Author's Disclaimer:
Bleach is the trademark of Viz Media, and all of the Bleach characters are the creation of Tite Kubo. The Norse Gods and their stories belong to the North Germanic people while Himura Qebehout is my own character. There is also a reference or two to Aztec mythology, which belongs to the Aztecah. At the end of this piece are words that some may be familiar with from studying Norse and Aztec mythologies. For those who are not familiar with these words, their meaning is available.
I hope that you enjoy my piece, and I appreciate any and all constructive criticism.
-Azteka
Loki, Son of Laufey and his Queen, the Lady Moon - Qebehout
The winds howled as the storm brewed outside the thick walls of a tavern along the main road. When suddenly the sturdy door opened, bringing in the harsh winter winds, a slim figure quickly slipped through before the heavy door slammed shut again. The patrons of the tavern immediately fell silent as they watched the unknown intruder make straight for the roaring fire in the hearth. The stranger, ignoring the eyes following him, began to strip himself free of his fur cloak. As he stripped free from his cloak, it revealed a swaddle close to his chest and in that swaddle was a pair of twins. The patrons suspiciously watched as the stranger moved with tender care, not waking the newborn babes. The burly men gathered in the tavern narrowed their eyes as their faces morphed into sneers while they watched the thin man fiddle around and tend to the babies like a woman. Some even grumbled about ill-omens of twins, and slowly more grumbled murmurs began to fill the silence.
The stranger did not give the other patrons any further thought as he arranged his cloak near the fire before freeing himself of his two precious cargos. Slowly he freed his first treasure… his firstborn son… he gently laid his baby boy down onto the cloak then freed his second son… his twin boys… A soft and small smile touched his lips as he looked upon his children.
His sweet Sigyn had honored him with twin boys, but the birthing had been difficult as it always was when birthing more than one child. His firstborn, whom Sigyn had named Váli, was a healthy boy with a small tuff of strawberry-blond locks… the same color as Sigyn, he absently thought. But it was with his second son, little Narfi, that Sigyn began to suffer. He was smaller than his bigger brother, and yet the most difficult to bring into the world. For many hours, Sigyn struggled to bring Narfi into the world and became weaker with each pressing hour until the Witching Hour began to chime, and with the last of her strength and breath, his youngest child came into the world with a wail to signal the birth of a new life and the end of an old life…
A sudden movement drew his attention from his mental musing as he watched Váli curl himself around Narfi. He knew that the cold did not truly bother his children. After all, the cold was in his blood, in their blood as kinsmen of the Jötnar, the Frost Giants. He felt the corners of his lips twitch upward into a small smile. Barely a day old and Váli took his duties as firstborn seriously, protecting his younger golden-haired brother.
His long fingers caressed the soft flesh of his sons. With barely moving his lips, he murmured protective wards around the twins. Confident that his magik would protect his children from harm, he slowly stood up and walked toward the tavern-keeper, who stood behind the bar. He knew that he would have to pay for his position by the fire for the night. He just hoped that the tavern-keeper would have some milk for his boys. His babes had yet cried for food, but they would be soon. The blood of the Jötnar made the twins stronger than the average child, but they were still newborns.
With a graceful flick of his wrist, he tossed a silver piece onto the bar counter.
"Ferder fire 'nd warm milk fer my sons." His cool baritone voice commanded.
The tavern-keeper's eyes brightened at the sight of the silver piece.
It was a dangerous move on his part to carelessly throw the silver piece out in the open. However, it was useless endeavor to hid the fact that he was some highborn. His dress and baring gave his status away to the mixed-matched group of warriors, ruffins and barwenches. His clothing of neutral and dark colors were of fine clothe and the finest cut, and while his sword and dagger were not what these warriors would call a 'man's blade', they were still of fine quality.
And then there was his person. While he matched the warriors in the tavern in height, he was no match for them in build. His frame was thin and lithe, almost woman-like as his adopted brother's friends had often jeered. When he was younger, he had hated his slight build until one day while dream-walking, he had come across a mortal - smaller than him and with strangely shaped eyes - defeat a massive warrior - the same size as his adopted brother - with ease. When he had seen the feat, he knew that he had to learn this mortal's ways… He had used his cunning to get the mortal to teach him the mortal way's of combat, and quickly he became as skilled of a warrior as his adopted brother… if not greater.
The tavern-keeper greedily picked up the piece and pocketed it.
"The fire is yers." He stated as he stared suspiciously at the cowl-covered highborn, " 'ave no milk… 'ave a wench with milk."
The highborn's eyes narrowed beneath the cover of his cowl. His sneer was evident. The idea of his children suckling the tit of a barwench… of a mere mortal… revolted him. He opened his mouth to say as such when he felt the magik of his protective wards flare to life…
The tavern echoed with screams of pain.
Many seasons of training took reign of his body.
He blocked a dagger to his flank with his sword.
Pivoting on the ball of his foot, his sword unsheathed, biting into the belly of another attacker, and his hidden dagger buried into his first attacker's chest.
The warrior's companions roared in rage as they charged the highborn. Their bulky frames made it difficult for them to charge him all at once in the already crowded tavern.
The other patrons immediately rushed to safety along the tavern walls. Some even foolishly ran between the warriors and highborn, only to met their end by the warrior's indiscriminate blades.
The highborn quickly dispatched the transgressors as he swiftly made his way to his children.
His transgressors either laid in pain or dying when the highborn reached his children and the unsavory fur-cloaked male that tried to harm his sons. He started down at the withering man, who was weakly crawling away. The highborn sneered at the mortal in realization that the creature was a flesh-trader.
"Please, master! Mercy!" He sniveled, "Mean' no harm! Such swee' boys… jes wan' wha' 's mine!"
The flesh-trader let out a sharp gasp when he felt the razor sharp edge of the highborn's blade.
" 'nd wha's yers tha's near mine?" The highborn's voice promised death if the flesh-trader did not answer truthfully.
"The bitch! She's mine!" He squealed out while pointing toward the twins.
Turning around, planning to pull away the flesh-trader's wench away from his children, the highborn's eye grew wide at the sight he saw.
Cradling his youngest son in her arms was the most exotic outlander he had ever seen. She was as small as a child and yet her body was clearly that of a woman. Her flesh was the color of unpolished copper, and her unkempt hair was black as a moonless night. Her clothes denoted her status as a slave, but her baring was elegant and regal… a highborn.
He slowly approached the beautiful outlander. He watched curiously as he wondered why his magik did not alert him to her presence near his sons. It was obvious that she meant no harm to the children, but the protective wards should have at least warned him of her presence. As he drew closer, he noticed strange markings around her neck, wrists and ankles, and he could feel the heavy magik emanating from these markings. He knelt before the mysterious woman, who looked up and peered into his hidden eyes. His breath was trapped in his throat.
