Hey guys!

I apologize for the long delay. A school-stress-induced mental block derailed me a bit. But I by no means forgot about this fic, or about you guys!

I hope you all enjoy this chapter; I used a different perspective to try to explain some things.

Let me know what you think so far!

Jotun Occupation of Earth: Day 26

Asgaard

All was still; the air he breathed was cool and smooth, his lungs pulling it in deep and the lulling effect only just slightly registering in his mind before the low rumble met his ears once again.

He was finding it difficult to concentrate on his own thoughts with the consistent noise that echoed outside the golden halls. He could not move to find its source, nor open his eyes to look out the window, nor find his voice to command a guard to do it for him.

But then, he did not need to do any of those things to know what caused the growl-like thunder that clapped in intervals throughout the skies of Asgaard.

Odin knew, even in the deep, paralyzing state of the Great Sleep, that his son was at fault.

For even as he lay stationary and helpless, Odin could see him, and hear him, and feel the deep tremors of terror and rage that consumed him.

Thor's wrath reverberated through the realm and intensified with every passing day. But his storm-fits would not rebuild the Bifrost, or undo the damage the Jotuns had wrought upon both Asgaard and Earth.

And it certainly would not save the mortals he had come to adore so deeply.

Odin felt the rumble in his chest once again, and just briefly, felt a sadness overtake him. He sympathized with his blood-born, true enough…

But it was the knowledge that he saw it coming that had Odin hitch in breath for but a split moment in time.

He was not omniscient. They tried to call him so, along with many other titles that were actually quite shy of the truth. He was not all-knowing, nor all-seeing, and, despite the vast army of warriors and an entire realm of citizens that would protest, he was most certainly not all-powerful.

They sang his praises, and held him high, and called him 'Great King', 'Allfather', 'The Golden One', 'The Ever-Wise'….

And while his reign as king of Asgaard was long and great, and his battles victorious and filled with glory, and his word often accurate and always heeded, Odin was not a god.

But that did not mean that he wasn't a being unlike all others before him, or many after.

Aside from Thor, he was the greatest warrior Asgaard had ever seen, and in his youth had matched his son's level of raw power and strength.

Aside from Heimdall, he was the only other being in the realm that possessed a gift of Sight, and knew things that none other could know.

As he aged, however, his strength began to fade, his son taking the position of physical power and leader of Asgaard's army.

But his Sight did not fail him….

He could see the chaos to come: the blood that would run over the rainbow bridge, the ice that would coat the Earth and slowly kill it, the suffering of the mortals that inhabited it, and the struggle of Thor's Midgaardian allies- the 'Avengers' -to restore their frozen and desolate world.

Odin frowned when Thor returned from Earth with news of Loki's defeat and capture.

His son's words were lost as the visions hit him full force.

Light steps met his ears, closing in with a softness that he easily recognized.

A deep breath drew his chest in, a likewise full exhale pushing it out and into the palm that came to rest upon it.

Odin sensed his wife coming into the chamber even before she had entered.

He could feel her fingers tremble against his clothes, hear her silent breaths and smell the salt of her tears. Hypersensitive to all around him in the Sleep, he could even feel the air move when she leaned toward him.

He wanted to stop those tears, console his wife, and calm his son.

But he could do none of those things.

He could only lay and wait, painfully aware of every soul that felt pain in his kingdom.

He would not tell them that he had seen flashes of the Jotun's bold move to bring an army against the realm.

He had learned, throughout his long, seemingly endless life, that the brief images of what was to come were a gift that only he could fathom, and to share such broken messages with the people would be something only a fool seeking a panic would do.

After all, the foresight was not always distant; he did not see the Jotuns sneak into Asgaard the first time until they were but a few steps away from the Casket.

But he did see Thor's melodramatic reaction to his interrupted coronation. He knew his son was in Jotunheim before the guard Loki had sent reached him with the news. It was but a small glimpse, of Mjolnir meeting Jotun flesh, but it was enough to tell him that his intervention was needed.

And that punishment would be his firstborn's greatest ally.

The soft fingers brushed his whiskers before stilling against his cheek.

"Thor will not leave the distant fields. He glowers at the sky and roars at his inability to reach Earth and save it. He will not listen to his friends; he will not listen to me. I have tried to tell him, Odin. I have tried to have him visit Heimdall and hear what has happened…."

