Hello again, sorry for the brief hiatus. It was necessary.
I'd like to express how flattered I am that even Guest users have taken the time to come out of the woodwork and review in support of this story. You're all great!
I'm furiously researching Hel as she is depicted in mythology, and I'm very stoked to attempt my version of her character.
Thanks so much for all the support on here and on AO3. Enjoy chapter 11, a little lengthier in recompense for my absence.
"That thank-you was just another plot, meant to lull me into a false sense of accomplishment and worth, wasn't it?" Darcy grumbled, as she was firmly steered away from the window. Loki had darted out of the room after seeing something, and she'd headed straight for the sill. But she hadn't even managed a glimpse of what lay outside before Loki's fingers were curled around her shoulders, ushering her back out of the room they'd sequestered themselves in. She managed to swipe several handfuls of the parchment covered in palace schematics as she was whisked by, the aged paper rustling in protest as it crumpled in her grip. A little light reading material, just in case.
"Nonsense," was Loki's airy reply. "I'm certain Asgard appreciates your assistance in regaining peace and harmony and sovereign propriety." She could hear his stupid grin in his stupid voice.
"I think a certain deposed monarch is afraid to admit he is totally indebted to a mere mortal tourist," she grumbled, adjusting the papers in her arms. Muninn abruptly landed on her shoulder, but she paid him no mind. "Where are you taking me?" It looked like they were just heading back to the main receiving rooms of the medical ward. Eir's minions had made themselves scarce, though, and it looked like even some of the furniture had abruptly disappeared.
She was suddenly whipped around, Loki's slender fingers bringing her face close to his. "Do you trust me?" He breathed. Darcy was breathless with proximity and the serious tone he was using, eyes flitting back and forth as she wondered if there was a correct response. She settled for what she hoped was a suave swerve. "I trust that you're not exactly the most trustworthy dude on the block and I'm not sure I'd have you pet-sit for me, but…"
He nodded crisply, all business as he apparently deemed that sufficient. "I need you to conceal yourself," he murmured, "in here." He opened a side door in the main chamber that hadn't been there a moment before. But Darcy paused, turning with comical slowness to raise a brow in skepticism.
"You want me," she murmured slowly to confirm what she was hearing, "to hide in the closet?! Are we suddenly in a B-horror movie? Am I being stereotyped for my chest size-"
"Which is admirable, really, Lady Darcy, but I must insist. You're my ace in the hole, you see, as I believe they say on Midgard. I'm about to have a very cautious conversation." Without further ado, Loki's arms slipped around her waist and he lifted her bodily, ignoring her squeals, depositing her in the room and shutting the door with a locking spell. "You'll be able to hear, and I need you to do it carefully," he called, knowing she could fully hear him.
Loki swept towards the medical warding, shooting a nod at Eir who had appeared. With an answering nod, she closed the double doors leading to the rest of the rooms retracting her shielding spells to make the room Loki stood in accessible. If this should go wrong, there would be something to hold them off.
He swung open the door, bowing graciously despite his less-than-classy attire, still in a tunic and trousers from his earlier escapades. The air was already growing chillier as none other than Angrboða swept inside, sporting a heavier fur mantle than she'd had on earlier. Loki's eyes narrowed at that, as two other frost giants followed, both of whom actually bowed courteously at him before moving to flank the more petite Jötun. "Not here to kill me, then? No weapons drawn? Or will that happen as soon as I turn my back?"
"Loki," Angrboða said reproachfully, clasping her hands together in front of her chest. "How could you think such a thing? I'm here in peace." Desperation, more like, Loki thought. But he supposed the tables had turned, for all of them, and that old saying about the enemy of my enemy...It was an alliance strategy he'd long employed.
"Angie," he murmured noncommittally, using the old pet name just to annoy her, remembering too late that Darcy Lewis was listening to the conversation. He might have imagined it, but he swore he heard a scoff and could sense an eye-roll.
"I've come here to ask for your help." She cut straight to the point, thankfully. "Hagen has covertly relinquished control of the Frost Giants and requested I take over, at least until we are extricated from this disaster he has wrought. Hoder is not as pliable as he seemed when he was but a blind, crumpled old man."
Loki's arms folded across his chest as he leaned against a snow-white marble pillar and tried not to laugh. His eyes were half-hooded but their green irises were taking in everything about this trio. Body language said regret, reluctance, resignation. Angrboða's expression said she had a bribe, something that would work in his favor, or she wouldn't be here.
"Well, well, well," he murmured, freeing a hand from his chest to roll it in a hurrying motion. "Let's have it, then. What have you got in mind, Angie?"
