Following Our Own Script

Chapter Four

Heimdall bent over into Loki's ear. "If you so much as squirm, I dislocate both of your arms." He let go, sending the brat into the mud. "You weren't breathing when we hit land. I resuscitated you. Far from a kiss, you depraved child"

Loki peeled himself up. The ground was thoroughly saturated from all the rain. From his face to his tunic, he was a mess. "Asshole," he sneered.

"That's not the thank-you I'm owed. But take your time. I'm in no rush to finish ringing every last drop of gratitude out of you." Heimdall walked ahead, cutting through wildlife as he went. How easy it was to upset the brat. But not wanting to be trailed by his crybaby thoughts, Heimdall returned to Loki's previous unanswered question. "Everyone's love is different. Stop overthinking feelings you don't understand, it's pathetic." Heimdall turned and looked at him. "Any more answers you want me to fish for in that undeveloped brain of yours?"

Loki pushed past him. "Mouth to mouth isn't a kiss."

"I specified that."

"But you built up to it like it was!"

"Me? Use my words to get a stir in someone? All it took for you to forget who I am was saving you? Utterly disheartened."

Seemed like he'd earned himself some sweet silence. Heimdall was proud of himself. He whistled as he strolled along behind the pouty man-child.

- - - - - - -

Kratos and Loki had returned and the planning to summon Ragnarok went into full swing.

Heimdall sat, arm resting on his knee, glaring at them all.

Delusional. Talking of uniting the realms overnight as though it was done before. Talking as though Odin hadn't prepared his life for this fight. They would all be decimated. And for what? Prophecies? Revenge? A sense of justice? Heimdall dug his nails into his palm.

They had left the passage open, hoping that Heimdall would miraculously switch sides. Again, they had no plan on how to do this. Asgard would not fall to such thoughtless beings. It couldn't. He wouldn't allow it.

"Does murdering the innocent make you happy?" He chimed in.

The lot at the table turned. All but Loki shot him looks that read 'we can leave you in that hole forever.' But Loki, good old Loki, took his words to heart.

"We only want Odin," Frigg said.

"Right, because he'll just be waiting for you all. Do you not care about the meat shields he'll throw at you? You'll carve through every single mortal there before getting near the wall."

"Mortals?" Mimir questioned.

"Did Loki not tell you about all of his Midgardian friends? Where, exactly, do you think they'll be during this whole war? Tucked away in our lodge?"

"They aren't solids," Loki said. "They wouldn't fight against us."

"Fight? No. But be in the way of your beast? They aren't Asgardians. Do you think the All-Father took them in from the goodness of his heart? They were always serving a bigger purpose if needed."

Loki's face turned white as he thought of the farm boy.

"What do you think your best friend Thrud will be doing while you burn her home? Sit back and applaud you? Are you ready to fight her to the death?"

"She'll understand-"

"Be quiet!" Heimdall snapped, standing. He had no words. His body shook in rage. They weren't listening to such obvious truths. These were the devils he had grown up fearing.