1963-12-28 - All Hail The King
Summary: A final act, betrayal in the midsts as Loki shows his true colors. (Backdated)
Related: None
Theme Song: None
sif thor louis 

This day in Winter has finally passed. Snow continues to fall steadily upon the ground, even as fires flare and flicker all throughout the immense detritus and wreckage that has scattered debris all over the south side of Manhattan. Not a building in Brighton remains standing, the immense globe of ice has been shattered and a portion of it slowly sinks into the river, great gashes and burn marks marring its formerly pristine surface. As if that were not spectacle enough, the great decayed corpse of Ymir lies prone and fractured, its long limbs reaching across half a dozen city blocks with one great hand impaled upon a radio tower.

For now the world is quiet. The city had been evacuated a day ago, so there are no screams of civilians, nor the call of sirens. Instead there is that dark air and miasma that often appears after a great battle. The sound of voices are muffled, footsteps, even as Asgard's army reforms. The fallen are gathered, counted, both those from the Golden City and those from Muspelheim. The fiery demons had put up a great battle in defense of the beachhead upon Midgard, yet they had fallen.

But at what cost? If Earth had needed evidence that an Asgardian could die they would no longer need to look further. There were many of the great realm who would never walk across the Bifrost, not to mention the mortals who had passed in the invasion. The cost was high, and for now… still being tallied.


The battle that rages burns on both sides. It's anger that fuels Thor; the need for vengeance, the desire for an accounting, even if those that move into the Realm of Midgard had no part in the death of his brother, the younger Prince of Asgard. The number that fall to the might that is held within Mjolnir is uncounted, only tallied at the end when the the battlefield is walked.

Death is visited on both sides, and once the battle's lust is satiated, those that would travel to Valhall are given leave to depart, pressed on and guided by the Valkyrie. While Thor may not know all the names of every last man who fought gallantly, giving their lives in defense of Midgard, yet they'll be remembered soon enough in the halls, recalled by others that remain behind to tell the stories of bravery.

Thor is covered in ash, soot, dirt, a hundred smaller insults to his armor, to his person. (Even his hair is a mess!) His hammer is set low and he breathes heavily even as he accepts the beginning tallies, blue eyes flashing as he watches. The clouds over the city have not yet broken to reveal any blue; the deep grey skies and the snow is all his doing in his anger. His grief. And the knowledge that he hasn't yet counted the one victory over the creature that truly matters- the one that took his brother's life. He can almost feel Heimdall's eyes upon him, to hear the distant *caw* of a bird never truly seen in the city, and he raises his head to the sky, but no words come. Nothing.


The walls fell.

The walls fell at the time of his death and the only word from Sif was that she would be back. Ill fated and ill timed words but no one need see the havoc she wrought as she globe trotted, the one woman army felling foes, even with the help of a few unlikely citizens that, oddly enough made her smile. While they were fighting for their lives and things of that nature, while Sif would like to believe that they fought in the memory of the Lord Protector.

But the final battle was spent where it need be; by the Crowned Princes side. There were no words for the moment, no joyous warcry of a battle or shared words spent while clashing swords.

No all yours. No by all means. No curtsies or winks or grins. No approving gazes that fall upon battered armor and the blood spattered within. No shared kisses or showing of bent swords that allowed them a lighthearted moment to tease about their favored blacksmiths folly. Nothing.


Some of the bladesmen in the Army of Asgard know not to approach the Thunderer when his mood is thus. The clouds roil for a reason, and that reason is held in the eyes of the grim man. For the beings that inspired the Norse, battle can be a joyous thing, yet there was no gleam of such even in the swordplay of the goddess of war.

For a time it might feel as if the world was truly alone, despite the efforts of the off-worlders. If any place could seem so isolated, it was this war-torn wasteland created by gods that tread upon the earth.

But then there's a moment where a sliver of light breaks through the clouds, the grey parting as that gleam of a rainbow lashes forth… crashing down onto the earth in a ragged twist and a hiss of sound that is unlike the riotous arrival of the Bifrost at Heimdall's behest. The light splashes down, and the rune carves into the ground, even as the portal between realms is established for that bare instant. Just enough to convey its cargo as it hisses louder, flickers, then seems to fracture into its disparate parts a moment before it shatters and disappears.

