Thor Odinson, God of Thunder, King of Asgard

The Statesman quakes beneath Thor's boots, metal screeching and groaning like a beast dying from a messy kill, shuddering in its death throes. Another blast rocks the ship and he stumbles, rapidly searching for his footing as he makes his way toward the main hall, heart thundering in his chest. Screams echo through the corridors, panic and terror spreading through the refugees trapped on the vessel that was to be their salvation, and may yet become their pyre.

It's utter chaos, worse than the evacuation of Asgard, a confused mass of Asgardian orphans and widows and widowers all struggling to know what to do, and hundreds - thousands - of eyes turn beseechingly to their king as he appears in their midst, looking desperately to him to save them.

There aren't enough escape pods for them all, and they all know it.

But that's not the only avenue of escape, either. The only question is how long they have.

"Asgard!" Thor shouts over the cacophony, and the crowd quiets enough for his words to carry over the entire nation, even without Gungnir to silence them. "Hear me! All children and their guardians, make for the Nexus portal at once. All other non-combatants to the escape pods!" None of those dismissed wait to hear more, the people quickly streaming out of the main hall, but there are so many. Too many.

Not enough time.

"Valkyrie, take the Commodore and as many people as it can carry," Thor tells her, and she scowls and opens her mouth to protest, but he cuts her off with a raised hand. "I need you to gather the escape pods once the danger is over. Get the people to Earth, and find Steven Rogers or Natasha Romanoff. They'll grant you access to the Nexus for the rest. And find Loki, the other one. Norns willing, that's where they'll be."

"But your Majesty-"

"Go! We don't have time to argue."

Valkyrie curses and punches him in the chest, furious, and stalks away, her blue cape rippling angrily behind her. She doesn't look back, and Thor does not watch her leave, his attention demanded by those who've yet stayed behind. Loki, looking pale as death itself, eyes wide with a fear Thor has never seen on him before. Heimdall, grim-faced and clutching shining Hofund in his fist, the watchman's golden eyes staring right through Thor as he keeps his gaze upon the leviathan of a ship looming over the Statesman like an eagle descending on a mouse. The militia that the Valkyrie has been training, a mere handful compared to the ten thousand Einherjar that once protected Asgard, a ragtag troop of commoners nowhere near ready for real combat.

Their enemy will not wait.

Thanos is coming now.

"Every moment we still fight is another moment our people have to escape," Thor says to those who remain, and though he's fought in a thousand battles and come close to death on many occasions, never have his hands trembled as they do now, knowing that all of Asgard now hangs in the balance. He clenches his fists tightly, lightning skittering over his hands and arms, and squares his jaw to hide the fear. "If Valhalla calls us home today, we're damned sure going to send the Titan and his minions to Hel first. For Asgard!"

"For Asgard!" the militia cry out in reply, raising their weapons in quaking hands, voices trembling with terror, yet standing their ground at the side of their king. Even though it will almost certainly mean their deaths.

Asgard will yet live. They have not come all this way for nothing.

---

In the heart of the Nexus, one of the many portals hums to life, and a flood of people begins to stream forth. Too many children, too few adults, screaming and crying as distant sounds of thunder and explosions chase them through the doorway, and black acrid smoke belches out of the portal with every person that passes through.

There's still more waiting to come through yet when there's an abrupt screeching of buckling metal and shattering glass, and on the other side, there's a brief glimpse of terrified faces and a starfield where the hull should be before the portal blinks out entirely. The archway lies crumpled in on itself, smoking and silent.

---

Thor crumples to the deck, gasping for air through mouthfuls of his own blood, just another body in the sea of the dead and dying. He tries to roll over, to push himself to his feet, but his arm refuses to obey, lying limp several feet away from his body, the stump of what's left only succeeding in painting crimson smears against the floor, his lifeblood steadily draining his strength with every beat of his heart. He tries to summon the storm in his bones, but manages only a feeble spark between his remaining fingers, and nothing more.

He can do little but listen as Thanos' ship carves the Statesman in half, the tortured groan of metal ripping apart and the roar of hull breach in the distance, as his henchmen prowl through the slaughter and brutally end the lives of those who still draw breath, and pray that someone - anyone - has made it to safety.

A withered creature smiles at the massacre as it paces softly through the bodies, voice raised as if in praise. "Hear me, and rejoice. You have had the privilege of being saved by the Great Titan..."