//------------------------------// // Escape // Story: A Tale of Two Worlds // by The King of Gingers //------------------------------// When Loki moved, the snake bit. When Loki thought of a method of escape, the snake bit. When Loki thought of a method to destroy the snake, the snake bit. The simple seat upon which Loki sat kept him ramrod straight. A leather strap bound him to the seat back. The cage's thick bars were crafted to restrict movement as much as possible, the roof of the cell bare centimeters above his head. The infernal snake opened its mouth to issue a warning hiss, weaving side to side slowly. A creature born of the Destroyer's magical technology, it was his only companion in that dark pit. Twice as long as Loki was tall, the snake sat curled up by the god's cell. Its burning-red eyes were fixed, unwavering, on the prison's lone inmate. Loki thought of escape. The snake was instantly upon him. Baring its metallic fangs and sinking them into the meat of Loki's arm, it thrashed its head against the wound. Blood oozed down, where it was sucked between the small tiles of his prison floor. The snake released Loki and slithered back to its eternal vigil. Loki looked down at his bleeding arm. Almost as soon as his eyes focused on the wound it began to heal. In mere seconds, his arm was like new, save multiple blood stains on his torn, dark green clothing. Loki turned his eyes back to the snake, his face impassive. The snake's eyes were void of anything save programmed, animal intent. Turning back to stare forward, he closed his eyes. Turning his thoughts inward, he set about a less painful thought process: hating his brother, Thor. ----------------------------- Thor gazed into the abyssal blackness of the Nine Realms. The tall, muscular Asgardian prince stood with his arms crossed, his blue eyes unfocused. His youthful face wore the expression of a man several eons his senior, brows furrowed and the edges of his mouth sagging downward. Even the very luster of his armor seemed stolen away, its reflective surface muted in the low light at the edge of his realm. Some yards ahead, Heimdall stood at the very termination of the Rainbow Bridge, silent and stalwart as ever. His golden armor gleamed in the late evening sun, the ebon-skinned warrior more statue than man. The guardian of the Asgardian realm, no other took his duty to Odin more seriously than Heimdall. "Thor Odinson!" At the sound of his name, Thor turned. There, standing not feet behind him, was Odin Allfather. Clad in his kingly armor, his father stood with his arms folded, his face severe. "There is a matter of great importance I need to discuss with you, my son. It seems that there is an Asgardian missing from our realm." Thor's eyes narrowed slightly, muscle memory guiding his hand to the haft of his hammer. "Father, how could Loki have escaped such a prison?" Odin walked closer, turning his gaze toward the cosmic veil. "He once told tales in the halls of Asgard of his strength and battle prowess; he would seek high adventure in the Nine Realms with Lady Sif and the Warriors Three. He smiled and made jest, feasted as if the heavens were about to collapse and brought me no end of trouble." Odin gently inclined his head, looking upon his son with his one good eye. "Your mother and I wonder what has become of that man." Thor followed his father's gaze, reaching down to rest his palm against the haft of Mjolnir. His tension began to ebb as he felt the comforting weight against his palm. "I have wondered this as well, father. I am afraid that maturity and the complexity of life have done away with that man. I am beginning to fear it is permanent. "My banishment, Loki's betrayal, the events on Earth. Individually these events might not have affected me so deeply. However, coming one right after the other, and each of them precipitated by the actions of my brother. I sometimes feel so angry at him that I wish to go to his prison and have words with him. At other times, I feel as if I have let him down. There must have been something I could have done, something I could have said, to make him change his course." Thor's hand stole to his side, almost without conscious thought, to touch the spot where Loki had stabbed him atop Stark Tower. Odin raised a hand up to grip Thor's shoulder, smiling warmly. "My son, you mustn’t let the actions of your brother continue to dominate your life. Loki is imprisoned, and being punished for what he has done. Midgard is safe, and your defense of it is further proof of the wise king you shall make. “You spent a year searching for Loki, shirking your friends and