Chapter Twelve—A Meeting of Lords
Warnings: Mim (Side note: the rating will go up for obvious reasons in upcoming chapters)
A/N: I updated in all haste when Tom Hiddleston's safety was at stake.
Utgard's war chamber was a room tucked into the depths of the castle, guarded by false walls, secret corridors, and dozens of defensive wards Loki had casted the day of his coronation. The war chamber was the heart of intelligence in Jotunheim; every secret of the nation was stored in that room, secrets that could make the country collapse.
Loki was perched at the head chair at the great roundtable that occupied the chamber's center. His green eyes darted over the maps before him on the table. There was Mim's map, detailed blueprints of Thrymheim, the pass that led to the mountain fortress, as well as every known route into and out of Jotunheim from Svartalfheim. His mind posed doubtful questions at him in rapid succession—was he acting too rashly? Thiazi was the most powerful of the Jotun warlords, including himself. He may wear the crown, but Thiazi was the true power of the country. To rise up against him was suicide, in the very least. He couldn't help shaking the knowing worry that trusting assassins' words was foolhardy, no matter how much he reminded himself that he had placed a truth spell upon them.
Though, he couldn't help but think, that of anyone, Thiazi would have the most to gain if Sigyn was murdered and Jotunheim was forced into war with an enraged Asgard. Thiazi would most certainly come out of the conflict triumphant; either as the next king, if Loki were to perish in the fight, or simply hold out on his own with his vast resources. Asgard would make peace with him for the minerals his mountains offered and he would be made even more rich and powerful than before.
Loki seethed silently at this.
There were six quick raps on the door, the pattern that disarmed the defensive spells for the war chamber, and then the heavy oak doors squeaked open, emitting Mim followed closely by the three lords and lady. All were solemn faced, knowing the gravity of the situation. They may not know the true circumstances of the meeting held so late in the night, but they knew it could only be of the utmost secrecy and danger.
Loki rose to his feet at the sight of them, greeting each in turn. "Lord Skadi of Griotungarder." Skadi was a lean young man with light brown hair bleached from the sun. Unlike most Jotun men, his markings were crimson red keeping with the tradition of the house of Griotungarder. "Lord Vidar of Eldirheim." Vidar was Loki's senior by twenty-eight years; a muscular man with a head of messy black curls and sharp, icy blue eyes that seemed to seek out every flaw before him, calculating it. "Lord Aurentil of Firmagard." Aurentil was the eldest of the men with long dark brown hair pulled into a warrior's knot and stubble growing in along his angular chin.
Finally he nodded to the sole lady of the room, saying, "Lady Menglad of Gastropnir." The lords all took seats at the table, Mim immediately taking his customary position to Loki's right while Menglad took the left, and the others arranged themselves accordingly. Sitting himself, Loki began, "I thank you for coming so late into the night. There as matter of utmost urgency that I am trusting to keep council with you upon."
He paused looking about the room at each man—and woman—meeting each of their gazes steadily. "You are each men that have sworn allegiance to me, your king, and I now have great need for your steadfast support and loyalty. This very evening, assassins stole into the queen's chambers, attempting to murder the princess of Asgard. I can tell you in great assurance that they were sent by the Lord of Thrymheim, Thiazi."
Loki was not in the least bit surprised when none of the men betrayed any sort of shock at this news, all of them blinking at him as if this was to be expected. Taking this as a sign to continue, the king said, "It is an intolerable act that, while it was apprehended, will not deter Lord Thiazi from what ultimate plans he has against the Jotun crown. I fear it will lead to open conflict should I confront him and that is why I have chosen you all to call upon as my closest allies."
"Your Majesty," Aurentil began, glancing around at his fellow warlords as he spoke. "I think I speak for every man—and woman—here when I say that you have our support. And not only because Lord Thiazi has insulted us all."
Menglad, who had uncharacteristically been silent up until that point, added, "I haven't been directly insulted, but any man that attempts to have a woman assassinated is not only ignoble but the lowest of creatures." There was a general mumble of agreement from the other men.
"I agree that this very well may lead to open conflict, but it is very possible that it can be avoided," Vidar began slowly, staring intently at the maps in front of him before glancing up at Loki with his sharp blue eyes. Mim shot a smug look to Loki, obviously pleased at his choices of ally in Vidar. "Perhaps we can slowly ease away Thiazi's power here at court?"