And then there in the crater it created lies a man on his knees, his normally golden armor tarnished with burns and the helm having been torn from his head. Heimdall lies there on his hands and knees with his chest heaving, one hand reaching out and grabbing a handful of the dirt and grime of the battlefield as he fights for breath, blood falling in rough spatters to the ground beneath him.


War is something that those of Asgard understand. To fall in battle is a thing most desired, not to be ruined in the cowardly action of a single player. If Loki had fallen thusly, songs would be sung and there would be a trace of light in their Mother's heart. Even this was taken from them. While this is not the first pitched battle born of serious endeavor, it is the one that holds the most meaning and is thus ascribed the most gravity. Little to no laughter has found the Thunderer's lips, even in this, Midgard's 'holiday season'.

Sif's presence at his side does the Crown Prince good, as did hearing of her victories in lands distant to this city of New York. Their true followers that yet remain are low in number, yet they were able to find their strength and while perhaps not eagerly, they did still fight. Some remain, and some found their path to Valhall with their swordbrothers.

The light that breaks through Thor's clouds and mood pulls his attention up, and to see the bright rainbow that would be the Bifrost- but different. He shouts an alarm as parts of that celestial bridge crash to earth, moving to get those still alive out of the way. And there, the more familiar sound and vision, which makes the rainbow that has taken form to fall even more wrong.

The form is familiar, and Thor no doubt races Sif as he runs forward to help the man, the Watcher for Asgard, "Heimdall!"


The sheathing of the large broadsword at her back gave her the few quiet moments to approach the Thunderer's side. One hand reaches out to grasp along his bicep then release once the clouds parted the sky and the first vision of Bi-Frost was to be seen.

And then there after, there were no words from the Lady, no doubt there would be a race, but Sif would slide into her brothers side with both arms wrapped around his middle, he a terrible fright as she. "HEIMDALL!" She nearly shrieks out, clear anger within her features.

For him to touch down upon Midgard and in such a state, the very worlds were left open.. "Who has done this?!"


The movement is mirrored across the battlefield as other Asgardians rush forward, but as Sif and Thor reach the fallen gatekeeper, they hold to the periphery, weapons partially drawn as if seeking whatever foe had felled one of the best of them. Looks are exchanged, worried and unsettled. Unsettled all the more when Heimdall lifts his head at the voices nearest him.

"Sif? My prince!" His voice quavers slightly yet is strong as he reaches out, lifting his head. It's then that they will see his eyes, the blood trailing down his face from the sockets as he shakes his head painfully. "It is Asgard. Loki… Loki and the Jotun march. The Bifrost is shattered. Fallen before me! He seeks the death of the eternal city." His empty hand reaches out for either of them as he tries to gain his feet and fails.

Voices rise around them as the words spread through the warriors of Asgard. Murmured voices of outrage, of dismissal, angered words.


Thor's attention is on Heimdall, though he keeps the eye on Sif, taking her measure. None have ever come so close to felling one of the best warriors of Asgard, and coupled with the fact that it is her beloved brother? The tired, battle-weary warriors of Asgard do take up their watch, their guard so that none will pass them without challenge or death.

"Heimdall.." The news. How…? The confusion that plays upon the Prince's face is clear and obvious, and he's torn. Never has there been a time when Heimdall's word has been in question. Never. But.. the news he conveys? "Heimdall. Tell me that it is simply an illusion of my brother. That there is some clear joke.. Loki is dead. Taken from us by a coward's hand. How could he-?" He wouldn't. He couldn't.

Thor holds his hand out, reaching to grasp the Watcher's to hold him steady. "Come.. a few steps and be seen." Away, Thor calls out, "Water!"


The murmured voices. The outrage, dismissal.. the look from Thor, the dizzying way in which her brothers eyes.. red as they were, valiant and all seeing.. how they were torn from a face she's known since birth..

Sif didn't question his words, but what of Thor? Who does her allegiance hold to then? Her brother? Or the one she will soon come to marry?