favorite pastimes. Now that he is captured, you stew in guilt and regret. It is right of you to mourn what has become of Loki, but perhaps the time for that has passed. Lady Sif and the Warrior's Three ask of you often, and I think it is time to find their company once again." Thor sighed, pulling away from his father's embrace. "Father, to adventure with them again, as I once did; to battle fell creatures, eat great feasts, and seek out the pleasurable company of fair maidens from the Nine Realms. It all seems so childish and frivolous after all that has transpired. Was it not your purpose in banishing me to Earth that I should mature and learn the value of responsibility? Now you would have me return to my old ways as if nothing had happened?" Odin shook his head. "Not at all, my son. However, even a wise king must find time for frivolity now and again. It does not do well for the soul to constantly dwell on the worst in our lives and fret about what we could or should have done." Thor sucked in a deep breath and turned from his father, gazing once again at the depths of the Nine Realms. As ever, at the termination of the Rainbow Bridge, stood Heimdall, as still and silent as the changeless, inky blackness he observed. For a time, father and son stood in mute vigil, side by side, only the roar of the waters below them to keep them company. "Do you know," Odin spoke up with a smile grazing his wizened face, "what it is in all the cosmos that never fails to lift my spirits?" Thor turned to look at his father, a brow raised. Odin's smile widened and he leaned in close in a conspiratorial manner. "Horses." He spoke, that smile turning into a grin that seemed to melt the eons from the ancient king's face. "Beautiful, elegant, graceful creatures they are. Watching them run, play, roll in the grass; riding Sleipnir, the wind in my face, the sound of his hooves on the ground; it never fails to bring a smile to my face, Thor Odinson, and many would call such a fixation 'childish' and 'frivolous'. "You have shed so much of your childish ways, my son: your greed, your selfishness, your brash nature. You have taken up so many qualities required in a wise king: honesty, kindness, a willingness to fight for those unable to fight for themselves. However, you must never think yourself too mature to do the 'frivolous' things that make you happy.” Satisfied his point had been made, Odin made his way back towards Asgard, leaving his son Thor to contemplate his words. As the figure of his father faded into the distance, Thor's hand went to his side, grasping the haft of his weapon. Mjolnir, a hammer forged in the heart of a dying star. A weapon of great destruction, or a tool to create great things. Pulling it from his side, he held it aloft with both hands, taking in its angular contours, its runic symbols, and its simple, Asgardian design. His arms flexed only slightly at its weight, the hammer's intense mass no obstacle to Thor's intentions. “Your father speaks wisdom, Thor.” Heimdall's deep bass rumbled forth, startling Thor to look at the guardian's statuesque form. “You would do well to heed his words.” Thor looked down at Mjolnir, that weapon of destruction, gripping its haft tightly. “Where, Heimdall,” he spoke, looking up at the sentinel's back. “Where can there be a place in a peaceful kingdom, for a king whose greatest pleasures come on the field of battle?” The seconds drew long and Heimdall gave no further counsel, the only movement from the silent watchman being the gentle fluttering of his cape in the breeze. Thor shook his head, letting the weight of his hammer pull his arm down. The words of his father echoing in his mind, he decided to descend into his prison and speak with his brother. Sliding the weapon back onto his belt, Thor put the Nine Realms to his back, beginning the long walk back to Asgard. ----------------------------- Loki regarded the snake, coiled mere feet from his cage, its mouth open in a threatening display. His eyes, cold and unreadable, shifted away to stare out into the blackness of his prison. Closing them, he decided to sleep. Perhaps in the tranquility of unconsciousness he could formulate a plan. The snake, hissing harshly, struck forward to sink its fangs into his arm. Loki let out an annoyed sigh as he felt the pain shoot through him. His father was many things, but a man without forethought was not one of them. Allowing the snake to finish its job, Loki watched his flesh heal in the aftermath. Reaching a hand up, he glided his fingers over the reknit wound. Fresh and new, as if it were never punctured at all. Shaking his head