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Chapter 2 – Survival

It had been a good two days since the accident occurred.

When Loki had fallen asleep in Tyr's arms, Tyr had found the perfect spot to convalesce. It was a good area in the forest to hide them, and the nearby cascade, roaring down a rocky slope, was perfect for a good dip.

The General had taken care of everything.

From setting up camp, to drying their clothes and belongings, to cleaning his and Loki's wounds, and even hunted for food while Loki had slept— but not one ounce of thanks came from the prince when he had woken up.

Tyr had gotten the silent treatment and the ruthless glares.

"How did I get roped into this?"

Even when Tyr graciously asked to treat Loki's wounds, the prince refused and worded that he could do it himself with the help of the herbs he picked up along the way. So Tyr kept his distance and waited, carefully watching the prince in silence.

But his patience ran thin.

Loki was pushing his luck, dangerously close to the edge.

"Stubborn prince," Tyr grimaced.

He leaned against a boulder, polishing his broadsword as he eyed Loki from the corner. Thor's arrogance was one thing, but Loki's was another. The young prince sat by the lake and played with the water.

Those emerald eyes were often distracted, dazed in memory or some such that it bothered Tyr. He had been a warrior for centuries and knew when an injury troubled someone, even if they put up a false sense of bravery.

Loki wasn't fooling anyone.

Why pretend as if the accident never occurred?

It made no sense.

"It's probably his pride taking over," Tyr decided and joked. "I'm not surprised. It most definitely runs in the family, yet it's stronger with this one."

He left it at that, but he couldn't help but stare at Loki's bandaged leg. He had watched the boy clean and apply herbs to it, and hoped it would be enough until they found a proper healer in the nearest village. Because Tyr knew that Loki was just as much of an incompetent fool as he was when it came to healing.

"Damn it all." He huffed. "Sentiments."

Tyr hated the situation.

His frustration showed with how hard he polished his broadsword. He reminded himself it was his job to take care of the princes' and he had no right to complain, but what Loki was doing was pushing at limits.

Tyr decided it was time to end this stupid charade.

"Loki."

He called with a highly effective tone that would make anyone turn around. Loki slowly turned his head, surprised that Tyr's own silence had ended.

"Yes?" He softly answered.

"Fill these up." Tyr ordered, throwing their wineskins at him. "All of it."

"Can you not get them on your own?"

"You are nearer."

"And you are lazy."

"We will leave sometime this evening." Tyr explained, half-lying about his reasons. "We have been here for too long and we're losing daylight. It's easier to walk at night undetected, and the moon will be full."

"It's not even midday." Loki scowled. "Can it not wait?"

"It's better to be prepared than to worry about them later."

Loki remained silent as he reached for the empty wineskins. Tyr shook his head at Loki's indifference and lack of knowledge in the wilds. The boy was smart, but inexperienced. That would happen to any pampered princeling who buries himself in books and spells meant for the fragile.

It was pathetic really.

He watched as Loki fulfilled his task, but not in the way the General would have liked.

Loki gracefully lifted his other hand, pointed at the water and twirled his finger. The water followed, cradled by magic, as it flowed up into the air and swirled into the wineskin. Loki did the same with the other one and sealed them tight.

A small smile of accomplishment was written on his face.

But Tyr made a disgusted noise.

"Is something wrong, Lord Tyr?" Loki sweetly asked. "Have I not fulfilled your request?"

The emphasis on the lord didn't go unnoticed. Loki usually did this to ensure no one forgot his authority as a prince of Asgard. So Tyr knew this was the beginning of another unpleasant conversation. By the nine, they will never get along. If this was the Norns' way of amusement, they were very-very cruel.

"You want to call yourself a warrior but this is what you do." Tyr scoffed, shaking his head in disappointment. "I should've known."

"What did I do wrong?"

"I do not want magic involved in carrying out such a measly task."

"I did as you asked."

"Clearly you have no qualms about risking your life," Tyr reminded him. "But I do, and as selfish as that is, your life is under my protection. Have you learned nothing during your mother's lectures?"

"I beg your pardon?" Loki looked absolutely outraged.