The whisper of Frigga's voice trailed, hesitant, as if caught revealing a knowledge she was not meant to have. Odin wanted to tell her not to worry. He wanted to tell her what he had seen.

Never before had he detested the Odinsleep so greatly.

It was as Thor relayed the news of Loki's slow recovery in the facility known as 'SHIELD Headquarters' that Odin saw the images pass in front of his eyes; the sky ripping as the long-restrained sorcerers of Jotunheim tore through the passage Loki had revealed to them, hundreds of black-blue figures stepping forth to cast the Great Realm into chaos. Their monsters roared and carved a path through the unprepared army that struggled despite Thor's quick leadership. The image was clear, and his son's words were whispers in the background.

Just as the deep black form of their new king stepped into his sight, he blinked.

And the vision was gone.

Odin looked at his son, noting the concern for his defeated brother flashing in his eyes.

He nodded as Thor told him of Loki's injuries and the efforts of this 'SHIELD' to both care for and keep him contained.

He said nothing of what he had seen.

For although he knew what was to take place, he did not know when.

And it was not his place to interfere.

He was a king. Not a god.

Frigga's voice seemed farther away now, her steps circling him as she seemed to both speak to him and think aloud to herself:

"Heimdall told me that he saw Loki leave the facility the mortals kept him confined to. He told me that he'd heard Loki speak of trying to help them….."

She stopped just behind his head, and he could feel her look down at him.

"Why? Why would he suddenly wish to aide those that he'd once tried to conquer? And why would he think that he could? He is all but mortal now himself….isn't he?"

Frustration and confusion radiated from her in waves, and Odin almost wanted to smile.

"I tried to tell Thor. But all he seems to care about are his mortal friends. This 'Jane Foster' especially has him fretful. Tell me, Odin….with one son in a blind rage and the other trudging through the frozen earth on an impossible mission…what am I supposed to think? What can I possibly hope for?"

His almost-smile never came, and for a moment, Odin forgot that he could not move anyway.

A sigh escaped Frigga, a sign of her self-defeat.

With steps that now sounded heavy with sadness and irritation, he heard her exit.

And he was again alone to think of what was to come.

It was unfortunate that the long sleeps were coming to him now without warning.

He was already frozen, helpless, and useless, by the time his vision came into reality. And it was not until they had already attacked that he realized, as the guards surrounded his still body and Frigga sat whispering frantic words into his ear- and Thor struck dozens of Jotun bodies down in a hail of lightning- that it was not war that the monstrous army had come for at all.

The images of the sorcerers- once banished to the distant frozen fringes of Jotunheim as demanded by Odin's treaty with Laufey—appeared before his closed eyes, using magic of both destructive and manipulative natures to break past the guards at the vault and entering in a cloud of black mist and ice.

It was all he needed to see, and all he needed to know.

It did not surprise him to hear Frigga at his ear again not long after, telling him that the Jotuns had suddenly retreated and disappeared from Asgaard in the middle of battle.

And it did not surprise him that the only things taken from the vault were the Casket and the Tesseract, both returned to the assumed safe haven of Asgaard when Thor had brought Loki back to face his punishment.

It was all they would need to restore the power that he had once stripped them of so many years before.

And it was all they would need to turn Earth into the new Jotunheim.

The thunder cracked in the distance, the mountains of Asgaard taking punishment that they did not deserve.

Odin felt Thor's anger become desperation, his shame and helplessness driving him to near madness.

And then, for the first time in many days, it stopped, a sudden silence piercing the air like the loudest shout.

All was quiet, all was still.

And Odin felt his heart ache as he heard, from miles away, the sound of Thor's broken sob.

He wanted to tell his son what only he knew, the last glimpse of a future occurrence that he could neither pinpoint nor fully understand.

Odin felt certain that the image of Loki, skin blue and eyes red as blood, staring into the face of the woman known as Jane Foster, held a positive outlook for the oppressed and dying people of Earth.

But then…

He was not omniscient.

A/N: My take on Odin in this fic was inspired by some readings from the myths, as well as the portrayal of him in Mike Vasich's novel, Loki.

And maybe the myths inspired my angry-Thunder-God-Thor just a bit ;)