"The Jötun have been sorely deceived by Hoder. Never mind that this could have been foreseen by anyone other than our leader- former leader, " Angrboða scowled, "-but the past cannot be undone. Our people no longer wish to be part of an alliance with a liar who only wants Asgard's throne and would have us as servants, keeping the treasures for himself. In exchange for forgiving our…transgression in allying with Hoder, we would see you reclaim the throne. Flawed as your own claims are." She huffed the last words indignantly, and Loki was amused by her ire leaking into her capitulation.
He was also relieved she hadn't given him away to the Muspels or Hoder; this had been a gamble that had certainly paid off since he'd spotted them making their way along the bridge leading to Eir's domain. Still, he skipped around the proposal. "My golden-haired man-child of a brother would not suffice? He is the rightful heir, after all, and the 'good one'," he drawled, examining the nails of one hand while the other made air quotation marks at the last words.
"He is firstly, imprisoned and being watched with the utmost attention the Muspels can scrounge up, at the moment," Angrboða said impatiently, "and second, we have seen how Asgard thrived under your rule in the interim since Odin's…absence. And another throne transition in the midst of this upheaval would only be harmful."
"And what if I no longer seek to rule Asgard? If you're actually just catching me on my way out?" Loki asked with a raised brow, making a show of rapping his knuckles along the wall as if seeking a passage.
Angie was not fooled. "You seek Asgard's well-being, and have its best interests at heart these days," she said shortly, "No matter what you claim. And to be honest, we are in sore need of your cunning. Our plans did not extend past recruiting your help." Her blue skin was suddenly tinged with a darker navy color, a blush of embarrassment.
"I imagine it's hard to hold council with Hoder a few paces away," Loki said gently, letting her off the hook in a surprising move. "As long as you do not care which allies I bring to the table."
A thumping noise had Angrboða's angular brow raising and the Jötuns going for their blades, but Loki just cleared his throat, twirling a finger towards the door he'd closeted Darcy in. "That was her cue, I suppose." The intern toppled out, one fist still raised, scrawled blueprints cascading from her other.
"Aw craaapp," she keened, dropping to her knees and shuffling through the browned pages. "The one I had - Look what you've done, stupid trickster man – " Every supernatural being in the room was staring mutely at her, Muninn included, who had alighted on Loki's shoulder after being freed from what had surely been miserable, close quarters with an annoyed Darcy Lewis.
"Aha!" Darcy declared triumphantly, raising a mangled page and shaking it. As if remembering herself, she stopped short, her plump lips opened on a gasp of surprise as she spotted the Jötuns. "'Scuse me," she mumbled, sketching some hasty attempt at a hybrid between a bow and a curtsy. "Darcy Lewis. Intern, brilliant strategist, overall useful human to have around, really. Would not make a good popsicle," she ended nervously, edging towards Loki as she eyed the giants. She'd read some stuff.
"The mortal girl," Angrboða said slowly in sudden recognition, eyes narrowing, her voice deepened with wonder as she stared at the intern. Abruptly, Loki was in front of the girl, folding his arms across his chest with a deep frown. "No harm comes to her, Angie. She's proven helpful and I am running low on support, as it were." The giantess read more into his words than he had intended, but her red eyes widened when her scrutiny was finished, and she nodded gravely. "She is highly sought after, your mortal," was all she said in reply, whisking across the room to examine the warding across the connecting passage's double doors. "She fascinates Hoder."
Loki didn't like the sound of that, his unease worsening when one of the Jötuns seemed incapable of removing its eyes from the girl's buxom form. "Gilling!" Angrboða's sharp tones rang out, and the crimson gaze finally dropped.
"Hoder was masquerading as the girl's maidservant, it may interest you to know," Angrboða then said conversationally, but too casually, obviously baiting. Loki didn't rise to take it, but his hands clenched into his biceps where they were folded. The old man would pay dearly for all of his intrusions.
Darcy Lewis was less subtle in her indignation. "What?!" The intern screeched, blanching at the implication. "That…that creep was dressing me?!" Her voice was nearing a wail, and Muninn again transferred shoulders to rub his head against her distraught temple. Loki would have offered…something of comfort, himself, would it not give the Jötuns an advantage in this moment.
"And now that you see how freely I offer information, do we have an alliance?" Angrboða continued, finishing her circuit of the room and ending up next to Loki, eyeing Darcy behind him and the raven's obvious affection for her. "You have always been able to rely on me in the past," she said softly, reaching up a dusky hand to trail it across Loki's jaw. "In our past," she added with a hint of sadness, fiery eyes dropping as her fingers tugged at a lock of shining ebony hair.
