Author's Note:
This fanfic will begin before Thor but continue into all of the movies. They are based on the films, comics and are intermingled with SOME aspects of Norse Mythology. I have tried to be respectful and apologise if I have written with offence. This will become mature, there will be salty language and violence. It is a slow-burn, a LONG slow-burn (whilst I attempt to avoid writing a mary-sue).


Worship of the Gods

Our knowledge is a torch of smoky pine

That lights the pathway but one step ahead

Across a void of mystery and dread.

Bid, then, the tender light of faith to shine

By which alone the mortal heart is led

Unto the thinking of the thought divine

World George Santayana, O World


When we read, we inhabit. Building a home from the cover; the four pages are our roof and walls. Wondering what will happen is a fuel to our fireplaces and the words are our bedsheets.

There is magic in being a reader as each eye reads to a different beat. We welcome words into our bloodstream.

Even with the cruel inevitability that all stories must end; the world must too. However, this is what turns Gods, heroes, villains, and vigilantes into residents of us.

Even with Norse Mythology, there are stories we know and some we do not. They are folktales, retelling and repeating our prose – we fight to feel the agony; Odin hanging from the Yggdrasil Tree for nine nights; the loneliness of Ginnungagap; and Ymir's corpse gushing like a fountain as his brothers built his bones into mountains.

It is with hideous beauty that some tales are true, and some are lies. Inevitably, they are all good stories in the end.


Chapter One: Intertwining

"You should be running," a warg's words rolled off its tongue like acid as the pack closed in on Frigga. "Meat tastes better when it's hot and wet."

"Cannibalise and rot," Frigga hissed with a hint of repulsion. The pack crept towards the Queen, falsifying their desperation for the stone in her hand. One of the warg's tongues slithered over his bottom lip, blood-thirsty. "Flesh is flesh," he said and the entire pack snickered maliciously.

Frigga's mission shouldn't have ended as terribly as it did. She had insisted she go alone because the realm had been abandoned for decades. Unusually, she was wrong and had transported into a trap of devious and frightening intent.

In the middle of the Forest of Fortitude, Frigga stood alone against the pack of monstrous guards. To her right, one lunged from behind a tree and snapped its jaws.

"Come not near me, beast!" she snapped, raising a hand at the warg. It retreated slightly, eyes still dancing with hunger. Frigga took a step back, willing her magic to work on a scale grander than ever before.

"Our master used to say royal flesh tasted better cooked," one whispered.

One hissed, "I can't wait for it to be cooked."

"Takes too long," another argued. "Why don't we just split her up?"

Snarling with joy, the first barked, "into fours!" Frigga's heart began to race as she lost count of how many were stalking her movements. She sensed an animal behind her. "Eights! Give me the head – boil, blister, burn the brain!"

Frigga saw the moonlight reflect over the scarred skin of the warg closest to her. The silver rippled over it like a wave, illuminating years of battles and mutilation. The sight set Frigga's teeth on edge.

Inhaling, she lifted a skilled hand and began a transport incantation. Heimdall would not be able to take her back to Asgard until she was rid of the wargs; there were artefacts on Asgard that would mutate and excel the cruel nature of the beasts.

Frigga lowly murmured the spell, willing energy to rise from every inch of her being. She felt it running through her veins and suddenly there was a blinding yellow light around her. "The stone!" a warg screeched.

Frigga cried out as a large body smashed against her, knocking her out of the transport stream. She landed in a heap, the air knocked from her lungs.

Pushing herself up, she looked at the four slumped creatures who had wriggled their way into the stream. They were dazed, lowly grumbling as they got to their feet.

Groaning as she got to her own, Frigga flexed her fingers and shot a blinding spell at them. They rolled over, whining about their sight. "It burns!" one cried. The others howled, falling against each other in pitiful states. It wouldn't last long, Frigga's magic was powerful, but causing pain had never been her strong point.

Taking off down a thin path, the world which surrounded her was not ethereal, nor was it bright with magic. It was a concrete world. Horrific stenches filled Frigga's nose, making her sensitive eyes water.

Clangs, bangs and whistles echoed around her. There were noises coming from the sky and she spotted a tiny aircraft moving in-between the stars. The stream of noises weren't alarming, it was the sound of the city.

Frigga hurried down a street, her shoes splashing in puddles. Mud soaked the rim of her cape, weighing her down with the sweat of the realm. Streetlights lined the pavement, lighting up circular spaces. A rat scurried across a drain.

"You'll burn too, your highness!" a warg said behind her. Frigga gasped, turning back and seeing all four right behind her. Standing leg-to-leg, they appeared like looming shadows in the darkness. A barbaric claw swiped out, slashing her chest. Frigga stumbled momentarily and then took off down the street.

She hurtled around a corner and into another street. The energy and magic within her was being pumped into her ability to run further.

After several streets, she found they all looked the same and they stunk. Frigga did not want to run any further, her legs were burning. With each breath, she felt air setting her insides of fire. A hand went to her chest and came away with scarlet red.