"SILENCE! ALL OF YOU!" Sif nearly shouts out, rising from her brothers side as Thor reaches to take his hand. She could barely breathe, his blood was on her hands, hands in which she stared down into before they begin to tremble with rage. Anger. Hurt and confusion. "But.. why?"


Even as the other Asgardians fall silent around them, anger enters Heimdall's voice for he had ever been watchful of Loki, ever had been wary of the trickster's motives. So when he speaks it is louder than one would expect from one so injured, and to their Prince and future ruler. "No, Thunderer! There is no time!"

Staggering to his feet, supported both by Thor and Sif, the watcher of the ways squeezes their hands powerfully, as if trying to implore them both merely through the might in his grip. "I have seen him, Laufey at his side! It was they who set upon me."

Pained he coughs harshly, roughly, then somehow /looks/ at Thor. "There is still enough strength within me… within what was the Bifrost to send you to Asgard. To stop him! Odin is vulnerable. The city…" He coughs again. "There is still power in the bridge between realms, and I can draw upon what power there shall be once again… but only this once… this once."


Thor can't feel to breathe. The words, the blood spilt upon the earth and that which Asgard relied upon so much torn from its owner. Blinded of vision but not of worth, the Prince is shaking as he the now-familiar anger begin to wash over him. He's still holding his friend, his mentor, the Watcher of the Golden Realm, and his jaw tightens. The bass tenor rumbles such that those who would not expect such a thing would fear, and he inclines his head.

"Take me to Asgard, Heimdall." Blue eyes look past to Sif and they remain there, lingering. Pain. Anger. And there lies a rage. "If it is indeed Loki, I would speak to him." Harshly. "And we will know justice. If it is not.."


What in the world could anyone say to such a news? How could anyone react. Expect to react. There was a certain coldness there, as arms went to Heimdall again as she gives a nod to Thor. Not approving, but agreeing with the decree and order that he has spoken.

And Unwavering faith.

"I shall attend to my brother.." Her words were quiet, choking back the berserkers call.. "..and you yours." There was no threat there. But the underlying words breed terror to those who do not know her well, but have seen her clash swords. But who was more frightening in this regard?

The reward would go to Thor. For her shoulders were lifted, tense.. and even Heimdall could feel the terror behind those bones..


Heimdall gives Sif's hand another squeeze even as he turns away from her, to somehow… 'focus' upon Thor even without the ability to see the Prince of Asgard. His jaw tenses, setting with the focus required, with the intensity needed to summon the powers that will be needed. "Be careful, my prince."

With those words he begins to channel what remains of his power. His link to the Bifrost remains despite its destruction, for though it lies shattered now… for though in this world and many of those beyond currently the great rainbow bridge is sundered… there are worlds and realities beyond that he can still see, can still draw upon. Realities that will burn and twist and turn inside out as he collapses one stream with another. Around the trio of them it seems as if the fabric of the dimension fluctuates, twists further as the glow begins between them… then grows.

The light brightens, growing brighter and brighter as Heimdall casts his head back. A loud roar of intense outrage is torn from him, ragged and raw as the moment reaches culmination. Suddenly there is a brilliant flash, and in that flash Thor disappears with a clap of a sonic boom and an outrushing shockwave that casts Heimdall back into Sif's arms.

He collapses in her embrace as the effort of connecting the worlds one final time overwhelms him. He only has time enough to whisper to her, "Sif… you must…"

And then consciousness slips away from him.


Thor nods in prelude to his response as Heimdall begins his castings; a clasp of a hand, wrist to wrist, "I will. This injury done you will be answered for. This I promise you." To Sif again, he turns, and his expression shifts to resolve. He's got no time for pain, fear… none of that. Anger. Resolve, and before the end of it all, there will be blood. "I do not need to tell you to take care of your brother. Guard well the realm too, my lady. You are my voice here, and until this is done.." He's not expecting the best of outcomes, and he turns back to Heimdall, his tones steeling.

"I am ready."

It's a familiar mode of transport…. the magic as it strikes him feels different, though. And as he lands upon the bridge that he's known so well, has always known, he can see the damage done to it. The breaks, the yields… and the fact that there is no passage. Not now.

