Agh. Fuck.

My face tenses, practically recoils, working to force out the noise that had awoken me from a deep R.E.M. I pull my covers over my head to shield myself, but the pounding had infiltrated the defenses.

"Open up!"

My eyes shot open, now realizing this wasn't a splitting headache. I wrap the bed sheet around my bare body as I walk to answer the door. The two aggressors basically fall in.

"Sorry to wake you, but also I'm not sorry at all. You're Safiya, right?" She takes a few more steps before turning around, realizing she had forgotten formalities. "I'm Sif."

My attention falls to her accessory who she carries so tenderly.  The girl bleeds in more places than one and is working hard to hold in her groans. I fix my sheet so it holds in place and I rush to get a wet towel.

"Yes, Ye-What the hell happened? Did I sleep through a war?" I take the girl from Sif's shoulder and lead her to my bed. She lies, basically whispering graces to my mattress as I start to clean her up. The tossing causes her shirt to fall, just enough to expose her broken collarbone, which she quickly acknowledges. She starts to cover it as I gently place my hand on hers, riding of any shame she had felt for injuries she had clearly not given herself.

Sif finally catches her breath and joins us at the edge of the bed. "War and Loki are basically synonymous."

My head shoots to the words as my eyebrows meet for a heated debate. "He did this? How is that possible?"

Sif rolls her head dramatically towards his victim, persuading her to speak of the account herself. The girl waits a few moments as her breathing slows and she musters up enough confidence to face us with the truth.

"I-I spent the night with him. He requested someone and I was chosen. I've never had a bad experience. They've been mind blowing actually-" Sif clears her throat to cut her off which puts the girl back on track.

"Sorry, that's not the point." She winces as she tries to move, revealing more bruises on her chest. "He's known for being rough, in the best and most tender ways possible, but not like this. He was fuming when I got to him. He said he needed to prove a point."

I quickly bring my towel to the area as I lay her back down. "How did you get in?"

"He has all the guards wrapped around his finger. They're all scared of him, even when he's locked up. A cell does not stop him from running everything. He has always held a hand behind the scenes." She gives a short laugh, which causes her to groan even more. "He told me to find you. I assume that you could help me?"

My face falls quicker than it ever has before. Guilt. An emotion of rare prevalence, making its weight even more burdensome. The feeling you build your fortress to avoid. It is my job to keep people out of his reach. I could have prevented this, yet I asked for it.

"He has his own government, doesn't he? How is it he can be absolved of all he's done? Odin cannot even control him properly." Sif scoffs at her before getting up to pace. "Don't tell me he will still have the townswomen on his side after this."

The girl smiles weakly and huffs a humorful sigh. "He's Prince Loki. If I was apart of a plan of his, it would be an honor-"

"Oh my god." I whisper under my breath before Sif starts to yell any other noise into submission.

"This is incredible! Truly incredible! I spend all my years fighting to defend the throne and the people of Asgard only for them to conspire against reason. Why am I here! This is insanity-"

"Okay-Sif, Unfortunately I don't think he sent her here for treatment." I help the girl off the bed and to a standing position, passing her back onto Sif. "Take her to the infirmary."

She moves hesitantly, trying to decipher the connection to my involvement, but ultimately decides to listen.

I quickly dress, throwing the weight of the girls injuries on my shoulders in the absence of her assaulted body. An accessory I always seem to hold.

Oh did I hate him. He is truly the physical embodiment of everything I despise. The abuse of power...the shameless authority...Perhaps Nat was right. He is indeed a gold mine. Where I should be mournful, I smile and where I should be cautious, I charge. This darkness was not unpredictable at all. It knows the fall it craves and it cannot resist him. 

The palace halls are quiet, scarce of even the arrogant clashing of swords that had become white noise. I move lighter on my feet, blending in to the eerie tranquility of a silent fortress.

I reach the balcony on the second floor which overlooks the grand foyer, placing both hands on the rail in front of me. No movement, no bustle, no life.

It was still. The air, sound itself. My heart even stops to conform. All was still. 

Until the explosion.

The impact shook the foundation of the palace, throwing me slightly off my balance. I rush to the window behind me. A thick layer of smoke resides beyond the force field building around the palace itself. This was an invasion.

I try not to think about how during an attack Asgard chooses to only protect the royal families home, but then again, here I am. I push my frustrations aside to get more focused. The palace defenses have been compromised. The shield is falling and ships have been carelessly crashing themselves into the walls of the castle, as if they have no regard for their own well being.