Only then did the pain flare. Perhaps it was the tear in her skin, or the exhaustion. She knew that the wargs were in a state vastly superior to her own now. Once they caught up with her, they would use their last breaths to kill her and take the Àlkar

So, she ran harder. Her tightly-bunned hair had become loose and streamed behind her in knots. It had been in braids only hours ago, intricately tied with rune-jewels by her handmaidens. The Völva had assured her that she was intertwined with this mission, that the Àlkar's fate was linked to her as the stars were to the moon.

"I can hear your heart beating!" a warg cried, its spit laced its words like grease. It had become a game; she was the prized fox and they were the hounds, hungry for torn flesh. So, she ran.

Through a forest of concrete and great trees of stone, she thundered down a narrow space. Water splashed up her boots and caught on a glass object, kicking it against the wall. It smashed. Frigga looked down and spotted another bottle.

Her movements were fluid. Diving down, grabbing and hurtling the object mid-turn to strike the face of one of her attackers. It cried out, falling down so its brothers had to leap over its body. Frigga compelled the other bottles to rise from the ground and fly towards the next creatures' faces.

Exploding on impact, more whined in pain and fell back, but Frigga could not dwell on that slight victory. She sprinted around a tight corner and compelled her inner magick to work. To no avail, her full strength was lost as she possessed the Álkar. It drained power from everything around it.

Stealing on of the most sacred objects in the universe meant the Wargs did not retreat when Frigga escaped to Midgard. They chased her in a group, which was far more vicious.

It was vital that Frigga was tactical about her situation. Turning, she went to grab an arrow from her back, but the warg snarled and hacked phlegm from the back of its throat. With a gargle, spit flew from its mouth and splatted against the Queen's lower leg.

Pain erupted from her limb.. She turned her cry into a growl of displeasure and raised an empty hand, swirling her fingers and found the energy deep within to compel half a dozen bone-arrows to slice through the air. They slid through two wargs, carrying their bodies into the dark night like a knife to butter.

Three left. Frigga needed space for what she planned next. Their fates were to be brutal. She despised them for hurting her and for with-holding the Álkar from its rightful place.

Ignoring her injury, Frigga darted down another alley which stunk of Midgardian alcohol. On the ground was a man clutching a brown paper bag. Her was dozing, but awoke quickly.

The man went to screech, his eyes wide with terror. Frigga inhaled, stretching her arm out and channelling energy over the innocent man. With a flick of her finger, his head clicked against the wall. Knocking him unconscious and creating a simple invisibility spell was easy magick. He disappeared. An innocent was out of harms way.

Frigga found herself in the middle of tall structures. She slowed for a moment, taking in the sight of a stone bridge with poles running down it, orbs of light atop of them. In front of her were more stone buildings; a clocktower shone bright.

There was a wretched snarl and she picked up the pace, hurtling down the open-stretch of land. A concrete jungle was the perfect place to hide.

Hurrying towards the inner city, she barely took note of the headlights coming for her and changing the fate of Asgard forever.


Under the dull lights of Westminster Bridge, a black Vauxhall Cavalier appeared. Its headlights blaring beneath the moonlight and dull shine of London. The driver fumbled with her bag on the passenger side, muttering a string of curse words as she yanked out a cassette tape and shoved it into the player.

Upon hearing the first few bars of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, she enticed herself with the warmth of her car and the melody.

Suddenly, a blistering flash startled her. Blinded for a moment, she only felt the fierce slam of a body cracking her bumper and her seatbelt burrowing deep into her chest as she broke, hard. In the car lights, a woman appeared, and the driver yanked on her steering wheel.

Another slam came. It knocked the wind from the driver's chest and forced her body to crack. She hit her head against the steering wheel and bounced like a pinball machine. There was so much noise. A symphony of grinding, hissing and growling cut through London.

Then it was quiet, except for Beethoven and the driver gasping for breath in her seat. She collapsed against the door and fumbled for the handle. Through the sting, there was a jumbled stream of thoughts in her head. It's going to explode. I'm going to burn to death. I need to grab the door handle, and I need to get out.

She slid out of the car and fell onto her hands and knees. It felt as if the world was spinning. Which, it technically was, but the ground underfoot was turning quicker than that of its master. The driver vomited twice.

When the third heave came, she forced it back with some strength. Wiping her chin, she shivered and rolled backwards onto the tarmac. It did not feel as if she were sat upright. Her nausea washed over her, illuminating the taste of acid in her mouth and potato stew company now on the ground.

Ahead, in her blurred sight, there were two dark shapes darting beneath one of the street lights. One was larger than the other, predominately so. The driver squeezed her eyes so tight that it hurt. Dear Heavenly Father, pardon me for the evil I have done this day.

It must be the people I hit, or a pedestrian running to look at the body of who I've murdered. She squeezed Apostle's Creed, the final hanging piece on the rosary wrapped around her wrist.

An overwhelming wave of dread and anxiety made her want to throw up again. She could not cope with someone's blood being on her hands, and now she had sealed her fate by getting out of the car. They have seen her face, there is no way of lying or getting away. Being a hit-and-run driver would definitely ruin her mental state, that being said it was normal to begin with.