Asgard is on her own in this fight, and her army, a good portion of her army, is currently upon Midgard. Picking his way through to head towards the city's gates, there is no *caw* of a raven. Nothing that would herald the Crown Prince home.

Grim indeed.


The vision that greets Thor's arrival is unlike he's ever seen in the entry hall of the Bifrost. None stand sentinel to guard the passage to the Golden City, and the brilliant hall is dim. Dimmed with the lack of that eldritch power that so often surges through the floor, the pillars, and the immense double doors upon the dais that normally are open to face the universe as a whole. But now… now those doors are closed, the dais is shattered as if some gigantic force smashed down upon the altar that normally would house Heimdall's blade. The ground under foot is cracked, a criss-cross latticework of stress fractures marking the entirety of the structure and the wheelworks that normally allow the walls and the doors to turn and open in the hall are all smashed to pieces.

Yet despite this vision of carnage and destruction what may well draw the eye all the more would be the silhouettes upon the walkway leading out of the hall. Two figures standing and conversing heatedly only a score of paces beyond the tall double doors that lead towards Asgard herself. The one in green clearly Loki gesturing sharply at a terribly grim and strong figure that stands head and shoulders over the other Prince of Asgard, each having words and perhaps gesturing animatedly.


Thor tries, he does try, to give his brother the benefit of the doubt. He always has; the pair have always been close. In his view, anyway. Inseperable. Fought side by side and while together, none could stand against them.

But now?

Asgard… and Thor begins to make his way, pick his way past the destruction, cataloging it all as he passes. With each step, his anger grows, to see his home thusly, and when he does spy the figures just beyond, he calls out in a booming voice, Mjolnir in hand in a death grip to lend weight to his words, "Loki! What is this madness?!" The Jotun isn't missed, certainly, and the hammer in hand begins to spin. "Speak now!"


With all of the universe as their backdrop, the blackness of space swirling behind them and stars immeasurable being witness to this confrontation, it is all given a greater weight by the heavy rush of Asgard's sea falling off into the abyss, foam and water rushing into the aether and disappearing from view so far into the great depths of nothing. A suitable place for them to have such words, for the other Prince of Asgard to turn away from his companion to turn his attention upon Thor.

For a bare moment there might be the slighest hint of surprise in Loki's eyes, marked only by a subtle widening. It's a moment that arrives, and then passes almost instantly as his smile grows. He extends a hand, turning to face Thor fully as his voice lifts.

"Thor. Wait. Grant me a moment. I shall explain. This is all part of my plan." But as he speaks there is such… such /venom/ in the words as at first it starts with a hint of a facade to the companionable brotherly tone he had adopted so often with son of Odin. "Don't you understand? You great laboring fool." His jaw tenses, clenching as he stops but a few strides before Thor. The silver and green armor upon him seeming somehow out of place despite the anger in his manner.

"It took me quite a while to understand you see. Assuredly it will take you several hours to catch up, but let me explain. Shall I?"

And as Loki speaks, the Jotun… the one who would be known as the elder Thiazzi steps forward to stand behind Thor's 'brother'. He is a being that seems amorphous in shape even now, a swirl of chaos roiling around him, and when he moves it seems as if he leaves trails in the air, as if the monstrous creature had a thousand arms, and one thousand heads, all seemingly glaring at the Thunderer with such hatred. Yet it is a hatred that… pales in comparison to what Thor sees in the eyes of his brother.


"Plan? Loki…" The surprise upon Loki's face isn't missed by the Thunderer, regardless of how quickly it passes. He knows his brother well, or so he thought? "This is madness. Cease this now." He did ask what was going on, and he's going to give Loki that long, anyway… before he takes out first the Jotun standing behind the younger Prince and then they go and speak to the All-Father.

"Heimdall…" Thor reaches out for his brother to grab him, on the off chance he can shake some sense out of him, to try and understand that which completely defies comprehension. The anger, the hate… "How could you…? Why did you have us all believe you were dead?"