"But that doesn't make much difference, does it? He's still the most powerful man in the country and holds the other warlords in the palm of his oppressive hand," Skadi said, pointing out the major flaw in this plan.
"If he was no longer powerful at court he would at least have no hold within Utgard and within close vicinity of his Majesty and the princess," replied Vidar, smoothly.
"And how do you propose avoiding conflict then? Lord Thiazi is no simpleton, he will notice and become wary if his duties are taken from him and will become insulted," Menglad stipulated.
Mim spoke then, with a smile quirking his lips, "It seems insulting him is an unavoidable consequence." Skadi chuckled at that while Menglad narrowed her eyes at her son.
Aurentil replied to Menglad's question instead, "His Majesty will, of course, still seek council with Thiazi under pretenses of him still being trusted, but all the while slowly decreasing his power."
"And stationing royal banner-men in Thrymheim, intercepting shipments of minerals from Thrymheim mountains, and taking them into royal custody would at least regulate his fortress," Vidar added. "Though, it might take manufacturing a fake threat to take these actions without raising his suspicions."
"Extreme manufacturing," Mim quipped.
"Try as we may to avoid open conflict, we must be fortifying our homes and training our banner-men," Loki said, interrupting further conversation. "As Mim said, albeit jokingly, there is really no way to avoid insulting Lord Thiazi. We shall either insult him directly by stripping his power at court or by attempting to seize control of his keep." Loki paused, taking a deep breath. "But we must at least try."
Loki's eyes snapped open at the sudden chill that bit into his bare flesh. He sat up from where he had laid in an icy bed of white snow, his skin prickling with chill, and his keen eyes were met with dim light that was cast across snow flurries that kissed his face upon the wind before dancing away. He swept his gaze about, finding himself on top of a barren cliff, snow falling away not far from where he sat and into a craggy gorge before him and to his sides, sheer cliffs that stretched high into the steel gray skies.
Behind him was the only escape from cliff, the yawning mouth to a dark cave that offered no hint of what it hosted, the dim light of the sun not piercing its shadows. He collected himself from the snow at the sight, becoming instantly wary.
Loki's brows furrowed together. Surely this was a dream, for last he knew he had returned to the king's chambers to rest for an hour or two before the morning, but the bitter chill of the wind was too harsh, the snowflakes that froze onto his skin was too icy, and his breath that fogged the air too dense for this to be anything other than reality. Glancing down at himself, he found he was still dressed in what he had worn to bed—a simple pair of loose breeches too thin to offer any warmth.
His body, gone unnoticed until then, was racked violently with a shiver. For him to be getting cold was a true sign of the icy temperatures and he knew he must find shelter from the chill—dream or no. Not liking the prospects of venturing into the cave but knowing it to be his only option, he hurried through the drifts of snow, his bare feet sinking into the cold wetness and driving him forward ever faster.
Stepping through the cave's mouth and out of the chill, he was met with a wave of warmth that immediately made his shivers subside. Loki puffed out a sigh of relief that echoed throughout the cave. Frowning, Loki squinted his eyes into the darkness, trying to use what dim light from outside to see the cave he found himself in. From the echo, it seemed like the cave was a cavern. Using his feet and hands to feel into the darkness, Loki ventured forward.
It was a slow journey as he cautiously proceeded but then his fingertips grazed against something. Loki immediately jerked his hands back. Whatever he had touched most certainly wasn't anything normally found inside a cave. It was neither smooth or cold like stone, but rather warm and furry. The darkness before him seemed to shift and as it did, it allowed light to flood into the cavern from an overhead source. Loki immediately staggered back.
Before him was a giant beast, his fur shadows woven together to form the blackest of pelts, his head proud and long, and, above all his eyes were glinting and intelligent. Loki's green eyes never wavered, not allowing it to see a hint of fear, and he was met with the steady gaze of two icy blue eyes, unnatural for a beast such as he. The beast opened his mouth, but instead of the dangerous, savage growl Loki expected, a deep rumbling noise seemed to echo from every corner of the cavern, "Little mortal king, greetings." Loki, out of simple force of habit, nodded his greeting back, too stunned to speak.