"I may not be well versed in magic nor knowledgeable in its arts, but I know it's intricately linked to the body, and your lazy attempt at getting water is testimony to that. Can you not do such a simple task that you would rather exhaust yourself to the point of collapse just for being inadequate?"

"I did as you asked." Loki hissed. "You did not specify how."

"Are you that stupid that I need to specify it?"

"Be thankful I did as you asked."

"You cannot rely on magic alone." Tyr chided. "One day, you will realize that simple tricks and illusions can't save your life."

That hit Loki hard.

It had always been the same criticism and verbal abuse.

Loki had heard it pronounced many times over the years, but more often whispered behind his back that not. They called him Argr for loving magic. They called him weak for refusing to fight in barbaric ways. They called him fragile and sensitive for being affected by their words or deeds.

Loki hated it.

He was sick of it!

"Fine," Loki dropped the wineskins. "Have it your way."

As refined as he was, Loki wasn't about to escalate their verbal sparring any further. With enough dignity left, he stood up and wobbled on his feet before walking to a nearby tree, far away from Tyr and his shameless ramblings.

The General watched him go.

Tyr didn't bother to get the wineskins, for doing so would concede defeat and Tyr wasn't about to lose to the likes of the trickster prince. Tyr palmed his face, beginning to repeat his earlier grievances and wondered why he ended up with Loki in the first place when Thor could have dived after his wayward brother.

But no…

He had to be a noble General.

"Norns preserve me," Tyr sighed, looking up at the sky. "It's going to be a long day, and there is only so much patience one man can handle by being near such a disaster of a person."

He really hoped things would get better.

But that was asking for too much.

oOo

"Who does he think he is?" Loki sulked.

To say such things to him with no restraint and so little respect, it was outrageous. He was still the prince of Asgard despite his lack of interest in the warrior ways of the Aesir. Yet Tyr had the nerve to chastise him about using his Seidr?

Oh, the infamy of it all!

"Magic takes skill and concentration," Loki bit his lips, shaking with fury. "It takes time and effort— control and dominance! It takes mastery!"

But what does Tyr know, he only knew how to swing a sword and— and use all forms of Asgardian weaponry, and he may be an excellent hand to hand combatant, but— but it didn't matter!

Loki's annoyance suddenly fell short.

Tyr was an excellent tactician and the best General in Asgard— but Loki, in everyone's opinion of him, was merely a spoiled child that pales in comparison, especially to Thor. They didn't care that Loki could match Tyr in tactics and strategy, that his wits and cunning were far greater than his age, and he was also adept at deception.

Yet no one cared.

Not unless he was muscular and athletic will anyone bat an eye at him.

When Loki recalled Tyr's harsh words, it hurt. It would forever be engraved in his heart as every other comment he had received over the years. Loki knew his skills no matter how flawed, and he most definitely knew his own limits.

But Tyr would never understand.

"I will show you," Loki embraced his knees, making himself as small as possible. "I will show every one of you. One day you will realize you were all wrong."

Loki wasn't that well versed in magic.

Not yet anyway.

He knew how to cast illusions, how to manipulate water and float certain objects, and he could do other things as well, small things, but nothing as great and extravagant as his father. Odin had a great many years of training and experience, and Loki wanted to match that— if not— be greater.

But the General seemed to have an aversion to anything mystical and magical.

Using magic was the least Loki could do.

He had feigned obedience, listened and filled up their wineskins, and even silently casted wards around the forest to warn him of any approaching danger to thank Tyr for caring for him, but how dense was the General to not see that?

It was awkward!

How was he supposed to thank him anyways?

"Honestly," Loki grieved. "When will this nightmare ever end?"

Loki winced as he patted his injury, feeling the dull ache as the herbs he placed finally worked its wonders. He had used them all up, and would have to pick some again along the way. He wished he had learned more of the technique from Lady Eir.

He had barely tackled it in his self-study.

"Oh well," Loki slouched, feeling his body weaken. "Perhaps one day."

Time stretched and the day continued.

It was a little late in the afternoon when Tyr returned from hunting fresh meat. Two rabbits to be precise. He threw one at Loki to skin. And despite Loki's aversion to gore, he said nothing and continued with the task he was assigned.

