The dark-skinned girl stepped toward Loki, her eyes deadly serious. "You are?" she inquired.

"I don't answer to you," Loki told her. "Who are you, anyway?"

The girl lifted an eyebrow. "I am Tekahionwake Brant, one of the Masters of the Mystic Arts. These are my colleagues, Nasario Almarez and Karl Mordo. The Ancient One has felt Dormammu's power stirring, his attention turning to this dimension. We have come to investigate this disturbance, and since Asgard fought the Dark Elves during their last awakening, we have come to you first."

"I told you," Odin insisted, his voice harsh. "The Dark Elves all perished in that battle, five thousand years ago. My father made sure of that."

"Their world stands empty," Hailstohm interjected quietly. "Svartalfheim has not been touched since Asgard's battle with them. It is desolate."

Tekahionwake glanced from Loki to Odin to Hailstohm before her gaze drifted back to Loki. "Still, I must verify. The Älfeneel are the most loyal servants to Dormammu and, like him, they wish to bring primordial darkness back to the universe. I must make sure they are definitely no threat."

"The dead are no longer a threat to us," Odin asserted.

The sorcerer did not look away from Loki. "Yet, I find their weapon still exists. The Aether coils inside him, and the Älfeneel will be searching for it." Tekahionwake glanced back to Odin. "Wasn't the Aether destroyed, along with the Dark Elves?"

Odin didn't answer. He didn't have a chance to.

The bright purple flare of sheer power shattered through the side wall of the throne room, sending shards of stone and metal flying. The shock wave flung the Asgardians, the sorcerers, the NCIS agents, and Hailstohm back, pieces of shrapnel colliding with flesh.

POWER, a voice whispered inside Loki as he struck the floor, skidding. It is POWER.

Loki thrust himself up into a sitting position, gazing at the ruin of the wall. Several figures were stepping through, a purple glow coming from the chest of the leader. Platinum blonde braids swung with his steps, his pale mask obscuring his face. But Loki didn't need to see the face. He had seen enough images of the mask alone to know what it was.

"The Dark Elves," Tekahionwake muttered. "See, this is why I verify things."

Four Dark Elves stood in the gaping hole, dressed in Marauder accouterments. Rifles hung over their backs, but their masks belonged to no pirate. They were pale, sculpted to be generically beautiful, and devoid of any expression.

And the Power Stone, a relic of primordial strength, rested in the chest of the leader, pulsing with might.

"Asgardia," the leader pronounced. "Syvo mavake alina! Syvo mavake Vela Myrkel!"

"We do not bow before monsters," Odin spat.

"Or Dormammu," Tekahionwake added, her eyes fierce. She and her fellow sorcerers slid their right wrists over their left ones as they stood, their Tao Mandala shields springing to life before their hands, the orange rings glowing in the thin cloud of dust that had erupted with the destruction of the throne room wall.

Loki, Thor, and Hailstohm were on their feet as well, Loki gripping his daggers, Thor his hammer, and Hailstohm twin ice swords, ice plates of armor forming over her leather tunic. DiNozzo and Bishop had drawn their guns, aiming them at the Dark Elves. Odin gripped Gungnir tightly in one hand while he helped Frigga up with the other, pushing her behind him.

The leader's eyes landed on Loki, their inky blackness terrifying and impenetrable. "Aether," he breathed.

Then the battle began as the Dark Elves lunged forward.

Bishop and DiNozzo opened fire as Thor threw Mjolnir. The leader lifted his hand, a deep purple glow emanating from the cracks in his arm, and the hammer was sent careening away from him. Loki and Thor charged the leader as the hammer flew back to Thor's hand.

"Stay away from them!" Tekahionwake yelled. "Aether, stay away!"

Loki ignored her.

The four Dark Elves split, one streaking toward Bishop, DiNozzo, and Hailstohm, one attacking two of the sorcerers, and one heading for Odin as Loki and Thor took on the leader. Tekahionwake growled in frustration and lunged toward the leader, dropping her shields in favor of a blazing energy sword.

"Stay back!" she yelled at Loki as he went to charge. "Don't let them have it!"

Loki lifted his lip into a snarl. His blood boiled with anger, the crimson Aether within him demanding to be touched. Yet he also felt a slight pulse of something darker, something else the Aether longed to do. Yet it couldn't. Not yet.

No. Not ever.

Resisting the urge to use the Aether's own power, Loki turned to the battle with the leader, thunder crackling as Thor struck with Mjolnir. Both his hammer and the sorcerer's sword hummed with power but caused no damage to the leader, who glowed with the aura of power much like Halo glowed with light. The way they fought, there was almost no room for Loki to help. Tekahionwake seemed intent on making sure he kept his distance.

