There was no time before Yggdrasill, and there would be none after. Yggdrasill always was the Great Ash Tree which spread across the Nine Realms. At its roots lay three of those realms: Niflheim, Jotunheim, and Asgard. It was there, beneath those roots and mystic wells springing up to feed the Tree, that the Norns lived. These sisters three wove the fate of the realms in their hands and kept all in balance. As time passed, beings rose who threatened the delicate nature of fate with their thirst for chaos. Thus, the sisters used their magic to appoint the Children of Norn. A being from each realm was chosen, bound by duty to Yggdrasill to keep the realms in balance no matter the cost. The Children were granted strength and knowledge, gifts of dark matter and the Sight. Yet, their sacrifice was high, for their paths were solitary and harsh. Upon the death of a Child, another would simply take the vacant place. So the Children fought and died one after the other until those who served chaos declined, and the Children themselves were little more than legend.


Roska was crouched on a spire of Hlidskialf, the seat of Odin. She was not concerned that anyone would look up and see her, a black spot tarnishing the gold. Magic rendered her invisible to all gazes. In fact, she went unseen at all times unless she should consciously choose otherwise, one of the traits of the Children. Even Heimdall could not track her movements. She looked out over Asgard, seeing all at once, from the guard far below her positioned straight against a pillar, to the great pattern of life spread out from the palace to the Rainbow Bridge. All was as it should be, and yet.

Roska could sense it in the same way creatures sense an impending storm. She had consulted the runes, reached with her Sight, and even prayed to Mimir, the fount of all knowledge. For her efforts, the only answer she received was that which she already knew. Something was coming.

Knowing that this would likely be no more than another vain attempt, she closed her eyes. In her mind, she pictured golden threads spinning round and round on a wheel. Gradually the sounds and cool sting of the wind around her faded, and she dipped into a trance. Using the image of the thread as a guide, she expanded her mind outwards, pulling upon the thread from the wheel. The thread anchored her and kept her from slipping too far away from herself. Many Seers had tried to extend their gaze beyond their reach and been lost.

Forward Roska pushed, trying to peer into That Which Is To Be. She caught a glimpse of a large flying craft, not of Asgard, no – not quite so advanced, dipping towards the ground and a tower with the word 'STARK' emblazoned upon it. From the top of the tower, a white light beamed up towards the sky. Then… nothing. There was only a shadowy mist. Roska was not the most accomplished Seer, but she had never encountered a hindrance such as this one. There was something through that mist, and it was tied to the fate of Asgard; that much at least she could feel. She followed the thread backwards.

Her eyes fluttered open, drawn down by the sensation of heat against her neck. From amongst her amulets, she selected the one radiating heat, pinching the etched crystal between her fingers. Having been acknowledged, the crystal cooled. Odin was summoning her. He alone knew of her presence in this realm.

The King and Draugr, Child of Asgard, had worked together many times throughout the millennia. They had fought as well. It was in the nature of rulers to believe that the best interests of Asgard were served through them. They often forgot that the Draugr did not serve them, but the Norns. If the fall of Asgard was fated, Roska would have watched it burn, but she secretly hoped never to see that day. She had protected this realm for over a thousand years. This was her home.

Roska got up from her crouch, stretching the muscles that had long remained still. She was summoned rarely and never on good tidings. She thought of the mist and wondered whether this meeting was connected. It seemed likely.

To get inside the palace, Roska leapt down from spire to spire. Her armor gleamed liquid black, giving the metal a deceptively heavy appearance. She favored agility over brute force, and so between minimal armor plates she wore dyed, supple fabric that maximized movement. This allowed her to jump gracefully and silently until she landed on the railing of a balcony.

There was many a place on Asgard where she could have met Odin in secret. However, the disappearance of a king would not go unnoticed. The best place for such a meeting, then, was one hidden in plain sight where a disturbance was unlikely. The solution was a simple one. They convened in the king's chambers.

She stepped down onto the balcony and moved into the solar. Odin waited beside an ornately carved table, his eyes fixed on her but unseeing. She took a moment to observe him. His calm bearing was strained and deep shadows rested under his eyes. He had already fallen once into the Odin-sleep. His time as king was waning, but this was another matter. He was angry. It would be unwise to test his patience.

With a tingling sensation like a rush of blood, Roska made herself visible. She inclined her head respectfully but did not kneel.

"Draugr," Odin greeted.

"There is trouble," she noted, moving to the point of this meeting.

He nodded. "Midgard has been threatened."

Roska frowned. Midgard was hardly her concern. Moreover, Odin took a low view of Midgardians. She could not blame him. They were a newborn race, blundering about on unsteady legs. Still, from the few times she had visited the planet, she had found them amusingly stubborn.

