Chapter ten

Thinking about Ice and Fire

The King of Jotunheim walked down into the bowels of his Palace. His pace was steady and languid – his mind was not of same state. His psyche was the very opposite – rigid, eager, brimming so much that it buzzed with thoughts. It was a first and he had to admit that he had never plotted so vigorously before, nor had there ever been quite so many digits in his equation to consider and use to their fullest capacity. Still that did not mean that the Ruler's previous schemes had not been ornate or as dangerous.

His destination or more accurately the reason and end outcome – were not as trifle in the ploy as it may have seemed. Having great faith in something based purely on theory and marvelous guesswork – it wasn't something he had not done before. A bargaining chip, which had to be so inconsequential, proved to be very much an ace in his deck – when evaluated by his mind. And his mind was a brilliant thing with a labyrinthine design.

However Loki was confident enough to allow his mental perception to wander from the preset goal. He had found something else that he desired and it was something that he could claim to be an entirely selfish desire (although he neither found that unacceptable nor did he find the lie, for he really presumed this position of power only because of his self-centered greed – to not be the same). The fact that there was another objective, a side-goal, (although it was given an equal amount of attention on the matter of its success, even though it was considerably easier to attain) changed nothing. Not a single detail was altered due to this retraction from the original plot (because truly, it wasn't enough to alter the master plan), more so because he was a man that never had a problem with multitasking. Only the most treacherous of schemes held the depth of complexity that truly made their realization a work of genuine multitasking – and he was a Master of Scheming. Schemers were Tricksters, and in other worlds – there where he always assumed a different identity (but one of his own nonetheless, for he never opted to copy anything, unless it was for the reason of incrimination or something similar in nature) – the new Leader was believed to be just that. And it did not matter that Tricksters were often what royalty referred to as jesters – entertainers, because such a position offered more insight than anything else. Therefore that the Ice Realm had a Trickster King was more to its gain than it was to its loss.

His secondary goal was something that could be referred to as a trophy, unknowingly given by Realm Eternal itself. Although it was clear that his primary goal was not a trophy, something that already was his (and his subjects') by right – could never have been called that. No, it was what the Aesir considered it to be. The thieves were not worthy of his praise (and he could assume an impersonal insight and give credit where it was due); to take something so valuable and not use it, just put in a vault to exist purposelessly – that angered the Jotunn.

The steadily marching male tried to quell his enraged psyche and forced it to dwell on something exquisite. How foolish it was of Asgard to allow something so beautiful to enter his Realm, where she should never have been in the first place – but was destined to wound up in anyway. Destiny was not a concept the Jotnar preached, it was something Asgardians, with their Norns and prophecies, believed in. But the crowned young man was not one to refuse the knowledge that sometimes some things were fated to be – and this was that case.

He had never been so enthralled by another being before. He had experienced admiration and respect (sometimes it went with malevolence, sometimes with benevolence), but this, whatever it was – was something else. Loki had instantly noticed something mismatched within the party of the Aesir he had so knowingly invited. It was something unique and without a purpose in Asgard's design, but that was because her meaning lied with Jotunheim, with him.

As his trap was shutting – accompanied with corpses of those he didn't care for, thunder and battle roars – he had been skeptical of the instant awareness he possessed over one of the members of the Asgardian circle that had ventured into his den. It seemed ridiculous, angry-hiss worthy and outright insulting. However he was a sorcerer, therefore he had to have an unorthodox thinking, which he seldom had to stress – so that normalcy would not distort the image of reality. By the fight's end he had already accepted the seemingly unthinkable and instantly became content (such a short-lasting joy for him, although not this time), in mere moments he had begun sketching the future with a well-defined obsessiveness.

The Frost Giant understood and embraced the fact that he wanted her (her Asgardian heritage aside, for it was impossible to argue the right, the fated) and he would have her. With superficial Aesir values this would have seemed to be so vile, however he was too refined to be vile and the thinking of his father's enemies only appeared to be noble. In the worlds of the Ash Tree, where a ghost of Asgard's expansion lingered – it was believed that Realm Eternal was the highest, safest, brightest world of all. However the Ruler of the ice beings always looked for the specks of darkness within light and he knew that stains were hardest to wash away from something pure and white. Therefore he was keenly aware of what the highest branch of Yggdrasill really was. It was a complexity unheard of in any realms that were inhabited by Giants of any race; Asgard was full of self-poison – the kind that poisoned the Aesir more than it did anyone else. But the origin of the girl was unimportant because he could feel just how untainted by it she was. In case he was wrong, well there would be plenty of chances to validate that feeling.

