Golden Horns and Red Thorns

Arrivals

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LOKI

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     The rainbow colors clouded her face as the Bifrost dragged me away. I left my soul there, with Tera and my brother. I had planned to give my life for theirs, I wanted to do it. Ironic, huh? How the God of Mischief can be fooled by the two people he knew the ins and outs of.

     My screams of protest got caught in my throat, and all I could do was stare at Tera's pain ridden face for the last time. Could I even call this a betrayal? Why save me, out of everyone? Heimdall can see everything and hear everything, he would be the most useful so why not him? Why not themselves? God damn it, why me?!

     I looked above me to see Banner, but he was no longer there. I couldn't fight this. I couldn't break out of the Bifrost and land on some godforsaken planet again. If Heimdall sent Bruce to where we planned, then I was headed in the same direction. I'm going to Earth, and this time, not as a mind-controlled man who is power hungry. Sure, I wanted the throne, but for Valhalla's sake, not that badly.

     Usually every time I took the Bifrost I would stare in pure amazement at the whirl of colors around me. It could never get old. But this time, I closed my eyes. Thor's and Tera's face, a mix of pure happiness and sorrow in their eyes, flashed constantly behind my eye lids. I couldn't get it out of my head. And if I somehow lived through this mess, I knew I never would.

     Soon enough, my feet hit the ground of who-knows-where. I lost my footing, falling onto the soft grass now engraved with the Bifrost marking. Lifting my head, all I could see for what seemed like miles was a lush jungle of trees. Birds cawing and flying away in a rush for safety. The chirping was a drastic change from the roar of the Bifrost.

     But something about the forest was off. Something about it didn't feel real. Maybe because I've never seen this area of Earth before, only the city of New York, but it felt familiar... like magic. I lifted myself off of the ground dusting my suit off, and began to walk towards the jungle. I stopped right before the first tree and stuck my hand out, slowly inching forward and preparing for whatever pain was about to come.

     There was none. But the scenery faltered and a wave of purples rippled through the force-field protecting the forest beyond. As if on queue, a group of men and women in some type of tribal uniform marched towards me, their weapons pointed. Some spoke English and others spoke a different language - Xhosa, to be exact - as they yelled at me to get on the ground. I saw the realization come across their faces slowly. They knew exactly who I was. 'This isn't going to be fun'.

—

     Compliance was easy. Six years ago I came to this planet thinking myself above these Midgardians. But now I knew I was at their mercy, whether or not the first time was truly my doing. I was not welcome here. They made that clear in New York, and they've made it clear now.
     I was now in what seemed to be a throne room for the King here. The Americans seemed so adamant about freedom and not being ruled by a King. Obviously, I am not in America. To be honest I had not the slightest clue where I was. All I knew was the warmth of the sun that shines down on this place, all the while feeling the coldness of the stares from the men and women surrounding me.
     The King and his people shared words, explaining the situation and how they found me. The only reason I could understand any of this conversation was the Allspeak; truly a gift to every Asgardian. This allowed me to understand any language I heard. They explained the mark that was now burned onto the lush grass just on the outskirts of his country, and his eyes lit up. Of course, he knew who I was, but at the mention of the engraving his interest peaked even more than it was before.