Loki closed his eyes again. His breathing began to slow, his head beginning to loll forward. Sleep slowly overtook him, infusing his limbs with a heaviness he found strangely comforting. “Loki Odinson.” Loki's snapped to attention, gazing out of his cage at a figure in the shadows. His eyes widened and his blood turned to ice in his veins as the shape resolved itself, moving into the low light centered around his prison. ----------------------------- Thor was descending a staircase a few kilometers from Loki's prison when an explosion rocked him off his feet. He toppled forward, head over posterior, down the stairs. His warrior's instincts kicked in without conscious thought, driving him to regain his footing many steps from the bottom. A hole had been blown open in one of the thick walls made to stand between Loki and freedom. Even from this distance, Thor could tell that the edges were frosted over with a thin layer of ice. Standing, Thor hefted Mjolnir and ran full-bore down the hallway. All thoughts of polite conversation vanished. Loki emerged from the pitch dark hole, dressed in his magnificent, golden armor. The familiar horns of his helmet gave him an almost daemonic look, his red eyes glaring daggers at Thor. His skin had turned a dark shade of blue, a dark mist of ice magic coruscating about his hands. “Brother, I do not have time to explain. Move away, for your own safety and the safety of Asgard.” Loki's breathing was quick and shallow, his irises tiny pinpricks amidst a sea of dark red. “Brother, what madness is this?” Thor kept Mjolnir raised and readied, his eyes ever locked on Loki. His entire body tensed, watching his brother for any signs of magickal trickery. “Thor, I can no longer reside here. Do not detain me, for I am resolved to quit this place with all haste.” Loki turned to leave, and Thor moved to stand in his way. “You know I cannot allow this, brother. Coulson and many other mortals died defeating you; it would do them great dishonor to let you simply walk out of Asgard, as if nothing had happened.” “Thor, move aside. There is no time.” For a second, Thor's hammer wavered, prepared to strike out at his brother. Inexplicably, he began to laugh. “A good try, my brother, but you can only fool me so many times before I grow wise to your tricks.” He reached out to to press a hand to Loki's chest. “This is nothing but an illusion.” His hand struck solid matter. Loki could not help but smile at his brother's mistake. “Right lesson, wrong time, brother.” Reaching up, Loki grabbed the bare flesh of Thor's arm. Thor let out a guttural cry, smoke rising from the growing frost-burn. As his brother wrenched his arm back, Loki crouched down and pressed his hands to the ground. Ice spread across the smooth surface at a feverish pace, slipping under Thor's feet in less than a second. Thor raised his hammer in preparation to strike, his battle cry turning into a yelp of surprise as his feet slipped out from under him. He landed in a heap at Loki's feet, the thin sheet of ice cracking underneath his weight. Loki passed over Thor's prone form in a whirlwind of green and gold. Dazed, Thor heard his footsteps growing fainter before disappearing entirely. Turning himself over, he rose on unsteady legs. The clatter of armor and clamor of voices called his attentions to the stairway, down which a squad of Royal Guard was hastily descending. “Loki has escaped!” Thor called out, raising his hammer to gesture down one of the many hallways surrounding him. “Sound an alarm! Fan out and search the area! He can't have gotten far!” The guards nodded their assent and quickly split into two groups; a single guard sprinted back up the stairs to sound the alarm, while the remaining group spread out amongst the maze-like halls that surrounded Loki's prison. Thor was already ahead of them, a scowl marring his face. ----------------------------- Heimdall stood before his king in the throne room of Asgard's Royal Palace. His head was bowed, his hands clasped on the grip of his titanic sword. “My king,” he spoke, unable to hide a quaver of anger. “Loki has passed to a world or realm beyond my sight. Whatever means of escape he had taken, not only has he taken steps to mask its entrance and exit, he has masked himself, as well.” Odin's face appeared pinched and far older than it had in ages. He sat atop his throne, bent forward, hands clasped between his knees. He looked tired and frail, his good eye unable to focus on anything for very long. Thor stood at Heimdall's side, his arms crossed and brows furrowed. “Heimdall,” Odin spoke at last, his voice wavering slightly. “Return