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Asgard's Battlefield, 2011 (Pronouns used for Loki: she/her)
The air was thick with tension as the battlefield stretched out before Loki. She stood tall and focused, surrounded by Asgard’s mightiest warriors, all ready to fight in defense of their home. Thor stood by her side, his hammer in hand, while Lady Sif, the Warriors Three, and countless soldiers lined up behind them. Across the field, Hela and her army of the dead stood ready, the oppressive shadow of her presence casting a dark pall over the land.
"Sister, I have a proposal for you," Loki called out, her voice clear and unwavering. "Either you go back to Hel willingly, or we fight, and I send you back—by force."
Hela’s laughter echoed across the field, harsh and mocking. "Oh, dear sister," she sneered. "Your humor is as dark as your magic. But you seem to be under some delusion. Kneel."
Loki's frown deepened, her eyes narrowing with defiance. "Beg your pardon?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the mockery.
With a dismissive roll of her eyes, Hela raised her hands. A wave of dark energy surged around her, and she conjured a crown of spiked black metal, which she placed atop her head. She then extended her arms, and two long, jagged black spikes materialized in her hands, ready for battle.
"Attack!" Hela commanded, her army surging forward with terrifying coordination, their feet pounding the earth as they moved toward the Asgardian forces.
In the moment of chaos that followed, Odin appeared beside Loki, his presence like an anchor in the storm. "Let's go," he said firmly, his voice steady despite the mayhem around them.
Loki nodded, her focus sharpening. The time for words was over; only action would speak now. She advanced toward Hela, her daggers ready, prepared for the clash that would decide everything.
The two sisters met on the battlefield with a deafening clash. Hela’s sword met Loki’s daggers with brutal force, each blow reverberating in the air as magic and steel collided. Hela’s strikes were heavy and unrelenting, but Loki was quick and agile, dodging and weaving with the precision of a seasoned warrior.
Hela swung her sword in a wide arc, cutting across Loki’s wrist with a sharp, painful strike. Loki hissed as she lost grip of one of her daggers, but she didn’t falter. She quickly conjured an illusion, a dozen duplicates of herself springing into existence, each one attacking Hela from different angles.
The goddess of death growled in frustration as she turned, swinging her sword at the illusions. But Loki, now hidden among them, waited for the perfect moment to strike. She moved swiftly, silently, sneaking behind Hela and driving one of her remaining daggers into Hela's side.
Hela gasped in pain, but before she could react, Loki’s fist collided with her face. The force of the punch snapped Hela’s head back, and blood splattered across her cheek, painting Loki’s hand red.
Hela staggered back, clearly stunned, wiping the blood from under her nose. Her eyes burned with rage as she roared, raising her sword to strike Loki down, but the princess was ready. More illusions appeared, each one harrying Hela, keeping her off balance and disoriented.
In one final, swift movement, Loki lunged at Hela, knocking her to the ground. With the weight of her body, she pinned Hela down and drove the dagger into her shoulder, using Hela’s own sword to finish the job. Loki wiped the blood from her face, standing tall as she surveyed the battlefield. Hela let out a scream of frustration, but Loki paid no attention. She had won.
The army of the dead, once an unstoppable force, now fell to their knees, pleading for mercy. Loki stood over Hela, her sword raised, her eyes cold and calculating.
And with a decisive strike, Loki buried Hela’s sword into her chest, ending the fight. The army of the dead collapsed once more, lifeless and still.
Loki stood in silence for a moment, the weight of her victory settling over her. But before she could process it, a voice cried out from behind her.
"Loki!" Thor’s voice was full of desperation, and Loki’s heart stopped. She turned, and her breath caught in her throat as she saw her brother kneeling beside their father, Odin’s lifeless body lying on the ground.
Loki’s chest tightened. The battle, the victory, everything else seemed meaningless now. She staggered back, her vision blurring as she tried to process the loss. Her father—her king—was gone.