The giantess had always been quite the temptress, and the trickster had used her wiles as much as she'd ever used his, but this time he took a step back, pivoting to face the mortal girl instead. Angrboða's teeth showed in a brief, silent snarl of frustration that only Darcy could see, before Loki's hands were on her own forearms, trailing up them in a very distracting manner before taking the paper in her hands.
"You've found something?" He asked, scanning the paper she'd been so anxious to show them. Darcy's anger at Hoder filtered away as tactics took over.
"I know it sounds cliché to attack from the basement and/or sewers – d'you guys have those, because it sure looks like it on these papers but I'd assume something so basely functional would somehow be annoying and disgraceful to have in a realm like Asgard - " Loki's stare cut off her chatter, and Darcy gestured impatiently at what he held, her index finger stabbing at a tiny passageway labeled near the medicine wards. "Some sort of disposal chute," she explained. "Don't ask me for what 'cuz I don't read runes but I dated an architecture student once and he was studying old French castles…There's no legend or key on these, but I mean, castles can only differ so much, I'd think…"
Loki was already turning to the new Jötun queen and her entourage. "Where has Hoder made his base?"
"The throne room, of course, but the atmosphere was anything but calm before we slipped away."
"How many strong are your forces, those you can skim off the forces in and around the throne without being noticed?"
"Not terribly many, I'm afraid," Angrboða conceded. "We were rather hoping you would have some clandestine plan involving a tiny covert crew or some other cowardly display." A younger Loki would have taken offense, but this one smiled slightly instead.
"What, instead you think I intend outright, honorable battle on a field with legions of soldiers lined up in tidy rows, waiting on my hand to wave and send them charging forward? Far too basic, far too dramatic even for my taste," Loki said with a scoff, shaking his head as his eyes traced the fading ink lines on the old document. "Far too Thor-esque, I should think. No, what we need is a distraction. If you can supply me a few platoons' worth, I can recruit you thousands in a matter of seconds." Green light skimmed between his fingers as he waggled them and his brows at Angrboða, who nodded in understanding.
"You are the king of distraction," Darcy Lewis muttered, rubbing at the sleeves of her leather jacket, through which she could still feel his touch. Muninn cawed in agreement.
"Speaking of, I have a task for our little feathered friend," Loki announced, turning back to Darcy and coaxing Muninn from her shoulder and onto his wrist. He paced away, green light emanating in little wisps from his fingers, intoning quietly to the raven. He ended at the entrance to the medical chambers, the temporarily-disabled warding allowing the black bird to take off swiftly into the palace corridors. Loki brushed off his hands absentmindedly, staring after it. "Espionage is now the currency of the realm, it seems. The historians are going to need to edit this period heavily to preserve Asgard's honor."
Darcy was sputtering at Muninn's exit. "Where did you just send my- our- the bird?" she demanded, fear flooding her as her feathered friend winged off into danger. Loki gave her an indecipherable look. "He has been my companion for centuries, and he is only doing a little reconnaissance."
Silenced for the moment, Darcy just frowned. The Jötuns were watching the exchange with interest, and she glared at the three of them. When Loki moved within range, she poked him in the shoulder, having the feeling anyone else would have had their hand removed for such an action. "So where do we sign our agreement in blood with these guys? I'll settle for no less if I'm to be making secret deals with turncoats in a magical feudal realm."
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The theatrics were already getting old; then again, theatrical villainy had been old to Jane Foster ever since she'd watched Loki's antics in New York, on an ancient television set in a Norwegian lab that was more antiquated museum than functional scientific facility.
Hoder had dismissed many of the ball's attendees to carry on life as usual, with instructions to several soldiers to "patch up" the damage they'd caused in the overtaking of the streets. Jane still had nightmares sometimes, about the Aether, about the destruction in the Asgardian streets, about the royal Asgardian blood pooled on palace flooring that had all been her fault. She would likely have more to look forward to after this "vacation".
Hoder had assembled the remaining prisoners-slash-guests-of-honor in the throne room, having settled on the grand chair himself, trying to hold a macabre semblance of court. Gungnir was in his hands, having been supplied by one of the Jötuns of the platoon who had lost Loki, and subsequently been executed by blasts from the very same spear. She'd hoped it functioned like Mjölnir, choosing its wielder by merit, but hell, if Loki could use it, anyone could, she supposed.