Then he heard his mother cry out.

Loki spun, as if in slow motion. He saw Odin and Frigga on the dais, saw Odin falling, Gungnir clattering to the floor. He saw the Dark Elf pull the trigger, saw the blast of energy leave the muzzle of her rifle and burn a hole through Frigga's chest. He saw his mother crumple to the floor, like a wilted flower, dying without a sound.

"No!" Loki heard himself scream, as if from a far distance. He almost didn't recognize himself, the scream was so filled with agony and horror, so raw. His vision blurred as he hurled himself forward, hurling his daggers at the Elf, scooping up Gungnir from the floor and driving it forward, forcing it through the Marauder armor, pushing it until he was chest to chest with the Dark Elf, the female impaled on the spear while Loki gripped the bloody shaft, snarling fiercely, eyes stinging with hot, angry tears as his chest heaved with emotion.

"Aether," the Dark Elf murmured, lifting her fingers and pressing them against Loki's chest, her fingers burning against his skin. He could feel the Aether pressing against his ribcage, straining to reach her fingers, to answer the summons it felt. Loki fought against it, forcing the Aether to recoil, to refuse the call. He removed his hands from Gungnir's shaft and, without even knowing what he was doing, placed one hand across the Elf's mask and the other against the back of her head before jerking her head swiftly to one side, remembering what DiNozzo had taught him about Gibbs' move to break necks.

The sickening snap was brutally satisfying.

Loki didn't even watch the Elf collapse, head lolling to the side like that of a rag doll, bloody smears across the smooth ivory surface of the mask, but turned to see his mother, lying pale on the gilded floor. Even in death, she looked elegant, queenly – a testament to how fitted she had been to rule Asgard at Odin's side.

Odin knelt beside her, his face ghastly with sorrow and anger. Loki felt his breath coming swiftly as he stared down at Frigga's body, still and silent. Scorch marks streaked away from the hole in her chest, staining the navy blue dress she wore with ugly black tracks, but there was no blood. The heat of the blast had cauterized the wound.

All around them, the battle continued on. It was as if no one had noticed, and indeed, they hadn't been given time to notice. They were too busy fighting the remaining Dark Elves, who were powerful enough to hold back two or three skilled combatants apiece.

Loki hated them. Hated them more than he had ever hated anything else. His hatred for the frost giants now seemed like the annoyance over a stubbed toe, his abhorrence of Thanos as if he was only bad weather on a long awaited day. The Dark Elves were colder than ice, more vile than Thanos' threats. They needed to go to hell, to burn in the flames of Muspelheim until Ragnarok, and then burn for all eternity in indescribable pain. And they would. Loki would make sure of that.

His scream was silent but the mayhem was real.

Crimson tendrils filled the throne room, springing from Loki's chest as he poured all his hatred and anger, sorrow and fear into the Aether's power. The three remaining Dark Elves were knocked off their feet by the force of the scarlet strands, which were thick and terrifying as they acted as agents of Loki's rage, branching out from him and engulfing the room.

Pain raged through his bloodstream, feeding the Aether as Loki lost his vision, his hearing. He even lost all sensation in his limbs, his body growing numb. They must pay. I will avenge Mother. They must pay. I will avenge Mother.

The next thing Loki knew, he was lying on the ground, his strength spent, every single part of him throbbing in pain.

Bishop knelt beside him, her face streaked with tears, as her trembling hands cupped his face. He blinked, his chest aching and hollow as he stared up at her, his vision blurry and tinged with red. Her lips moved but he couldn't hear her, wasn't sure if he wanted to hear her. Her tears were enough.

Nothing had changed.

Loki slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, Bishop aiding him. Her arm was scorched and a dark handprint, like a bruise, bloomed across the skin on her neck.

Thor stood by Frigga, a look of such pain on his face as he gazed down at her. DiNozzo stood awkwardly a little way off, looking like he wasn't sure what to do or say. Hailstohm stood beside him, her hands clasped and her expression one of respectful sorrow. The three sorcerers were in a huddle by the ruined wall, appearing to be in deep conversation, but Loki couldn't hear a thing due to the buzzing in his ears.

He didn't know what had happened to the Dark Elves. He didn't know what had happened to him or what he had done. He didn't know what was going to happen next.

The only thing Loki knew for sure was that Frigga was dead. And she wasn't coming back.

/**/

*moment of silence*

Yeah, um...I'm sorry about that.