How cowardly. She cursed herself for even imagining speeding off into London and disappearing. Oh, it would be plastered on British Tabloids: London Evening Standard, Illustrated London, The Daily Telegraph: BODY LEFT BRUTALLY BATTERED IN HIT-AND-RUN.

She would be the star of an awful alliterative newspaper headline.

Her eyes opened and landed on the largest of the two shadows. That was when cold, mind-numbing fear consumed her. The oxygen disappeared from her lungs. Turning her head to the side, she squeezed her eyes together and inhaled. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

She had to look again, even though something deep within screamed not to. The growls were so cruel and fierce that it froze her bones. Like a statue, she crystallised with her eyes attached to the great monster on the bridge.

It was not a normal bear. Not even similar, but it was either that or a wolf half the size of a double-decker bus. With a thin lining of matted fur, its skin looked tightly stretched over its body. The beast roared, flashing long teeth and a lopsided jaw. One side of its face had been battered, she could see huge molars and bloody flesh. It looked as if it had been hit with a car.

The bear was in a relentless battle with a woman, the one the driver had nearly hit. It must have been the same one. Dressed in a blue gown and with red hair, she appeared like something out of a book. It was styled in a high bun, some curls had fallen loose, but still she dove around the bear as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

It had to be the most absurd thing ever to cross Westminster Bridge.

With a long bow in hand, she released her final arrow and hit the monster in the leg. The driver felt herself being mesmerised, but also dangling on the edge of an anxiety attack as she watched them.

There was something unearthly about their dance, and also angelic with Beethoven echoing from the car. Like hell and heaven attempting to battle one another, there was a glow and darkness. With a pirouette, the red-head darted out of the way of the bear's jaw and slid beneath him, jabbing a dagger into his underbelly.

It yelped and snapped at her, but she was too quick. In a flurry, she had disappeared behind him and clambered onto his back. Against the blackness of the night sky, her red hair looked as if it truly were on fire. The woman jammed her weapon into its spine and was promptly thrown aside when the creature roared and bucked her off.

The driver desperately wanted to help the woman. She felt as if there was something to prove now: a courage or ferociousness.

Gathering that courage was harder than initially thought. How could a complete mundane even find the strength to take on a beast. This was the stuff of nightmares. Tears pricked the driver's eyes.

A scream echoed around her. With a swipe, the bear ripped at the woman's chest and sent her falling backwards. She lost grip of her bow when she smacked her head off the pavement. The woman attempted to turn onto her front and crawl, but his jaws clamped on her hair.

Brutally, she was yanked upwards and shaken like a ragdoll. It reminded the driver of a documentary she had watched once, a lion hunted and slayed an antelope, but to finish the job he had viciously shook his head with his teeth latched to its throat.

The bear dropped the woman, who clambered to her feet and took off running. She was heading towards the middle of London. It was bewildering that she was still conscious. The driver pointed suddenly and shouted, "hey! Hey! That thing is still–holy shit!" The great beast wrapped its jaws grabbed the woman by the hair again. With wide eyes, the driver put her hand over her mouth, so she wouldn't scream.

Instead of getting up, all she thought of was her postgraduate year. She had learnt about realism. It was a way of looking at objects as existing in reality or as a conceptual scheme. Was this all a concept? Well, there was a spectrum of realism, the bear could–

The woman let out a blood-curdling scream. She was grappling behind her in a feel attempt to scratch the beast's nozzle. It swung the driver back to reality.

Heavenly father, I call upon you today for your divine guidance and help. Shakily, the driver rose to her feet and swayed with nausea. "The Lord is my strength and my shield." Gentle waves washed over her, taking the sickness away.

She turned around and looked at her car, more specifically, at the metal railings bent out of shape and loose. She yanked on one of the rods and swung it out, grasped it between her hands when it came free.

"My heart has trusted in Him," she recited. Drawing upon her knowledge of philosophy, she debated whether the creature was real at all. Then again, according to Richard Swinburne's Principle of Credulity, if someone stated something was present, then it had to be true. So, why not a great mythological beast?

In that mad moment, that was enough. With a sharp inhale, the driver hoisted her weapon in the air and sprinted forward. Now focused on the red-head on the floor, the beast didn't notice her at all. A thousand thoughts ran through her; of murder, death and betrayal.

Swinging the pole hard, the splintered end hit the beast's eye with asquelch. The bear released the woman and cowered backwards. It slumped with its head bowed.

The red-haired lady had let out a cry when she fell into a heap. Horrified, the driver looked at the metal bar lodged in the creature's skull. She swallowed fresh vomit and hurried forward. Taking hold of the red-head by her arms, she hoisted her to her feet; much to the displeasure of her burning limbs.

The woman gasped and heaved down the driver's ear. Under her hands, she felt sweat and blood coming from the gown. Glancing around frantically, the brunette fought to ignore the burn that came with holding the weight of another. Where to go? How far would we get?