Angrily, Loki jerks his shoulder back and steps away, striding to the side of the Bifrost as if the rage in him would not allow him to stand still. He positively seethes as those green eyes meet Thor's, his voice an oily vindictive rasp as he snaps at Thor. "I had always wondered what he saw in you. Always wondered how you could fail so consistently. Disappoint him so constantly. And yet you were his chosen one. Oh certainly if you wanted a head broken, or a tankard of ale downed, you were the one to send. But then I would return, I would be called to save you. To save Asgard. How many times? I doubt you can even count that high."

But then he stops, affixing Thor with wild eyes. "Oh but I learned. I learned the day I left. Why nothing I ever did was good enough. Why you despite your so very obvious failures would ever be the only one he could truly embrace as his heir. The only one more disappointing than you would have been Balder and it would have been hard to find more of a charmless non-entity than him."


Thor stands there, and as Loki tugs away and begins to pace, his words coming out in angry haste, he's watching. He's listening. Shaking his head, he steps forward, "Brother, you are imagining things. Fighting at shadows that have no form." That's not to say that he's still not holding his hammer, ready for treachery from the untrustworthy Jotun. He knows what to expect from Loki; from the other? Who knows what promises were made, and if all this simply is playing into the hands of the giant.

"This is madness. Give it up now. Send him on his way, or I will dispatch him, and we will go together to the Hall." Thor glances at Thiazzi before he's back to Loki once more, following the man's pacing with a step, two steps of his own. "We will bring Heimdall to the healers. That which has been done can be undone, but you must stop this."


"WE ARE NOT BROTHERS!" Loki screams, his hands opening as if he were wanting to clench them, to rend and tear everything before him. His eyes lock with Thor's as he steps to the side and turns away for a moment, then back as he points an accusing finger at him. "'Father' is most likely already dead." His lip twists into a manic half-smile, as he turns his head to the side, then slashes the accusing gaze back at him. "We have never been brothers." He says levelly, more calm now.

His jaw sets, tension causing the tendons to bulge. Gone is the man in such control of his words, his speech, his manner. Gone is the trickster who speaks in half-truths. "I have been nothing but chattel, but a ransom held against the Jotun. A prince pretending to be a prince." His lip twitches, amused for some reason.

And at that last a rumbling sound is heard from the Jotun, perhaps just in the moment as Loki stalks to the side. It utters a single word. "Enough."

Suddenly the child of Ymir leaps into the air and /crashes/ down towards the Thunderer, lashing out with a hundred arms all horrifyingly strong as they try to smash down upon the Thor and the Bifrost around him, each collision sounding like a hundred hammers upon an anvil, shaking the very fabric of the immense bridge.


"Listen to yourself! This is madness! Of course you are. You and I.. we have always been. Father had always planned on us…" Thor had hoped in his heart of hearts that his brother yet lived, but this…? "Something happened to you, Loki. Something on Midgard…" He doesn't even want to consider the possibility that Odin is dead… and what about Mother?

Thor doesn't get a whole lot else out before the Jotun interjects his own personal opinion into the matter in the form of that single word. The elder prince twists around, and his hand rises, hammer in hand, in just enough time to block the bulk of the attack. He's been wearing from the battles fought below, and the combat isn't a welcome one, though he knows that it's one that is necessary; perhaps this is for Loki's soul. One arm, two.. there isn't much change for the Thunderer to block all 100 arms. Or even 50 of them… and Thor is thrown back with a force that causes him to push through some of the rubble of the great gate. Slowly, he begins to rise from where he'd fallen, and with a great heave, Mjolnir flies to its target, that is, Thiazzi, in an attempt, at the very least, to knock the great Jotun back so there's some more room in which to fight.


The blurred contrails of images that follow Thiazzi's movements cause eerie ripples in the air around him as he /leaps/ after Thor, for a moment the giant's silhouette is limned by the glow of the stars behind him, only for him to come down…

And to have Mjolnir smash into his abdomen, sending him hurling back out onto the bridge, skidding across its wrecked and fractured surface, kicking up fragments and splinters. Yet the giant seems all the more enraged as it swirls to its feet, a sharp piece of the very bridge they stand upon in its hand, a piece it sends hurling back towards the Thunderer as it charges back towards him, each step shaking the ground.

