Perhaps training when I should've been preparing for tomorrow's ceremony wasn't my finest idea. Nor was challenging six of my trainers. However, I could let my body move through the motions while my thoughts sorted themselves into some semblance of comprehensible. I hissed as the flat of a blade made contact with my ribs.

A sharp wail cut through the frigid air and my head whipped around as a small sigh of relief dare escape my lips. With a nod to the courtyard master I flared my wings and leapt into the air. It was but a few wingbeats to my mother's bed chamber, sinking through the skylight built for such purpose.

Metal clinked at my heavy landing and I stood at rigid attention, assessing every maid that attended to the queen. To my dismay I saw the pallor of her blue skin and exhausted eyes, still, she smiled at me. I caught sight of a nursemaid murmuring softly to a squirming bundle and another patting Mor's face dry.

"Draw a bath for the queen," a young girl jumped and hurried to empty heated kettles into the tub.

"Dismissed."

With a soft chorus of 'yes Warrior's they filed out, save for a wizened midwife that held the baby. She set the bundle in mother's arms, curtsied, and slipped out of the room.

"Oh it's a boy!" Mother said with happy wonder in her voice.

"Praise, my lady mother."

"Lorelei," she chided fondly.

I allowed my lips to quirk and approached her bedside. I was not prepared for her to suddenly place the prince into my arms and I was filled with a most peculiar feeling, looking down at his curious eyes. I cradled him close, awed by his tiny size and innocence.

Size.

I glanced up but Mother would not meet my eyes, instead capturing one of his hands. But before I could open my mouth to comment my father strode in. My eyes widened for he was dressed in robes I had never seen before. Ancient ceremonial wrappings of dull crimson.

I bowed to him, catching the light in his eyes. I admit, I preened. Accomplishment filled me as well as trepidation. On the morrow, as eldest, I will take a knee and rise again as Jotunheim's queen. I would be responsible for more than war and the safety of my people, I would be responsible for diplomacy.

I scowled, mayhap I will let my brothers attend to that.

Father merely glanced at the unnamed prince and a small crease appeared between his brows. I tensed and my wings shifted irritably. 'Don't do it' I thought. It was moot to even hope he would grant Nal this small bliss.

"The boy is a runt." Laufey's rumble of a voice was loud against the ice walls.

I rolled my eyes, flinching when the babe clasped my own fingers in his weak grip. I sent Mor an apologetic look.

"I would be a miracle if he should survive the night but," I paused, wondering why in the nine realms I was about to make my offer, "should the boy live to see the morn I will look after him myself. It is time for Helblindi to become my Lieutenant." Provided he stop trying to poke everybody's eyes out.

Father studied me carefully and my creators shared a look. In place of an answer, I received an explosion. I collapsed into a ball to protect the new prince. My massive wings untucked and stretched out. I swallowed my coughs and rose to my feet and stumbled to the great bed.

My mother was gone.

I spun in a circle, thinking she must be at least under stone but no. The only blood I saw came from the spot where my father stood. Stone and ice trembled, from more explosions or my own shaking I could not say. My father is possibly dead and my mother missing not an hour after birth. The blood trailed through the hole in the wall, meaning someone had gone through.

I growled and looked down to the boy. I couldn't leave him here to be found or killed. I shook my head and snatched a blanket. I tore it into strips and tied him to my back, nestled between my wings. As big and solid as they are he is protected well.

Had I taken a moment, I would've heard the shouts and battle cries of soldiers that weren't mine, but rage was taking over as my battle lust sparked. I drew my sword and made a shallow cut on my arm, coating the blade with my poisonous blood. Any who feel my steel will writhe in agony tonight.

I let go. My body grew in size and my spelled clan scars emerged. My teeth turned to daggers and my vision enhanced painfully. It was nearly impossible not to study all the cracks in the stone and the dust in the air. I called another blade to my hand and stepped out into the hall.

The clamor of battle rang clear from the courtyard and I jumped the ledge to hover in the air. Golden armor gleamed and I snarled. Asgardian armor? How dare they step foot onto my ice! With a cry I hurled my body down, crushing a soldier beneath my feet. Pity.

I met the blade of another and drove my poisoned sword through his neck. More and more soldiers fell against my fatal skill. Chaos spread everywhere; as more blood was shed my magic grew and lashed out. Green whips of energy felled men as they attempted to flee. I felt a body at my back and seized an Aesir by the throat, standing him against a pillar.

