yougo.”
Loki hesitated, thoughts racing, a white noise buzzing in his head.
Of them, Thor was undoubtedly the better fighter. He was also better off than Loki - less exhausted and with less wounds.
He slowly nodded, “Alright. Be careful.”
“I’ll try,” Thor gave him a small shove to turn him round, and then the thuds of his steps as he ran at Fenrir again, a forceful war cry echoing over the rubble.
A deep breath and Loki ran in the opposite direction, Casket banished so his hands were free as he fled. Ahead, the group of Æsir. Chitauri were harrying them, but most of the pathetic bugs gave Fenrir a wide berth, with only the truly stupid running close enough to get at the Asgardians.
Behind him, a crunch accompanied by Fenrir’s high-pitched whimper. Loki resisted the urge to look back and kept running, leaping over the rubble lightly, occasionally vaulting the larger slabs of gold-painted masonry that had fallen from the palace.
In moments, he caught up to the group, panting hard as he slowed once close enough, “Brunnhilde!”
A familiar face glanced up at him with a grim expression, “Loki-?” She was cut off by a Chitauri, but sliced through it with ease. There were far more at the front and sides of the group than behind it, “Where’s Thor?!”
“He’s holding it off!” Loki yelled back as he summoned a spear, metal and ice intertwined along the blade, “We need to start transporting them,” He gestured at the group, “Off-Realm. Surtur will be materialising any minute now.”
“I know!” She snarled back, “Now pull your weight and squash some bugs, will you?!”
Loki smirked, “Like ants beneath a boot,” He laughed and Banner shot him a concerned look. If, for some inconceivable reason, Loki ever went to Midgard… It would be fun to fuck with the Avengers, if Banner was any indication.
No matter. He had bugs to squash.
Since there weren’t as many to the back of the Asgardians, he pushed around to the side opposite Brunnhilde. Tired warriors greeted him with wide, confused eyes. At first, they were wary. Perhaps if they’d had the energy, he would have found himself a target of their hostility, but after a few of the Chitauri fell to his spear, they didn’t spare him a second thought. Except to stay out of his way, which suited Loki just fine.
Everything descended back into the exhaustingly familiar rhythm of battle as, not too far away, Thor held back Fenrir.
Loki caught occasional glances of him as he twirled and struck at the Chitauri. From the corner of his eye, he’d spot Thor with his battleaxe buried in the mutt’s paw, then smacking away it’s snout.
It was simultaneously nerve-wracking and awe-inspiring to watch as he battled the huge beast. Thor was too fast to be caught and too strong to be simply ignored, despite the incredible size difference between them. Blood covered him from head to toe, both his and Fenrir’s, but he didn’t slow or even just look exhausted. As Loki watched, he slipped under a swiping paw that had enough force to shatter his torso and leapt, axe out to dig into its leg and red spurted out as his weight began to drag the blade down, opening a huge rip in its skin. The ear-shattering howl Fenrir let out made Loki wince as he turned away, batting aside a Chitauri’s pathetic attempt to stab him as he did.
Which was when he felt a familiar presence. Golden and burning with Asgard’s light; Odin.
Loki froze and only snapped out of it to grab a blade aimed at his chest. The edge cut into his hand - he’d forgotten to reinforce it with ice. A flick of seiðr and his mistake was rectified, then he squeezed, shattering the iced-over metal and driving a sharp shard of the Chitauri’s own sword into its neck. Then he retreated from the fighting line, letting the Æsir warriors fill in the hole he left.
In the centre of the group, civilians huddled. They were well protected but most still bore injuries. Loki didn’t particularly care and stared past them, over to where Thor had been holding off Fenrir.
Except it wasn’t just him standing there anymore. Beside him, a hand on his shoulder and with white hair obscuring his face, was Odin Allfather.
He wore bedclothes instead of his usual armour, though in the same familiar golden colour scheme. In his grasp, Gungnir was unmistakable, standing tall and proud in the rubble. It seemed to shine, glowing with the bright energy of Asgard.
They were talking, it seemed. Fenrir stood over them, frozen. As if even its miniscule, rotting brain realised that attacking the King of Asgard wasn’t a good idea.