The beast would be back soon. Hobbling over to the other side of the road, she looked at her car for ideas. With steam billowing out the front, brick and rubble around and the stench of petrol it offered no solution. The driver pitied her vehicle, it had done her good.

"Uh, maybe… a phone… a phone-box!" the drive cried. She looked around quickly and spotted a red, shining beacon of hope on the other side of the bridge.

"W-Wait," a soft voice murmured, "the… The …"

"The what? What is it?" the driver asked quickly. Her eyes darted around and fell upon the object dropped on top of a drain at the edge of the road. "That thing? Is that what you mean?"

Nodding, the red-haired woman closed her eyes and squeezed her lips together. The driver leaned closer, sensing whispered words on the edge of the red-haired mouth. "Please, get it. It will save us," her voice came dismantled.

After a unsure nod, the driver hobbled faster and fought to be as gentle as possible when lowering the lady down. The driver's back groaned and the whiplash would be terrible come morning, but she helped the redhead to sit down, putting at least a weak barrier between her and the monster that was stirring.

Chewing the inside of her lip, the driver hurried into the middle of the road and grabbed the object. She stumbled backwards, landing hard against the kerb. She sensed the grand woman sat behind her, barely conscious. There was a movement next to her hip which made her heart jump. The green jewel was buzzing, vibrating like nothing the driver had ever seen before. There was an air of enticing awe emitting from the stone.

Ripping a roar, the monster screamed, and the driver dared not look in case her heart gave out. Vibrating faster, the jewel almost bounced towards her.

Heavenly Father, is this a sign?

Grabbing the jewellery, she lifted it and felt it began buzzing madly. The material felt hot.

In a terrifying run, the monster hurtled towards her and knocked her flat onto her back. Her skull collided with the pavement, and she twisted violently. The thing was on top of her, stinking of death.

Fierce teeth clamped around her leg. Letting out a scream as she was yanked forwards, she felt an agony she'd never experienced before. Her own pain overwhelmed the prayer on her lips.

The redhead behind her grabbed her final weapon. With great difficulty, she aimed and threw the dagger into the eye of the monster. It released the driver and stumbled back with a whine. The driver let out a whimper.

Her shaking hand could scarcely attempt to comfort her leg. She watched with a tearful gaze as the bear shook its head and prepared to come for her again. It travelled in slow motion this time, jaws wide, eyes as dark as night. And with little rationality, the driver thrust her hand upwards and pushed the pendant into the air. It vibrated harder and suddenly burst with white light.

She began screaming. Like an atomic bomb had been released, light erupted from her hand and flooded London. Burning licked her eyelids.

Once, in a philosophy book, she'd read that a man was praying in a church, when a bright light appeared in his hands. It exploded and blinded him, but now blind, he saw the beauty of God and went on to preach about the wonders of his Lord.

This red-hot feeling must've been what it felt like. For several moments, she felt too frightened to scream against the light, but then it was over.

Darkness settled over her. In that darkness, the driver called out for her Heavenly Father. She asked for the Holy Trinity to give her strength.

Gagging, she opened her eyes and began to gasp for air. There was something akin to a hiccup and sob in her throat as she attempted to climb to her feet. The monster had been thrown backwards. He lay crumpled, half-hanging over the stone barrier with its tongue lolling from its mouth.

A searing pain burst from her thigh, which made it exceptionally painful as she pushed her weight up and tried to stand. The agony became too much, and she collapsed in a heap of sweat against the kerb again. Hot blood streaked her skin, soaking her jeans.

The red-haired woman stared at her. "Midgardian, you... you used Álkar," she said wistfully.

"What? Oh, yeah. Here," the driver replied breathlessly and handed it to the redhead. The woman's palm was surprisingly cool to touch, nor clammy like the driver's. Now closer, she looked at her beauty. With long hair and an abundance of jewels on her gown, she looked like she belonged at a ball instead of mid-London. The woman coughed. When she withdrew her hand, there was blood.

"Your name, child," she croaked and lowered it. "Give me your name."

"It's, uh, it's Eurelia."

The woman struggled to turn her head, "I am Frigga."

Ellie glanced at her. It sounded Norwegian, perhaps it was custom to dress in such a manner as well. The woman had an elegance about her, even covered in blood and dirt. Claw marks along the satin material of her garments made Ellie look across the bridge at the monster. She very much doubted that was Norwegian. For now, it was unconscious.

"It is a warg," Frigga said. Ellie looked at her, slightly alarmed. "It is a guardian of one of the Nine Realms; of Nilfheim. From whence do you hail?"

Ellie's frown deepened upon hearing intellectual dialect, words not used by modern tongue. "H-Hail? Where am I from? Cornwall."

"Corn wall? Which wall is this? Who is your ruler? Sweyn? Eric?"

"No, no. No, I am from England. Cornwall is a county in this country," she struggled to explain. "In Europe," she added. From the look on Frigga's face, half of her information was not understood. "On Earth," Ellie said. The woman's eyes lost some weariness. "Hm."

There was a heartbeat of awkward silence. A cultural difference was startlingly obvious. Clearly Frigga knew what was happening and Ellie craved an answer. "So, where are you from?"

