The casket was long gone. Eighteen years gone, in fact. Helblindi scowled as he survyed the once grand palace of ice and stone. When he had taken up the throne, he vowed that the Aseir would pay for their crimes.

The casket was only the beginning. The war with the Aseir had destroyed Helblindi's life. His friends had been killed, his mother, his baby brother. After the war, his father had never been the same. He never smiled, never played with him, never acted like himself. Laufey hadn't died in the war, but Helblindi still felt as though he had lost his father.

Jotunheim had been poverty-stricken for years. People perished on the streets. Some from illness, some from cold. Oh yes, Jotuns could die from the cold, especially without food or shelter.

Things would be different now, though. Things would be better. The Aseir thought the Jotuns to be dull and slow-witted, but Helblindi would prove them wrong. He had been working on a plan to bring Asgard to its knees, just as it had done with his home.

First, though, he would need to slip inside the palace walls. Not Helblindi himself, of course, that would be far too risky. No, he needed someone who could pass for an Aseir, and he knew just where to find them.

He left his drafty room in what was left of the palace and set off for the Ironwood. The sun began to set as he trudged through the woods, the wind biting his face like an angry beast. The air was so cold it began to rip the inside of his throat with every breath.

It shouldn't be much farther, he assured himself, if I've gone the right way. The sunlight was fading quickly, he hoped that he would soon reach the house of the sorceress, for Jotunheim's cold would grow ten times worse at night.

Then, when the young king had almost given up hope, he saw a light flicker amongst the branches of a thicket. With newfound energy, he picked up his pace and reached it within a matter of minutes. The house was a small cottage with bushes and vines growing up towards the roof. It was so heavily covered that it hardly looked like a house, rather it was part of the forest. Nervously, the monarch tapped on the door three times, praying the sorceress would be merciful.

"Enter," came a deep, sultry voice from the other side. With releif, Helblindi opened the door and embraced the cottage's warmth. "And what does the new king want from a humble spellcaster such as myself?" she drolled.

"I came to ask for your help," answered Helblindi breathlessly. The sorceress looked him over. "Rest a moment," she ordered, "you look an inch from death." Helblindi eased himself down next to the hearth.

"Drink this," she said, handing him a cup of something hot. He recognized it as tea made from crushed pine needles. "Thank you," he rasped. As the drank the tea, he observed the woman in front of him.

The 'Witch of the Ironwoods' as she was known, had been around for quite some time. This woman didn't look much older than him, though. She was quite beautiful, really. Her hair was as white as the snow that fell outside, her eyes the deepest shade of crimson. When she spoke, Helblindi saw that her teeth were perfect, sharp fangs.

"The years have been kind to you, it seems," remarked Helblindi. Her eyes narrowed. "Is that some sort of jest?" she asked coldly. Helblindi tensed up. "N-no," he stammered, "I-I just meant that for someone who has lived as long as you, you look very young," he said.

"What do you mean 'as long as I've lived'?" she asked, eyebrow raised. "Are you not the famed Witch of the Iron Woods I have heard of?" asked Helblindi. "The one who infiltrated my grandfather's court for the sole purpose of letting the people know her magic was not dangerous?" The witch stretched out in her seat.

"You have most likely heard of my mother," she said with a sigh. "She died not but a few years ago," she explained. "She would have never died if not for the war, for she perished from the pox brought over by the Asgardians."

Helblindi shook his head. The pox had been terrible indeed. Few survived, and those who did were weakened, and usually perished from the cold afterwards.

"Her name was Inga, I am Angrboda," she said.

"I am sorry for your loss, Angrboda," said Helblindi. Angrboda nodded. "And I am sorry for yours, King Helblindi," she said. "Now, why do you need my help?" she asked.

Helblindi cleared his throat. "I have devised a plan to obtain the Casket of Ancient Winters. It involves getting someone inside Asgard's palace, someone who can pass for an Aseir," he explained. Angrboda said nothing, only stared at him with an intensity that made him nervous.

"I would need you to somehow worm your way into the palace," he continued, "which with what I have heard of your mother's magic, should not be too difficult. Then, once situated, you would wait for my signal, and allow us into the vault. Then we would take the casket, along with anything else we can find, and attack them from the inside."

She stared at him for a few moments longer. "I hope you realize it will take a long time to gain their trust," she said. Helblindi nodded. "I'm counting on it," he said, "for in that time, you can relay as much information as possible back to me."

"And what makes you think I can even get to Asgard in the first place?" she asked with a hint of annoyance. Again, Helblindi nervously cleared his throat. "I heard tales of your mother traveling from realm to realm without the aid of any magical artifacts, is this not true?"

Angrboda furrowed her brow slightly. "Yes, it is true. It is very difficult, but it can be done," she said, "I have traveled to many realms since the war."

"Then why stay here?" inquired Helblindi. "Why not live in a world where you can have food on your table every night?" Angrboda's eyes swept around the little cottage. Her lips curled into the smallest of smiles. "Because this is my home," she said softly.

"Would you make the sacrifce of leaving your home to save its people?" Helblindi asked somberly. Her firey eyes shot back to him.

"The king and queen of Asgard have two sons the same age as you and I. All I must do is get one wrapped around my finger, and you may have your war," she said, "I will leave in the morning if you wish." Revenge burned like a flame in her eyes.

Helblindi smirked. "Thank you, Angrboda, Jotunheim is forever in your debt."