If she had been summoned here, then it was the threat to Midgard which Odin must find disquieting. Roska thought of the primitive aircraft she had seen falling through the sky and the brilliant white light.

"By whom?" she asked.

The wrinkles in Odin's face seemed to deepen. "Loki."

Roska's eyes widened in a rare display of astonishment that she was quick to cover. She had attempted since his fall to keep an eye on the Jotun Prince. Runes consulted, her Sight stretched. She had caught glimpses of heat, shining blue, a long weapon she recognized as belonging to the Chitauri, and Loki's face dappled in sweat. She had also received an answer as to the reason the energy and magic around her warped when she turned her sights on Loki. He had fallen under a being of chaos whose powers were so great that they extended like a many-tendriled snare across the universe.

His name was Thanos, and because of him, Roska had given Loki up for lost. If Loki was on Midgard, it was Thanos' doing. Her lips curled in distaste. She would warn the Eir, Child of Midgard, as a precaution.

"This will be dealt with," she assured Odin.

"Yes, it will. I mean to send my son to retrieve him."

"Thor?" Roska was surprised for the second time, and she did not like it. "That is ill-advised."

"It is necessary. I do not have the strength to go myself," Odin explained. "And Thor must learn what it means to be king. That one must face a threat and do what is needed for the good of the realms, even if that threat is someone he loves."

Roska shook her head. "Loki has always been jealous of Thor. The sight of his brother will only anger him."

"Yes, and in anger, he may act in folly. That will be of benefit to Thor."

"At the detriment of Midgard."

Odin was unmoved. "Perhaps."

Roska dared to give the king a sharp look, but his mind was clearly set. She would not argue with him. There was a chance that this plan would work. Her fingers flexed by her sides as she thought the conundrum over.

"With the Bifrost broken, you will need dark matter to transport Thor to Midgard," she noted finally. "I will provide it if that is what you ask."

"It is."

There was more. Roska could see it in the way Odin stood. If he was done with her, he would have her dismissed.

"And?" she prompted.

"And I would ask you to accompany him."

"To protect him? I am no royal guard. If it is the will of the Norns that Thor die by Loki's hand, then die he shall," she reminded Odin.

Odin scowled as though she had slighted him, but replied, "No. I only ask that if Thor should fail, you will not."

Then she understood. "You fear that Thor will not kill his brother, even if there is no other hope for Midgard."

"If Loki gains control of that realm, he will turn his gaze on Asgard," Odin said in answer. He lifted his head. "Will you go?"

She hesitated, pensively grinding one heel into the carpet. "I will ask."

"How long?"

"One cannot know. Time means little to the Norns."

"But it does to us," snapped Odin, impatience loudening his words.

While his temper could quell many a man, Roska only sighed. It was true that this matter required the swiftest answer. Runes offered such a solution.

She approached the table, removing a pouch from the belt at her hip. Inside were dark blue stones from the well beneath Asgard, carved with runes that carried an ancient magic. She poured the stones carefully on the table and set the pouch aside. With Odin watching in attentive silence, she scooped up the rune stones in her hands. There were thirty-nine stones in all, each no larger than a fingernail.

After a deep breath, she chanted quietly in the same language as the runes. The sounds crackled like lightning, echoing as she drew energies towards her, both dark and light. The stones grew as cold as ice but she did not drop them. She asked for guidance from the Norns and clarity from Mimir. She wound the energy around the stones until her hands went numb. Only then did she cast the rune stones downward.

They scattered over the table, the runes glowing faintly until the stones had settled. Roska released all grasp on the gathered energies and peered down at the rune stones intently. Odin was looking over her shoulder, though he was not able to read them as she could.

What Roska saw in the stones made her still even as emotions clamored inside her, threatening escape. She almost swept the stones up to recast them in search of some mistake, but she knew there was nothing wrong with her casting. Her fingers clutched at the edge of the table for support. She had asked for guidance. This was the reply. She stared, feeling overcome.

Odin gave her a few moments, noticing the shift in her mood, before uttering, "Well? Have you your answer?"

Roska surveyed the stones once more and straightened up. She let out an uneven breath.

"Yes. I will go."


Author's Note:

Hello, readers! This is a quest based story, so I hope you enjoy lots of plot. I have adopted some terms from Norse mythology for this story, as well as invented a few of my own. I created a glossary that you can find at the end of this fic. Please feel free to request further clarification or just ask questions if you're curious. Finally, I plan on posting every other week, and will do my best to stick to that schedule. Happy reading, and may the Norns watch you.