By his embellishments he was a captain and his sword clattered to the floor as his eyes widened in fear. My lips peeled back to bare sharpened teeth and I leaned in close enough to kiss.

"May your spirit waste in guilt, knowing your blood will fuel the Butcher of Realms." I laughed coldly then tore out his throat, drinking the blood that gushed forth. I threw my head back in ecstasy as life rushed through my body, adding more strength to my limbs. My wings themselves were weapons, bludgeoning and blocking.

Spinning around met more spears and prey. I was a whirlwind of fury and death. Some fled as they caught the draft of my wings but others, spurred on by battle, didn't hesitate. A circle of soldiers lay dead at my feet, suddenly there was no onslaught of bodies to my blade.

Something moved behind me. I thrust my clawed hand forward, burying it deep into a body. A body that wasn't armored clad. The realization cut through my battle-fog as a hot knife through cheese and my knees buckled.

My mother, in whose body my arm was seated, went down with me. Though her eyes were blurred with pain, she still raised a gentle hand to my face and smiled. Carefully I brought the baby forth, there were tears tracks on his chubby face, yet he made hardly a sound, cradled in her arms.

I withdrew my arm, horrified that I had dealt such a blow to the being who had created me. Gathering her close I howled in grief. Her blood seeped across my armor and I noticed she was softly singing a lullaby. I shook and blinked furiously, my breathing ragged as I listened to her failing song.

I stood and charged for the armory, my safe haven. Maybe I can bind her wounds or replenish her blood. I must do something! Shouldering the door closed I collapsed next to the great stone forge. Merciful Valhalla she's so cold! Feeling her hand against my cheek I slowly met her gaze. There was no hate, no fear of me. Only love shone in her orbs.

"Promise me, Beastie, that you will look after yourself. Swear that you will protect him."

We looked at the baby and it struck me that he does not have a name; the same occurs to Mor.

"We had settled upon Loki."

"Tricks? I thought Father hated tricks," I mumbled.

"Only at his expense." I swallowed thickly.

"I swear to you, Mother, Loki is and will always be my first concern." My magic bound my oath and with that reassurance, my mother died in my arms. At that moment Loki began to cry and I forced back my own tears. I lay her body before the fire and cleaned the blood from her face. I tore a standard from a pole and lay it over her still form. I heard a small voice and shook my head. I heard it again and started, for it was coming from my own mind. I looked down to my little brother, seeing his hours old face creased in sorrow. My magic has done more than bind an oath, it has forged a bond. I searched my mind, finding the wordless bubble of nameless emotions.

By some unseen force the doors swung open with a groan and a snarl bubbled from my throat, reaching for my blade. It wasn't there. Helheim's bogs! It must still lay on the ground outside. Deciding against summoning the blade to hand I slashed my palms. With the scent of blood I focused claws to grow and rubbed my hands together. All I need is a scratch. As a golden body stepped through I leapt forward, only to be blindsided by a hellish burst of concentrated lightning. My skin ground against the stone and dull pain told me I hit a wall. Struggling to see I struggled to my feet. Too much. Too much magic has left my body; I must feed. The dark of my battle lust sought to rise, could have risen fully were it not for Loki's fear. As did Mor, he pierced my fog.

The fear compounded until I realized it wasn't just the babes; it was my fear sharp on my tongue. Unsteady as I was it was foolish to try to attack but I must try. He will not take him! Just as I came close enough to attack the figure turned and an agony unlike any other ravaged my mind. The spear buried itself in my belly and its power ripped through me.

Loki's wails told me he felt my pain. I wouldn't allow this. Bracing myself I pulled the spear free and cast it aside. The man stood tall, admirably stupid against my height. Somewhere in my head I knew this man to be the oh-so-beloved king of Asgard.

"You addled dimwit. You of all people know I am not taken down so easily," I purred.

He shifted the babe in his arms, blood coated the right side of his face from a missing eye.

"Perhaps not by brute force, Usurper. But what better way to fight magic than with stronger magic?"

He gestured to my middle. The tightness I attested to fatigue was truly a very effective working. It attacked in earnest, seizing my limbs and sending me to the ground. I snarled at his face and focused on Loki. Clearly the Aesir king knew not what to make of my alarm. A wave of coldness, so horrendously foreign, washed over me and my consciousness was wrenched form my control. Never have I so hated the dark.