The Warriors Three and several other loyalists had been apparently escorted to the dungeons and hopefully not executed outright; maybe something could yet be done to thwart Hoder. She felt useless in the current situation, hands itching to build a gadget that could teleport them all away or to peruse an ancient tome that held all the answers. Books and gadgets over political power struggles any day for Jane Foster.
She was glad they were no longer in the ballroom, at least; the harmless-looking liquid on the floor in the ballroom and a few patches of charred stone were the lingering signs of the demons' executions on the spot. Hoder was showing himself to be both ruthless and also an untrustworthy deal-breaker, if the Muspels' and Jötuns' identical expressions of uncertainty were any indicator.
Hoder was discussing something with Surtur when the throne room doors banged open with the impact of a body thrown against them. When they gave way, the limp form slumped to a stop a few paces into the room, and Jane gasped, a hand moving to her mouth. Thor, who was now chained like a dog in a round-topped cage near her, let out a roar of rage.
It was Heimdall, bloodied, bruised, and hopefully only unconscious. His helmet had been removed or knocked off during whatever fight had left him like this, and he looked strangely small and feeble without it.
Sif stalked into the room with purposeful strides, moving right up to Heimdall to prop a booted foot against his armored back. "I present you with the traitorous gatekeeper, my lord. He did indeed rise to defend that usurper." The female warrior looked to have had difficulty subduing the watcher, though; blood streamed from a cut across her forehead, her black hair was ruffled and it looked as though several locks had been shorn off, and her chest was heaving with panted breaths. Her expression suddenly altered, though, brows furrowing through the dripping blood as she noticed Thor, caged and off to the side. "Thor…?" Her eyes flicked back to Hoder, sprawled comfortably on the throne. "Why has he not taken command?"
"He has been a naughty boy, my dear," Hoder hedged, waving his hand casually as he rose from the throne to descend to floor level. He looked like he wanted to skip. "But at last, some success! Seems a few more devout Asgardians would have been more useful than these elemental rabble, after all." He glared at Surtur and Hagen, who both looked simultaneously abashed and infuriated at the blatant insult to their capabilities. "Now, my Lady Sif, if you could only fetch me the serpent-tongued fiend or his little consort, whom were your true mission…"
"Why is Thor imprisoned?" Sif snapped, cutting him off and clearly not letting the issue drop, leaving Jane wondering what exactly had been said to get the sword-wielding lady on board with Hoder's plan. That Thor would take the rightful throne, probably. Why did no one understand he didn't want it anymore?
"Thor did not take kindly to our unseating of his scoundrel brother, and does not wish the throne, milady," Hoder said mildly, rubbing a hand across his chin as he came to a stop a few paces away and surveyed Heimdall's condition. The watcher was coming around, groaning and twitching. Sif removed her boot, one hand moving to her sword cautiously, the battered shield across her other arm raising in front of her slightly.
"He is caged like an animal," she spat, eyes narrowed. "What…"
Jane took the plunge. "Thor never knew about any of this! We're all just…just captured!" She screamed, wishing for better eloquence in times of need. Instead, she waved at Sif frantically to keep the warrior's attention until a Jötun moved forward to clap a too-large hand over her face, nearly suffocating her. Thor called out her name, slamming his body against the cage bars in a futile attempt to get to her.
Sif's eyes shot to Jane, her gaze clearing in what was hopefully a rude awakening and realization. She fully drew her sword with a metallic ring, backing away from Hoder as Muspels closed rank in a wide circle around her. "What is happening here?" She demanded again, eyes flitting from one enemy to the next. "Hoder, what have you done?"
"I have done nothing that was not planned, Sif," Hoder said with a sigh, waving forward two Muspels, who started tugging Heimdall towards the throne dais. "Although I had hoped this ending to our partnership would be unnecessary. I had truly hoped you would accept my altered terms a little more compliantly than I had foreseen, but it appears not to be so. Another point to my inner sight!" He clapped a few times to himself before continuing.
"You lied to me," Sif snarled through gritted teeth. "You spoke of righting wrongs, of restoring the integrity of our realm, when you only wanted it to be yours. How are you any different from Loki? Have you no honor at all? Has serving alongside Odin for millennia shown you nothing?"
"That impetuous righteousness, girl. Tsk. I'm very sorry, but that's going to prove a liability. You're more familiar with Jötun combat than with Muspels, am I correct? Nothing like a little practice with the rustier skill sets before meeting Hel in the afterlife!"