The nearly grand thoughts on fate and destiny considering the female were not petty refinements of truth. It was not her physical person that attracted him so, it was not for fickle games that he wanted her. No, there was something needful about her. Alas it would have been a lie on Loki's part to claim that her appearance played no part in his obsessive need to possess her.

It was difficult to accept that the young Lady was created by Asgard, she didn't quite fit the profile (although with that realm's expansion there were plenty prisoners and refugees of war, it was possible that her blood was mixed). Aesir were famed for their azure eyes and wheat colored hair, however other color palettes were possible to find in Realm Eternal. But Sigyn (the name slid like honey from his silver tongue, far too sweet and far too soothing – perfect) was such a brilliant gem and he had a keen eye for spotting unpolished jewels, and she was far too unique and rare to ignore.

Her locks, even bound conservatively, were obviously lush and the color was most divine. Not silver – no, not a shiny tint of grey, but a platinum blonde, a color as if gifted by moonlight itself. And her eyes, her eyes did not reflect cloudless heavens but the youngest of spring leaves. Her head, covered with gorgeous strands that were moonlit, was meant for an ornate crown. The young woman was delicate – from the small inwardly curved nose, slightly plump pale pink and bow-shaped lips, to her dainty little fingers. The Leader was a keen observer so he had noticed the paleness of her skin, the light eyelashes that fluttered softly when she blinked, the barely noticeable freckles dusting the tops of her cheeks and of course the dimples that were revealed when she was close to smiling. Even with fright overpowering and overshadowing her so, she had been able to forget it all when she marveled at the beauty of his library and nearly smiled. Her expression then had been so pure and serene, and serenity was something that was missing from his life – never present for long. She was short compared to the average Aesir and she would be his delicious, tiny morsel of delight.

Her modest garb (he reckoned it to be healer's robes) could not hide the beauty she possessed. Jotunn King Loki knew potential when he saw it and she had plenty of that to become a marvel most rare. With the right clothing, something that would not conceal the girl's petite form but rather display it with pride, and dark, beauty enhancing face-paint – Sigyn would not be able to blend in and would portray the perfection of royalty. He would bestow upon her the most precious of stones – to accentuate the extravagant garb that she would wear (as well as wear when she was bare of it).

What the powerful Ice Giant had in mind would be considered highly inappropriate and sinful in her heim-land, however Asgardians did not understand the greatness and freedom of women. To them – females did not have a purpose beyond that of wives, child-bearers, as well as a source of relief, and housekeepers – therefore they were dressed appropriately for that. Ah, but the women of this World could dress as they liked (they were their own persons) and in a casual setting – their clothing could also be practical. Jotunnesses were not like the females of Realm Eternal, they could serve any purpose and did not fall short behind men. That was exactly the reason why none of his people cared for the gender of their firstborns or the children after that, since a girl could do anything a boy could (the difference in physical strength mattered little when the teachings of parents made sure that no daughter would be susceptible to anything) – even become a Ruler. There was no bother for the continuation of blood – unlike what the Aesir fretted so greatly about, a bloodline did not perish with only female children. And the family name – in Asgard so precious, was meaningless in that sense, for here they were maternal.

The inner fire of Asgard was no threat to Jotunheim and it had never been. The inner flame of his people (and it was called so not because of heat but for the sensations it caused to the weaker flamed ones) was so ardent, so harmful – the reason behind was the incomprehensibly low temperature that their bodies could create at will. Ice was stronger than fire, always triumphing over it. Although that was not a universal truth, and when met with stronger flame – they were not left unscathed.

The distant cousins of the Frost Giants – the Fire Giants, were considerable opponents. However they were just that and not superior to the cold ones. Ice always won over fire, when confronting it ice showed a loss and that loss was water. So even though the aforementioned suffered – it was not lethal because the spill killed the fire in its entirety. Direct contact between freezing Frost Giants and burning Fire Giants caused harm to both, but the ones of ice lost skin in the process, blood was the loss and it did not evaporate from the heat – it stayed the same and wounded the fiery ones as if it were acid.