Loki cooked the skinned animal by the fire.

They sat opposite one another in silence, both refusing to give way to the other's stubbornness as they ate. There was nothing to discuss that they would both be interested in anyway.

"I would gladly take Thor's company any day."

Although Loki liked the quiet outdoors, it made little difference when someone kept eying him and giving off unrepressed judgmental stares. Loki was incensed. For the Norns to land two incompatible, unique individuals together for their amusement was nothing short of diabolical.

No doubt Tyr was thinking the same.

"When I get my hands on those three witches," Loki fictitiously vowed. "I will let them taste their own medicine."

The silence continued.

The moon was finally clear and visible in the sky.

Something nagged at the young prince, and his curiosity got the better of him. He snuck a look at Tyr and stared at the sapphire pools that were his eyes. They were dark and thoughtful, but also hid a bottomless secret.

Frigga had said Loki had a gift of being an empath.

But he couldn't read Tyr as well as he'd like.

Trying to piece together the mysteries of the General and his actions over the course of their journey, Loki hadn't realized that Tyr caught wind of his actions, mesmerized as he was.

Tyr coughed.

Loki snapped from his thoughts

Their eyes suddenly met, and Loki flushed. He looked away, humiliated for staring. He cursed himself for being so inattentive. He disliked showing weakness and how vulnerable he was. Never will he open up to anyone for them to use his secrets.

He heard Tyr's satisfied grunt. It was alarming and rather insulting, but the man had every right to judge after that debacle.

The Norns be damned for it.

"Finish your meal," Tyr fluidly spoke, looking up at the stars. "We will leave earlier than planned. It's not wise to stay around for more than a couple of days."

"I'm already done." Loki tersely answered.

"Good."

Tyr stood up, dousing the fire and securing his broadsword at his waist. He picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Loki grimaced at Tyr's impatience, but he was even more surprised when Tyr walked towards him.

"Yes?" Loki blinked.

"How do you want to be carried?" Tyr asked. "Front or back?"

"Excuse me?"

"I won't repeat myself again, now choose, we're losing moonlight. We need to find another shelter after this, and hopefully reach the next village."

"I can walk."

"I doubt that." Tyr scoffed. "Don't be stubborn."

"I don't need your help." Loki glared. "It's not that great of an injury and I applied herbs to it already."

"Carrying you would aggravate your wounds less."

"I will be fine for the rest of the night."

Loki really shouldn't lie, but his pride towered over his senses. He wanted to piss Tyr off for a reason unknown to him. In truth, the herbs effects were running out. His leg was starting to feel like it was on fire.

"I'm fine." Loki asserted. "I can walk."

"Not with that leg of yours."

"I told you—"

"Don't blame me if you trip and fall."

The General simply walked away without another word. Loki raised his hands, pretending to wring Tyr's neck. The man just kept walking, leaving Loki alone in the dismantled camp. Loki stood up too fast, wincing as he put too much weight on his leg.

He knew his stubbornness would bite him back sooner or later.

With that, Loki begun following.

oOo

Tyr was pleased.

Loki continued to grumble from behind as he followed the General at a slow pace. And victory, no doubt, had fallen to Tyr. Being the generous man that he was, he didn't boast nor rush him. He allowed Loki to see his folly. His leg would ache and he would be begging to be carried by midnight.

Tyr just had to be patient.

Yet it didn't stop him from worrying.

The prince's ramblings stilled, but the only indication of him following was his footsteps. As the hours grew by, Loki's trudges became fainter and fainter until Tyr could no longer hear it. Tyr's patience was a lost cause.

He was finally going to reprimand Loki for his foolishness.

Most likely the reason was Loki's attention span to all things outside that were affecting their travel. The boy just can't seem to still his curiosity.

"You can sightsee another time." Tyr voiced. "Keep up."

No answer.

"What are you doing?" He turned. "Delaying would attract unwanted attention and we have your brother to catch—"

Tyr's eyes widened as he saw Loki lying on the ground, embracing his body. He ran to him, kneeling down to check. He brushed a strand of hair off Loki's face and noticed the boy was flushed, panting heavily.

