The Purging of Asgard

Prologue

You look out over the gardens from your balcony in the palace, your husband still sleeping in your shared chambers. The sun has already passed overhead and is beginning its descent, and all around the city you hear sounds of everyday life: boisterous laughing from the tavern, calls from the vendors in the square, getting ready to close up shop for the day. You’re watching the children in the yard below you, running and playing, enjoying the perfect day.
            "I reached for you; you weren't there." You start when you hear your husband whisper close to your ear. Two lean arms wrap around you, fondly smoothing over your very pregnant belly.
            "I apologize; he wouldn't allow me any more sleep. In any case, the day is waning; we should have been up and about hours ago." You lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder and he nuzzles into your neck. You both stand, momentarily, watching the activity below, content.
            "I wish this could have been." He whispers, a forgotten memory cracks your heart.
            "What do you mean?" You ask, cautiously, turning to look him in the eyes. But his eyes... They are so different. So dark, mischief turned to menace,
            "If you hadn't lost me, you would have been so happy." His eyes darken further, his face so pale and sallow, the world around you shifts, the ground trembling slightly, the sun darkening. You look back at the garden; no longer the haven for playing children, but a mass grave, bodies lined up side-by-side, even stacked, two or three high in some places, covering almost every inch of the once bright green grass. "Instead, this is your life. Your fate. You chose this." He steps toward you, his hand running back over your stomach. A shooting pain takes the wind out of you, nearly making your knees give out, and you grasp your round stomach. Pulling your hand away, you feel an odd warmth and you see your hand coated in thick dark blood, you look down. Your stomach, gashed. Your baby... Gone. Your husband is no longer your husband. He has transformed before your eyes, now a nightmarish wraith, towering over you, grasping at you, but something is holding it back.

In the distance, the sounds of life have transformed: laughter turned to wailing, last call becomes a battle cry, you can hear the screaming, clashing iron, shouting, crumbling stone. The sounds of war.
Try as you might, you can't scream. You can't even move, 
            "Y/N..." You hear a whisper on the howling wind. Your vision blurs. "Y/N, why would you leave me?" It sounds like him. But he's so pained. What's happening?
You wake in your apartment, sitting bolt upright in bed, reaching into the shadows cast by the growing light of dawn. Your sheets are damp with sweat, your hair sticking to your forehead and neck. You force yourself to lie back down, focusing on calming your ragged breath, trying to shake off the lingering feelings of the horrific dream. You fall back into a restless sleep with a familiar though foreign name on your tongue, you whisper his name into the dark, at least you think you do, you're not sure of reality in this in between time before dawn, after a nightmare. 
You try not to think of him, not sure if his name would bring the wraith, or the lover, but your voice rises anyway, unbidden, rebelliously, calling for him in your sleep,
            "Loki."