The sound of footsteps on the lower floor catch my ear as I move back to the edge of the balcony. Turning the corner comes forty men, heavily armed with nothing I can recognize, and clearly not Asgardian. I lean my weight to one side as I stand rather unfazed now aware of their ridiculous appearance, yet still intrigued with the abilities of a kind I have not met before.

The eyes of one find me as they signal the others to draw their attention above them. They stop, facing me on the other side of the corridor, unsure of whether I am an enemy or an ally with my lack of concern.

"Hello." One of them speaks. What a nice change.

"Where are you going?" I respond, rather playfully.

"To have a word with your royal highness. And anyone that stand beside him."

My lips purse to the side, clearly dissatisfied with the answer. "Unfortunately, I have a fondness of the Queen."

They all laugh before addressing me again. A voice from the back shouts up with a confidence only found when apart of a group. "Are we supposed to care about the preference of one woman?"

I walk to grab the long window curtain that falls from the two story ceiling to the floor. Tightening my grip around its thick fabric, I smile back to them. "Depends on the woman."

With the curtain in hand, I launch myself off the balcony, soaring over the heads of the men before falling in the center of the group. I work through them in pairs, using the weakness of one to aid in the batter of the other. My moves are swift, clean, and enriched with torment of the man who sits just beyond this chaos.

It takes another two minutes for all the bodies to greet the floor, finally accepting the inevitable after the cost of their life. I turn to walk towards the prisons, leaving the mess, urging more to come follow.

The playful feeling I get before entering the prisons havoc has been tampered with. The doors have been swung open, the noise no longer contained to specialize the room, making it less notable than it usually is.

This was not calculated chaos. This was not interesting. This attack was not special. It was messy, boring, and vulnerable to its own downfall. It could not have been him.

A body is thrown by my feet from the side, stopping me in my tracks as I look beyond the fighting. The cells have been broken. The prisoners have escaped. My heart flutters as it falls.

I make my way down the hallway, pushing past the combat between guards and prisoners and shuffling my way through the presence of the invaders. They were not my concern. My pace quickens as I grow restless, eager to reach the end of the hall and lay eyes on an answer to my assumption.

Yet, there I stand, in front of the only cell not smashed open. The god sitting poised to the fighting ensuing inches away. Reading.

You're kidding.

I give a slight huff of laughter and frustration as I catch my breath. Four guards start towards me, aware of the few intruders that lurk behind me before I am. I quickly turn, drawing my dagger to take both their heads in one swing, clearing the back end of the prison hall.

The guards stop their charge and stand close to my side. It took a few seconds for me to lock eyes with the one with a bandaged shoulder. Mr. Tall, Dark, Handsome, and Underwhelming. He squirms in his stance before being the first to turn back towards the fight, which was acknowledged by the only prisoner left.

The god smirks, keeping his attention to his book as he turns another page.

"Leave us." I say, as the guards promptly return to duty. I drop my dagger to the floor as I stare furiously into the cell, provoking a response.

"Has the world truly run out of inadequate men that you have to resort to the harm of Asgard's brightest?" He says sarcastically, almost laughing at his own words.

"There was a misunderstanding."

"So I've heard." He closes his book and makes his way towards me smugly.

"A lonely townsgirl?" I inch closer to the glass, my jawline showing effort to keep my composure. "Am I supposed to fear you after something I've done better?"

He laughs devilishly, but with a hint of frustration, finally acknowledging my eyes. His voice turns to silk once more, refining the tone to a menacing, yet sensual sword.

"Tell me, what set you off?" He smirks as he puts his hands on the glass, speaking slowly to capture me in his every word. "Did he touch you too cautiously? Were his gestures too bland?"

He leans deeper into the glass as if he wanted to break through. "Or was it what he was missing? His eyes not black enough. His grip not dire enough. You gave him what is worthy only for the hands of death or any power that can match and you excepted anything more than disappointment?"

I walk to the glass, leering towards the body that speaks so assured. "Tell me, did she not fall to her knees quick enough? Did you have to break her collarbone to compensate for your own deprivation of power?"

Our faces reserve any space around the glass. He whispers, wanting to hold the secret between us, "Did you think of me, as you drove your dagger through his shoulder?"

I push any words back down my throat as his eyes start to find a new level of my surface.

"My interest is careless," He slows his tone before addressing me again, "but I am wholefully tempted to see the power you hold."

"The time will come," I rasp.