He had never seen such royal shade of purple in the eyes of any mortal, Æsir, Vanir or Jötnar. He could easily loose himself staring into her eyes. Her eyes reflected the vastness and void of existence. It was then he realized what the creature before him was.
She was neither a mortal, Æsir, Vanir nor Jötnar…
She was a Timeless… much more than an immortal… much more than a god. She was a creature that had no beginning, no end and yet had both.
"I am…" His baritone voice whispered softly and with utter reverence, "Loki, Son of Laufey."
"Qebehout…" She whispered back. Her voice was soft and gentle as she did not want to wake the sleeping babe in her arm, "Qebehout, daughter of Life and Death."
X
Amber-cerise eyes snapped open as the fragments of the dream… no, not a dream but a memory… began to fade from the foreground. He took a deep breath as a shaky pale hand rubbed the sleep from his face. Slowly he pulled himself out of bed. Without conscious thought, he walked out onto his balcony and just stared out into the eternal twilight sky. The dark blue skylight with faint white speckles to imitate stars appeared black against the endless horizon of white sands, but he did not see it. His mind, his thoughts, his heart kept drifting back to his dream-memory.
It had been an eon since he last thought of and dreamt of his beautiful Outlander, who was his mate and wife… not since Ragnarökkr and the banishment of his family across all the Nine Realms. Truth be told, he did not have many memories of his life before Ragnarökkr. He had been told once before that to hold no memory before the Twilight was common. All he had were fragments of his life before. It was similar to mortals, who had lost their memories that can be regained when a sight, scent or even sound would trigger something.
The first time he had a Remembrance, as he had come to call these flashes of memories, was when he had met Sigyn-reborn back when they were children and he had found her collapsed by the side of the road. She, of course, was born with a new name and no memories of him and their life together, but she was still his sweet Sigyn, who knew him best and understood him without fail.
It had hurt him deeply when he had to 'betray' her when he 'defected' against Ausar and his mockery of the Celestial City. He did not know if Ausar too had lost his memories from before Ragnarökkr, but he remembered Ausar when they too had first met while he was training to be a Balancer… and he remembered Ausar's crimes against him and his.
"Wha' troubles ye, Brother?" A voice called from the shadows, snapping him from his thoughts.
Amber-cerise gems glanced over his shoulder and saw Býleistr… but not Býleistr's twin, Helblindi, which was odd. Býleistr and Helblindi were always together… before and after Ragnarökkr… the bond of twins was something that transcended all lives and time… at least, he had thought so.
When he had found his son, Váli, he had hoped that Narfi would be nearby as well, but his youngest son was nowhere to be found. And much like Sigyn, Váli was born with a new name and no memory of him and their life before.
"Loki?" Býleistr called with a frown as the Jötun looked at his smaller albino brother.
"S'rry… jes' thinkin'…" Loki replied, "Where's Helblindi?"
Býleistr came closer and stood beside his little brother.
It was a little over a century ago when the three brothers had found each other, and the twins immediately knew that something was weighing their mischievous Loki down.
"Helblindi is in the gardens." Býleistr answered.
Loki's thin silvery-white brows furrowed together. Not that the albino was complaining, the gardens after all was what was leftover from a bygone era when his Outlander had ruled these lands. But it seemed that Helblindi had been tending to the gardens more and more often these past few days and weeks… as if…
"Why?" Loki whispered to himself more than to his brother.
Býleistr looked at the albino curiously.
"Why would it matter, Brother?" Býleistr asked.
"Hmm… it nuthin'… jes' curious…" Loki whispered and went back to staring at the twilight and the white sands.
Býleistr placed his large hand on his thin brother's shoulder.
"Loki, wha' troubles ye? I 'ave not seen ye this troubled since ye 'nd the other two had come here… please, Brother…"
Loki placed his own smaller hand over his brother's.
"S'rry… aye dream' of 'er…" The albino confessed, "Aye dream' of my Qebehou'…"
"Mictecacihuatl?!" The older Jötun whispered in reverence.
Loki faintly smiled when his brother spoke of his Outlander with such reverence and in one of her ancient titles… their Queen of Mictlan, their Queen of the Underworld… their Lady Death.
X
A great beast of a horse with eight legs came to a slow stop on the top of the white sand dune. Its rider sat still as her golden-hued eyes scanned the endless span of white sands. To her far right, she could see the remains of an ancient forest… so ancient that the trees had petrified into stone… she remembered that forest once was so full of life, and now… She shook her head and looked to her left. She noted a grand citadel, which made her frown.
The giant palace had been plainly visible from the moment the rider and her steed entered the Realm of White Sands. The magnificent pair had rode for several leagues before stopping on top of the ridge, and the white city did not seem to change in size as they neared it.
She felt the shift in her steed's muscles. With barely a glance, she knew that he had lifted one of his many legs to help her down. She slide down the giant's flank and her small bare feet touched the soft grainy sand. It was like walking on fine powder, but she paid it no mind as she observed the enormous citadel. Its architecture and design brought back old and faded memories of her childhood.
It reminds me of the Sacred Mountains of the mortal realm. Her 8-legged horse mentally send to her.
She placed a small hand to his neck with a gentle caress as she leaned into his frame for comfort. Her beast carried in his veins the presence and magik of the one she loved the most. A presence and magik that she had not thought she would ever find again.
"Yes, it does have the same grand effect as those magnificent mountains… I fear that it would take many more leagues before we reach the strange citadel before us… and in that time, I fear that I might go mad…" She quietly whispered when she thought on the steed's word.
Yes, all this white would drive one's senses to madness… The steed agreed.
"No, it's not that… do you not sense it?" She asked as she looked into the creature's sole-full black orbs.
Sense it? Sense what? He was alarmed that his Lady may have sensed something that he did not, that he may have failed to recognize a possible threat and protect his Queen from it.
"It dances at the edge of my senses, but I would recognize it anywhere… even after all these eons…" She whispered with a hint of fondness and longing in her voice.
Her steed immediately flared out his own senses, trying to find what his Mistress had found. His senses, thus far, only graced past the minds of the low-level denizens of the Lands of the White Sands. As his mind reached further to the outer rings of the White Citadel, several more leagues away, the beast began to detect the minds of the more powerful White Sands inhabitants… the Unnaturals… but amongst the Unnaturals, he sensed the presence of two Ancients… but there was something familiar about the two Ancients… something that reminded him of his lost home and kin…
Suddenly the beast began to stamp and stomp the ground, he knew the two Ancients! He had not sensed these two Ancients, not since the Twilight! He stretched his mind out again even further before he felt what his Queen had recognized all along. It was faint and hidden in layers upon layers of protective wards… but he finally detected it and understood.
The once great Horse of Asgard reared onto his hindquarters, his forelegs kicked in the air, his head thrown back as he let out a hellish cry.
