Loki looked out over Asgard, her long black hair streaming in the early morning breeze. She had come out to the balcony for one last look over the city, still beautiful even in ruin. Tears clouded her deep green eyes. She may not have been Asgardian by birth, but this was her home nonetheless, decimated by a war she had been unable to stop, despite all of the tricks and gambits and ploys at her disposal. By the time the sun rose over the palace, she would be gone. Forever. Even stopping for this last look at the city had been a foolish risk. Loki cursed her sentimentality and turned to go.

"Sister! Stop where you are!"

Loki cursed again, but this time the curse was directed at her stupid oaf of a brother, who insisted on blaming her for everything.

"Hello, Thor. Come to drag me back to Midgard to face your twisted mockery of justice, I take it?" Loki asked as she spun on her heel to face him. She crossed her arms and stared defiantly up at her older brother, who was easily more than a foot and a half taller than her. Thor's glare deepened as he saw the haughty, self-righteous indignation on his sister's face. His long golden hair was bedraggled, and both he and Mjolnir were spattered with blood. He looked like he had been to Hel and back, which, to be fair, was exactly what had happened.

"You are a traitor, Loki! Look at what you've done, the destruction you've caused, and for what?"

Loki recoiled as if she had been slapped. It was bad enough knowing that he blamed her for this, but hearing him say so to her face was a thousand times worse. Then she regained her composure and walked towards him, as sure-footed and graceful as a cat. She spoke, her voice low and menacing, almost a growl. "If you think, for one second, that I did this, then you're more of a fool than I thought. Open your eyes, brother. Your oh-so-precious Avengers are not what they claim to be."

"You lie!"

"Do I?" Loki smiled bitterly. "Everything I cared about is gone. Everyone I cared about is gone. Even you, although you may still be alive. My mother is dead. My home is destroyed. The throne I would have helped you to protect is nothing but a pile of melted slag. Our people are scattered, running scared for their lives, and well, they should be. And my brother is lost to me, even as he stands here now. Do you really believe me to be that selfless? You flatter me, Thor, but wrongly. I do not understand how you can think I would sit back and let this happen, much less orchestrate the whole damn thing!" Loki was yelling now, and she didn't care. Normally she would not allow herself to lose control like this, especially not towards her brother, who, although she hated to admit it, could crush her in an instant if it came down to a fight. Now, though, she had nothing left to lose, and so it didn't really matter what he did to her after this. "Dammit Thor, it wasn't me! If you would wake up and see the light for one moment, you would understand that I have been the ONLY one trying to prevent this! But no! You listen to them instead of your own sister! They're using you, Thor! And once they're done, they'll cast you aside and move on, and it will break you, because there will be no coming crying to your little sister begging for her to help you fix the mess you've gotten yourself into. Wanna know why? Because I'll be dead if they catch me! So I'm not going to stick around and let them torture me. When I die, it'll be on my own terms."

Thor's eyes lit up with understanding as he saw Loki edging towards the balcony. "Loki..." he warned, starting forward.

Loki smirked. "Goodbye, brother." Then she jumped.

"Loki!" Thor yelled, lunging towards her. It was too late, though. Loki watched her illusion fall through the air, hair whipping out like the tail of some strange, dark comet. Thor jumped off the balcony, summoning Mjolnir's power in a desperate attempt to catch her, but it wasn't enough. The shadow-Loki hit the ground, her limbs splayed at unnatural angles and blood pooling around her.

"Loki? Loki! Speak to me, sister!" Thor shook the shadow-Loki by the shoulders, ignoring the glassy look in her eyes and the fact that she wasn't breathing. "I know you're not dead! You've played this trick on me before, remember?" He was crying now, and Loki had to blink away the tears that were pooling in her own eyes. "You can't be gone for real this time." He pulled Loki's shadow body into his arms, sobbing louder. Loki could not tear her eyes away from the scene below her. She knew she should be moving, getting as far from here as possible, but her feet stayed rooted to the ground as her brother mourned. She could not leave, and she could not comfort him, as much as she wanted to. So she watched.