"No what happened to me is you. You. And Odin. And all of you." Loki's voice is heard as he does naught to aid his brother, yet then again he does naught to aid Thiazzi either. "I am one of them. 'Brother'. Odin took me from Jotunheim. I am the enemy. I have always been the enemy. Even when I wasn't, Odin knew that I was."


Thankfully, finesse isn't in the art of war for the Jotun, so the piece of the Bifrost is dodged even as the hammer returns to his hand. What the giants lack, however, is made up in the fact that they are so immensely strong. And there is rarely a surrender when pitched in battle. Doesn't mean Thor won't try, however, and even as it charges, he calls out to his battle opponent, "Give this up and depart Asgard and I will allow you and yours to live!" All he wants is his brother. "This is where you will die if you do not."

There is little room, even with the added yard, two yards, given him in the push back. The falls into the abyss rage on either side, and there is little chance that Thor will be able to push the Jotun back far enough to remove that particular danger. Though, it is both danger and a boon. If he can but-

"You have never been the enemy, brother. Mother and Father loved us equally. Raised us both so that one day, Asgard would have the Princes it needed and deserved."


"Ever the fool," Loki's voice is almost sad as he says that, perhaps as the weight of the moment settles upon him and he begins to make his peace with it. It's murmured quietly, perhaps missed even as the giant lashes out viciously at its Asgardian enemy.

Those hundreds of arms all seem to reach out, grasping, grabbing while the two strain against each other in their close quarters. Thiazzi's crystalline eyes burrowing into Thor's as he tries to gain the advantage. With each shift of immense weight the bridge creaks and complains, a ripple of the entire structure racing from the end of the struggle all the way towards the golden city of Asgard. Until finally the giant roars almost exultantly as he tries to /lift/ Thor over his head.


While Thor might have been able to best the Jotun, should everything have been equal, it would have been a difficult and pitched battle. As it is, the Thunderer has managed to stand toe-to-to with it longer than perhaps expected. Battle weariness, the shock of seeing his brother, and the added shock that Loki isn't the man that Thor's always known makes it difficult to withstand all that he must in order to keep up, much less gain any advantage. Add to that the location, and his next move is something that is more born out out of that hint of desperation more than anything else.

The hammer is thrown once again, seemingly away now as the Jotun grabs Thor and, in turn, the Crown Prince grabs the giant. Strength versus strength, and leverage plays its part that finally, Thor is lifted from the ground, just as Mjolnir strikes and careens off of bits that still stand, and makes its path back to slam into Thiazzi's back.

Unexpected, undoubtedly, but it's that move, that push that forces the pair off the edge of the bridge, seemingly down and down into the abyss that goes on forever into the unknown.

A finger hold. Mjolnir is gone over the edge as Thor simply can't hold it. Can't wield it. He holds on with his hands, and hanging upon him is the Jotun Thiazzi. A weary Thor calls out, his tones appealing, "Loki! Help me up.. I don't know what it is you want, what you expect… but help me up. It doesn't have to be like this. Cease your madness and your hatred, and we can meet this.."


For a time there is no answer, even as the great creature of the Jotun clings precariously to Thor's boot. It lifts hate-filled blue eyes as it looks up. For a moment it reaches up to try and gain a separate hold upon the Thunderer's other boot, only to have his grip shaken off as they twist in the wind above the roaring spray of Asgard's ocean pouring into the abyss.

Yet in the space of another heartbeat, Loki appears over Thor, kneeling on the edge of the Bifrost. His face is hard, his chin set as if he had made this decision and he was going to hold to it. Yet his eyes glisten faintly as his brow knits together. "Thor."

That single word hangs there for a time and then he says quietly. "We are not brothers." He says that as he slowly shakes his head, and his breath catches at the last word, perhaps giving the lie to his words. He lifts his hand up, fingers opening as if he were wanting to reach out, to caress Thor's cheek in this moment. To hold this image in his mind's eye…

And that is the instant when he slams the dagger viciously into Thor's forearm, giving it all the impact, all the strength, all of the intensity that thousands of years of resentment can provide.


