He lay on his bed, deep in his thoughts, and continued to toss a decorative ornament up, only to catch it when it came down. It hadn't been that long since Percy left Loki's cell, could've only been two hours at least. But something troubled the god. A feeling, like, some sort of premonition that something bad was going to happen. Normally he would dismiss it as a bad dream or unnecessary worrying, yet, this time, he couldn't. 

The vague scene replayed in his mind over and over, matching the rhythm in which he threw the object up and down. A brightly lit room and two figures battling against a shadow only to transition to a sea of lanterns following something in the distance. It confused him. Plagued his mind because every time the picture changed, his heart stung. But what did it mean?

Voices interrupted his thoughts. Loud cries of 'help!', 'someone help!' carried from further in the dungeon. He couldn't really see what was happening, being too close to the entrance was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because he was able to see the new captures and watch as they walked down the hallway. Chains clasped around their neck, wrists, and ankles; unable to break free. Loki thought that maybe it was the new group of prisoners making all that noise. They had just been brought in today and probably didn't understand the rules they had to follow. 

But then the lights flickered. And the yells for help became more panicked, and hurried as if whatever was with them--though it was only prisoners in their cell--scared them. 

Loki sat up in the bed and looked down the hall from the left cell wall and watched as guards rushed down to whatever was happening. More time had passed and he could distinctly hear the sound of the guards trying to subdue the threat, but that hadn't worked out well. Clanking metal echoed through the hall and gave the god of mischief the answer. The guards had failed. And one by one, he could hear the sounds of the cell walls shatter. Captured men yelled in glee as they stepped out of their white-walled shared prison. 

Behind him came a small group of Asgardian soldiers, armed and ready to put the men back in their cells, but they were outmatched. And so a fight between the guards and newly-freed men clashed in front of his cell. Loki watched as a man, tall and menacing, waded through the chaos around him, and looked at the imprisoned god. He said nothing but continued his trek to the exit.

"You might want to take the stairs to the left," Loki said to the man. It turned around and followed his advice, sidestepping the rest of the Asgardian soldiers as they trotted in their ranks to control the chaos. 

Percy walked through the grand halls of the palace, no, castle. Is there a bigger word than castle, because Percy didn't think it was the right word to describe how big a luxurious this place was. In his hands was the leather-bound book his father had given him just mere hours ago, open to the first few pages. He read and scanned through the pages taking in all the lessons his father wrote down. Taking mental notes on how similar his problems were to his father: never could get the foot stances correct, pronouncing the names of the spells was difficult, and hand placements weren't a thing to the beginner sorcerer. Was sorcerer the right word too?

He stopped in the middle of an intersection. Faint echoes from the halls around him carried the sounds of swords clashing, metal falling, and cries of pain and agony. Percy closed the book and peered down the hallways, searching for the source. And as he looked down the hall on his left, he saw it. A group of men, decorated in black armor and creepy white masks that shielded their faces, attacking two Asgardian soldiers. 

Quickly, Percy dropped the book and ran to help. 

Placing a swift kick to the nearest intruder's face, a couple of hooks to his face, and a forceful sweep at his legs to bring the enemy down and hit his head on the ornate pillars. He took the weapon out of the now unconscious person and shot red beams at the other two, bringing them down. Panting, Percy looked to the Asgardians, "are you alright?" They nodded their heads, said their thanks, and ran further down the hall to where the fighting continued. 

Looking around he saw a guard knocked out a few feet from him, his weapon still clasped in his hands, but his head turned to the side and his chest unmoving. Percy didn't want to take the weapon from him. He didn't know if he was dead or not, if he wasn't, he would be taking the only weapon he had to protect himself. But Percy didn't have a weapon. So with a large inhale of air, he carefully removed the golden spear from his hand and made his way back to where he dropped his father's book. 

But the sound of guns firing, cries of pain calls for aid stilled echoed. They loomed over him as he made his way to the book. Jumping in place with the book in his hands, he quickly ran towards the sounds of the fight while also looking for a place to hide the book. 

He stood at the end of the hall and peered around the corner. This was the throne room. And not too far from the grand curved throne, was a black and red spaceship. It reminded him of the kind of ships in Star Wars, sleek and angular, with blasters ready to shoot at the resistance or other enemies. But he saw the bodies, from both sides, laying among the rubble and scattered weapons. 

Percy placed the book behind a still standing pillar and used a new spell he had learned from Frigga. Before his eyes, the air around the deep maroon leather book waved and swirled with tendrils of verdigris before disappearing, leaving an illusion behind. 

Running out from his spot, Percy attacked the nearest enemy, using the Asgardian weapon and aunt Tasha's combat training. More and more of the masked attackers appeared dwindling the chances of them winning the fight. As he knocked out the attacker, Percy watched as a man stepped out of the warship. His white hair pulled back and taught in a braid, face an unnatural white, and his armor, more equipped and well made than the others. The leader. 