FATHER! Sleipnir neighed loudly, startling his mares and the low-level creatures in the area.
"Yes…" The small woman's oddly hued eyes of amethyst and molten gold looked upon the looming citadel fondly, "Loki, my beloved Husband, my ib and ka… he is there…"
X
The fire crackled in the background as he felt two sets of eyes watching him with rapt attention. His pale, long fingers hovered a breath's away from his Outlander's darker flesh. For the past five winter seasons, his Qe lived with him and his twins in the Northlands, and in those five winter seasons, he slowly worked on freeing her from the dark magik that bound her own magik within her. And in those five winters, the exotic woman had became the mother of his sons that he had hoped Sigyn would have been - had she lived… and she became his woman, his life, his Love… His Queen.
This was the last ward to be destroyed, freeing her to use her powers and magik as she pleased, but this last ward was also the most dangerous one. For this ward was tied to Qe's heart. If he unraveled the ward too quickly or too slowly, he would either permanently seal her powers away at best or kill her, obliterating her very existence, at worst.
A heavy silence enveloped their small home as he worked.
Time stood still as none dared to breath too deeply or move.
The twins, their twins, huddled closer together for warmth as the fire began to die out. They did not dare attempt to stoke the dying fire back to life in fear of distracting their father from his work of freeing their mother. The twins knew that their father's magik would never harm them if there was a backlash, and they knew that they were protected by what the little magik their mother could access.
Váli huddled closer to his shivering younger twin, whose bright Siberian blue eyes glowed against the darkening home. The elder of the two knew that Narfi's shivering had nothing to do with the sudden cold invading their home. Narfi, or as their mother call him Thefarie, had always been sensitive to their mother's magik… as if it called to him.
Thefarie huddled deeper into his big brother's body as he subconsciously drew upon his own magik, intertwining it with his mother's to cast a protective barrier around himself and Váli. Thefarie can feel it in the air. His mother was almost free! He can feel it deep in his blood as it pumped hotly through his veins of his tiny body. And then he felt his ears pop at the sudden change of air in their home.
A flash of light blinded the twins.
A gust of hot and violent air ripped through the home, causing the twins to tumble off the bed that they had been huddled on. And it caused their father to tumble gracelessly heel-over-head before his lithe frame slammed against the far wall.
Instantly Váli and Thefarie popped their heads up from the overturned bed and looked at their parents. Váli clamored and stumbled over the overturned bed as he went to his father while Thefarie rushed to his mother.
The little boy found her easily enough in their dark and destroyed home. Her dark skin glowed a golden hue as if her flesh was made of gold dust. And her wings! His mother had wings! Thefarie had seen other Dís before… the winged-spirits that a growing new Order called angels… and while their wings were beautiful, their's were nothing compared to his mother's!
His mother's wings were beyond beautiful. While Dís' wings were of one color, white or some shade of white, his mother's wings had a variety of shades of gold, blue, green and red. The colors themselves should not have blend together and yet in her wings they looked absolutely perfect. And the size! Thefarie's mother's wings was easily twice the size of her body length. It made the little boy wonder if she could fly, and wonder if his mother would take him into the air.
Thefarie did not think too much more on the thought as he crawled beneath his mother's massive wings and curled into her chest. He smiled as he felt her slender arms wrap around him as she curled around his tiny body and purred soothingly. Her wings shifted to protect her and her little Childe from the outside world and the cold.
"Papa" Váli called as he gently shook his father awake.
Loki groaned as his body protested at any movement. His long fingers ran through his long, silver-white locks before his fingers caressed against the tender spot where his head had hit the wall. He let out another groan.
"Papa?" He heard his son call.
Loki looked up from the floor and was relieved to see his oldest son was unharmed from the backlash.
"Thefarie?" The pale man asked when he did not see his youngest son.
Váli then pointed toward his winged mother, who was hidden beneath her bright, multi-colored wings with a tuff of golden yellow, belonging to Thefarie, peaking out.
Loki followed his son's gesture, and his eyes opened wide.
Váli stared at his father in awe at his beautiful eyes… amber-cerise gems… the little boy could count the number of times he had seen his father's eyes so open on one hand. His father's eyes were sensitive to light that he would keep them shielded from the sun and fire. It was not common for villagers to assume that his father was blind, and it was an assumption that they, as a family, had never corrected. Slowly Loki took to his feet as he stumbled closer to his wife. He dropped to his knees by her side. His pale hand trembled as he reached out to touch the beautiful wings that covered her and his youngest.
At the gentle caress, her wings stretched and unfurled before disappearing into a fine dust of golds, blues, greens and reds.
Amber-cerise eyes peered into a pair of amethyst gems that he had fallen in love with the first time he had looked into her eyes.
With one arm still curled protectively around his youngest, her free arm reached up to caress her husband's regal face.
Loki grasped her slender hand with his larger one, nuzzling his face into her palm. He could feel her magik course through her veins as it purred beneath his touch and sang in concert with his own magik.
"It worked." He breathed, and she smiled oh-so-beautifully.
"Yes," She breathed back, "I had not doubt, husband of mine."
Warmth and awe enveloped his heart and his soul at his wife's absolute trust in him.
He leaned down to -
X
SCHWINK!
SCHLIP!
PLOP!
THUD!
THUMP!
Amber-cerise eyes glared at the dead creature by his bedside.
The pale thing's dead eyes stared at the ceiling in shock. The foolish beast had probably not thought that Loki would react so violently to it.
Even Loki's brothers knew better than to stand so close to his sword and sword-hand when attempting to wake the albino. His older twin brothers would always grab Loki's foot to wake him. The worst that had happened was that the older Jötnar would get kicked in the teeth, which had happened a few times.
"Do they no' learn?" An amused chuckle echoed from the doorway of Loki's sleeping chambers, causing the youngest son of Laufey to glare at his older sibling.
" 'nd ye' ya le' 'em in 'ere…" The albino grumbled as he got out bed, dressed only in his sleep wear.
With a casual flick of his wrist, he set the corpse on fire, destroying and obliterating the remains from existence.
"It is one less adversary fer us tah contend wit' when the time comes." Býleistr remarked then narrowed his eyes at his little brother's foul mood.
"Another Remembrance?" The older Jötun asked.
Loki gave his brother a deadpan look as he changed his clothes, which caused Býleistr to chuckle.
No wonder Loki awoke even more violently than usual. The Jötun would hazard a guess that the Remembrance would have to do with their Queen, Qebehout.
"This is the second Remembrance in a short number of days, Brother." Býleistr quietly commented.
Loki paused as he adjusted his outer robe on his shoulders. His hidden eyes glanced over his shoulder with a soft expression on his face.
"Aye… s'was the firs' time ah saw 'er wings…" The albino reverently whispered.
