Author's Notes: Yay another chapter! I'm writing as it comes to me, so this will be updated as much as possible and come in short bursts. Thanks for reading, and you don't have to review! I'm mostly writing this for me, but if you have Loki feels as bad as I do, we can start a support group together!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All credit where credit is due.
Meeting An End
A low rumbling brought Loki to consciousness. He moved his aching limbs beneath him to help push himself erect, his hands scraping against bare rock.
He was alive? But how?
Opening his eyes, Loki found himself lying amongst the ruins of the Bifrost, the gates to the home he was now forever barred from, shattered against sheer rock. Tears stung his eyes as he righted himself against the nearest broken piece of the Bifrost that was reaching up out the ground it was buried in as though it were mourning the injustice of its banishment from Asgard. Loki rested his back against the cold golden metal now absent of all its former shine. His body ached, likely from colliding with the ground, but he didn't remember the impact. He must have blacked out long before he reached this place…wherever this was. Loki could not bring himself to care where he was. He did not die. Maybe death was too kind, Loki thought as he lowered his head to rest his chin upon his chest. Maybe this was his Nifleheim. There would be no death that came with the promise of peace for him.
Every breath of life tasted like poison. Raising his dejected gaze, Loki turned his eyes to the skies. There was a vague hope that he refused to acknowledge that wished to look up and see the fiery skies of Asgard. But, of course it would not be so. Instead he saw the iron black and blue sky of a galaxy he had never seen before, amidst floating asteroids scaring the horizon. It made him miss the skies of Asgard that much more.
A deep rumble shook the ground beneath him, causing Loki to jump and brace his marred hands on either side of him as he searched for the source of the quake. Without warning, a craft flew over his head and turned about abruptly to face him. Upon the flying craft were two creatures he had never encountered before, grotesque flesh covered with dully burnished metal. Then there was another, and then another until he was surrounded. By then, Loki had found himself on his feet, not sure of what to do. They chattered and screeched in a language unknown to him. His heart began to pound as he caught sight of their shield-like weapons that seemed to be attached to their arms.
Suddenly, one of them jumped down from their flying craft and approached Loki, the shaft of his weapon raised. Loki stepped back and raised his hands as if to show that he was not looking for a fight. He heard the other creatures still a safe distance away on their flying crafts, click and chatter away, seemingly at their comrade. Unexpectedly, the monstrous creature rushed him. Loki side stepped the attack and used its momentum to bash its head against the metal of the Bifrost with a resounding bang. The creatures screeched their outrage and flung themselves to the ground. Loki barred his teeth at them, a dagger of ice forming in his hand. With surprise, he looked down at his hand where the blade had formed. He didn't even notice the soldiers running towards him. It looked like the dagger that Laufey had formed within his hand when he tried to murder Odin…
Loki let the ice melt to frigid water that dripped between his fingers. He remembered then that he was the son of a Frost Giant. The Frost Giant Laufey, who he had slain. The sorcery he had used to do battle and play tricks on Thor and Sif and the Warriors Three, was the same sorcery Laufey wielded.
All the fight left Loki as the warriors descended upon him. If this was his end, he would meet it gladly and without the use of his tricks.
The first blow snapped his head around and sent him crashing into the shard of the Bifrost. His hands braced the impact, but he was unable to keep his footing. Loki fell into the dirt where large feet broke his ribs, crushed his fingers, and bruised his limbs.
Loki choked on the dust kicked up from the shuffling feet, seeking impatiently to beat him down. He closed his burning eyes, praying for the end to come soon. When he thought he could take no more, the onslaught stopped and they moved away.
Loki lay with his face in the dust, the dirt mixing with the blood pooling from his mouth. Slowly, he strained to raise his head to see why they had spared him, or what they had spared him for. A grunt escaped his bleeding lips as he shifted his body to bring into his line of sight a robed and hooded figure, a white and gold breast place upon its chest. Loki could not see its eyes, but its red mouth framed with an open gold mask about its face, sneered down at him. Loki did not hear what it said to him before his vision filled with darkness.