"Sif!" Thor roared suddenly, realizing Hoder's intention and banging at the magically-enhanced cage that made it impossible to summon Mjölnir or smash his way out. Instead, the cage was comically locked with a mortal padlock and key, the bars fortified with enchantments. "Sif, run! Save yourself!" The warrior seemed to lock eyes with him for a moment, nodding slowly, gravely, apologetically, before she began pivoting to keep the demons in sight.
Jane had a terrible feeling she'd seen a scene like this in a movie somewhere, and was glad she couldn't recall completely. Sif was almost out of sight, the demons closing in so tightly around her. Then she gave a sudden war cry, and the thunking noise of a stabbing sword sounded dully through the room. A strange crackling noise sounded, which was hopefully the sound of a Muspel dying. Another noise followed, Sif giving a little cry of success, and Jane wanted to root for her, but there were legions and legions of Muspels in the room just waiting to join the fight.
Bursts of flame filled the air, the rancid smell of burned hair following. Sif screamed then, a terrible, pained scream, and Jane tried futilely to cover her ears and block out the sound, squinting her eyes shut. All of the Jötuns, apparently believing their guard duties unneeded at the moment, edged forward, starting to making a rough chanting noise, spurring on the fight. It was horrifying.
Suddenly, a gentle grasp landed on Jane's wrist, prying her hands from her head. She looked up in wonder to see Frigga standing beside her, looking serious, but as calm as ever. She was now sporting an elegant, silken emerald gown that draped over her graceful form perfectly.
Jane had felt her hand.
"Frigga?" Jane let out in a hoarse whisper, blinking furiously.
"Shh, my dear. Sif has given us a chance, but I have only limited time in a corporeal form," Frigga murmured, snapping her fingers. A hazy green orb of light moved to encompass the space they stood in, and Frigga nodded. "Now we can talk, but this illusion won't hold for long. The guards will only see you, standing quietly." The noise of the lopsided battle was dimmed drastically, and Jane nearly forgot all about the struggle going on in the room.
"How are you here? You…you d-" Jane was choking on her own words and astonishment, hands flailing as she tried to express herself.
"I have many connections in many realms, Jane, and the afterlife is only one of those," Frigga said cryptically. "You may rest assured I am here to help, and to see that the realm regains its balance once again."
"You've been helping for a while," Jane said in realization. Frigga nodded. "Does that mean Odin reclaiming the throne?" Frigga shot her a smile. "Whatever will be best for the realm will be done."
Well, that was clear statement, Jane thought, following Frigga as she beckoned her to move closer to the caged Thor. "This will be a nasty shock for him," the Aesir woman warned, and took a final stride that encompassed his prison in her illusion field.
As the astrophysicist and his thought-dead mother appeared in one sudden blink, Thor froze in bewilderment, probably thinking himself mad. It was that sort of week. "Jane?" Thor asked, eyes locking on the taller woman. "Mother? You are-"
"I am here, and that is what matters now, Thor," Frigga hushed him, tracing an intricate pattern over the lock of the cage. "You must ready yourselves. This barrier is formidable, and I will be gone when I finish dissolving it." She looked up at Thor, eyes glistening as she smiled. "I'm so proud of you."
Thor looked like he needed to sit down, his cerulean eyes filling with his own tears as he apparently accepted that Frigga was really standing there. "I failed you, and Asgard," he muttered miserably, waving a hand at the commandeered throne room.
"It is not for you to be the hero every time, Thor. Glory is a feast anyone may partake of," Frigga said, some cryptic weight behind the words, but her eyes were intent on the lock now. Green light surrounded it and started to stream up the bars of the cage.
"What does that mean?" Jane asked with her brow clinched, Thor wearing an identical expression, but Frigga just looked between the two of them, giving one last beatific smile. "I'm sorry I haven't more time. Good luck, and farewell." A fizzling noise rent the air, and the structure trapping Thor was gone completely. His reaction time was perfected from years and years of training and battle, and with all shock set aside, his hand was already up, summoning Mjölnir from where it had been left in the ballroom. His other reached for Jane's hand, and he gently pushed her towards the throne, indicating she should hide behind it, but Jane rolled her eyes at that, ducking through the mayhem when his back turned.
She made it to the bottom of the throne steps, where Erik Selvig had been left like a toy. He had miraculously avoided any harm, but it wasn't as though he posed a threat, sitting with his hands around his knees and shaking slightly. He was legitimately going to be in the asylum after this, and Jane winced at the thought as she coaxed him to his feet.