The Jötun looked upon his younger sibling with fondness. He remembered stories of their Queen's beautiful wing, which he barely remembered seeing them when they had first met… at the time, he had been worried about other things than to truly appreciate the beauty of his Queen's wings…
"Bu' ya righ'… tha's the second one…"
"A sign perhaps?"
"Dunno…" Loki hesitantly whispered as he felt a small kindling of hope take root in his heart.
Býleistr reached out for his brother. His large hand clasped on his brother's slender shoulder. The albino glanced over his shoulder before walking out of his sanctuary and begin his daily dance on the razor edge of a deadly game of vengeance.
X
Quietly the Shadow slipped pass the single sentry at one of presumably many side entrances into the citadel. Sleipnir was not happy at the idea of letting his Queen continue further without him. But he even knew that stealth was not his forte, and his Mistress' mission demanded stealth. However, he remained close by in case his Queen needed a quick escape.
She lightly smiled at the thought of Sleinpir being overprotective of her… as were all of Loki's children. They all viewed her as their mother more than their own birth mothers. The thought warmed her as she silently rushed through the corridors. But what truly warmed her and gave her strength in continuing into enemy territory was the inkling of an aura that she had not sensed in many eons, not since her Imprisonment by her Uncle, Ausar.
She slipped further into the underground corridors and passed many kekammitebankh along way. She found the white creatures to be curious things and vastly different from the days of her youth. She had remembered that her father had once said that these creatures had the potential to grow and be much more. And in her travels to get to the citadel, she knew that her father had spoken the truth.
She had seen some of the white creatures act akin to the animals of the mortal plane. She also noticed that the mortal-like the kekammitebankh appeared to be, the more powerful they were. On her journey, she had come across one or two mortal-like kekammitebankh, and she could sense the aura of age about them, but the white creatures walking within the citadel's halls… Those devourers she was most wary of. These kekammitebankh did not seem to possess the presence of time that the other kekammitebankh possessed. It was as if someone or something had manipulated the natural order of the kekammitebankh.
She felt a shiver shot through her at the thought that anyone would be so careless with another's life and uncaring of the consequences of their actions.
It was like her Uncle and his ilk all over again… She mentally shook herself free from her mental musing and continued on her way down another corridor when she suddenly stopped.
She had sensed something… something that tickled at the edge of her senses and memories. She stared down the corridor for a brief moment before quickly veering to her left.
She quickly fleeted through the shadows, ignoring the kekammitebankh along the way as she focused on the source of what she had felt. The aura held a level of familiarity that comforted her, but she knew instinctively that it was not one of her children nor was it her husband, her ib and ka.
As she drew nearer to the source, her mind began to unravel an ancient memory, a memory of when her Childe, Thefarie, gained his vættr, and when her twin boys met another set of twins…
X
Qebehout proudly watched as Thefarie drew the powers gifted to him to the surface. She gazed upon her Childe as the ancient language of the Jötnar danced across his long-lived mortal flesh while he attempted to call forth his affinity. An affinity was a vættr that would be Thefarie's companion, guide and familiar. Qe remained silent and still as the Elements began to dance around the Childe of her Heart. She sensed her eldest twin son stand behind her, holding his breath while he too watched on in awe and even with a bit of envy. While Váli might not possess his father's ability for magik nor his twin's unique flavor of magik, he did possess an affinity of his own with the Beast, specifically the Wolf, which pleased Loki greatly.
Váli's affinity came to him just one harvest season ago, but when Thefarie did not gain his affinity during the same season, both he and his father were concerned. His mother just smiled and replied that it was not yet time for the younger twin. Even Thefarie agreed. The younger golden-haired confessed to his brother that same evening that he could feel his magik still stirring and not yet ready to settle.
Váli did not question further. After all, who was he to question his brother's magik. However, now at this moment, the young man just wished a vættr to make itself known and bond with his brother already!
The small family had been in the forest all morn and soon twilight would be upon them. Váli did not move for fear of angering the spirits. They were quite temperamental. The darker blonde knew that the only reason why they were behaving was because the vættir feared his mother. He continued to watch as the vættir battled each other for the honor to bond with Thefarie.
The spirits were drawn to his younger brother's powers and yet at the same time they were repelled by the smaller blonde's power. It was as if the vættir could taste the taint of Hel that had marked Thefarie since his birth…
Váli remembered once asking if being touched by Hel would doom his brother to Hel's presence. His mother lightly laughed and proclaimed loudly and proudly for all to hear that Thefarie was her Childe and none would harm her Childe lest they wished to be Devoured. It was a strange proclamation, but it eased Váli's worries… after all if their mother said not to worry then there was nothing to worry about.
Suddenly the clearing exploded with a blast of magik, causing all of the vættir to scatter and disappear… all but save one… Thefarie's vættr…
Váli stepped away from his mother's protective presence and stepped closer to his brother. Thefarie had collapsed from exhaustion and was curled around - as equally as the vættr curled around Thefarie - the most strangest looking vaettr that the older blonde had ever seen.
It was tall and lithe as an álfr, and it had to be strong… after all, it did defeat the other vættir. Its mane was black as a moonless winter night. Its flesh was pale, but Váli could see a faint sheen of pale green when the fading sunlight hitting the vættr just right. It had álfr ears. Ears that were the same size as a mortal's ear but pointed. Váli could not see the vættr's face for it was buried in Thefarie's neck, but the older twin did notice the vættr's hands. Blue eyes grew wide as he turned to his mother, who stared at the vættr with a soft smile.
Instead of mortal nails, the vættr had jagged black stone claws… much like his mother's when provoked to kill. Váli knew that despite their fragile appearance, those claws had the ability to tear the heart out of any mortal. He instinctively came closer to his brother, causing the vættr to look up. Váli took a step back as he stared into a pair of pure pitch black orbs. The vættr's lips drew back, revealing a set of sharp canines and growled.
Thefarie stirred a bit as he barrowed deeper onto his vættr's chest.
"Spaak, stop." The youngest twin whispered before promptly falling back to sleep.
Váli blinked. Of course, his brother would name his vættr something silly as 'Spaak'. Thefarie was horrible at naming things. After all, the younger twin did name a pet bird Chirper because 'birds chirp'.
The newly named Spaak did as Thefarie commanded and stopped growling but continued to keep a wary eye on Váli and their mother, who lightly chuckled.
"You are a very long way from home, Spaak." His mother calmly stated.
"Móthir, is Spaak a svartálfr?" Váli asked, making his mother to look at him and shook her head.
"No, but he is from the Darkness of the Night." She explained, "His kind are called Tzitzimimeh by another… but it is rare for a Tzitzimitl to be male."
"So… it's ergi?"
"Váli Lokison." His mother's tone was scolding, causing the older twin to wince. "Your brother is a seiðmaðr as is your father, and neither are ergi."