"I am Queen of Asgard; Ruler of Asgardian Gods and fair-folk." Frigga didn't mention her name again, so Ellie assumed her official title was 'your Highness' most of the time. Having never met the Queen of England either, using formal language made her nervous. What a pathetic thing to be nervous about. There's a dead bear-dog in front of me, for Christ's sake!

"I guess I should call you your Highness, then. Sorry, uh, if I offended you during our little battle."

"It is my preferred title, yes," Frigga said with a slight grunt. "However, given the circumstances of our meeting, I was not upset by your tone."

"Another good thing going for us tonight then. Nearly died, but we're getting along–"

Frigga let out a gasp and bent over. One hand grasped her leg and the other her chest. With deep breaths, she struggled to control her pain and wracked a whimper. Ellie placed a hand on the Queen's shoulder. "What can I do? I need to call an ambulance for you."

"No," Frigga hissed and contorted her body again.

"You need to see a doctor!"

Frigga's hand was losing it grip on her bleeding chest. Ellie watched blood pool through the crack of her fingers. "I…" the word died on the royal's lips.

Without hesitating, Ellie dragged herself behind Frigga and pulled the woman with brute force to her. Using pained wrists, Ellie yanked her tank top out from beneath her jumper and wrapped it around Frigga's front.

With it tied tightly at Frigga's back, there was better pressure on it. Ellie shushed the Queen's weak words. In the last few moments, she had become feeble.

"Please let me call an ambulance for you, Frigga," Ellie begged. There was no answer. "We have to get out of here." Ellie sucked in a breath, thinking about their options if Frigga was too weak to be left alone. Everything ached, especially her leg and soon the pain would fade and she would die.

Ellie lifted her wrist to her mouth and whispered into her rosary. With the end of her Rosary, she called to the Holy Queen. "O Mother, O sweet Virgin Mary, show Frigga your kindness." Ellie dissolved her trauma and exhaled, looking upon the lady in her arms. "Fine. I will drag you."

Frigga glanced at the Rosary dangling above her. "Please. Don't. We have to wait."

"Wait? Wait for what? Morning? We'll be run over ourselves. London traffic stops for no one."

"Please, wait," Frigga managed to choke. Ellie watched her wide eyes.

They heard a distant roar. Looking up, they found a final monster hurtling towards them both. It was at the end of the road, running down the middle with a determined look.

Ellie struggled to draw breath. She leaned over Frigga and grabbed the rock, rattling it like a toy. Nothing happened. It was cold to touch.

Ellie hissed, "fucking hell! Why won't you work? Work!"

"Eurelia…" Frigga's voice came quietly. Distant and weak. Ellie shook her off, distracted by desperation.

She repeated herself again and shook the jewel. Hot tears streaked her cheeks.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The warg began running towards them. It was monstrously loud, from so far, it shook the Earth like a quake. This was the end of them.

Ellie screeched, throwing the jewel at it and grabbing Frigga. She pulled her to her chest, not caring if she tugged at the wounds, only wanting comfort – human comfort before death.

Light cascaded her like a tsunamic wave. Through her eyelids, she saw white and then there was more silence that ever before. This must be death.

"Enough, foul creature." The voice that spoke was ice-cold and clear as fresh spring water. Her throat ached to respond–so they would speak again. The ache was from swearing so fiercely. Blinking through the haze, she saw a dark mountain in front of her.

It was difficult to focus on the figure. But there was green, deep green like a forest on their cape. Was it a cape? It was hard looking; as if made of thick leather.

In that bizarre moment of clarity, she watched the world as a surreal dream. The figure rose a limb, one of their arms, and the warg released a roar. Ellie blinked again, trying to focus on the blue wisps that spread into the air. In ribbons, the coloured air rose and suddenly darted at the creature. They wrapped around its body like a dozen snakes and began to tighten.

With a look full of dark fury, the beast's jaws unhinged like a snake, his tongue dropped out as it cruelled: "Aknuk El Vira mismantos knitos eferma litos varom merda."

"Acrimony," the man said mockingly.

Ellie shuddered and clutched Frigga tighter, but it was impossible to ignore the shooting pain in her wrists. The voice demanded something, she couldn't be sure what, but it was accented with a twinge of received pronunciation; too far removed to be British, but something else entirely. The beast snapped its jaws at the smoke tentacles, which did nothing.

Beams of azure evaded the fur of the monster. It hurt to watch, the light gave off an angelic glow despite the cruelty of its actions. The threads looped around the creature's strong legs, then his throat and found their way into its open mouth. Its magic humming was silenced with a gargle and suddenly, the cords began to shrink.

"Álkar," Frigga said. Despaired, Ellie looked at the jewel she had foolishly thrown. It was just past the man, in the middle of the road once again. She hadn't thrown it far and yet it felt like a thousand miles lay ahead of her.

Ellie raised a trembling hand and pushed damp strands of hair from her face. She struggled to stand but did so with sweat pouring out of every pore. The man's outstretched hand twisted, summoning power upon the warg.