The Jötuns and Muspels had turned as one as the cage broke, Hoder's ensuing yell inciting them all to action. "Get him, you fools, before the bloody hammer-" But it was too late, the rune-inscribed weapon actually breaking through the double doors to get to its chosen wielder. It slammed into several Muspels along the way, the fiery bodies proving no match for the hammer, even unmanned.
Mjölnir flung itself into Thor's grip, his arm already swinging it into the ranks of Jötuns swarming him. Hoder was calling out something, and more frost giants flooded into the room, the Muspels drawing back with Hoder to the far side of the room. He wouldn't risk further depletion of his forces just because a fire demon ran into a frost giant.
A loud clanging across the room showed, surprisingly, that the Lady Sif was still alive and fighting, but barely. Her hair was plastered to her head with blood, her movements much slower. Many of her attackers had followed Hoder, though, leaving her with only a couple more Muspels to fell. One more fell, and then another. Finally, just one remained, but Sif found she could no longer heft her sword, and her shield had been batted away earlier in the fight.
Drawing a ragged breath, she fell to her knees, closing her eyes in defeat as the last Muspel raised a blazing fist, ready to swing it down on her. But the blow never came, a strangled cracking noise and a splash the only following noises. Sif wearily pried one swelling eye open, the other following quickly as she saw only Jane Foster and Erik Selvig standing before her, the latter holding an empty wooden bucket.
"That was a pleasant surprise," the tiny scientist muttered, brows raised as she peered into the depths of the bucket the older researcher held. "Poof, just like that," Erik said in wonder. "Can I do that to Loki now? Would he melt?" Jane grinned sheepishly at Erik's words, patting the older man on the shoulder as she met Sif's eyes.
It was strange, the two women staring at each other for one still moment while battle raged on around them, and then it was over. As Erik tossed his makeshift weapon aside, Jane reached a small hand down to Sif, who accepted it, heaving herself to her feet after taking up her sword. "Why would you aid me? I have betrayed him."
"I don't think now is the time, Sif, but I'm content to assume that you were misled and don't actually mean to kill us all and let this guy rule Asgard," Jane said with a shrug, sidestepping a rogue Jötun who'd charged towards the pair.
Sif moved forward with renewed energy, dispatching the creature with one swing and nodding approval at Jane. "I appreciate it."
"Uh, appreciation accepted. Now the plan is to get out of here for now. We're outnumbered," Jane said, looking around for anything to defend herself with. Spotting a dagger sheathed on the body of the frost giant Sif had just felled, she darted towards it, gingerly pulling the blade from the corpse's belt with a grimace. She'd gotten very accustomed to thinking on her feet during visits to Asgard.
Thor had somehow gotten a hold of Heimdall, who was conscious but very weak, leaning heavily on the thunder god for support. The blonde was still hammering away at foes, trying to carve a path to Jane, but Hoder's forces kept coming.
No one noticed a black raven slip in through the rafters of the spacious room, perch on a beam, and scan the battle carefully.
Spotting Sif alive, upright, and next to Jane, Thor hollered for her to get the mortal woman to safety at any cost. She nodded wearily, wiping a streak of blood from her mouth before tugging on Jane's forearm, edging her and Erik Selvig around the battle and towards a side door.
"Leave me," Heimdall muttered wearily, a blood-choked cough his reward for speaking.
"Never," Thor countered, bashing another Jötun in the face and wishing it was Hoder. There was a lot he did not know, and he intended to find out, but they needed to retreat and regroup. Another glance showed Sif and Jane nowhere to be seen, and Thor noted that with satisfaction, starting to spin Mjölnir for flight. Tightening his group on the wounded gatekeeper, he launched from the stone floor of the throne room, aiming for one of the tall, open-air windows of the chamber. The raven took flight at the same time.
He had told the bird to be his eyes, and it had done well, despite the grave news it brought. Where its twin was, he had an idea, but was not certain. What was certain was that the kingdom was indeed in peril, reign overtaken by united forces of Asgard's enemies. His adopted son was hurled from his false throne, his true son blindly fighting to right whatever had been wronged.
Odin put his weathered face in his weathered hands, at a loss for one of the only times in his lengthy existence. Even when his queen had been mercilessly slain, he had a plan in, strategies of retribution and revenge coming easily to his grief-stricken mind. Now he lay crumpled like an imprisoned doll, clad in rags, a pale imitation of the grand realm ruler he'd once been. He supposed it was fate, that the piper had come to collect payment after so many centuries of wrongs glossed over with the sheen of kingly commands. Perhaps he'd let Loki overthrow him, some guilty part of his mind hindering his resistance and willing another to take the realm upon their shoulders.
