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The battle was done. Loki suspected his war was done too. The Thunderer stood over him, the grim cast of his features illuminated by flashes of lightning that condensed in the air around them both. Loki wondered what expression he wore on his own face. He hoped it was not the awe and fear that he felt. Perhaps it was pain, for the pain was surely more raw than the fear. He gathered what he could of his seidr around him to heal what was most damaged. His screaming nerves were somewhat calmed, the worst of the burns soothed, and the ringing left his ears. The sounds of the final skirmishes rose again around him, along with a low, unending rumble of thunder.

Muscles spasmed as he slowly, too slowly reached for his sword, realising that Thor was also moving, and that he more than had the advantage of Loki. As if moving through jelly, Thor raised Mjolnir to bring her down on Loki's chest. Loki winced and prepared to brace himself for the inevitable and final blow, and even that seemed strangely slow. Only as Mjolnir settled on him did he see that the Thunderer had not moved to strike violently but simply to place the hammer so to pin Loki on the ground. Loki's own hand had not closed yet on his sword hilt.

Realising that his perceptions were utterly unreliable due to shock and exhaustion, Loki stared at the hammer sitting almost gently on his chest. She truly was beautiful. Thor kicked Loki's hand away from his sword and bent to grab his forearm. Loki instinctively attempted to bite, teeth his last available weapon. He tasted the metallic tang of blood as he felt the rumble of a laugh from the large looming figure. Tilting his head upwards to try to clear the darkness that was beginning to cloud his vision, he looked flush in the face of the god of thunder, and Loki could not help but think regretfully how even Mjolnir's beauty paled in comparison to that of her magnificent wielder.

Something tightened around both wrists as he fell into darkness.