Then Thor grabbed his father in a hug before running. He sped towards them, whichever Chitauri dumb enough to cross his path was cleft in two.
Loki pushed through to the back of the Asgardians and watched with bated breath as his brother stumbled over the rubble, unsure of his footing in the dark-.
He was an absolute idiot!
Loki concentrated for a moment, pulling on his seiðr until a bright flame sprung to life in his palm. It grew until the size of his fist, then he flung it out to Thor, lighting his way. Almost immediately his movements became far more graceful as what had to be, for Thor’s eye, overbearing darkness was dispelled.
The instant he was in range, there were firm hands grasping Loki’s shoulders, accompanied by a fierce grin, “Father’s alive!!”
“I saw,” Loki said, “Are you alright?”
But before Thor could reply, there was an awed voice, “You actually survived!”
“We have eyes, Bruce,” Brunnhilde said, soft though she probably meant to be scathing.
“Without Mjolnir or any lightning. Holy shit. That thing is huge and you-”
After seeing Asgard and all its soldiers, apparently Thor’s rather impressive display had hammered it home that the Æsir had earned their formidable reputation as warriors.
Loki made a harsh motion at Banner’s inane bickering and glared at Thor, “You said you’d be alright,” He tapped a deep cut in Thor’s chest and green sparks slowed over it, slowly knitting the muscle and flesh together, “This is not alright.”
“I’m not dead. That counts!”
“It really fucking doesn’t,” Loki hissed, scanning Thor for his other wounds and poking them less-than-gently as he did his best to at least patch him up a bit, “Next time you’re an idiot I will leave you to bleed out.”
Banner stared at Loki warily, “I’m pretty sure you’re joking but-”
“He’s being an oaf,” Thor interjected, “And I’m perfectly capable of healing myself.”
Loki raised an eyebrow, “You’re ‘perfectly capable’? That’s what you call nearly dying of sepsis multiple times?”
Thor looked like he was about to protest when a voice boomed over them.
“Evacuate Asgard,” It said, Odin’s far-too-calm voice was amplified by Gungnir. Loki shrugged off his brother and turned to stare over to where the ancient figure stood before Fenrir.
Stoic and unmoving, the Allfather was straight backed and unbowed, not leaning against his spear. That fatherly set to his shoulders had disappeared, replaced by regality. A glowing bubble of gold stretched over his figure, holding off the slavering jaws which pressed down. Cracks spiraled over it, then dissolved, became whole again. And repeated.
“Thor. Loki,” The voice boomed again, vibrating through to his very bones, “Asgard is not a place. It is a people. Protect them.”
It sounded like a goodbye.
Loki grabbed his brother, both to comfort and to start dragging him away, all joking gone in an instant, “We need to get the survivors off-Realm.”
Thor stayed staring down at his father for a moment, his eye was wet, “Yes.”
Then they were moving.
Around them, the Æsir milled uncertainly. Some made as if to go help their King, but Thor didn’t give them the time, “You are needed here!” He reached out and grabbed one who had been about to run back, “They will not survive unguarded,” He nodded towards the knot of unarmoured and weaponless Asgardians.
A slow nod from the nameless warrior and the rush stopped, instead moving to bunch around the civilians. There were still Chitauri to push back, but the group had moved to an area which was slightly less dangerous. They were trudging up a hill, one of the few on the battlefield. They would need the height advantage to survive this.
Loki glanced down the steep slope as he herded Æsir and saw Odin’s protective spell break, only for a beam of light to shoot up, stab into Fenrir’s skull. Then it broke off, Chitauri launching at him as well as the huge wolf.
Buying them time.
If nothing else, Odin was a good King.
Streams of Asgardians ran from across the battlefield, followed by black lines of Chitauri, shadowed from above by skiffs, the golden ones viciously protecting those on the ground. A lance of flashing light and Loki stared for a moment at the flaming remains of a ship, turned to see the attacker and let a small smile break onto his face. Heimdall.
Bloodied and weary, the Gatekeeper was swiftly yet unhurriedly encouraging a group of civilians, almost as large as the one Loki and Thor had found themselves in. It wouldn’t take them long to arrive and the unleashed power of Hofund was doing a good job at keeping them safe.