Huginn tapped his tiny claws across the moldy stone as he paced before Odin, awaiting instruction. The bird's beady eyes seemed to represent disappointment, and it struck Odin, then. Asgard was still his responsibility, as was the wellbeing of the mortal guests who should have been under Asgardian protection. He may have been harsh to Jane Foster in the past, but it had not been personal. She was a brilliant mortal who deserved better than to die during a coup in a realm not her own.
Shaking off the self-pity and straightening his back, Odin knelt before a stone section of his cell, concentrating. While it was true that the gate area was spun with magic, the enchantment wavered when it came to the stone walls, he could tell. Loki had not been thorough in his haste to dispose of his hated adoptive father. For once, Odin was glad the trickster hated him so fiercely, as the ancient, mortar-plastered stone began to quake under his power. The groan of protestation the stone emitted as it gave way, slowly sliding out of its place in the wall, was music to Odin's ears.
Huginn gave a caw of approval, head cocked to the side as the bird watched the Allfather's actions.
When Loki gave the word, the wards were re-extended by Eir's hand, the trio of Jötuns brought into her library to consult over the palace schematics with Loki. Muninn had returned quickly, apparently having arrived to watch a key moment in the throne room. Darcy was essentially shooed away, the child left to its own devices as the parents talked.
Sulking, she flounced back to the room she and Loki had spoken in earlier, moving to the window and keeping an eye on the proceedings outside. There were no forces gathered out on the ramparts, only dwindling smoke clouding the horizon past the palace walls. It was weird. Was Hoder distracted or something? His inactivity either indicated he was busy with something more pressing, or that he intended to smoke them out. That thought chilled Darcy's blood; but Loki seemed willing to accept Angrboða's word. Still, there was something that made it harder for a woman to trust another woman, especially a potential romantic rival; yes, she'd seen the blue woman practically clawing her way up Loki's chest. It wasn't jealousy, Darcy told herself, just wariness in light of everything anyone in Asgard had ever believed being apparently wrong.
She drummed her fingers on the windowsill, displeased with the lack of anything to do, and decided to attempt a cat-nap. She wasn't sure how long she'd been awake, but it probably wasn't healthy. Luckily, her rumbling stomach had been silenced by one of the nice nurses and a bunch of cheese and bread. No more fruit for Darcy ever.
A gentle hand on her shoulder woke her some time later, and as she blinked the sleep from her eyes, Eir stood there, gaze bright with…something. "I think you'll want to see this, Lady Darcy," the healer murmured, raising an arm to direct Darcy down the hall.
The intern had always despised the sappier Disney movies and the fairy tales that had inspired them; Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Snow White, they were all just so…corny. She'd preferred Robin Hood, things of a more tomboyish nature that had action and stuff. Still, it was hard to believe something of a fairytale nature hadn't happened when she followed Eir, stopping short when she entered an exam room.
Ian sat upright on an examination bed, awake and alert as a couple of Eir's underlings darted to and fro, examining his eyes, tongue, had him lift his arms, even stand and hop in place.
"No way," was all Darcy could manage, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms across her chest. Ian noticed her then, grinning widely, if a bit questioningly. "What the 'ell happened?" he asked his boss.
"You want the long or short of it?" Darcy said faintly, pacing back and forth in front of Ian as she stared hard at him, looking for any weirdness. "How…? When?" She shot incoherently at Eir, who actually shrugged. "One of my nurses found him conscious about twenty minutes ago, if a bit disoriented."
"It was only a kiss on the cheek," Darcy burst out defensively, shoulders bracing as a voice responded from behind her. "What was?" Eir bit her lip to smother a laugh, it seemed, as she nodded to the speaker and turned to measure Ian's pulse. Darcy winced at the accent, turning resignedly to face Loki.
"Nothing!" She hedged brightly, waving behind her. "Ian's awake!"
"I see that," he said dryly, not even deigning to look at the intern's intern, which made Darcy frown. "Perhaps Hoder's enchantment is weakening under his duress," he suddenly offered, a hand adjusting a gauntlet on the armor he'd conjured.
"Duress?" Darcy asked, puzzled, blinking up at Loki.
"It seems there was a…commotion in the throne room, and my brother, as well as your Lady Foster and the Doctor Selvig, have all escaped."
"And you know this how, the Daily Asgard-under-siege Chronicler?" Darcy said skeptically, moving out of the room to retrieve the jacket she'd taken off to use as a pillow. Loki followed her, movements fluid as a shadow, and he seemed disappointed when she zipped the jacket closed over her tank top's neckline with a scowl. "Muninn," was all he said.
