There was only one date on his gravestone.
The date when he redeemed himself.
The date history should remember.
The date when he died.

A man, standing feet away from the engraved stone, doesn't accept the fact his brother is gone.
He doesn't accept it.
He can't accept it.
The man stands and stares at the stone with a blank expression on his face.
He can't accept the fact his brother is dead.
So he just stands there.
Wondering how his brother could've survived.
Because he just can't accept death.

He brushes his hair out of his face and takes a deep breath.
He realizes that he is alone.
The man frantically looks around, scanning the area for someone, but sees nothing.
Is he really the only one at his brother's funeral?
Even after his brother laid down his life to save the planet, he was the only one attending the funeral.
He sits down, laying his back against his brother's stone.
He cries.

He is crying for his brother.
He is crying because he doesn't want to rule Asgard without him.
He is crying because no one is here at the funeral.
He is crying because his chest hurts.
He is crying because he thinks he might be having a heart attack.
He is crying because has finally accepted the fact his brother is gone.

He stops crying.

He stops crying because he is happy.
He stops crying because he is with his brother.

He stops crying because he is dead.

I understand this does not follow Norse God Mythology. I'm totally aware, thank you very much. But I was just cranking this out in my car and then the story took a nasty turn for the worst and my hands were just bleeding out words and now I have killed both Thor and Loki. But I'm really sorry that it sound more like a weird poem than an actual story, but hey, that's Fanfiction for ya.