Staggering forwards, Ellie was blind to danger and went to grab the jewel.

"The girl!" Frigga rasped. The man whipped his body around faster than light. He shoved Ellie hard and she was knocked several feet away, landing in a painful heap.

The beast's claw caught his front, swiping downwards across his neck and chest. With a cry, he fell back and had little time before the creature clamped its teeth on his boot and dragged him forwards.

"Loki!" Frigga said desperately behind Ellie, "do not touch one of Odinsons!" There was a powerful gust of wind from behind her and it picked up strength, becoming a dust-cloud which smacked against the beast's face. The warg released Loki with a sharp whine.

Ellie looked back at Frigga and watched the woman slump forward, defeated. Her arm was outstretched. Loki hissed a string of curses, in a language foreign to Ellie. He twisted, grunting as he pushed himself to his feet. When his eyes caught sight of Frigga, there was a flash of anger.

The warg rumbled, getting to his feet again. Loki whipped around in time to meet it. His fingers moved like he was playing an invisible instrument. Green shimmers emerged from his palms.

The warg lunged for Loki, mouth wide. Ellie nearly choked when Loki used his glowing hands to stop the mouth of the monster. He moved his legs to handle the beast better and shook with strength.

Ellie looked around quickly because she knew Loki couldn't deal with the warg alone. Despite his power, he wasn't immortal. He couldn't be.

Heavenly Father, give me courage. Give me your wisdom. Behind Ellie, the remnants of a broken rail lay sprawled at odd angles. Her car had done a good job of destroying public property.

With a strangled noise coming from her throat, Ellie pushed herself up and made her way to the car. She leant on the bonnet and yanked a pipe free. An array of grunts and growls made her fear for her life a tiny bit more.

Shaking, she exhaled slowly and fought to hold the new-founded weapon. Her sweat made the metal feel loose. She took hold of it with two hands once again. Nearing the battle, Loki struggled beneath the warg's jaw, holding it open with both hands. Ellie could not guess how strong he was to do so.

Their eyes met briefly. His were dark and wide. A thousand questions and answers were said before he scrunched his face up and clenched his teeth together. Hands bleeding, he held and pushed on those fierce canines.

Ellie lifted the pipe and didn't give chance to think about murder. Jamming it into the warg's skull, her weapon vibrated as it cut through fur, skin, tissue, bone and brain. The warg howled, releasing Loki.

Ellie pulled the bar free and smashed it into the warg's eyeball in a heartbeat. It squelched and she released the weapon. The warg stumbled sideways, yelping like a dog and raising a paw to its face.

"Oh. Fuck," Ellie blubbered. It was a slap to the face when she realised how cruel she had been.

Loki clenched his right fist and blue burst from it, becoming snakes and clamping around the warg's skull in a split second. Brain, flesh and blood burst from the magic ropes; splattering the road.

Ellie lurched and vomited. She fell to her knees and unhinged the contents of her stomach for several moments. Her thigh was beginning to feel numb.

By the time she was finished, Loki and Frigga were gone and the only noise was the hiss of her steaming Vauxhall Cavalier.

Wildly staring up and down the bridge, she spotted two dark figures hobbling into the shadows of an alleyway. There was little left for her in the mundane world at that moment. Police. Doctors could not answer her.

Ellie followed the pair, feeling minute against the tall buildings London. The blazing lights of the city shone upon her doddering figure until she rounded the corner to an alley and was blessed with darkness.

Slumped against the muggy wall, was Loki and Frigga. His head was tilted upwards, the crown pushed against the brick as he inhaled and exhaled with peculiar clarity.

Ellie shot a final look at the illuminated city and entered the alley.

"What is your name?" the man demanded, his voice was laced with pain. Ellie looked to him, but his gaze was glued to Frigga's face. Loki's fingers traced her hair, face and bleeding arms. Blue light snaked from him, soaking into Frigga's skin like water to cloth.

Ellie verbally stumbled, "excuse me?"

"Tell me your name, Midgardian. I request you speak."

She opened and closed her mouth, struggling to make sense of how their ideologies differed so greatly. Shivering beneath the streetlamp light, she fought to breathe in and out her nose. After a moment, she said, "my name is Ellie, Your Highness."

"Ellie?"

"Well, I, uh, it's Eurelia. But it's far too formal. My birth parents must've been larpers... or medieval-enthusiasts. Which is probably the same thing, I mean they left me..."

"Enough," the man replied dryly. "Who are you to my mother? What query does the Queen hold to you?"

Weariness overtook her as she collapsed beside Loki, her breathing heavy. Up close, his pristine skin glistened with perspiration. As pale as the page of a newly printed book, he should've been ghastly. Even his salient jaw and high cheekbones should have been startling, reminding Ellie of a god-like figure she'd read about so many times.

It was painful to pull her eyes away. Frigga and Loki's frightful beauty was unearthly.

Ellie swallowed. "I was driving," she said, replaying the flashes and bangs of the last 30 minutes, "and this – this monster appeared out of nowhere. I crashed the car and saw Frigga fighting it. I tried to help her and that green thing caused a bomb or something, I don't know, it killed the monster, the one hanging over the side of the bridge."

