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The Destroyer lay in a heap of smoking, disjointed scrap metal. Thor stood over it, his chest heaving, the raw, elemental power of the storm still crackling around him.
Hermione watched, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. The raw, unrestrained power was impressive, but the execution was… messy. All that drama, all that spinning, just to knock over a tin soldier, she thought. So inefficient. Still, the results were undeniable. And the spoils were magnificent.
"Don't blame me for charging a little interest," she murmured to herself. With a series of quick, silent, and entirely unseen spells, she began to salvage the wreckage. Chunks of the priceless, enchanted Uru metal from the Destroyer's armor vanished from the battlefield, shrinking and zipping into her bottomless schoolbag.
Jane, Darcy, and Selvig were still staring at Thor, their minds struggling to process the glorious, terrifying, god-like being he had just become. He, in turn, only had eyes for Jane, his expression softening as he walked toward her. Sif, standing nearby, watched them, a universe of heartbreak and a warrior's stoic resignation on her face.
Hermione, her salvage operation complete, decided to break the awkward, trans-dimensional romantic tension. "So," she said, her voice cutting through the quiet aftermath. "What's the plan?"
Thor's expression hardened, his brief moment of peace gone. "I am going back to Asgard," he declared, his voice a low, determined rumble. "I am going to stop my brother."
"I'm coming with you," Hermione stated, not a request.
Thor looked at her, surprised. "You are?"
"Of course," she said with a shrug, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I've never been to Asgard. And besides," she added with a wicked grin, "it sounds like fun."
Fun? The four Asgardian warriors just stared at her. They were about to commit treason, to return to their home and face a mad king and his divine weapon of mass destruction, and this strange, terrifying mortal child thought it sounded like fun. But then they remembered the casual, brutal efficiency with which she had just dismantled that very same weapon, and they all wisely kept their mouths shut.
Thor, however, just grinned. He knew he would need all the help he could get. "Heimdall!" he roared to the heavens. "Open the Bifrost! Take us home!"
A moment later, a brilliant, multi-colored pillar of cosmic energy slammed down from the sky, engulfing them in a roaring, disorienting vortex of light and sound.
They arrived in Asgard to the sight of a kingdom in crisis. The magnificent, golden observatory at the end of the Rainbow Bridge was scarred with ice, and Heimdall, the all-seeing guardian, was frozen in a block of Frost Giant magic, barely alive.
"Take him to the healing rooms," Thor commanded his friends. He then turned to Hermione, his eyes burning with a new, kingly authority. "Let's go."
With a swing of his hammer, Thor shot into the sky. Hermione, on her souped-up Cyberpunk 2077, easily kept pace, soaring through the impossible, golden architecture of Asgard. They arrived at Odin's bedchamber to a scene of quiet, imminent horror.
The All-Father lay in the deep, death-like Odinsleep. Queen Frigga stood paralyzed, frozen by a cold, blue magic. And standing over the bed, a massive blade of pure ice held high, was Laufey, the King of the Frost Giants.
Just as he was about to strike, a calm, cold voice spoke from the shadows. "You have my thanks."
Loki materialized behind Laufey, the Gungnir, the Spear of Odin, held firmly in his hand. "But through you," he continued, his voice devoid of all emotion, "I am, at last, free of my past."
With a sudden, vicious thrust, he plunged the spear through Laufey's back. A blinding beam of golden energy erupted from the Frost Giant King's chest. He screamed, his body disintegrating into a cloud of frost and dust, his last, disbelieving gaze fixed on the face of the son who had just murdered him.
Hermione watched the cold, brutal patricide with a detached, clinical interest. Interesting, she thought. So that's how he's playing it. The savior.
"Loki!" Thor's voice was a roar of pure, unadulterated rage. He had arrived just in time to witness the final, terrible act of betrayal.
"I saved him," Loki said, his face a mask of false, heroic sincerity as he turned to his brother. "The Frost Giants tried to assassinate the All-Father."
"Do you think I am a fool?" Thor roared, advancing on him. "You led them here! You sent the Destroyer to kill me! All for a throne!"
"ENOUGH!" Loki screamed, his facade of calm finally shattering. He swung the Spear of Odin, and a blast of golden energy slammed into Thor, sending him crashing to the floor. Loki then turned and fled toward the Rainbow Bridge.
Thor caught up to him at the Bifrost controls. Loki stood before the whirling, cosmic energy of the gateway, his face alight with a mad, ecstatic fire.
"What are you doing, brother?!" Thor demanded.
"I am finishing what our father started!" Loki declared, his voice ringing with a terrible, righteous fury. "I am going to use the full power of the Bifrost to destroy Jotunheim! I will burn their world to a cinder, I will annihilate every last one of the monsters, and when Father awakens, he will see that I am the worthy son! That I, Loki, am the true savior of Asgard!" It was a plan born of a lifetime of pain and jealousy, an act of genocide as a desperate, twisted plea for a father's love.
"You are mad!" Thor breathed, horrified.
"Loki, please," he tried, his voice softening, his anger gone, replaced by a deep, desperate sorrow. "We are brothers. We grew up together, we fought together… have you forgotten all that?"
Loki seemed to pause. A flicker of something, of memory, of a lost affection, passed through his eyes. "I remember," he said softly, "a time when we were children. You loved your hammer so much. I turned myself into a snake, because I knew you loved snakes. And when you went to pick it up, I transformed back and shouted, 'It's me!'. And then I stabbed you." He began to laugh, a low, nostalgic sound.
Thor saw a glimmer of hope. But then Loki's smile vanished, replaced by a look of pure, self-loathing disgust.
"I'm sick of myself just talking about it," he sneered. "Thankfully, you're not the only one I have to convince." He looked past Thor, toward the entrance of the observatory. "She's here."
Thor spun around. Hermione was standing there, her expression unreadable. A wave of profound relief washed over him. She was his ace in the hole, the one who could stop this madness.
"Hermione!" he pleaded. "Stop him! He's going to destroy an entire realm!"
She nodded, a slow, deliberate movement, and walked forward. But she didn't walk towards Loki. She walked towards Thor.
"Expelliarmus!"
The red light of the Disarming Charm struck him square in the chest. Mjolnir was ripped from his grasp, flying through the air and clattering to the far side of the bridge.
"Levicorpus!"
An invisible force seized him, and he was hoisted into the air, his feet dangling helplessly, his body hanging upside down.
"Hermione!" he shouted, his voice a strangled cry of pure, unadulterated betrayal. "What are you doing?!"
He looked at her, his world completely upended, his mind struggling to comprehend this final, impossible act of treachery.
"You are so naive, brother," Loki said, a slow, triumphant, and utterly evil smile spreading across his face. He gestured from the helpless, dangling Thor to the calm, silent witch. "Did you really think she was on your side?"
He paused, letting the full weight of the betrayal sink in.
"Destroying Jotunheim," he declared, his voice a grand, theatrical proclamation of his ultimate victory, "was never my idea. It was hers."