Then Thor was grabbing him by the shoulder, “Where will we go?”
“I have an idea.”
Midgard wasn’t an option, not with Loki there. And from the look on his brother’s face, just sending them without him wouldn’t be allowed. The other Realms would use their weakness as leverage, even the Vanir. No. They needed somewhere new. Somewhere no-one knew them, where it would be difficult to even find.
Loki twisted his hands, felt the Casket materialise in his grip and looked down at the two children who had managed to find him yet again, “I’m going to be sending you somewhere safe,” He said to them, softly. They nodded, utterly trusting. It sent a pang to see. These little ones, that trusted him more than most ever had. Shaking that thought away, he looked up at Thor, “There won’t be anyone there and the atmosphere is almost non-existent, but there should be oxygen generators. It’s completely abandoned.”
Thor nodded after a moment and reached out, grabbed the shoulder of a passing warrior, “I need an advance party and an enchanter.”
The Æsir stared at him a moment, nodded.
Grip tight around the Casket, Loki centred himself and reached for the swirling power inside it, like flurries in a snowstorm. Lost himself in searching for the familiar tug in his gut which let him know it would work. When he found it, his eyes sprung open onto a small group. Children at its centre, with bulky warriors guarding them, weapons held ready. Sticking out like a sore thumb was a young woman clutching an ancient book.
“Good luck,” Loki said.
Reached for them, grabbed them in a web of freezing cold seiðr and flung them into the deepest reaches of space. To the lonely speck of rock he had found himself on after the Void. Where Thanos had pulled him to. A resting place for the Sanctuary II and nothing more, but he remembered it well enough to be certain that no-one would look for the proud Asgardians there.
The group was gone. Hopefully to the isolated asteroid.
A strange sense of urgent peace had descended on the battlefield.
It was nearly over.
The end was in sight.
Groups came up to him, stood in the empty space before him and Loki transported them, forced through the whorls of Yggdrasil’s branches and to that distant rock floating through the nothingness.
Hordes of Chitauri had slowed to a trickle, held off by the combined efforts of Thor, Brunnhilde and Heimdall. Not to mention Odin, who now stood before a wall of swarming enemies as well as Fenrir, the bodies piling up in a ramp against the wall as they pushed against the burning seiðr drawn from the remnants of Asgard herself.
A shield of golden light kept them back, beams of bright white shot into the mass, scorching through them and disintegrating scores of the creatures, leaving ash floating amidst the crushing bodies. But there were too many. Too many. It wasn’t just the Chitauri, either. From his position atop the hill, Loki could see a steadily moving figure, far too large to be one of the minions - Thanos. On one hand he wore the Gauntlet.
Then there was another group before him. Sent whirling through space in a blink.
Barely anyone remained and the last of the Asgardians to be teleported formed before him. Were gone.
Only Thor, Brunnhilde, Banner and Heimdall were left.
Loki turned to them, but, in the corner of his eye, a vicious movement from Fenrir and he turned to stare. Its huge paws snapped out and banged on the burning magic, just as its jaws came down with certainty, as if it knew what was about to happen.
A cry, the unmistakable sense of Odin’s seiðr giving out.
Glinting, Gungnir was in the wolf’s maw, held by an arm, attached to-
"Father!!” Thor screamed, voice raw as it ripped from his chest.
A moment, another as the entire Realm seemed to hold its breath. The air was stagnant and every little ambient sound faded into nothing.
Then a crack, followed by glowing beneath Fenrir’s fur. It backed up, shook its head and there was a small, broken figure between its teeth, one hand still grasping Gungnir. Loki knew the damage was done, and the beast, for all its dull eyes and mindless brutishness, seemed to know too.
A moment later, and there was no longer a wolf standing there.
Instead, it was four disembodied legs.
Bones stuck from the tops of them, pieces of fur and skin and meat flapped. Then the limbs collapsed down, crushing the Chitauri army which swarmed around them. Of the body, there was nothing left. Disintegrated by the force of Odin’s dying spell.
The wall of golden light which had been holding back the hordes disintegrated, too.
Spilling over where they had been pressed against it, the Chitauri roared, rushed as one. In the centre of the huge army, a split opened, a lone figure walking in the empty space.
Thanos.
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