"Àlkar. The Life Stone? What do you mean?" he snapped, still examining Frigga.

"Well, I touched it. I grabbed it and it just… it exploded. Look, shouldn't we be getting your Mum to a hospital? There's blood everywhere! You're hurt."

"Silence." His voice cut through the air like a splinter of ice and it hurt Ellie more than the ache in her body.

"Excuse me?" she said, afronted.

He scarcely shot her another glance. If anything, her speech was out-of-term to him and his annoyance was rising. "Heimdall will help us soon," he snapped.

"What?" Ellie blubbered. "We look like we've stepped foot inside a blender. I'm freezing my tits off and will probably be dead in an hour because my resting heart rate feels like I've got John Bonham drumming it."

Loki's face turned. Now was not the time for humour. There was deep revulsion in her rescuer's eyes, he looked at her like dirt. Ellie clamped her mouth shut. She leaned back ever so slightly and waited in reticence, her fingers ghosting the bloody wounds of her leg. The pain felt like an ebb, which meant terrible news.

"This silence irritates me," Loki said through the cold. In the starlit September weather, Ellie suppressed her shiver. "Continue with your idle speech, it is much more bearable than the foul screech that is nearby."

His eyes darted into the distance. They were near London Airport and the motorway which led to it. Sure enough, the zoom of traffic was present as well as the noise of a plane taking off. Ellie followed it with her gaze. Bloody hell, I wish I were on that thing instead. "You saved my life. Thank you," she said.

"You are more fortunate than you could imagine. You Midgardians with your stomping around and indecisiveness. If it were not for my Mother, I would not have saved you."

"So, what, you regret that you did?" Ellie asked lightly. He gave her a short look which told her the answer.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Ellie did not reply. Instead, she looked down at the woman and tried to untangle where she had come from. It was obvious they followed some sort of group, a cult perhaps.

"If we're going to be here a while, then you might as well talk. Surely, your voice will please you better than mine does, your Highness."

Immediately, she realised her spiteful tongue had gotten her in more trouble. He was unaccustomed to being spoken in such a way, his eyes narrowed. "Lidet er om den mans vrede, som ingen vurder."

Ellie bit her lip and shook her head as tears burned her eyes. She could not understand his mind, and now his dialect made her smaller than she already felt. It was obvious it had been something cruel.

"What did you say?" she asked quietly. He remained calculated, staring out at the alley wall. "That was Danish, wasn't it?"

"Enough. These mundane questions are grating me."

Crying was not a response she needed now. Ellie swallowed and eyed him. "Begging your pardon, Your Highness, but I'm a Philosophy graduate. It's my job to ask questions. And you did ask me to talk."Ellie sighed when her continued to stiffen.

He pulled the woman closer to him. In retaliation, Ellie shuffled too. Despite being thought of inferior, she wasn't going to be made to feel uncaring. She had no doubt that as soon as this help of his came, she'd be left quivering in the drain and it would be over her cold hands that, that would happen. They must have been sat for nearly half an hour and it was still raining so she would be accompanying them to potential shelter.

The cold had comforted the pain in her leg. Hypothermia was setting in and fast, it must've set in a while ago. Ellie could no longer feel her toes. Looking to the man beside her, she noted the rain that soaked his hair and robes as well. Her eyes travelled down the drip of water sliding along his cheekbone, over a red scrape and dropping off his chin.

The gaze went to Frigga. "She won't survive if we continue to sit out here." Ellie said boldly. The woman's dress was soaked, blood pooled from beneath the man's palm. It looked horrifying with the water to dilute it further.

Loki flexed his fingers and a gentle green glow pulsed into Frigga's dress. Immediately, her frown was an inch smoother. "I do not need to discuss her state, nor my intentions," Loki said.

Disturbed by the science-fiction reality she was witnessing, Ellie took little notice of his voice. "I have my car keys. I can drive her to a hospital. I mean, you're hurt too. They can help us."

"Midgardian medicine will not help."

Midgard. The word was familiar to Ellie. She'd heard it before on a documentary once. For all the strength in her confused brain, she couldn't remember what it was exactly. "We shouldn't be out in the open then," she said. "Sitting in this rot isn't going to help Harry find us, is it?"

"Heimdall."

"Henry. Harry. Hannah," she said childishly, her teeth beginning to chatter. Loki stood up silently, despite his own wounds, he didn't grunt like she did. Ellie wavered, using the wall to help her up.

The strange man had already lifted Frigga up and was disappearing out of the alley without another word. Ellie went after them. From behind, Loki's hobble was more obvious. His thickly-made outfit could not hide the rips in his skin. Leather rubbed the slices unapologetically and soon Loki would be outwardly suffering.

Ellie took hold of Frigga's other arm, swooping into view.

"Why are you doing this?" Loki demanded cruelly. She snapped her eyes to him, suddenly feeling tired of his consistent need to argue. Anyway, at the rate she was going, she needed to save her lungs. He pressed, "you will answer, child."