His eyes trace the outline of my collarbone, fining his silver tongued threat. "Soon."

Thor's emphatic footsteps make us aware of our surroundings once more. He starts his way towards us, his appearance having finished the fight rather quickly. The prisoner backs up from the glass, moving himself deeper into his cell. The stress of the air remained, but the tension was to stay unrecognizable to others. I take a deep breath as I shift my focus to Thor, who approaches so evidently vexed.

He turns to the prisoner accusatorily, not necessarily warranting a response. "Brother, what did you do?"

He throws his hands behind him as he starts to pace the cell, paying his attention to anything but us.

Thor grabs my shoulder, the pressure showing the extent of his anger. He quickly realizes and loosens his grip apologetically. "Come with me. They are sure to target someplace else." I nod as he turns to address the guards, whose focus seemed to be on us already.

They staged a great sense of duty, but they were hesitant to move if they didn't have to. With more than a second look, you can see their attention was on me. They were waiting to see my next move. I quickly turn my head hoping Thor wouldn't notice, but alas, he laughs.

"This is a damning sight." He half jokes. "I will get you a training partner that can handle you. One that will satisfy."

The prisoner laughs to himself keeping his head down as he paces. "Oh I doubt that."

I bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from breaking the glass myself.

Thor ignores his brothers comment to which he thankfully has no context. He takes my arm as we meet with the rest of the guards to exit the prison, further and further away from where my mind still rests.

I'm unfocused. Distracted. I'm not prepared to fight a war that is not the one I dream of in my head. The one where I have the God of Mischief at my feet.

The guards disperse throughout the palace as Frigga meets us in the central foyer. Jane stands beside her, looking much less composed.

"My son, you must go. He comes for the Aether."

Thor glances over at Jane, acknowledging her worrisome look. "If he comes for Jane, I will be here waiting. He will not touch her."

She places her hand assuringly on his shoulder. "Today, you are a leader. Your men need you." The back of her hand brushes against his face. "Let him come to me. I will ensure her safety."

Thor looks tentatively at his mother, uneasy about whatever she has planned, but she does not let up. "Trust me, my son. I will ensure a proper end." Her eyes find mine for a brief moment, as if she were hoping I take her words directly. "The most beautiful falls do not end in death, but he deserves no such honor."

"Mother I would be a fool to not trust in you." Thor takes Jane into his side and kisses her forehead. "Please be careful."

She nods sweetly as he flies off towards the action. Turning back to us, her expression falls to steel, in no need of luck or gifted fortune. Here we stand to take on Malekith. Me, the infected Midguardian, and the Queen who may or not want me to kill her son. I'm still unclear. All I know is that nothing good comes in threes.

"Safiya, you will keep Jane with you. You have to stay in the room for this to work, but stay hidden. Under no circumstances will you reveal yourselves." She motions Jane to meet her hand which starts to glow. Jane, intrigued yet understandably apprehensive, slowly abides. Her body turns a colorful static before filling in her mold again. In a few moments, a copy of herself stands at her side. She hands the original Jane to me as she takes the hand of the other.

"Take this." Frigga hands me a silver dagger, painted beautifully with precise gold outlines. Her eyes light up as a smile quickly returns to her face. "This has been mine for most of my life. It's blade has never met defeat, nor do I wish it ever find the blood of an unfulfilled battle." She looks up to meet my eyes and repeats herself. "Although, the most beautiful falls do not end in death.."

Hope is a tricky mistress. You can invest so much in the idea, yet it will always disappoint. It will feel no remorse,  no consequence, because you will always come back. The number of times you try to mine it does not matter. Everything has it. Everything falls.

I look to her with apologetic eyes. "Why do you put so much trust in me?"

"It is said I foster a specific type of delusion." She says, laughing a little to herself.

"And that is?"

"Finding the illegal, lawful and the immoral, moral. A compassion for the misunderstood."

I can't help but laugh, but speak quietly so only Frigga could hear. "What is misunderstood about an assassin?"

We walk into the room off to the side as Frigga separates from me and Jane. She smiles to me softly. "You weren't always, were you?"

Suddenly, footsteps. Loud, slow, aggressive footsteps. They kick the bodies that have fallen as they walk, as if to show a disgust for those who would allow themselves such a fate. Malekith.

I grab Jane by the arm and pull her out of sight as the large doors boom open. Her illusion stands to Frigga's side, willing to take the sacrifice if necessary.

As a grave contrast to the two other beings in the room, Frigga steps towards the prowler. "Stand down creature, and you still may survive this."