She simply stated, knowing that there was no need to go further in insinuating that his father and brother were 'unmanily'; therefore, it was uncalled for Váli to have named the vættr 'unmanily'.
"Forgive me, Móthir." Váli bowed his head but looked up when he felt his mother's hand on his cheek.
"You are forgiven, but take caution with your words for they have power when spoken correctly or incorrectly."
"Yes, Móthir."
His mother smiled with pride, knowing that her son would keep her words to heart.
"Itzpapalotl…" Another voice whispered in the clearing.
His mother turned around while Váli frowned.
"She's not eet-ze-papa-lot-til." Váli stated with crossed arms when Spaak just looked at him curiously.
Spaak's sharp and angled brow arched.
"She's Móthir." The teen stated as if it was a universal truth.
Spaak's brow dropped. His head tilted to the side as if taking in the blonde's words into consideration. Then his fathomless black orbs looked down at the still sleeping Thefarie in his arms.
"Móthir…"
Móthir beamed in joy, which caused Spaak to tilt his head again.
"Curious…" Spaak whispered, "you are pleased."
"I am always pleased when a child calls me 'mother'." Móthir replied.
"Fascinating…" The vættr commented then continued, "The temperature has fallen. It will be best that we move to a warmer location."
Móthir looked to the skies, seeing the first inkling of the heavens becoming visible.
Váli frowned at the tzitzimitl's odd manner of speaking but pushed it aside knowing that Spaak was right. Nightfall was upon them, and Thefarie would be sensitive to the cold in his current state despite having Jötun blood coursing through his veins.
"Come." Móthir commanded as she turned to leave when suddenly her true form flared out.
Móthir's beautiful wings had unfurled and nearly encompassed the entire clearing with her wings. Váli knew that she was using her wings to hide him and his brother from any possible threats. The older twin saw his mother's nails had changed to the same obsidian knife-like talons that Spaak possessed. The blonde teen heard a deep threatening growl coming from Spaak. He hazard a chance to look at the vættr and was stunned to see the spirit's already long and sharp fangs had become even longer and sharper.
Váli knew then and there that Spaak would protect his little brother unconditionally. The teen would not be surprised if the tzitzimitl would become a dökkavættr, a pale masked creature that devoured souls, should any harm befall Thefarie.
Suddenly two figures emerged from the tree-line. They were tall men, sturdily built, and from the faint blue sheen of their flesh, Váli immediately recognized the two men as Jötnar. One of the Jötun was injured as he leaned heavily on the other or was it that the other held onto the injured one dearly. Váli did not know which, but he noted that the two men looked similar to one another… They were twins much like he and his brother. Váli's summer blue eyes looked at his mother nervously… Twins, while it was not were unheard of in some villages, were not always excepted by the other races…
The uninjured mysterious twin looked around the clearing in desperation as if searching for something or searching for someone. Finally the Jötun's red-hued eyes landed on his mother, still with the look of desperation and fear in his eyes. This made Váli nervous. Jötnar were known to be fearless, and for one to be afraid, whatever they were running from must be truly frightening.
"Mercy, please, mercy!" The uninjured Jötun cried out.
Spaak stopped growling and looked toward Móthir as did Váli. The tzitzimitl was curious as to what the small woman would do.
Móthir shifted her wings, giving the Jötnar twins clear view of Váli and his own twin. A fleeting look of surprise and gratitude crossed the Jötun's face as he dragged the injured one toward the younger pair of twins.
Instinctively Váli helped lower the injured one to the ground and let out a yelp of surprise at the injuries. Living in the outskirts of the village, in the wilds and a land filled with clan fighting, Váli was not unaccustomed to seeing horrific wounds, but the injuries that the Jötun had was nothing like the blonde had seen.
"Helblindi…" The uninjured Jötun gently whispered as he gently brushed the injured one's dark mane away from his face.
" 'twas no' our brother we sensed, bu' we are safe… do no' leave me, please, Brother…"
"I cannot sense what hunts your and yours." Móthir said after a moment had gone by, and she knelt by Váli and the injured Jötun.
The uninjured twin looked up and took in his surroundings for himself.
Móthir took no offense that the Jötun would doubt her.
"Come, we must return to the house." Móthir stated as she fluidly stood up. "We can better attend to your brother there… Váli, take your brother… Spaak, take our injured friend… and you…" She peered down to the Jötun, who began to protest of being separated from his twin, "Protect us from those who would attack from behind."
"Bu' ya sense nothin'…"
"That may be, but I rather not be taken unaware." She replied, "Come."
They quickly carried Móthir's instructions and hurried back to their little farm on the outskirts of the village. Once inside, Spaak laid the injured Jötun by the fire and followed Váli to the upper loft, where the blonde teen laid his brother down. There the two waited until Móthir would call for them.
The uninjured Jötun watched as the dark-skinned woman used her magik to tend to his brother. He watched as she began at his brother's chest.
"Wait! His eyes!" He cried out.
"He has trouble breathing… to breathe is more important than to see, do you not agree?" Móthir answered without looking up from her task.
He stayed silent and continued to watch, unmoving.
Móthir frowned when she sensed the black magik that was used against the Jötun. She was amazed at the injured Jötun's fortitude. She knew of many who had died from less. She then turned her attention to the Jötun's injured eyes and slowly let out a heavy sigh.
She felt a pair of cool hands - twice the size of her own tiny hands - wrap around hers.
The injured Jötun had woken up.
"Brother…" The other whispered in surprise.
"Fear not, my dear Lady…" His voice was a bit hoarse, "As you had said… to breathe is more important…"
"Helblindi…" His brother whispered.
"Please, my Lady, tell me…" Helblindi licked his dry lips, "Why do I sense my brother's magik on you and yet I do not hear him."
This caused Helblindi's twin to look up and for the first time really looked at the woman, who smiled a small knowing smile as if she held all the secrets of the known world.
"You sense Loki's magik here because this is his home, but he is not here. He is helping a friend against the Saxons that have come and threaten our home." She then leaned closer and spoke softly, "As to why you sense his magik on me… I am his wife -"
X
"My Queen Qebehout…"
She glanced at the pale figure, who knelt on his left knee reverently before her. Her obsidian-talon hand gently pushed her equally black-ceramic jackal mask on top of her head, revealing her unique amethyst gems and homely face. She stared at the kneeling kekammitebanhk with lingering hope dancing in her eyes… she knew this white creature before he was a kekammitebanhk.
"Helblindi…" Her voice quaked in barely contained hope.
The ancient Jötun looked up, revealing his scar-covered face. His wounds from eons ago had long since healed, but they had left their mark in the form of his lost sight in that life and in this life. The flesh around his eyes had healed over, protecting his unseeing eyes for all eternity. And although blind, he had felt her presence the moment his Queen had entered the Land of White Sands and as she drew nearer. He soon felt her hands caress his face as if to assure herself that Helblindi was no dream.
