Ah, the results of writing at midnight...
This story, again, is a oneshot tied to the "Guardian" multichap as well as "Paris".
Many readers of Guardian had expressed an interest in Thor's side of the story, and-well, this may not be what many had been hoping for, but I hope you will all enjoy it regardless!
Prepare for pure bittersweet.
OH-I want to make all aware that I took some stuffs from the mythology to mix into this particular oneshot.
I also want to forewarn everyone of some mentions of blood and violence and, well, war stuff, you know...
I own not, so sue not! ^.^
At first, it did not seem to take much to drive the Frost Giants out of Asgaard.
They had come in numbers that seemed far too small to be of any consequence to the Great Realm, and Thor had needed very little in the way of strategy to overwhelm them and cast them out from their positions in the mountains beyond the cities.
The Jotuns had no Casket; their born prince, now banished to Earth, still retained it.
Their power was limited. And so they fled the land within months of declaring war.
Thor found a sense of satisfaction in his victory; he had led the army into battle and come out with very little casualties.
Asgaard was safe.
The nine realms were safe.
Earth was safe.
He had been looking forward to activating the Bifrost and taking a trip to the realm of the mortals. He had a newborn daughter to meet.
And a mortal woman to propose to.
He had been patient and taken the time to oversee the cleanup of the battle's aftermath and ensure the security of the borders.
He had readied Fandral to act as interim King in his absence.
He had made plans to spend much-needed time with his Earthbound family, and hopefully bring them back with him to Asgaard.
And then the Jotuns returned.
In full number.
With a vast army of allies that no-one in the realm could have ever expected.
Dark and towering and smelling of sulfur, a great shadow loomed behind the Frost Giant army, and it was only Heimdall that could identify them.
The Fire Giants of the flaming realm of Muspelheim.
Creatures of legend that very few in Asgaard had ever encountered.
As far as Thor knew, only his father had met one directly.
Muspelheim had long ago fallen from the thoughts of Asgaard. The Fire Giants had seemed uninterested in the other realms, keeping silent in their world of smoldering heat. Thor wondered what the Jotuns could have said or promised to convince the inhabitants of the fire realm to follow them into war.
Fire and ice spilled over the entirety of Asgaard before Thor even had time to gather his armies.
A suffocating stench, permeating the once-clean air of Asgaard, assaulted his nostrils and seemed to seep into his skin. It was a heavy combination of sulfur and blood and sweat, rising into the air from every corner of the realm.
It was the only thing keeping him awake.
Warm liquid metal met his tongue. Mjolnir roared at him from its position on the chest of a now smoldering Fire Giant.
He lay on the dulling colors of the rainbow bridge, one leg hanging off the side, blood dripping from its edge.
His blood.
He was dying.
And he knew it.
Even he, Asgaard's strongest warrior and King, could not fight forever.
Over the years they had fought the Jotuns back, again and again, only to have them return with more reinforcements from Muspelheim. The citizens suffered. The soldiers fell. But Asgaard would not relent.
Thor would not relent until the Giants surrendered or perished.
It ended up being the latter. The army of Asgaard had continued to fight and survive and slay until the enemy had dwindled down to impossibly weak numbers. But it cost them all so much….
His head throbbed as he moved to turn it.
He heard footsteps on the bridge, carefully dodging the dead and dying bodies.
The Jotuns, in a last effort to save themselves, had made a desperate move for the Bifrost. Heimdall had been prepared to defend it, but even he could not face off alone against both Fire and Ice.
Thor was exhausted. Wounded. Weary.
But he led the last of his bleeding soldiers to the bridge regardless.
He left no Giant alive in all the realm.
And now he lay among them, his life pouring out into the void below.
His vision blurred, but he could hear shouts. A hand reached up to pull at the ice that had run him through. He struggled, his hand trembled.
Fell when his strength failed him.
The vast majority of his body burned. He felt the scalds across his arms, his armor melted away. His teeth attempted to chatter and he realized he could not tell if he was cold or hot.
The footsteps grew closer.
So did the shouting.
Thor moved his head despite the agony. He could just make out the smoke that rose from the Great Hall, and the sheen of melting ice that gleamed against the gate to the bridge.
They had infiltrated- intent on destroying everything.
Nearly half of Asgaard's populace lay dead in the streets, in their homes, on the battlefields and in the mountains.
But many were saved.
Including the sleeping Odin himself.
Thor hoped against hope that one day, the Odinsleep would end. That his father would awaken and restore the now suffering Asgaard to its former glory.
Odin was simply the only one who could do it.
Thor knew he would not last long enough to do anything to help….
A sudden cough sent thick, blackish-red blood running out onto the sparkling floor of the bridge below his head. He allowed himself to roll onto his back and look up at the stars.
The footsteps were directly behind him now.
Thor could also tell that the shouting came from Fandral and Sif. Amidst their voices he could make out his mother's soft cries.
It was the last sound he wanted to hear.
But he could not move to reassure any of them.
He waited for the guardian to come stand at his side. Thor watched the spectacle of stars above his head even as Heimdall kneeled to hover over him. He coughed and attempted to clear his throat.
