The sun rose from behind Mount Austri, its light spilling over miles and miles of water and forest before touching upon the city of Asgard, setting the myriad metal spires ablaze with red-gold hues. The sunlight hit the Tall Tower first, despite its being the third tallest of Valhalla's 23 towers, and worked its way down. Skurge was awake and alert before it entered his quarter. He finished donning his armor and strode down to the Palace Guards' barracks. He was pleased to find his men in full gear and dispatched them to relieve the nightwatchmen at their posts. On his way out, he spotted Hogun of the Warriors Three across the courtyard and walked over to him.

Hogun gave him a cool look before returning to tinkering with his mace. This one will never respect me. Skurge saluted him: he may outrank the Vanir now, but Hogun had been commander of the fifth legion for years and Skurge had always admired his stoic nobility. "Big day ahead, hmm?"

Hogun looked up and held his gaze for a long moment before saying, "It is not so different from other days."

"Yes, but the Einherjaren will have their hands full, won't they? What with the festivities and visiting dignitaries and..." Skurge trailed off as Hogun gave him the cold shoulder. Right. He decided to cut his losses and move on.

As he walked down the stairs to the stables, he realized he was more insulted than he'd thought. It wasn't as though he expected the Warriors Three to bow to him, but they could at least allow him basic courtesy. He was, after all, captain of the Palace Guards. He'd only wanted to offer his help, since the Palace Guard were not expected to participate in the proceedings of the day beyond guarding the Allfather as he met with ambassadors and overseers. But if Hogun didn't want his help, Skurge certainly wouldn't impose.

He found his steed saddled and bridled, needing only to climb on and set off toward the rainbow bridge. The best part of working for Valhalla was that he no longer had to deal with the mundane aspects of a soldier's life, like grooming his horse or cleaning his armor, though he preferred to do the latter regardless. Life as a mercenary had its charms, but it couldn't compare to this.

No one respects a sellsword.

The ride to Himinbjorg took several minutes. The high road cut straight through the city and across the rainbow bridge, but it was still several miles away from the palace. All around he could see the preparations for Loki's Day. Skurge remembered when Loki was declared a traitor and arrested by his own brother for warmongering in Midgard. The Allfather had publicly disowned him. Then he died, and the Allfather built a statue of him right in the middle of the Plaza of Valor. Royals, Skurge mused, Go figure. Personally Skurge failed to see the point. Why disown the prince over a little rabble-rousing? And then to bring him back into the fold as a hero so suddenly showed a weakness Skurge would never have believed Odin to possess.

You owe your job to that weakness, he reminded himself. And who are you to judge?

With the shimmering crystal of the rainbow bridge under the hooves of his steed, Skurge could now see Himinbjorg growing ahead. As a young man, Skurge had marveled at the carved dome of Bifrost as his battalion was being led to Jotunheim. The new fortress was much bigger. The Bifrost chamber was hidden behind a squat golden keep. Two swirling towers flanked the stairs going up to the keep proper and another two, broader towers flanked the keep's entry. In Heimdall's time, the Bifrost rarely had more than two guards, but Skurge had assigned twenty of his best men to Himinbjorg. He was no Heimdall, and he refused to be caught off-guard. If a threat arose, his men would hold it off and signal for reinforcement. And hopefully Hogun would send backup before they die.

The men snapped to attention as they saw him approaching. One of the sentries took hold of his lead as he dismounted and lead the horse away into the tiny stable built along the last few yards of the rainbow bridge. He nodded to the men as he passed, each one a familiar face. The Allfather had given him leave to pick his own men for the Palace Guard and Skurge had surrounded himself with trusted brothers-at-arms who had served beside him in the Marauders' War. I owed them that much, at least. In Valhalla, they were united by more than their shared battlefield experiences - they were also united by the disdain they got from the Einherjaren and the Warriors Three. Two guards at each door, including the entrance to the Bifrost chamber, each in gleaming black armor. Skurge had looked forward to wearing the golden armor of the Einherjaren when he was selected to be in the Palace Guard, but the Allfather decreed that their uniform would be different and designed the night-black plate with the horned helmet himself. Another of his eccentricities that Skurge couldn't make sense of. After all, he had kept his own golden armor unchanged, so why surround himself with men in black? Odin was losing it in his old age, the soldiers muttered in their cups. Many looked forward to Prince Thor's ascent. Others said darkly that the crown prince had refused to be crowned and left for Midgard. Skurge kept his opinions to himself. No sense making enemies. Follow the orders. Protect the royalty. Keep your damn mouth shut.

