Chapter Text
The Bifrost shudders under his feet. Loki sways but manages to retain his balance. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Thor stood farther down the Rainbow Bridge and struck it repeatedly with the great hammer Mjölnir. Cracks and fishers began to form in the wake of the strikes. Spider web fractures danced along the bridge. All Loki’s work stood on the edge of ruin. He could not let all he had achieved be undone. Didn’t Thor understand? He yelled at his brother.
“What are you doing? If you destroy the bridge, you’ll never see her again!!” Her. Jane Foster. That Woman. She had gone and changed Thor. Her influence on him was clear. Three days ago (had it truly been so little time?) Thor was prepared to go to war with the Jötunn over the trespasses into the heart of Asgard. Now Thor defended the race of Frost Giants. Loki could still save them all. He just needed more time. Gathering himself, Loki sprints down the length of the unstable bridge and launches himself at his brother. Just as he reaches him, Thor strikes the bridge a final time.
The Bifrost implodes around them. Thor and Loki are blown clear of the gaping hole for a moment. As they fall back towards it, Loki can see the broken, gapping, edges glittering in space. Several things occurred to the God of Mischief in those seconds of freefall. First, his plans for the extinction of the Frost Giants are destroyed, along with the Bifrost. Secondly, if his father awoke from the Odinsleep, he would surely be forced to stand trial for his attempted genocide of one of the nine realms. That seemed to be the least of his worries at the moment, as one final thought occurred to him. Trial didn’t matter because Loki was going to miss landing on the remains of the Bifrost. He was going to plummet into space.
Gungnir glittered as Loki fell. He tightens his grip on the great spear, one last bastion of his short rule. His decent into the abyss is suddenly halted as the other end of the weapon is grasped in Thor’s hand.
Thor hung into space just as Loki did. Standing behind him, gripping his son’s feet was the newly awakened All Father. He caught us! thought Loki. I can still make him understand
“I could have done it, Father! For you! For all of us!” Loki searches his father’s face for some acknowledgement, some hint of his intentions towards his second son’s actions. All he sees there was a grave disappointment.
“No, Loki,” the All Father said. Something in that moment was forcibly pulled from Loki’s chest. This man had been the only father that he had ever known. The only father he would ever know. Loki felt ice crawl through his veins, freezing the core of his being. He had nothing left. His grip began to slip on the spear. Maybe, then, it was better this way. No one to challenge Thor. Better, then, if no one remembered Loki.
Thor was calling to him. “Loki…no!!” Giving his brother one last small smile, the Trickster lets go of the spear and allows himself to be pulled into the gapping endless silence of space.
As he falls, Loki thinks perhaps he hears someone yell into the darkness after him:
“NO!”
----
Reality began to seep along the edges of Loki’s consciousness. He could vaguely make out some words, the sounds of hoof beats, the twang of a bow string pulling taunt. Every inch of his body hurt. Hurt…pain. He was in pain. The dead cannot feel pain, so that must mean the Loki was alive. All this revelation brought him was bitter anger. He didn’t even have the decency to die properly. The Fates seemed to enjoy having a grand laugh at Loki’s expense.
A hoof landed in the soft soil near Loki’s head and it served to force him fully back into awareness. His eyes snap open and take in the site of the creature hovering over his prone form. The hind quarters of a stallion and the body of a human man, the being observed Loki with a fierce intelligence. A bow was in his hands and an arrow stood ready to be notched and drawn. A quiver was strapped to its chest. Clearly, this being was trained in the art of combat. Seeing that Loki’s eyes were open, the man-horse stepped back and spoke. “Ah, you are awake. Good. It is as I read in the heavens. You fell far, son of the stars.”
Loki struggles to sit up. He manages to drag himself over to rest against the broken trunk of a tree. His breathing came quick, shallow and stabbing. He was sure that he was wheezing. The creature tilted his head again. “Have you a name, son of the stars? I am the centaur Firenze, and you are safe here, for a time. I have sent for aid for your injuries. Help will arrive soon.”
“Loki…my name is Loki.” The centaur bowed his head to him in a show of respect. “Well meet, Loki. As I said, I am Firenze. It was written that at the copse of the next Great War, aid would come to us from among the stars. I will admit that I did not expect that aid to come in the form of a man,” He glanced around him and for the first time Loki saw that he lay in what appeared to be a crater in the middle of a forest. “Or to have that aid cause quite so much destruction in my forest.”
Firenze turned his head as twigs crunched under foot. Someone was approaching. The centaur turned as a cloaked figure entered the clearing. He brought the bow up and notched an arrow. “Name yourself ally or foe.” The cloaked human raised its hands to show it bore no weapons save what appeared to be a long wooden stick. The hands lowers the hood of the rich purple cloak.
For one moment Loki’s heart stutters. Father! You did not abandon me! he wants to call. In the next instant the man steps more fully into the moonlight and his features become clear. This was an old man, but no Odin. He was too thin to be the All Father. While he had a beard, it was longer then his father’s. He had the same electric blue eyes of his father and brother, but his eyes had a twinkle that he had never seen in Thor or Odin’s faces. He walks with measured steps. Finally, he turns to face Firenze.
“It is I, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I have come as summoned to offer aid to the ally of the centaur Firenze.” He looks down at Loki. He studied the Trickster for a moment with the same solemn look that had been on Firenze’s face.
“If you are who I suspect you to be, and more often than not, my assumptions are correct, then you and I have a great deal to discuss. You have arrived just before the start of term, so avoiding uncomfortable questions will be significantly easier. I imagine you are full of questions, not to mention many injuries, so perhaps questions are best kept until we see you to Madam Pomfrey’s care, yes?”