AN: Eh took some doing, but here it is .(º-º ).

Unfortunately I don't have a beta reader or anyone to review anything for me, I would appreciate some feedback and anyone pointing out mistakes and anything that I can improve on. The previous chapters that I had up before have been reposted as Praeternatural Bits for those that want to read them and other shorts that I removed or did not originally add to the main story.


Tsalmaveth before he became so, was accused of trusting too much by a fellow. Trust, traustr, the firm belief in the reality, the truth or strength of something or someone, to the point that you would allow it to have control over you, hold your confidence.

The Tricker used to trust a lot of things, and what remained of him still did. He trusted Bolverk many iterations ago, and several since to betray him. He trusted the Æsir to turn on him and his family. It happened once, it happened twice, and would keep happening no matter what he did to try and change things.

He could only slow them down to the point it would take more time than they had to bring events to a close, even if it was another change at choice from the cycle. It was a false hope really, so he ignored it, and continued to ignore it. Gavri'el was different though, a break in the pattern.

Everything was progressing as usual, Tsalmaveth prepared to spend another iteration burning himself out to shield his own from the horrors that they would have faced. Gavri'el changed things however with its mere presence. Choice was not a fleeting chance in the wind, a wavering mirage that would dissipate like smoke and burn his seeking hands. With the archangel's assistance, it was a tangible thing, solid, firm, and the distance not so great or impossible to transverse.

For all his power limited as it was in his current state, but still great, Tsalmaveth had no choice. He was limited to the script he had been given, the little amount of room he had for change utilized in full, and then some.

There were some occasions he came close to choice, but never this close, how long it had been since he had it, even if only an illusion, Tsalmaveth couldn't for the life of him remember. The times from before, obscure memories clouded by pain, darkness and Void.

Gavri'el was a risk though, what it could provide was something that Tsalmaveth would do almost anything for.

If asked, he would drag the heavens from their cradle in the sky. If asked, the dark being would without hesitation or care for the billions of little lives raise hell upon the earth, and personally lead the armies of hell. If asked, he would bring back the dark ages, or an eternal golden age.

All that and more he would have done without any hesitation or mercy at the simple chance. Any compassion and empathy he once had mostly nonexistent, the little he had focused on his brood.

If Gavri'el came through, if the archangel actually accomplished what it promised-

He hummed, a low rumbling sound, eyes fixated on the small celestial entity. Said entity squirmed minutely under his scrutiny. Tsalmaveth knew that he could trust the angel, but what exactly he could trust it to do, the dark being was unsure.

The seemingly sincere words that flowed from the archangel's mouth were too good to be true. The title of the Messenger was well gifted.

How long had he waited for a way out, a chance to finally cut his ties and break away from the cycle he had been a part of longer than he could recall?

Too long.

At first the Trickster played along, participating with the rest of them right in the thick of things, until vague impressions turned to nagging feelings and half-forgotten memories. Distant dreams, then nightmares.

At some point, he remembered, not everything, as it would be impossible to retain even some semblance of sanity that he pretended to have, but enough for him to want no part in their sick and twisted games.

It was never about what he had wanted though, not then. The best he could do was condemn himself and his children to a half-life, trapped in distortions of time were they couldn't reach, and contented themselves with empty mannequins.

Tsalmaveth expected to spend eternity staring at the hearth, lifeless save for the playful spirits of his children, their shades given the life and vitality they lost, at the sacrifice of the Hearth spirit's fire. They would never know the full extent of what he sacrificed for them. If he had his way they never would.

Surprises were never good in Tsalmaveth's experiences, and as a rule, the being didn't like them. Gavri'el, was a surprise. A different sort that he was unused to, but still the archangel was a surprise, and he did not like them. Yet, he desired what Gavri'el's appearance represented. Change. Freedom. Revenge.

So again, Tsalmaveth knew that he trusted the archangel, but now he had to ask himself, not for his own sake, but the sake of Sleipnir, Hela, Jormungandr, and Fenris, the sons and daughter of Loki the Trickster.

"The promises that you speak of. Oh the things you say archangel." He was only half focused on the small bundle of light, its arching wings folded tightly to its flanks, necks craning in an attempt to keep the large dark being in sight. "Such dangerous queer humor you inspire. Fickle and ever fleeting trust is. Tell me, exactly how should I trust you?"

Large bright eyes warily assessed the dark being, but the archangel did not show any signs of fleeing, talon tipped feet firmly set on the nothingness they stood on, shoulders lowered and tail loosely curled against its side.

Once again he found himself admiring the elegantly constructed creature and wondering not for the first time, why the creature of such a race would seemingly abandon them if all other angels were as pleasing as the Gavri'el was to the eye. Heads lowered, the archangel said nothing for several moments.

"..I cannot answer that."

It was a very close thing, but he managed to restrain the wayward limb that lurched forward to dismember the celestial entity. It was an accomplishment really, the archangels lucky he had burned himself out over the eons.