to your post. Continue to search the Nine Realms for any sign of Loki. If Valhalla be with us, he shall waver in his wards long enough for you to see him.” Heimdall bowed further and raised his sword off the ground, turning to exit the throne room and resume his search at the end of the Rainbow Bridge. Thor didn't turn to watch him leave, instead approaching his father with purpose in his stride. “Father, we must begin to gather enough dark energy for the journey.” Odin had turned his head down, staring at his hands as his son spoke. “Wherever it is to which Loki has escaped , it is doubtless true that he is planning something.” Odin raised a hand to forestall anything more. “My son, I am unable to gather any dark energy. The Odinsleep is upon me soon, I am afraid, and to undertake such a treacherous task in this weakened state could prove disastrous.” Odin closed his good eye and raised his hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. “So much has transpired so quickly...” “Father, are we to sit upon our laurels while Loki schemes in some far-off land, possibly raising another army against us?” “I am to regain my strength, as the people of Asgard will look to their king for stability in the time to come.” The Allfather rose slowly, pressing his palms down hard against his throne to bring his wearied body to its feet. He reached out a hand, and instantly Mjolnir was summoned into his palm. Thor looked at his side then back to his father, his expression clouded in confusion. Odin regarded the hammer that he had gifted his son. The weight, the balance, the dull sheen of its hammerhead; all so very familiar. “During your last search for Loki, I took it upon myself to search the bowels of the royal archives. Within its dark chambers are kept the ancient secrets of artifice and magic, lost to misfiling or purposefully kept hidden from the general populace for the safety of our peace. One such secret, hidden away in a lost file gathering dust, was the construction protocols for the Bifrost.” He gripped the haft tightly, the runic symbols upon Mjolnir's hammerhead growing deeper and more pronounced. “ 'A weapon to destroy, and a tool to create'. Do you remember those words, my son? I spoke them at what would have been your coronation. It seems so long ago, now. In another lifetime altogether. Odin straightened up, bringing his regal presence to bear in his throne room. His voice boomed with a measure of his youthful vigor, carried on by the weight and gravity of the task he was bestowing upon his firstborn son. He raised Mjolnir up high, his eye fixed upon Thor's worried face. “Thor Odinson! It is with this hammer, Mjolnir, and the ancient knowledge of the artificiers of Asgard that you shall construct for our people a new Bifrost, identical to the first in both form and function. With this, you shall travel to Midgard and once against gather to your side the mortals with whose assistance you captured Loki the first time.” Odin lowered Mjolnir, stretching out his arm and using its hammerhead to gesture towards his son. “I, Odin Allfather, task you and your mortal warrior kinsmen to recapture Loki by whatever means you deem necessary.” With a thought, the hammer flew from Odin's hand towards Thor. The Mighty Thor reached out with his own hand, grasping his weapon with renewed purpose. He went to one knee before his father, setting the hammer down with a low clang of metal against metal. “It shall be so, father. And Valhalla help whosoever Loki dupes into helping him, for I certainly shall not.” With that oath of moment spoken, Thor stood and took leave of his father, intent on traveling to the archives and retrieving the protocols of which Odin had spoken. His red cape billowed behind him, lending an air of the heroic to his strides, before he turned and disappeared from sight. Odin stood before his throne for some time after Thor had left, gazing upon the empty room before him. In days long past, Asgardian nobility had filled it to capacity, cheering for Thor in expectation of his coronation. Odin allowed himself a ghost of a smile, remembering the day when he ascended to the throne of Asgard. No pomp or circumstance preceded his rule; only bloodshed and pain, from which he forged a nation and a people that he hoped would outlast the stars themselves. Thoughts of his adoptive son broke Odin's reverie so suddenly that he felt his ancient legs giving way underneath him. He reached down behind him, finding the armrests of his throne and sliding down into the comfortable cushion beneath him. Leaning back, Odin heaved a great sigh, feeling his muscles