He watched as he stepped forward, not even glancing an eye at his fallen soldiers or at the Asgardians who lay on the floor before him. The man took a grenade thing from one of his soldiers, ignited it, and threw it towards the throne. Percy watched as the space around the thone warped and collapsed in on itself, leaving behind a large open carving of where the throne used to be.

Deciding to follow the man, Percy finished his battle with one of the enemies and discreetly followed the pale-faced man. He walked down halls, traversing it's confusing labyrinth with ease until he got to his destination. Opening the two golden doors, Percy could see Frigga and Jane inside. 'He's after Jane,' Percy realized as he quietly slipped inside, a perk of being the son of the god of mischief and pseudo-nephew to a Russian spy. 

"Stand down, creature," Percy heard his grandmother say, short sword in hand. "And you may still survive this."

"I have survived worse woman," He said and advanced toward her.

"Who are you?"

"I am Malakith," He said and that's when Percy realized who he was fighting. It was the dark elves. Percy had only read about them in the books of spells when Frigga was teaching him, it always said that the dark elves were no more, dead and extinct during the first battle with them. But here he is, the leader of the race who tried to take control of Asgard with an infinity stone. "And I would have what is mine."

Changing his gaze from Frigga, Malakith stared at Jane. She walked backward to hide behind the golden pillar that held up the ceiling, eyes never once leaving the man who intends to kill her. But he doesn't get too close as Frigga, still holding the short sword, slashes at Malakith drawing blood on his jaw. Angered, Malakith and Frigga go into battle. One never gaining the upper hand.

"Psst," Percy whispers. "Jane!" She doesn't listen, not even acknowledging that Percy was there, just watching in fear at Malakith. "Jane over here!"

Right as Frigga pins Malakith down, blade pressed against his neck, a demic looking soldier spins her around. His large gloved hand removes the blade from hers and the other grasps her neck, choking her and lifting her off the ground. Still angry, Malakith makes his way to Jane, and Percy has to hide himself again, "You have taken something, child."

He walks forward to Jane, "Give it back." As he reaches out to grab her, his hands pass through, and green magic evaporates. She was an illusion. Now, enraged, he turns to Frigga, "Witch!"

"Where is the aether?" He asks unnaturally calmly.

Frigga, in a choke-hold against the demonic man, smirks to him, "I'll never tell you."

"I believe you." The sword that Frigga once had pierced into her from behind and Percy watched as she slumped to the ground. Red blood now soaking her blue dress. He couldn't move. This was the second time he had to watch family die before his eyes, and he sat in the corner, where he once tried to call Jane, with glossy eyes.

Lighting burned half of Malakith's face as Thor ran into the room, knocking him to the ground. The soldier picked up his leader and dashed to the balcony falling off the edge, Mjölnir–charged with lighting–hit the man's shoulder. But as Thor reached the edge, a hidden ship flew away, Malakith and the murderer inside. He tried to hit it again but the small ship and the larger one by the Bifrost vanished into thin air. 

Emerging from the corner, Percy watched as Odin came in, spear in hand but nearly dropping it at the sight of his wife. He walked to her body and sat on the ground and gently lifted her into his arms. Percy could see his eye water up just slightly as he caressed her blood-splattered check. He could see his uncles' eyes well up with tears as well.

Percy stood sadly next to his uncle. Constellations he doesn't know light up the night sky and reflect in the dark blue water in front of him. He watched as the boat that carried Frigga drifted out into the open water, a peach veil covered her face and her hands delicately placed atop the hilt of a sword. He watched as a flaming arrow shot across the night sky and ignited the boat, sending it ablaze. Then shortly after, hundreds flew and landed on those of the fallen soldiers. Men and women who fought against the elves' invasion but died protecting their home or their families. 

The booming thud of Odin's staff echoed through the quiet crowd of the Asgardian people. Frigga's boat floated off the edge of the water and the burning boat fell into the abyss of space, but her body lifted off the boat in a flurry of mini stars. They swirled around and floated up to place themselves among the stars. Around him, the people let go of their glowing balls of light. Thousands of what Percy could only describe as actually miniature stars floated up towards the glowing green celestial body above them.

He looked into his own hands where his little silver star waited patiently. Sadly, he raised his arms and saw it lift off to join the others. 

Words: 1995

A/n the next chapter might not be published for a bit, I have lots of homework to do and so many other books to update, so I hope you all understand! While you wait for the next chapter to publish please go and read some of my other books! I have a few more pjo fics and some hetalia, but if you don't want to read them, I get it. Hope you liked the chapter!!

~Kitty