"Should you trust another? I do not presume to know what you have experience, and I cannot comprehend the thought process of a being of your position, however I can assure you I gain nothing by lying, your ability to believe in my honesty is paramount to my goals."

An ember eyes squinted, pinpricks rapidly winking as the darkness roiled around him. He still sensed no lies, it was strange, and he had associated lies with all that he did not count as his own. His curiosity was a tiny flicker in his cold mind, a startling change to his apathetic cynicism.

"You must have heard things about me, yet you released my brood. I am a being cloaked in darkness, why do you wish to go out of your way to assist me when your side of the bargain is already fulfilled?" Tsalmaveth continued without waiting for a response, the question only half directed at the archangel. He didn't expect an answer. "Am I right in my thinking that, you are sound of mind and spirit? If so, what compels you to further consort with beings of chaos?"

"Free will is an attribute that Father gifted to humans, his greatest creation, it is not something that angels possess. If He did not approve of my actions of freeing your spawn, or my current actions regarding your imprisonment, and the resulting actions you would perform once free, I would know."

He frowned, eyes roving as he stared intently into the yawning darkness. There was no difference, not that he expected to sense anything. Tsalmaveth was a damaged shattered being. He knew and accepted that, it was not that much of a stretch that the creator of the universe would keep an eyes on him, or warn his creations of him.

"While you may be a dark being that is noteworthy enough for Father to caution us of confronting, even if you are imprisoned here, you are the only alternative I have in successfully avoiding the pointless bloodshed that will result from my brethren."

The archangel wavered for a moment, form blurring into waves before reforming once again, more solid and sure than before.

"The realm Yggdrasil is not one of my Fathers creations, the humans, giants, and gods there are not of my father. The realm is not a part of my father's plan."

His essence churned uncomfortably.

"…You are not an evil being-"

He could hear what the angel was saying but the words.

"…You were hurt and angry-"

He did not understand.

"…This is not just about our deal."

Why did someone care now?

"There was an injustice done to you. It must be corrected."

º

oo

OOO

oo

º

Compared another angel, Gavri'el was a rather large and powerful entity, small only in the presence of nir eldest siblings and Father, whose presence dwarfed everything. Tsalmaveth constantly shrouded in darkness was notably larger than even Michael though, by several times at least. The dark god made the youngest archangel feel small in a way only nir Father ever had.

It was no wonder that they were cautioned away from the rippling shadows halfway between the light and dark in the early beginnings of creation. Even trapped and sapped of strength the dark being had a presence about him that made the messenger feel like ni was being watched by one of the Old Ones.

Still, ni knew that despite Tsalmaveth as he wished to be called not being one of nir Father's creations, the dark being was not an abomination, as much as his grace wanted to be far away from the being, something in it was drawn to the god.

Cracks stretched across the dark cage that hugged the god's form like an exoskeleton, disintegrating were the grace of an archangel seeped through, stoking the dull amber spark within. With an explosion of light that revealing sinister dark chains that scattered like ash in the wind, all traces of the darkness vanished.

A towering slender figure with a sharp featured humanlike face, elongated ears, and pointed chin. Slanted to large amber eyes slightly unfocused gazing vaguely into the bright expanse that was once darkness. Shimmering strands of scarlet adorned the being's head in a spiky mane of hair, inlayed with polished shards of bones, smoothed stones and wooded beads.

Pale long fingered hands hesitantly, patting the pale orange tunic lingering on the thick light blue feathered cloak draped over his shoulders. No Gavri'el realized wings. He stared at the massive white blue hawk like bird with green flecked red eyes crying out for blood, wings that easily dwarfed nir own by a hundred times.

It had to be Father's will that ni freed the Shattered One, otherwise, Gavri'el had single handedly condemned an entire universe's destruction with nir hand in rejuvenating Loki.

Somewhere in the nine realms three elderly women stiffened, identical dark rings on their fingers pulsing. Each exclaimed in surprise and pain as the hand adorned with the ring burned, blistering red then blacked with frost bite. The small black rings disintegrated once thrown to the ground. Fires in every hearth in every house and home flickered green and died, from the grand halls of Asgard to the small huts of Midgard. Residents cried out in alarm, drowning out the soft dark chuckles that faded like dust on the wind.


Finished ._.

Sorry it took so long and the confusion that the deleted chapters caused people, probably should have put a note to explain instead of on my profile. Oh well. Anywho I have a better idea of were to go with this story, kind of. Shorts and bits that wouldn't fit anywhere in the story as of yet will be posted in Praeternatural Bits, so look at that if your curious. I'll probably post more frequently during the summer since it'll have no excuse not to write anything. Felt kind of bad leaving you all hanging after going off to enjoy myself on vacation after deleting a majority of the story, enough to sit down and work on this (awkward shrug while fidgeting). Hope you enjoyed it.