"I am Fenrir, King of Beasts." Fenrir, a name long forgotten in Jotun myths that died along with the Jotish tongue generations ago when Jotunheim opened its borders to the other realms, adopting the use of Common Tongue. Fenrir was a deity no longer believed to ever have existed, a figment of ancient people's imaginations. He was said to be the wolf king and the constant companion of the ancient warlords, long before the country was unified under one banner.
He was from bedtime tales that mothers told their children to scare them at night. Surely this is just a dream, Loki thought, his own mind doubtful.
"Ah I see your doubt in me, little one. You think I am only a creation of your mind's fatigue," Fenrir said, his voice making Loki's ears ring once more. The wolf seemed amused by this, as if the antics of mortals such as Loki were as entertaining as that of a puppy, despite Loki being a king. "Reach your hand out to me, little one. Touch my fur."
Fenrir offered Loki one of his massive paws. Steeling his nerves—despite being called little and seeming to be a source for great amusement for the wolf, he still was a king—Loki reached a pale hand up and his palm rested on the warm, thick fur.
Before his eyes flashed warriors charging into battle and men fighting and dying. He saw villages develop into cities that then were laid siege too, making them desolate. He saw the Ice Throne occupied by men of every variety, all with a different crown resting upon his brow. He saw Jotunheim become unified under one warlord over all the others, he saw it turn away from the old ways and into the new. "I have lived far longer than you can possibly imagine, little one. I am not a dream."
Loki involuntarily gulped.
"I have prophesied your reign since I was a mere pup. I have been waiting," the wolf said, his deep rumbling voice vague as though the thought made him wistful. "You shall bring Jotunheim into a new age."
"What do you mean?" Loki inquired after a pause, quirking an eyebrow.
Fenrir seemed to pay no mind to Loki, saying merely, "Trust the binding, little one." Before Loki had a chance to ask what exactly that meant—he barely had enough time to register this cryptic command—an unseen force flung him from the cavern, out into the snowy chill and over the edge of the gorge.
He jerked upwards, taking a deep rattling breath as if drowning and only just coming up for a life-giving breath of air. Loki glanced around. He was in the king's chambers, furs surrounding him in a nest and the warmth of the fireplace caressing his sweat-soaked skin. Sighing, he ran his hands over his face. Was that really only a dream?
"Good evening, ladies," greeted Mim as he casually sauntered into one of Utgard's many dining halls. Seated at the main table in the hall's center was Menglad, Sigyn, and Fulla, all swathed in traditional Jotun clothing and just beginning what was sure to be another extensive dinner. At the sudden noise of his greeting, Sigyn jumped before realizing who the speaker was and relaxing minutely.
Fulla stole a worried glance at her friend while Menglad, unaware of companions' subtle actions, fixed a scowl at her son. "Mìmir, I hope you have a reason for arriving so late to dinner?"
"No reason in particular, dear mother," Mim said with a sunny smile as he reached the table and plopped down in his chair. "I was just stopping by to see how the fair maidens are doing this fine evening," he shot a winning smile at Sigyn and Fulla, "grab some food, before going off to find his Majesty. I have some interesting news to share with him." He glanced meaningfully at his mother, who, for once, didn't return his look with a glare.
"So, all fares well?" Menglad inquired, casually. Too casually, really, seeing as Menglad never spoke casually of anything. Fulla raised an eyebrow at this. Something had happened the previous night after the rest of the palace had finally went to sleep when the scare from the assassins finally settled down. Something that involved Mim, Menglad, and King Loki but Fulla had no inkling of what it might be.
Sigyn, however, took no note of this exchange. Her nerves were completely frayed and she was as jumpy as a hare. She feared every voice would be the one to proclaim the breaking of her vows, to sentence her to death. She feared that Mim would remember the scene he came upon and inform his mother at any moment. Though, at this point, she was fairly sure Menglad already knew. Throughout dance lessons, the woman kept giving the princess peculiar looks that made Sigyn want to hide in her rooms—which isn't to say that Menglad's expressions didn't typically strict fear into heart, this was just more so.
"Quite well, indeed," Mim replied with a self-satisfied smile. After a brief pause, he stacked a slice of bread, smoked ham, cheese, and another slice of bread onto his plate before scooping the pile up in one graceful movement. He collected himself to his feet and said, "Well, farewell, ladies. Duties to attend."