"You are real…" Qebehout whispered.
"As real as you, my Queen."
"And my Husband?" She whimpered.
He gently smiled.
"As real as you."
She gasped in joy as she felt her eyes sting with tears and wrapped her arms around the Jötun's neck in a hug.
"Where?" she asked, "Where is my Husband?"
"He will sense your presence shortly..."
Qebehout nodded her head as she looked around for her Husband.
"Come, my Queen, we must hurry." Helblindi stated as he gathered his Queen to her feet.
"Hurry?"
"I know what you seek, my Queen."
"Oh?" She challenged but absently noticed how often the Jötun had called her 'my Queen'… as if trying to assure himself of her presence as well…
"The Qebechsenuf."
Qebehout's expression became blank as she looked at her long-time friend, who only responded to the silence with an impish grin.
"Thefarie is quite the Bard." Helblindi gently whispered, which relaxed his Queen's demeanor as she remembered her Childe.
"That he is…" She softly whispered.
"He spoke of your quest to avenge your family and bring justice to those who wronged Pesdjet eb Setesh, Pesdjet eb Anpu…" The blind Jötun continued as he lead his Queen further into the catacombs of the white citadel. "When the Twilight came upon us and we were scattered, I took upon your Charge once I regained my memories when I became a dökkavættr."
He felt her hand upon his arm, causing him to tilt his head toward her direction.
"It was you." She stated in amazement in realization that the one, who gave her and her brother information on how to find the canopic jars that held Setesh's Names, was her faithful general.
Helblindi only nodded his head, knowing what she had meant. After Ragnarökkr and after he regained his memories, the blind Jötun had sought out the locations of Setesh's Names hidden in the four canopic jars made from the Red God's broken kekammitebankh mask. And after the Twilight, the jars were stolen from the Pesdjet eb Anpu by those loyal to Ausar. Ausar had then given the jars as trophies of his conquest against the Pesdjet eb Anpu to his sister-wife, Auset, and his sister-mistress, Nebt-het.
Helblindi was able to return one of the stolen Names to Anpu, who then disappeared from the mortal plane with it. It was not until centuries later would the Jötun discover the location of the remaining three jars. While Imset the Southern Man was out of his reach in Ausar's celestial estate, Helblindi still knew of its location at all times thanks to his own unique affinity, the Jigokucho, the Hell-Butterflies. And as he thought about it, he would hazard a guess that if his Queen as here then her brother, Kabexnuf, must have the Imset.
The Jötun also knew that once his Queen possessed Qebechesnuf the Western Falcon, she and her brother would seek out Hapi the Northern Baboon. Helblindi had to smile at the thought of the Hapi's location and history.
The ancient being found it amusing that the Hapi jar had been stolen from Auset by a simple mortal thief, and it was rumored that the mortal thief was gifted with ability to not only See but also to purify what he could See. A gift given to him by long exposure to the Hapi jar. Also if Helblindi's knowledge held true, the jar was still in the possession of the thief's bloodline.
The blind Jötun hurried his steps as they drew nearer to the more hidden catacombs of the citadel, where the heart of the citadel's defenses laid. As they turned into the corridor, Helblindi felt his Queen pause and heard her gasp.
"Setesh…" She whispered then hurried pass her general when she felt the familiar tendril of her beloved uncle's aura.
The Jötun easily matched Qebehout's stride as they ran into the most central heart of the citadel.
"Halt! Who goes there?!" A graveled voice echoed throughout the nearly empty chamber.
Helblindi sneered at the presence of the small squad of Exequias guarding the Qebechesnuf. The blind being was normally even-tempered, but when he heard a series of dead soul-swords unsheathing, his temper flared that was common among the Jötnar.
"You dare draw your swords against Mictecacihuatl?!" The Jötun roared. No matter what form a Jötun may take in this life or the next, a Jötun was loyal to their King or Queen and any threat to their King or Queen would be dealt with, with extreme prejudice.
"I don't know who you are, Numeros, but we were given the task to protect the Power Stone. Turn back or prepare to die, Traitor." One of the Exequias ordered.
Helblindi stood protectively before his Queen, who wore her jackal mask. His hands flexed as he drew his ancestral powers to the surface, summoning his faithful weapons, Ukonvasara the Ice Thunder, a war hammer, and Ridill the Red Death, a dwarf-made short-sword.
"My Lady Moon, forgive me for my oversight." Helblindi began as he stalked toward his prey, "Grant me leave to dispatch these unworthy dökkavættr to the Void and reclaim what is rightfully yours."
"Traitor!" The Exequias cried.
"General Helblindi…" Qebehout's voice was calm and cool, leaving no doubt that the jackal-masked woman was Queen, "by your leave, remove these filth from my sight and return Qebechesnuf the Western Falcon to me."
X
A surge of an unknown power flooded the white citadel, startling all the denizens within and forcing the weaker creatures to flee for safety while the more stronger ones looked upon one another in curiosity.
X
From the throne room, a pair of cold and dead brown eyes narrowed as the false ruler of the White Sands tried to identify the source of that power surge. It felt similar to the creatures that surround him, but somehow it felt more pure… a natural kekammitebanhk! The false king mentally shrieked in outrage.
Without second thought, the false king bellowed for his Exequias to seek out and destroy the natural kekammitebanhk…
X
From a hidden bedchamber, a pair of amber-cerise eyes snapped open from his slumber. Gracelessly and half dressed, Loki stumbled out of his bed and nearly collided with his equally half-dressed brother. Neither said a word to one another as they immediately recognized their brother's reiatsu.
And without second thought, the sons of Laufey left the sanctuary of their little apartment to seek out and protect their brother.
X
From the depths of a hidden lab, a vicious creature looked up from his prey as an unfamiliar reiatsu cascaded over him. A frown marred his pale face as he attempted to find the source of the reiatsu but found no one in his lab. He looked down at his prey, who laid out before him, flushed with a fever and yet still clinging to life.
It was not long ago that his prey had dishonored their master and creator, and was subsequently punished for that dishonor. However, unlike so many of others, who were punished and de-evolved to their lesser form as consequence of the punishment, this one maintained his higher form albeit his power level was weaker than before.
Their master and creator was curious as to how it was possible that the disobedient blue-haired feline could still maintain his higher form, thus he gave the pink-haired monster leave to discover the feline's secrets. The vicious creature took great pleasure in abiding his master's command, and he relished ripping screams of agony from the once proud feline.
Suddenly the strange reiatsu flared a second time, catching the pink-haired creature's attention even more.
"How curious…" He whispered as he casually twisted his nails within his prey, who let out a quiet moan, "It seems that a natural Arrancar had stumbled into Los Nochas… I would love to study such a creature." He flexed his hand, eliciting another groan from his prey before withdrawing his nails. He studied his blood-coated hand before licking the brightly color liquid clean. Leaning over his prey, he forcefully stole a kiss from his barely responsive captive.