The body finds his voice. "I have survived worse woman."

I almost cringe at the disrespect, at anyone calling her anything other than her formal title.

"I am Malekith, and I would have what is mine." He starts towards Jane's illusion, but Frigga slashes him across his face. The two start to fight, but Frigga quickly rids the weapon of Malekith from his hand. She corners him, holding her blade to his neck.

Unbeknownst to us all, one of Malekith's men runs to Frigga's side, taking her by the neck. I needed to go help, but the protection of the Aether was main priority. It made more sense. Frigga knew this. I knew this. Why did it feel wrong to do as I should?

I close my eyes, whispering to the one person I knew could help me. In this power, there are no unfulfilled prayers. "Heimdall, please see me."

Malekith nears Jane's illusion, soon to find it a fake. "Heimdall, send Thor. See me." The leader screams at the deception.

"Witch! Where is the Aether?"

Frigga smirks, smugly responding to an authority she holds at no esteem. "I'll never tell."

"Heimdall, come on-" My body urges me to step in. I could help her.

Malekith smiles back. A smile I would not trust from miles away. "I believe you."

Thor bursts through the door the same time a sword runs through Frigga's chest. Lightening, blood, thunder, loss. His life flashes before his eyes. I take Jane as we run to the commotion, watching Thor fail to bring his mother's death to justice.

The ships disappear, the army escapes, the dust settles, yet nothing is clear. Odin appears. Eyes nothing more than black ice. Drained of all feeling, any reason to feel anything else. His life stolen and its purpose split in two.

There we all stand. Silent, still. The palace is quiet once more. An eerie, sinister silence. The trees do not react to the wind, the birds lose their ability to fly. As if every living being offers whatever energy they can spare without it killing themselves in the process. Yet, it is not enough. We gain a burden and lose a life. Perhaps time has stopped for only a moment, giving courtesy to those who deserved more of it, and giving more guilt to those who lived instead.

... ... ...

The grand doors open, showing a great vacancy with one exception. Tonight only Odin rests on the chair, feeling out of place without her by his side. She who made him feel worthy enough to sit there.

He called for Thor, but me and Jane stand outside the throne room. We didn't think it wise to leave him alone.

"Father.."

"This shall be quick." Odin's voice prompts Thor to stand still. "Let us reflect on our past while we move forward. The dark elves are not to be addressed. You will not retaliate. You will not have the need to avenge a death. I want to ensure you know what I'm saying. This is not a time for your arrogance to make you a war hero. Do you understand me?"

Thor scoffs. "And in this time what will Odin do? Hm? Will he throw a peace treaty at their feet? Is that what she deserves? Your cowardly governance?"

"I do not have time for your antagonism. There will be no attack and all that not of Asgardian blood will be sent home. Promptly."

"Father, are you sound of any reason? Jane possesses a power meant to tear worlds apart as Safiya is the one being that can contain Asgards most dangerous rival."

"This is not a refugee camp! Once the Aether is extracted, the girl will leave. As for the other, she leaves by night tomorrow."

"And we leave Loki unattended?"

"They should not be in contact in the first place."

"They are on opposite sides."

"They provoke each other."

"You're deranged."

Odin slams his hand on the arm of his throne, the sound filling the entire room. "You are ignorant to the real dangers of the world! You are emotional!"

Thor gives no response, afraid to bury himself deeper.

"Her name sounds different to the two of us. I hear one of the past. I am too familiar with what a woman like her can do."

"She aims to serve the best interests of Asgard." Thor finds his voice again.

"Intent means nothing to the power she attracts. They will destroy each other. In turn, destroy us all. Look at where your mother lies."

Thor's voice raises, bursting of rage. "Do not blame her presence for her death while your son sits behind the very chaos that wield the sword. "

"The blame, my son, is on a darkness you will never have the misfortune of holding. You do not understand." Odin raises from his seat to signal the end of the conversation. "You are not fit to rule."

I could feel Jane's stare from my side, yet my eyes do not dare acknowledge her.

"An astrophysicist?"

"I was." I keep my eyes ahead of me.

She grabs my hand, not expecting anything in return. "That is all I see when I am with you. That is all I care about."

It is pity. It is shameful. It is guilt. He's in my head.

It is not fair for someone to think of me as genuinely as she does. This is an act for the light so I do not burn. This is a disguise to exist in the daytime. I smile, keeping my eyes away from her virginal optimism.

"I'm afraid that is not a choice you made."