"Damn it," He cursed. "You never listen."

He unwrapped the bandages slowly and checked the wound.

The gash was slightly swollen and a little infected. Tyr should've insisted on the severity of such a wound. He took out the wineskin full of water and cleaned the gash as best as he could and redressed it.

"Maybe when you wake you would start listening."

Tyr warily lifted Loki, realizing just how thin and lean he was and not like the normal Aesir man. Odin's beard, Tyr could already count how many times he had to save the prince's life as well as the number of how far he had to carry him.

"At this rate," Tyr sighed as he started walking. "You would forever be in my debt."

That was something he would like to see.

Tyr trudged to a nearby cave and set up camp there.

Once Loki was settled in for the rest of the night, Tyr searched the area outside the cave for anyone traveling along its path. He noticed the road was recently trampled on, and not by any animal.

"Dangerous area," He deemed. "But we need fresh food and water."

Tyr looked back at the figure, huddled in a blanket, by the fire in the cave. He would have to leave Loki alone to obtain these necessities and cook something special. It was getting colder each day, so a soup would suffice. He just needed some berries and fruit, some water, and meat, and it would be perfect.

It was a secret specialty of his, but it wasn't something he would boast about. No warrior seemed to think he could cook anyway.

By the nine…

If Loki found out he could make a decent meal, Asgard would fall.

Tyr walked back into the cave and unclasped his cloak. He gently placed it on Loki's body and watched the prince sleep. Loki seemed to be glowing slightly, if it that was a thing? Tyr narrowed his eyes, perhaps it was his magic healing him.

It was odd.

He'd never noticed before but…

Tyr shook his head.

He really shouldn't dwell on it. He walked away, leaving Loki alone. He seemed to be doing it more often than not. But once Loki wakes, Tyr would give him a lecture of a lifetime, and he couldn't wait to do it.

It was just a more dignified term of, "I told you so."

oOo

Loki groaned.

He could feel the warmth of his magic radiating all over his body, trying to heal him slowly. He knew he had collapsed along the way. It was partly his fault for forcing his magic to heal him quickly.

Loki was untrained in its arts, and it was no small wonder why it backfired.

But what annoyed him most wasn't his inability to heal faster, nor was it him collapsing, it was Tyr's unprecedented comment about owing debts as he was carried away and lulled by the sweet comfort of sleep.

"Oh the humiliation…" He mourned.

He thought about it for a while, but sooner gave up.

It was only going to give him a headache apart from his already numbing body. Loki didn't want to open his eyes, loving the comfort of his position snuggled up in blankets and fur. He tried to listen for Tyr, but only the cackling of the fire resonated.

"I'm in a cave." Loki observed.

He didn't need to see to know where he was. The sound alone was enough. But where was Tyr? Surely the General couldn't wait to chide Loki for his lack of self-preservation and—

"Look here!" Someone voiced. "The ground's been trampled."

Loki tensed.

The unfamiliar voice accompanied another.

"So it is," A deep voice laughed. "Nicely done, Anarr."

"I told you I wasn't useless."

"Maybe you're not. Who cares?" He scoffed. "I see light over there, by that cave. We may have found trespassers. I told you the wolves were keepers. No small amount to pay with the catch we're going to get."

"Don't push your luck, Seldor." Another one said. "It might just be a farmer seeking shelter."

"You're delusional, Pavel." Anarr chuckled.

"Quiet!"

Loki was going to die.

His body was too weak to fight, and his magic was focused on healing his leg. Not only that, he was at a disadvantage of three to one. He was also in a cave. There was too little movement to escape.

Reaching for the dagger in his bag, Loki hid it under the blanket as he heard the three men approach the entrance.

"I recognize him." Anarr whispered. "It's the ones our wolves found."

"The ones at the mountain path?" Pavel commented.

"Yes, that one."

"Elgoth would be thrilled."

Seldor started to poke around Loki's belongings, finding trinkets and other useless things inside. He dug further and found a small bag of gold, and counted it. He laughed, for inside was a silver brooch and an emblem.