"Oh right, the spy mission you sent my bird on."
"He is my bird, and you ought to be content enough that he is returned and your intern paramour is revived-"
"Okay how about we settle for no one's bird, since really, he is a sentient being and a product of nature itself, and- what?!"
"I'm not going to wax poetic about my raven while we are under attack, Darcy."
"That's Lady Darcy to you and I was talking about my paramour?"
"It'll be Insect Darcy if you continue, because I will hex you into a beetle if you don't be quiet."
There was silence, and then she jutted out her lower lip, leaving the room without another word. Loki rolled his eyes, reminded again that she was quite an infant still, compared to him. If patience for mortals was currency, though, he would be poverty-stricken. He followed her from the room, clicking his tongue for Muninn, for whom he had one more task.
Ironically, the palace was the safest place in Asgard, with perhaps the exception of the wild woods to the north. For despite the current status of the palace as Hoder's stronghold, and the fact its halls were filled with roaming demons and giants looking for them, Thor knew its nooks and crannies best of anywhere in the kingdom.
He had met Sif and the others in the training room, vacated once most of the weapons had been claimed for the ensuing throne struggle. Jane and Erik were tending to Heimdall with some primitive medical supplies that had been stashed in a cupboard for match injuries, while he faced Sif. She was not in much better condition than the Watcher, favoring her left leg and holding her left wrist to her middle. The warrior had fallen to her knees when he came to her, whether from her injuries or an attempt to express regret and loyalty, he was unsure.
"I am…so sorry," she managed in a choked whisper.
"My friend, my supporter, there is nothing to apologize for," Thor murmured, kneeling himself to put a hand on her shoulder and tilt her chin up to meet her chagrined eyes. "I do not understand much of what has transpired yet, and it seems we only have pieces of the conspiracy that was underfoot, but I understand well enough that you were manipulated. We all fall victim to pretty words and what we want to hear, Sif."
Tears were rising in her eyes, and she laughed shortly. "How wise Midgard has made you."
"How wise indeed," he murmured back with a smile. "And yet, I am the fool in all this. Did you know Loki survived?"
"None of us had any idea, as I understand, save for Hoder," Sif spat bitterly. "Even Heimdall was blinded, somehow, but Hoder's powers have always been swathed in mystery for most of us. It is unclear how great his foresight is, but he certainly holds a silver tongue to rival Loki's."
"I look forward to bringing the might of Mjölnir down on it," Thor replied, clapping her on the shoulder. "Let Erik see to your wounds, he likes to feel useful. Happy Lithasblot, Sif."
The unexpected holiday greeting made the woman warrior smile briefly, comforted as she moved to Selvig's side and offered her wrist to be bound.
Thor seated himself next to Heimdall on the bench he was reclined on, the god propping his elbows on his knees and letting his hands hang. "What a homecoming," he said, eliciting a small smile from the gatekeeper. "It is not a party until you arrive, that is certain," Heimdall said hoarsely.
Thor stared at his hands, letting earlier events creep back into his consciousness. "My mother was there," he said quietly. "And Loki lives. Is there anything else I should know? Is Sleipnir going to try for the throne next?"
"The animals of the realm may be among our only allies, actually," Heimdall admitted slowly, stopping the thought when his eyes glazed over, the signal that he was seeing beyond what was in the room at this moment. When he spoke again, his words were distant, as he remained watching. "Reign of the kingdom has much changed Loki. Even now, he plots to reverse the chaos, rather than feed it."
"That does not sound like my brother," Thor said, expression pensive.
"Darcy Lewis has much to do with it," Heimdall continued, his eyes finally clearing. He shook his head to clear it. "The mortals you keep company with are some of the most impressive of their species, though some try to hide it."
A sudden fluttering at one of the narrow windows had Thor giving a bark of laughter. "About what you said regarding the animals…" He trailed off as he met the raven perched on the windowsill. "Hello Muninn." The raven cawed politely, a leg proffering a cinched scroll. The bird left once its message was delivered, apparently needing no response.
Thor unrolled the slip of parchment carefully, reading it as he crossed the room to seat himself next to Heimdall again. Four sets of eyes watched him as his own rose from the message. "Hoder has his army, and it seems we have ours now." He handed the message to Jane, rising and crossing his arms in thought. "Looks like Erik's gonna get his crack at Loki," Jane managed, handing the message to Sif like it was some informational congo line.
At the mention of the god, Erik scowled, trying in vain to crack his knuckles and look menacing.
Thanks for reading! ~Bon