Thor is doing his best to keep Thiazzi from getting a good hold; who knows if the Jotun is willing to sacrifice himself in order to get his victory. As they dangle there, then, the added weight does make a difficult purchase on the battered ledge of that which had been, for millennia, the Bifrost. The Rainbow Bridge.

"Loki.." is given again, in response to his name. Thor opens his mouth to say more, but the words that follow from Loki haven't changed. Dread is filling his mind, his soul, and he calls out again, asking, though he's not to the point of begging. Never begging. "Help me up."

Beneath him roils the unknown. The certainty that he'd known all his life that there simply is no coming back from the abyss… "Brother.." is whispered before he shifts in order to hope beyond hope that the hand extended is the one to bring him-

Pain. Pain burns like fire through his arm as the blade finds its easy purchase, and he screams in pain, the blood dripping down in a small river of blood. The sudden weakness in one hand then forces him to lose purchase, and it's those last few fingers as one… two… three fall away, and Thor begins the fall into the abyss. Soon enough, within the matter of a heartbeat, perhaps two, he's gone from view.


Standing up slowly, armor creaking, Loki watches for a time. He shakes his head and then lets loose with one utterly wracking sob that tears through him, before he shakes his head and as quickly as that he draws himself together again. His jaw sets firmly, his eyes clear and he shakes his head, then that flare of anger… of… _hatred_ burns through his gaze as he savagely spits after the fallen Asgardian.

Turning away he walks along the still roiling Bifrost, pieces of the bridge falling apart as he moves, the ancient structure breaking into fragments behind him as he strides down the path towards the city. It's only when the burnt and sundered span falls to pieces beneath him that a light of magic flares around him, snapping him out of danger…

And allowing him to appear in the throne room. Bodies are fallen, Asgardian guardsmen… courtiers… warriors. Dead, lying in the aftermath of Laufey's attack on the throne room. High upon the dais next to the throne, Odin lies upon the ground and above him stands Laufey in all his frosty severity and regal bearing.

"Loki, you are late." The King of Jotunheim accuses him even as he holds a hand over Odin's chest. The frost giant looks haggard and worn, as the effort of the last few moments have assuredly taxed him. "I have broken the protections of the Odinsleep. He will be vulnerable shortly."

For a moment Loki looks around the room. He frowns and shakes his head, looking back at the two beings that claimed to be his father. "He yet lives?"

"Yes." The giant's deep voice houses such contentment, such satisfaction, in this moment of his triumph. "It is a great day, Asgard has fallen, and Odin shall die."

"Good." Is all Loki says as he answers before he extends his hand to the side. There's the sound of metal skittering, screeching across the ground as something slides across the ground and then flies the short distance into Loki's hand. Gungnir finds the trickster god's grip as he catches it and with no hesitation he sends it /flying/ across the room straigth at Laufey.

The giant only has a single moment for his eyes to widen before the ancient spear impales him through the chest, hurling him back against the wall and pinning him there as his blue blood spatters upon the walls in a gore-filled mess. An utter look of surprse is seen as the King of the Frost Giants glares at his own flesh and blood even as the light leaves those eyes. He tries to say something. Fails… then dies.

It leaves Loki alone in the throne room as he slowly walks up the dais step by step. He stands over Odin, looking down upon the man. For a time he frowns even as he reaches a hand out… and Gungnir flies into his hand.

It's a long moment that he simply looks… and watches. Odin's eyes closed, almost seeming peaceful. He shakes his head slowly and then sets the spear down butt-end first with a faint clink of sound. Then he lifts his voice as the doors that had been barred shut are suddenly burst open.

"Guards, Odin is injured! To my side!" Loki turns to look as the troop rushes in. Heavy footfalls are heard as the armored men quickly seize control of the room, spreading out to find what remains of the giants and what forces may remain. The captain looks down at Odin as he strides up to Loki, then back to Loki. "My prince?"

"Odin has fallen into the Odin Sleep. Take him to the Queen… hurry!"

A quick nod is given, then the guards gather before the fallen All-Father. They quickly secure him, then rush towards the door.

And before they are even fully out of the throne room, Loki takes the last step up to the final dais. He touches a hand to the arm of the throne, smiles to himself. Then he takes a seat.


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