He threw the bag of gold for Anarr to carry.

"We hit the jackpot, boys." Seldor madly grinned. "We're giving him to Elgoth."

"Are you sure?" Pavel observed. "He looks sick."

Loki slightly trembled, tightening his hold on the dagger hidden underneath him. These men must've recognized the symbols of his house and figured out he was royalty. Damn it, he knew he shouldn't have brought such heavy tokens.

The brooch and the emblem were gifts from his mother made by dwarves. He wanted to show them off to the elves in the forest of Alfheim should they come across them.

Tyr had left him at a bad time.

"He's important, that's all that matters." Seldor gestured. "Hurry, before his other companion returns. We don't have all night."

"What about the others?" Anarr asked.

"There were six of them." Pavel voiced, kneeling too close for Loki's comfort. "If they were here, they wouldn't leave this one alone. He's so young and soft looking, too."

Loki dreaded his future when he heard the lust in the man's voice.

"That's enough of you, Pavel." Seldor hissed.

"Of course."

"We're keeping him alive for Elgoth. There's no doubt that these people were the ones that slaughtered his other group."

"Ranmar's group was a bunch of idiots." Anarr scoffed.

"They were, now do something before we are called idiots as well. We caught our prize. It's time to leave."

"Come here, boy." Pavel sweetly said. "I will take care of you."

When Loki's arm was lifted, the prince immediately took action. He forced his body to move, and prepared to aim the dagger at the man's heart. But the man was skilled. He had dodged quickly, but not enough.

The dagger plunged deep at Pavel's shoulder.

"You son of a whore!"

Pavel grabbed Loki's neck and tightened his hold. Loki kicked him on the stomach and dodged Anarr's extended arms. He tried to make a break for the entrance, but Seldor caught him, throwing him down on the ground.

The wind left Loki as he coughed, feeling his body worsen.

"It looks like we have an eavesdropper." Seldor crouched next to him. "You'll soon find out what happens to young ones like you."

He looked at Pavel and Anarr, who was helping Pavel nurse his injury.

"Doesn't look too bad," Seldor raised an eyebrow at Pavel's bleeding shoulder. "We'll have Nandor fix that for you."

"I do like them feisty."

"Sure you do."

"If it's gold you want, then take it." Loki sat up, glaring daggers at all three of them. "Set me free and I'll give you all the gold you can carry."

"I'm not negotiating." Seldor smiled.

Loki's eyes widened when and hand quickly wrapped around his neck, tightening with each second. He tried to pry them off, but they were big calloused hands that were too strong for his weakened body.

"I recognize that cloak of yours anywhere." Seldor whispered. "Elgoth will be happy to see your companion soon enough."

Stars appeared in Loki's eyes and the blackness surrounded him.

oOo

Tyr returned, muttering nonsense about taking care of pampered princelings and royal debts when he saw footsteps leading away to and from the cave. He rushed inside and found the camp raided, and Loki missing.

"Damn it." He clenched his fists.

He wanted to convince himself that Loki had run away to escape his company, but the ground was in disarray, and Loki's bag was rummaged. Whatever happened, Loki was taken. The boy couldn't have walked on his own in the state he was in.

"The fire was untouched." Tyr grimaced. "But there's blood…"

He worried— feared even, for the life of the young prince. He would never forgive himself for leaving Loki unattended, and he would pay any price just to fix his mistake. Tyr arranged Loki's belongings back in his bag and picked up the rest of the blankets.

Tyr noticed his own cloak was missing.

But then again, when he looked around, he saw his cloak sitting by the pile of woods that weren't there before. A silver brooch attached to a piece of paper hung on his cloak.

"What in Hel's name?"

He picked it up, unclasped the brooch and read the paper. A symbol of three scratch marks was written on it, painted by blood. He crumpled it after. Tyr gritted his teeth, seething with repressed anger.

"Warriors blood debt." Tyr growled.

Those three scratch marks—the warriors blood debt— it made sense. Tyr knew who took the young prince, and where they were hiding. He quickly doused the fire, took Loki's belongings and started running.

If he was right, Loki was in grave danger.

oOo

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