She watched as Thor carried her body to the river that ran through Asgard. She watched as he put it in a boat and piled what few flowers remained in the war-torn city around her broken body. She listened as he said his goodbyes. She watched as he pushed the boat out into the river and guided it towards the falls. She watched as he took to the air and lit the boat on fire. She watched him watch it tip over the edge of the falls, as tears streamed down his face.

Then she turned and walked away. She hated deceiving her brother like this, but there was no other choice.

She was the goddess of mischief and lies, after all.

"Heimdall," she whispered as she walked away. "I know you can hear me. Watch over him, please?" She heard nothing, but she knew her request would not be ignored.

Two years later...

Loki ran like her life depended on it - because it did. A quinjet roared overhead, and footsteps pounded behind her. She forced her feet to move faster. She heard the whine of one of Stark's repulsor's warming up to fire and dove to the side just in time. She curled into a ball and rolled to her feet, sprinting off in a new direction. Stark shot again, and she dodged again - straight into the trajectory of a vibranium shield. She ducked and kept running. It came spinning back around. She jumped, landed on top of it, and launched herself up into the air, landing on the nose of the quinjet. Barton's eyes opened wide with shock, and his mouth moved rapidly. Loki had no clue what he said, nor did she care. She pulled a dagger out of the space between worlds and jabbed in into the windshield of the quinjet. A web of cracks shot across the glass. Loki raised her arm to stab again, and Stark barrelled into her side, knocking her off the plane. She fell, breaking several trees and probably her arm in the process.

When the dust settled, she realized that she was surrounded. Also, her arms truly was broken, but that was a minor problem at the moment. Stark was hovering above her with both repulsors aimed at her face, Captain Desolation stood off to the side with his black shield poised to be thrown, she could hear the angry green monster somewhere off to her left, and she could sense that Barton had an arrow pointed at her heart from behind.

"Make a move, Reindeer Games," Stark taunted.

Loki raised her hands, slowly. Her foot moved along the ground, even more slowly.

"Good move."

Her foot found a root. Perfect.

"What's in the satchel?" Captain Desolation asked. She glanced his way and shuddered at the sight of his hideously disfigured face, a side effect of the process that had turned him into a super soldier having gone horribly wrong.

Loki smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know, O Captain My Captain?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Yggrasil, I could really use some help right now, she thought, using her magic to push her thoughts down through the root, searching for a connection to the World Tree. Every tree had one; it was what gave them life. Not stupid photo-whatevertheMidgardianscalledit.

"Oh, I think we will," the captain replied. "Unless you don't wanna keep that pretty face of yours." He started forward, fist clenching into a ball. "Let's see how long it takes before you scream."

"I got twenty bucks that says it'll be less than five minutes," Stark scoffed.

Yggdrasil, if you're gonna do something, now would be a good time!

Loki tensed for a blow that never came. Suddenly, she was falling through space and time, wrapped in the protective magic of Yggdrasil's branches. She was safe, for now, although she had no idea where she would end up. Traveling Yggdrasil's branches without a way of harnessing her magic was borderline-suicide, but Loki had been desperate. She would come up with a plan later, once she had some idea of what that plan ought to be. For now, though, she was safe, and she had reclaimed her birthright. As she hurtled through the space between worlds, Loki opened the satchel. Inside were the items she had risked her life for: The crown of Asgard, and Lady Sif's sword. Seeing the two objects, Loki felt a stab of loss. She closed the satchel and once again mourned the loss of her mother and of Sif, her battle-sister, who had died so that their people might live.

The pain quickly gave way to anger.

Because of those monsters, everyone Loki loved was dead, except her brother, who might as well be. Her people were scattered. She had no home.

Anger gave way to determination.

Loki might not have been able to save Asgard, but she would sure as hell avenge it.