"Child?" She said breathlessly. "Somehow, I saved this woman's life. Me. You may have saved mine, but by chance it was me that ended up here tonight. In a part of the city I never go, so just shut your entitled mouth and let me help," she ended up spitting. Her fingertips were freezing, and her body was numb. If he were to falter, she'd fall and smash into a thousand pieces on the floor. Then she remembered: "Your Highness."

The atmosphere was tense again. Ellie felt a sense of relief, saying what needed to be said cleared out her clogged mind. A handy trait she'd learned from the Sisters. Those bastards would be proud.

"So, are we, are heading to some underground cult cave? Or a headquarters?"

"Neither. We must reach an area Heimdall can see."

Ellie looked up at the windows around her. There was just darkness. This Heimdall guy must live close by.

"What's his address? London is confusing enough as it is in the daytime."

"Yggdrasil."

Ellie swallowed, her head felt like it was packed with cotton balls. "Bit exotic for a British street name…" she murmured. "I mean I live down Crumpet Street, for God's sake.

Thankfully, the dry conversation had become more civilised. It was the cloud of exhaustion that hung over them both, emitted from the Alkár that Loki possessed. The prince could feel it pressed to his chest, pulsing against his heart.

Ellie glanced at Loki. He was immensely pale, the sweat on his face glistened under the streetlamps. Frigga's weight wasn't causing his discomfort.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Loki twisted his face, scrunching his nose and lips together tightly.

He led her out of the alleyway, into an open road lined with terraced houses. Violently grunting, he tripped and they were all forced to a stop. Ellie's wide eyes travelled down his face and saw the soaked torso. She said his name, her voice quivering, but he couldn't muster a reply.

Frigga's body weight did not match her stature. She felt like a block of stone, as did Loki. Ellie felt the strength leave her as she held onto Frigga with one arm and attempted to reach her son with the other.

"Oh shit. Loki," Ellie gasped. "Are you, are you alright?"

Cowering over, one hand grasped his chest and the breaths became raspy. After several moments, he exhaled a huff and re-joined Ellie.

Frigga's immense weight left her. However, Loki looked several times worse than before. His eyes were sunken and dark, his lips ghostly pink. To Ellie, these two were deep in some Satanic shit.

"W-We're nearly there," she quivered. Loki's head snapped sideways, his lips pursed and spitting the next few words "how could you possible understand where we need to go? How could you fathom the-?"

Ellie's fingers dug into Frigga's waist. Her arms were on fire, her vision was becoming blurry and this stranger had the audacity… "It's just a saying!" she snapped. "I'm trying to be, I don't know, comforting? Get off my dick!"

"Hmph," Loki griped.

Frigga's feet dragged over the cobblestones, her ruined boots catching every now and then. As they reached the end of the road, Ellie's vision began to blur.

"Tell me which way. If we stop, I'll collapse," she begged breathlessly.

"We must travel left," he sounded stern, but Ellie could hear supressed agony in his voice. His foot was causing more trouble than he let on.

Loki looked up, his deep eyes boring into the night sky. Travelling through the galaxies, the stars and ethereal cities.

Upon entering a Square, Loki stopped and continued to stare upwards. The Square was an open space, large and extravagant with a water fountain in the middle. Made of stone and ancient cobble, Ellie wished they'd stopped near the bench beside the feature.

Ellie looked to Loki, who was muttering again. He murmured Heimdall's name and several others; enchantments. Heimdall was what? A God? A helicopter?

"Loki, what are you doing?" she begged, searching for a slither of what he saw. As she peered into the endless oblivion of night, she searched for own God, for his great hand sliding through the curtain of stars and saving them.

"Heimdall, open the bifrost!" Loki gasped.

Eurelia's vision twisted, doubled, and she knew she was going to die. Blood, or car headlights. Would the car hit her fast enough to knock her out straight away?

Light burned her entire figure, blinding her as if she'd been sleeping in a black room and the curtains had been flung open.

The whiteness turned yellow, red, blue and green. She struggled to take another breath or find something to hold onto except for Frigga. They were both definitely dead; entering heaven together.

Yet, all stairways must come to an end. Feeling as if she'd been thrown from the cylinder of light, she tripped and sagged against the floor, a golden floor, which turned into a sea of safety.

Eurelia felt dizzy. Her skull buzzed. Wrapping her arms around the woman tighter she watched through quickly blurring eyes as dark figures descended upon her. Overwhelmed, the only thought on her mind was: did I take Beethoven's video tape out?


References:

- Yggdrasil - the mythical tree which connects the nine worlds.

- Ginnungagap - the void in the universe before air, Earth and all living things.

- "Lidet er om den mans vrede, som ingen vurder." - If you cannot bite, never show your teeth.

- Álfar stone – Icelandic for Elves.

- Aknuk El Vira mismantos knitos eferma litos varom merda – is an ancient latin spell for dark impowerment. I know Wargs usually can't speak but I like the idea of them being communicative.


please review, let me know what you think of the beginning of this adventure

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