Stolen Relic ~ A Loki Fanfic

Prologue

><<>><<>><

The two young princes of Asgard, one fair haired and one dark, stood side by side on the decimated field of battle. Alfheim, the land of the Light Elves had been ravaged by the dark elves who had nearly succeeded in the extermination of their race. Led by their King the remaining small faction of light elves had risen from the ashes of their realm and brought war to the peoples of the eight realms. Now, all that remained of the Light Elves had fallen in the recent battle.

In the end, it was only King Odin of Asgard's swift and uncompromising action that prevented a further loss of life within the other eight realms. After the battle, Odin called for his young sons to be brought to the field to witness the surrender of Ljosalfar, the King of the Light Elves. They were both children, but even at such a young age it was important for them understand the nature of their responsibilities across the nine realms and the realities of war.

And so, the princes stood side by side under the watchful eye and protection of General Torik himself. The older fair-haired boy watched the soldiers standing at attention, their eyes gleaming with respect and fear as they watched the Allfather. Someday he too wished to stand over a fallen enemy after defeating them gloriously in battle. The Allfather had fought with his men. He had engaged in single combat against Ljosalfar himself. Despite the fairly easy victory over Ljosalfar and his small group of elves this day would be remembered as the day Asgard had gloriously defeated the rebelling Light Elves. The young prince rested his hand against the hilt of the small dagger at his belt. Someday this would be him. Someday, he would be the Allfather and lead the charge into battle. Someday he would vanquish the foes of Asgard in glorious battle.

The younger, dark haired boy was not watching the men in eager anticipation. Instead, his eyes were for the bodies of the light elves that littered the ash covered ground. They had been all that remained of a once proud and powerful race. And now, their king knelt before the Allfather. Blood was running from unseen places beneath his armor, mixing with that of his men in the mud. Despite his young age, the dark haired prince couldn't help but recognize the waste of it all. What few that remained of the Light Elves after the genocide by the Dark Elves had been lost to the Nine Realms this day. It was the end of something, though he was too young to understand why that made him so sad.

Ljosalfar leaned forward, bracing his arm against the ground as his breath came in ragged pants. The great king was dying before their eyes, his immortality leaking out onto the dead land of his once great realm. The Allfather's spear, Gungnir, capable of bringing death to the mortal and immortal alike, was still coated crimson with his blood.

"So, it has come to this old friend," Ljosalfar gasped.

Odin shook his head, his remaining eye clouded with resignation and regret. "You brought this upon yourself and destroyed what remained of your people," Odin said gravely.

Ljosalfar barked out an angry laugh, that turned to a coughing fit. He collapsed onto all fours as blood dripped from his lips. "The Dark Elves brought it upon us all. They notched the arrow, I simply let fly the string. Mark my words Allfather, you will rue the day you did not side with me. The Dark Elves will return."

"And what of the innocent lives you took?" Odin challenged angrily.

Ljosalfar shook his head, his silvery hair coming loose from it's braid to drag through the mud. "What of the thousands of innocents among my people who died? What of them, Odin Allfather defender of the Nine Realms? My entire race! What of them?" Ljosalfar challenged, though his voice was weak with the effort it took him to speak. "Where were you Odin Bor's son when my people needed protection? All that is left now is vengeance. Who will avenge them?"