relax and his bones creak. "Where, Loki," he whispered, his eye glaring at the universe, as if trying to force it to reveal Loki's location. "To where, in all the Nine Realms, have you escaped?" ----------------------------- At the edge of the Everfree Forest, thick-bodied trees grew sparsely. Their branches swayed and creaked in the wind, leaves whispering as they fluttered in the breeze. A yellow splotch accentuated with pink appeared in the sky, growing larger and more defined. As she descended, Fluttershy smiled up at the ancient tree she had decided would make the best home for her small friends. Their legs wiggled excitedly in her mane, pulling a giggle from her throat. Trotting forward, she leaned her head out and closed her eyes. Four small jumping spiders crawled out of her mane and down her face. Perching on her nose, the spiders jumped the few inches onto the roug, gathering in a small semi-circle to stare up at Fluttershy. Leaning back, Fluttershy smiled and opened her eyes. "Okay, ladies,” she spoke in low, comforting tones, “this is your new home. I'm so happy for all of you. Now, I want you four to stick together and keep each other safe. There are some predators around here that would just love to--" Fluttershy didn't get a chance to finish her sentence, as without warning the tiny spiders turned tail and fled up the tree. Skittering madly, their tiny legs took them up and out of Fluttershy's sight in a few seconds. She blinked in bewilderment, leaning her head back to gaze after her friends. Fluttershy prided herself on being able to understand and communicate effectively with animals. Right now, she was at a loss as to why they'd fled so suddenly. A gust of wind rustled her feathers and fur. Turning, she cast her gaze skyward. Staining the sky was a brilliant aurora, intermixing with the blackest clouds she'd ever seen. The colors of the aurora shifted and flowed into one another, creating a tapestry of shades and hues that made Fluttershy's eyes hurt with their splendor. The wind spoke once again, and she brought a wing up to protect her face. What had once been a gentle breeze was now climbing quickly into a full-scale hurricane. She leaned in against it to keep from being tipped flank over mane. Squinting her eyes, she spread the tips of her wings, peeking through. A blinding flash filled her vision. Several loud thunderclaps assaulted Fluttershy's eardrums, leaving her hearing dulled and replaced with a high, constant ringing. The force of the thunderclaps struck her hard in the chest and she had to struggle to stay standing, bending her knees slightly and spreading her hooves out. She didn't dare try to fly away in such a wind. Deciding that this was getting all out of hoof, Fluttershy began to back up toward the treeline of the Everfree Forest. As if on a cue from some malevolent deity, another flash of light burned into her retinae and a final thunderclap slammed against her with brutal force. Finally lifted off her hooves, the wind ran her back against the home she had just gifted to her friends. The breath knocked out of her, Fluttershy fell down onto her stomach, her hooves splayed haphazardly underneath her. Her wings laying limply by her body as her as she struggled through a fog of confusion. Folding her wings back against her body, she pulled her hooves up underneath herself and rose on shaky legs. Tilting her head back, she squeaked in surprise. A perfect circle several feet in diameter had been burned into the grass. Steam rose from some thing that was curled up inside the scorched halo. Fluttershy's brain tried in vain to give meaning to the jumbled mass of gold and green it saw. After a few moments of shocked silence, she found a point of reference and everything began to fall into place around it: the thing had horns. From that familiar image, her mind was able to extrapolate the rest of its body: a head, two arms, and two legs contained inside some strange suit of armor. With motions as slow and deliberate as her own, the ape-like thing rose onto its strong legs. For the first time the pegasus got a true sense of how large it was as it towered a full head's height above her. Another squeak escaped her, and the thing whirled about. Its face was a dark and icy blue, flat and harshly angular. Its nose was a mere triangle of flesh and cartilage between a pair of blood-red eyes, set above a mouth thin and turned down with malice. "Monster!" Fluttershy screamed and turned, scrambling into the Everfree Forest. Within seconds she had disappeared, leaving the new arrival by himself atop that smoking circle of charred grass.