He had finally done it. Loki had finally won, the thunder son had been killed. It was a gruesome battle, and the lowliest of betrayals, stabbing Thor through the spinal chord. The Frost Giant held his brother's head in his arms, staring into the rims of lifeless light that pooled in Thor's eyes, and something roused in the younger god's stomach.
It was a pit that sank up to his throat, a pushing at the back oh his eyes, it was a dizziness that made him rise to his feet and stagger back, just short of another Asgardian's limp body. It was grief.
It must have been grief. Grief and guilt for the death of the man who had made his life a constant Hell, but the death of the one man to have ever showed him compassion, through everything that had happened. It was the death he had always attempted, but never wished to succeed.
A childish wave of emotion tore through Loki's body, sending him to Thor's side, once more. He lifted the lifeless, blonde man in his arms, and jabbed at his chest, an innocent worry dancing in his watery, green eyes.
"Thor? Thor, dear brother, it is time that you wake. The land is in ruins, I fear I'm alone." His voice cracks, and he sets the cooling body on the ground, gently.
Around him, Asgard laid in ruins, every Frost Giant and Demi-God, dead. Every one but him. He clawed at his armor, ripping it from his body, until he stood in only a shirt and slim pants, scowling at the darkening sky.
"So this is what being king is? I have to lose everything I had, for everything I want? This is not what I wanted though! I never wanted it to--" He lost his words, tears drooling from clenched eyelids. He didn't want to be alone.
Loki picked his way around broken bodies, across the battlefield, limping, his soul tarnished and shredded. The God of Mischief stood at the front of it all, and scanned the wreckage. He cringed from the blood-stained air, and the bodies that seemed to reflect in the skies. The dagger in his hilt scratched at his thigh with giddy repent.
It wasn't a thought, it was an action. His hand trailed to the shaft of the blade, leaving a slim cut along his palm, and raised it to his heart. He took another glance at the sky that cried invisible tears, "Forgive me, brother. Just this one, last time." and shoved the dagger through his chest.
Loki collapsed to his knees, but felt his sins pour from the wound, rather than his blood. It was a refreshing calm, a feeling that he feared from death. His breaths were short and worked for, reacting to the labor as a child, he reached out for his brother, before even that proved too much. Everything faded to grey, before a distinct black, one last sigh, then nothing. Nothing at all.