He felt Heimdall press a hand against his wrist—could hear the throb of his slowing heart in his ears and knew that the seer could as well.
His voice was a painful whisper, but Thor could not allow his consciousness to fade until he had spoken with Heimdall.
He could not die without knowing for sure….
"Can you see her, Heimdall?"
"Yes, my King. I see her."
The familiar rumble of Hemdall's deep voice seemed abnormally strained, and Thor remembered that the gatekeeper had fought at his side and suffered injuries himself.
"Is she well?" The last he had heard on Jane was that she had visited the Midgaard Bifrost site, ten years to the day he had left. She had wept.
So had he.
"Yes. Your Jane is older now, but in good health and energy. She continues to study the stars with great vigor."
Thor felt a smile break the drying crust of blood on his lips.
He fought back a hiss of pain as he reached up to summon Mjolnir. The moment the handle of the great hammer hit his palm, a sense of renewed energy ran through him.
It would not be enough to save him from death.
But it would at least keep him awake….
Clear eyes settled on Heimdall's frowning face. Thor could hear Fandral and Sif come to stand nearby.
The sudden scent of smoke and flowers hit him as Frigga dropped to her knees at his other side. Wet tears dropped onto the burns of his arm as she held his hand.
He squeezed it reassuringly.
Gave her a smile and turned to face Heimdall once again.
"Tell me, my friend….what of my daughter? How old is she now?"
The guardian chuckled this time, a small grin attempting to raise his lips.
"Kari is in her eleventh year, my lord. She grows strong but gentle, bold and yet kind. Very much like her father in many respects."
His breath was growing shallow again. Thor could hear his heartbeat thudding loud but slow. He felt his mother pull the dangerously dangling leg from over the side of Bifrost, and bit his lip upon realizing it, too, suffered burns.
He did not care.
He was receiving good news.
He blinked, slowly, and almost forgot to re-open his eyes.
It would be so easy to just sleep….
His eyes cracked open.
"Heimdall. Does my brother-does Loki still watch them?"
Silence fell around him. He could make out Frigga eyeing Heimdall eagerly, a desperate look expressing her interest in her exiled son's whereabouts and wellbeing.
Heimdall looked up at the sky.
"Loki's attempts to hide himself from my sight have tapered off in recent years. He continues to watch over them, and has taken to spending time with them directly."
Warmth- completely separate from the burning pain of his injuries- spread into his chest.
He recognized it as pride.
"I remember you telling me that he had developed a fondness for Kari. He has…become like a father to her then, hasn't he?"
Thor suspected as much—while he had been in Asgaard, ruling the realm in a time of war, it was Loki that had been present for his daughter. Thor had heard stories of Loki's slow assimilation into the lives of his mortal family, and while at first he fretted over his brother's intentions, he soon became convinced that it was loneliness that drove Loki to seek a connection with them.
And from what Heimdall had told him, his daughter simply adored her "Uncle".
Heimdall smiled gently down at him, a sadness growing visible in his gaze.
"Yes—it would appear so. He finds comfort in being around them."
Thor gulped down a heaving breath and fought to ignore his mother's panicked looks.
"He is happy, then?"
"If ever Loki could be, yes…."
Thor smiled.
"And Kari?"
"Innocently so, my King. Loki ensures her safety, and brings a smile to the child's face whenever present…."
A calm settled over him. He knew, from the details of what Heimdall had described over the years, that Loki had grown close to not just Kari, but Jane as well.
And she had begun to reciprocate such fondness.
"Jane. Is she happy, Heimdall? Happy with him?"
A hand grasped his and he realized Sif had settled beside him. Fandral, decked in blood-stained armor, stood silently nearby. He smiled grimly, and Thor could tell that the group was all too aware of his fading life.
He turned his head away, focused his eyes on the stars once again.
Heard Heimdall's voice, although it seemed quieter this time….
"She is happy, Thor. She trusts Loki, and cares for him. She is with him as we speak; he seeks to see her smile."
His eyes closed and he heard his mother weep.
"She has an addictive smile, this much is true. Tell me—where are they?"
He could no longer hear his own voice, and he wondered, in what was left of his consciousness, if anyone else could hear it either.
"Standing high above a great city that mortals find to be a wonder on Earth. He holds fast to her even now, my King."
Thor breathed deep—for the first time since sustaining his injury-and felt a sudden darkness take hold of him.
It was not cold.
It was not hot.
It was not painful.
"I am glad, then….that she is happy. That she is loved. They both…deserve that…."
He could not bring himself to feel envy or resentment toward Loki for stepping into his family with no invitation. He could not blame his daughter for expressing a child's sacred love to his brother instead of him.
And he could not wish a life of loneliness upon his mortal love.
The sound of his heartbeat stopped.
And Thor smiled as the image of two figures overlooking a bright, sparkling city entered his mind's eye.
Soooo...
Like? Hate? Anger? Tissues? ;)
Lemme know!
Also, I will at least be posting one more of these, perhaps two.
And I might be raising the rating in the future-unsure yet. Indecisiveness is the ghost that haunts me-and not a cool one, like Loki ;)