"I'll return to finish this shortly, my dear." He whispered in mock tenderness and disappeared into the darkness.
Pale blue, glazed eyes stared into nothingness when he sensed the presence of another. Subconsciously he let out a whimper in pain and fear, thinking that his tormentor had returned as promised.
"Peace, brother of my soul…" A soft voice whispered.
He let out another whine as he recognized the soft, feminine voice. He had not heard Her voice since his punishment and had truly feared that She had left him.
"Never, my dear one…" She whispered, confusing him… had he spoken his fears out loud?
A cool chuckle echoed throughout the lab as he felt his bonds release him from his prison.
"I know your thoughts, Brother, as I know my own…"
He accepted Her words as truth as he weakly slide off the table that held him. His body protested against the movement as he staggered to his feet. His vision was blurry from pain, injury and fever, but he could still see Her, his Soul-Sword, standing before him as if She was of flesh and blood.
"Forgive me…" She asked as she held out her hand.
He reached out with his own broken hand.
"I could not risk being discovered and not be able to help you now…" She explained.
He gave Her a weak smile, showing Her that She was forgiven. While it may be true that he feared She had left him, he was also grateful that they knew nothing of Her. With the exception of the three Soul Reapers and himself, none of the others could speak with their Soul-Swords. He knew that if they learned of his Soul-Sword then She would be taken from him, leaving him truly alone. And despite his bravado and proverbial lone-wolf attitude, he feared being alone above all else.
"You are never alone, brother-of-mine…" She whispered and began to fade… or was he losing his vision…
"We must hurry…" Her voice began to draw away, causing him to stumble after Her.
He tried to speak, but his voice was hoarse from the abuse he had suffered; however, She knew what he wanted to say.
"We must aide our true Queen, the Lady Moon…" She whispered in excitement.
A weak frown covered his face. He did not want serve anyone, but if She was excited… then maybe this Lady Moon was worthy of them.
"She is, brother-of-mine…" His Soul-Sword purred, "Ragnarökkr will befall on the false rulers of the Celestial City and the Land of White Sands… and a new Dawn will rise, signaling a new Era for all…"
X
The Lady Moon gracefully walked into the antechamber that housed the Qebechsenuf the Western Falcon, ignoring the Exequias being systemically executed by her faithful General. She had absolute faith that her blind friend would protect her from those who threatened her and her mission. She also knew that despite the Jötun's mild manner, Helbindi can be as equally ruthless as his brothers, Býleistr and Loki.
She gave her General a passing glance before stepping onto the dais. Her beautiful, multi-colored wings had unfurled while her obsidian talons unsheathed themselves when she felt the familiar aura of her beloved uncle caress against her own aura. She reached out for the Qebechsenuf but paused when she felt some sort of ward. A frown marred her face. She gently caressed the invisible ward that separated her from her prize, and her frowned deepened.
She easily suspected that the ward at one time had been extremely powerful. It had probably been powerful enough to completely hide Setesh' unique reiatsu that emanated from the ancient artifact… but now… it would seem that time had begun to weaken the ward. Weaken enough that Setesh's aura began to bleed through.
"All infidels die!" A gravel voice bellowed, causing the Lady Moon to glance over her shoulder as an Exequias charged at her.
"My Queen!" Helblindi cried in horror in realization that he would not reach his Queen in time.
In that moment, time seemed to slow down.
Helblindi rushed to his Queen's side.
The Lady Moon just merely watched with dispassion as she sensed the creature's essence flicker in and out of existence… his death was upon him… and in the short distance, a soft and breathy voice commanded…
"Cero…"
A flash of brilliant light enveloped the antechamber before striking down the charging Exequias.
The Exequias then crumbled to ash and dust.
Helblindi immediately stood guard before his Queen, letting out a low, feral growl but there was no more enemies for him to battle.
The chamber echoed with heavy panting and blood dripping.
The Lady Moon placed a calm hand on her General's arm as she stepped away from his protective frame to look at her rescuer.
She watched as the pale creature leaned heavily on the wall before sliding to the floor and staining the obscenely white walls. Although crumbled to the floor, she knew that the kekammitebanhk was a tall and lithe figure. He wore a pair of blood-stained, tattered hamaka. She could see his missing Centre, which caused her to arch her unseeing brow. Absently she thought it a bit strange to come across a kekammitebanhk, whose missing Centre was in the same location as the intestines that one would traditionally place in the Qebechsenuf.
A fragment of his Death Mask rested along the right side of his cheek and jaw. His left arm was missing, and the wound was black with infection. His short, teal-blue hair was clumped together due to blood and sweat. His eyes were a unique shade of teal, blue and grey; however, she suspected due to the pain and fever his brightly colored eyes had dulled to a steely shade of grey.
She gently reached out, pushing back his matted hair with the care of mother tendering to a child.
"Mah… my Queen…" He breathlessly whimpered.
She tilted her head to the side.
"Have we meet before, young one?"
"Sh… she was right…" He whispered instead of answering.
The Lady Moon pushed her mask on top of her head and looked at the fevered warrior, whose eyes grew wide at the sight of the beautiful woman before him.
His arm shook as he lifted his broken hand to touch the dark skinned woman. His cold and blood-stained hand barely touched her warmer flesh when what little strength he had left deserted him.
Instinctively Qebehout caught his falling hand. Her brows furrowed together as a memory teased at the back of her mind. Her free hand hovered over his missing Centre. She closed her eyes as she gathered her magik and began pouring it into his Centre.
Reflexively his grip tightened around Qebehout's hand as his body bowed under the onslaught of power coursing through. His eyes rolled back as memories that were once his became unlocked and flooded his mind… too much… too fast… and then nothing as he easily slipped into the blissful nothingness of sleep.
Qebehout reached out, raking her hand through the kekammitebanhk's blue hair. She did not know him, but she knew of him. She looked at her blind General, who turned his attention toward the sleeping kekammitebanhk's direction. Fluidly she stood on her feet and walked to the Qebechsenuf. Behind her, she could hear Helblindi gently gather the unconscious warrior into his arms.
"Óttar…" Helblindi's voice was barely above a whisper, but in the deafening silence, the Lady Moon heard him nonetheless and heard the deep-seated longing in the Jötun's voice.
Qebehout softly smiled at the reunion of the long separated lovers.
"Aww… who woodda though' tha' Grimmie was Óttar…" A familiar voice drawled, causing Qebehout to snap around and gasp.
A sharp breath caught the intruder's attention as his eyes grew wide at the vision before him.