To the royal Jotunn's knowledge this inequality in power between these two races was not without cause in occurring. Due to his mother's teachings (even if that knowledge and theories were only writings or books of hers – he denied the fact and took them in as if she had been there to teach him; she was dear to him despite the fact that he had not known her personally) he knew that the Frost Jotnar were superior because they had evolved. This change came to be because their kin, a long, long time ago, had come to the Realm of Jotunheim when it had just begun forming as a branch of the World Tree. The migration had not only made the shift in their natural power but also allowed them to evolve into beings of greater mental capability, as well as in the areas of creation – the latter had been the reason for the Great Empire of the Ice Realm, which had fallen so prematurely. The origin of Ice Jotnar was the Primordial Realm of Ice – Niflheim. However Fire Jotnar had remained there where they had originated from – the Primordial Realm of Fire – Muspellheim. The relocation was necessary for growth in their beings, although plain survival was well achievable within the lands of Niflheim. The Giants that had remained (the ones of Frost as well) were bound to leave unchanged, no greatness of any kind was achieved by them and the deceased Queen believed that that would never morph, without a change in ground for them – there would be no drastic change in themselves.

The worlds of the primal elements were equal, facing each other by a diagonal astral line, neither stronger than the other. That was where the power between ice and fire did not show a difference, the struggle that stretched along the vast astral line was eternal and never shifted into either's favor. The greeting of these two incredible forces had a produce, which was harmful to neither, it was mists.

The new King had not seen with his eyes a confrontation between Niflheim's and Muspellheim's Jotnar, such occurrences could have only taken place well prior his birth. However he did know that the strength of both created unchangeable balance. Although he could only theorize how exactly that looked like: it could be that a touch would wound both – but neither would be injured worse than the other; or if blood was produced, then it would too cause harm equally because the loss would also be equal – no more hazardous than the other's.

It did not interest him much – the possibility that somehow the contact between such ancestral creatures could create something – like the Primal Realms created omnipotent hazes. The study of such a questionable theory was quite difficult to realize (but not impossible, not to him anyway), alas even if the product was something of extraordinary value – the trouble to get it would not be compensated because there was the great possibility that it was utterly worthless (if there'd be something out of it at all).

So in the current reality there was no match to Jotunheim's ice, which could withstand both cold and hot climate better than any other race that inhabited the Nine. Therefore the little healer's fire (now just a slight ember), even fueled to its greatest capacity both bodily and mentally wise – was no match to Loki's. However despite his ability to embody temperature so cold (both in physique and in temper), he was also capable of not just withstanding but creating and liking warmth. There would be no quarry between them because of his burning ice, for he could just as well cultivate her shimmering flame and tenderly persuade her into voluntary and happy submission.

The Ruler thought about Sigyn until he reached his destination. He plotted his next course of action concerning his secondary goal, for if unattended it might interfere with his primary scheme.

The dungeons of his Dome were just as cold as the ground they rested within. They were ice covered and unwelcoming – but not to the owner of the Winter Palace. The cell he was in wasn't overly large and had a low ceiling (for Giants). There were a half of a dozen of Jotnar present in the vicinity. The men were his scientists, well if they could have been called that – they were the same manual labor just with a bigger brain and a different purpose.

On one of the many lab tables, ice covered metal pieces of furniture that they were, lied the Heavenly Hammer itself – Mjölnir. When the first call for the weapon came from the Thunderer – they had been unprepared. It had lodged itself into a wall that was covered with the Ruler-Sorcerer's green energy barrier. Even when the order was over, the Hammer had remained in its place. It hadn't gone through the enchanted protection but it was dented. The Monarch had to once more use Thrym's assistance in removing it (it was a blessing that he had not let go of the Frost Giant before that). Now the Odinson's greatest 'treasure' was encased in the very same green-tinted, fluctuating barrier. It allowed the Ice Jotnar that worked in the lowers access to it and kept the object in place.

The Leader of the Jotnar involved himself in conversation about the recent findings. The 'scientists' were not skittish nor did they seem to be humbled by his presence, or worshipping his every step (and that didn't bother him). They were impersonal and gave information without delay (just as they were supposed to do).

Mjölnir was a stubborn magical item. However it was not a relic and because it was not a leftover of ancestral knowledge – now almost dead, it was not unbeatable.

The progress was very slow, but the most important thing was – was that there was progress.

A/N

Muspellheim and Niflheim – are two realms from the Norse mythology, the realm of primordial fire and the realm of primordial ice.