The hours passed tediously. A delegation from Alfheim arrived early on, and then it was nothing but standing and waiting. Anyone seeking entry to Asgard would need only ask, and the summoner would flash, signalling him to unlock the Bifrost with Hofund, the Gatekeeper's sword. Luckily, Heimdall had not taken it with him when he disappeared. He had, however, taken his all-seeing eyes and left Skurge with no way to know what was on the other side of the Bifrost, hence the added security. Skurge had argued with the Allfather that he should be at his side all day today, but Odin had refused, stating that he was needed more to screen the arrivals. And how am I to do that? This would have been a task fit for Hogun and his fifth legion, not Skurge and twenty good men.

The image of the sun rolling across the sky-like roof had crossed the zenith when Skurge decided to take a break. His lunch was brought to him and he sat down on the steps to eat. He was half-finished when Ulric said, "Captain, the summoner."

Skurge turned around to see the crystal flashing and jumped to his feet. Tossing the food as far into a corner as he could, he picked up Hofund and hurriedly drove it into the controls, hearing the familiar click as the Bifrost hummed to life; the rune circles aligning all around him as lightning arced between the power crystals and the keel honed in on the source of the summons. With a whoosh the Bifrost opened, a brilliant tunnel of light stretching away into infinity. A familiar figure rushed out from it at full speed.

Skurge barely managed to avoid the crown prince as he shot past Hofund and landed on the far side of the chamber. "Look out!" the prince bellowed, just before Skurge was hit by something huge from behind and was flattened on the floor. Some kind of scalding hot slime covered his back and he couldn't help a startled cry. He scrambled out from under the weight and pushed himself to his feet. "What-"

The severed head of a fire dragon lay across the middle of the chamber. The guards stood dumbfounded with their spears lowered, unsure if they should call for help or advance. Skurge waved them back. The crown prince's scarlet cloak was marked by soot and burned at the edges. Clearly, he had just escaped the fiery world of Muspelheim.

"My Prince," he tried to sound official, but he was still covered in dragonblood, "We had not known of your coming."

"Neither had I, friend," Thor's smile was a grand thing, disarming and charming all at once,"But who are you? I had expected to speak to Heimdall immediately."

"Heimdall is - not here, my prince. I am Skurge, captain of the palace guards, standing in his place."

"I see," the prince's smile faded as he surveyed the black armors and spied the towers beyond the entry. As he turned, Skurge noticed he was carrying a dull grey horned helm on his back, far too big for any Asgardian. "And what of my father? Where has he gone?"

"The Allfather is overseeing Loki's Day, my prince. He will be most glad to hear of your return."

"Loki's Day?" Thor turned to look Skurge in the eyes, an intense, piercing look, much like his father's. "Of course," he said softly, in a way that suggested the words weren't directed at Skurge. And then his smile returned and he clapped Skurge's shoulderplate. "You, my friend, have just single-handedly slain a firewyrm from Muspelheim. Granted, you wielded the power of the Bifrost, but still, the singers will sing of you for years to come. Now keep up the good work, good man, and keep the bridge closed for me," Thor flipped his hammer, the mighty Mjolnir, and as he strode out of the Bifrost chamber, he growled, "I would have words with the Allfather."

Sensing trouble, Skurge vaulted over the dragon head, handed Hofund to Ulric and hurried after the prince. He was at the top of the stairs out of Himinbjorg when Thor twirled his hammer and shot into the air, straight toward the city. He would be at Valhalla in less than a minute at that speed. Skurge ran for the stables, praying to Odin that he would still have his job come nightfall.