Standing before him was the most beautiful woman that haunted his dream-memories the past fortnight. Her small frame made her look more like a woman-child than a full grown woman. Her golden brown complexion against the pale blue kalasiris - a simple sheath dress commonly worn by the women-folk of her people - gave her a golden hue. Her long, raven-black locks cascaded down her shoulders and back, making his fingers itch to be buried within the thick tresses. Her amethyst eye glowed and glittered with love as they looked upon him.
"Qe…" Loki breathed in a whimper, wondering if he had fallen asleep again to be seeing of his beautiful Outlander.
He took a step forward followed by another and another until he found himself standing before the phantom of his wife. He hesitantly reached out, his hand hovering a breath's away from the beloved specter.
Her own hand shook as she too reached out for him.
Neither wavered their gazes from one another as if afraid that everything they were seeing was truly a dream.
Hesitantly a pale hand clutched onto a dark one.
Twin gasps echoed throughout the antechamber as two sets of hands ghosted over one another, confirming that yes the other was real.
Soon a faint pearl of laughter escaped their lips as they pulled together their bodies.
"Qe…" Loki whispered again and again before pulling his Beloved flush against his firm frame and pulled her into a soul-deep kiss.
Qebehout let out a throaty moan as she instinctively wrapped her arms around her husband's neck and surrendered to him.
How long had they dreamt of this moment? To be reunited and be as One?
Her talons clawed into his pale flesh while his own fingers dug into her's, leaving bruise marks, in attempts to claw their way into the other and never be separated again.
How long did they stay in each other's embrace? They did not know and knew that it was not enough to make up for the eons lost between them… never enough…
KREE… KREE… KREE…
The entire citadel roared in alarm, causing the reunited lovers to pull away.
Loki growled viciously as he stared at his brother.
"Kill whoever comes 'is way." The albino commanded.
Býleistr dropped to his left knee in a bow as he crossed his right arm across his chest.
"As ye command, my Lord Loki."
"Helblindi, take your mate and flee." Qebehout ordered, "He is stable for now but still weak… when the time is right, our enemies will learn of their folly of separating us from our Beloveds."
"As you command, my Lady Moon."
And with that, the ancient lovers were left alone.
Loki then turned to the dais containing the Qebechsenuf. His hand on the hilt of his zanpaku-to. Within a blink of an eye, Shinso became unsheathed, cutting through the ward and dais that held the Qebechsenuf the Western Falcon.
With Shinso sheathed once more, Loki picked up the ancient artifact then turned to his Outlander, who watched on with love and longing in her eyes.
Faithfully the proud Northman dropped his left knee, his head bowed and the Qebechsenuf held high above his head.
"Qebehout," He reverently spoke, "my Lady Moon, Mistress of the White Sands 'nd my beloved Wife, accept 'is tribute of my Love 'nd Devotion to Thee…"
Qebehout's hands gently caressed her husband's pale hands as she gladly accepted the canopic jar.
"Rise, my Beloved Husband, Loki, Son of Laufey," She commanded, "having you in my arms and life once more is tribute enough."
Loki did as commanded, wrapping his arm around her slender waist, drawing her in for another soul-searing kiss.
In the distance, the battle between Býleistr and the Exequias can be heard, causing Loki to draw away from his wife. He gently peppered her face and neck with butterfly kisses before gently whispering.
" 'ere's one more tribute tha' aye will bes'ow upon ya and yers." His tone was a dark purr that sent delightful shivers through her being and soul.
Before she could ask what more her Beloved intended to give, another voice boomed throughout the chambers.
"Ichimaru Gin!"
Loki growled as he glared at the Exequias, who broke his moment with his wife.
"You traitor! When Aizen-sa -" The Exequias did not finished its threat as its head tumbled down from its shoulders and its body crumbled into dust
Loki stood protectively before his Queen with Shinso in hand.
"My tribute?" Qebehout teased but curious at the sudden display of ruthlessness that her husband showed.
Loki turned back to his Lady Moon, not getting enough of having her in his arms.
"No' quite." He murmured between kisses.
"My apologies, my Queen… my Brother." Býleistr interrupted, causing the noble pair to look at the Jötun as he kicked the Exequias' half-crumbled head away. "Tha' one got pass me."
"The others?" Loki demanded as he subconsciously tightened his hold on Qebehout.
"Dealt with, bu' we mus' hurry. It would be a matter of time before the False-Face will send its Espadas."
Loki nodded his head and guided his Outlander out of the citadel.
"There is much unknown to me…" Qebehout quietly whispered as she followed her husband through the citadel's maze.
" 'ere's, my Beloved, bu' now's no' the time."
"Agreed…"
They ran through the corridors without incident and rushed out the hidden catacombs into the open air.
FATHER! A surprised voice send, startling Loki in mid-stride.
He turned around and stared wide-eyed before a childish smile grace his face at the sight of his Childe.
"Sleipnir!" He breathed then turned to his wife in pleading hope, "Who else 'ave been found?"
Qebehout lowered her eyes in shame. She then felt a strong hand lift her head as she gazed into her husband's beautiful amber-cerise gems.
"When this's over, we will find 'em… All of 'em." Loki vowed, making his wife smile.
She immediately let out an undignified yelp of surprise as her husband manhandled her onto Sleipnir's back, Sire of the Nightmares, Hell Horses.
"Go! Before Nebt-het the False-Face comes!" Loki ordered his Childe with a harsh slap to Sleipnir's rear.
"What?!" Qebehout cried while holding on her adopted Childe's mane.
Sleipnir heeded his father's command and sprinted away from the citadel before his Lady Moon could order him to turn around, leaving Loki and Býleistr to stand and watch as they disappeared from Hueco Mundo.
"She will be mos' displeased with ye, Brother." Býleistr mumbled.
"Then aye mus' ensure tha' aye ge' Nebt-het's head as Tribute." Loki stated off-handedly as he slowly returned to the citadel, "Only de bes' tribute fer my Queen, 'nd wha' be'er 'an the head offa one who betrayed my Lady Moon, her kin 'nd our family?"
Soon Aizen… Loki maliciously thought as the shadows enveloped him in their protective embrace, Aye'll presen' yer head to my Queen 'nd de Red God.
Translations:
Jötun (-nar [pl]) - Frost Giant
Mictecacihuatl - Goddess of the Underworld
Mictlan - Underworld
Dís - spirit of fate
Vættr (-ir [pl]) - nature spirits
Álfr - elf
Svartálfr - black elf (reference to hair and eye color)
Tzitzimimeh [pl], Tzitzimitl [sing] - deities/spirits associated with stars
Seiðmaðr - male practitioner of magic
Ergi - 'unmanly'
Itzpapalotl - warrior goddess, who rules over Tamoachan, paradise, and the Tzitzimimeh
Dökkavættr - dark nature spirit
Kekammitebankh - Dark Devour of Life
Pesdjet eb Setesh - House of Setesh
Pesdjet eb Anpu - House of Anubis