With that, he trotted from the hall as quickly as he had arrived. Sigyn couldn't help but sigh in relief at his departure. She felt guilty for it—after all, Mim was one of her few friends in Utgard—but she couldn't help but feel wary with him about.
"Princess Sigyn," Menglad began.
She nearly jumped from her seat. "Yes?" she replied a little too hastily.
Menglad, thankfully, took no notice of Sigyn's guilty tone, instead saying, "There is a matter that I wish to discuss with you. You are fast-approaching the day of your wedding, only two days hence, and there is an important matter that I need to discuss with you."
"Oh, of course," Sigyn nodded, taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart.
"As you know, women are considered sacred in Jotunheim, seeing as we bear and raise children while also being the center of a home," Menglad explained. "So, in light of that, we are given special rights. In this instance, if a woman is marrying a man through an arranged marriage than she has the right to keep her chastity for two weeks after the wedding day, so as to allow her to become familiar with her husband. This is called the Fortnight Privilege."
"To invoke, you must simply state your intent at the end of the ceremony after his Majesty removes your veil and there is a prompting for it," Menglad concluded.
The thought made Sigyn's already fluttering stomach twinge. Her husband, that's what King Loki would soon become to her. The man that disguised himself yet he was the man that she couldn't help feeling attracted to. The man that had lied to her and the man that she was bound to through already broken vows. The man that would father her children. Her hands were sweaty at the thought and she hurriedly hid them in the folds of her dress; yes, she would invoke the Fortnight Privilege, as much as she drawn to Loki; she knew she wasn't ready to be made a wife.
After asking a dozen servants, Mim finally found Loki in the queen's chambers, a spell book in hand and one palm extended before him. Before he could barely poke his head through the door, Loki called out, "If you open that door an inch more, the protective barriers will incinerate you."
"Ah, that's certainly an interesting welcome," Mim replied before adding, "Good evening to you too." Blinking at his friend, Mim saw that the king looked awful with dark blotches under his eyes that was a sure sign that he had slept very little or uneasily the night before—and Mim didn't blame him. After the council had dispersed, it was nearly dawn. Deciding not to be a complete pain, where he usually would tease Loki, Mim refrained from making a snide comment.
Loki didn't reply for a moment, as he formed some incoherent phrases that triggered the queen's parlor to blaze with a golden glow on its walls, strands of magic woven together that stretched across the stone walls. Mim watched in silent interest. Just as the truth spells, Loki's magic never failed to impress him. Finally, as the magic faded into nothingness, Loki snapped the spell book shut and said, "Now you may come in."
With a grin, Mim pushed the door the rest of the way open, saying, "Isn't it a bit risky of you to be in the queen's chambers? People will talk. Like the servants, that's how I found you."
Loki dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "The servants spread gossip amongst themselves that is so often untrue; no lord ever takes heed of them." Mim shrugged at that acknowledging the legitimacy of the king's words.
"I'm guessing you put defensive spells in place for the princess?" questioned Mim after a moment, watching Loki seem to analyze his work—though how he was doing so was beyond Mim since he could see no trace of any magic about the room.
Turning away from Mim and inspecting a particularly small stone in the wall, Loki replied distractedly, "Only those she wishes to enter will be allowed through the threshold. Those that aren't shall be set ablaze—not with real flames but it will still hurt a great deal."
"So you won't be able to sneak into her rooms whenever you want?" Mim asked, peevishly.
Loki paused, turning back to Mim to give him a wolfish grin. "Whoever said she wouldn't allow me to enter?" There was a beat and then Mim broke into peals of laughter, clutching his stomach as tears welled in his eyes. Loki smirked at that before returning to his inspection.
"Ah, that was good," sighed Mim as he regained his composure, wiping away the tears of laughter from his cheeks before saying, "But really, I actually came with a purpose. Two, actually."
"Yes?" prompted Loki.
"Firstly, Aurentil has stopped all supplies passing through Firmagard to Thrymheim, warning the merchants of a plague sweeping through the mountain holdings. They are being diverted. It shall take a week or two before this goes noticed by Thiazi, but by then, Vidar has promised the manufacturing of a crisis—mountain bandits."
"Mountain bandits?" repeated the king, finally giving his full attention to Mim.
Mim, obviously preening about being so clever, nodded, replying, "Yes. Mountain bandits will supposedly be attacking the merchants en route to Thrymheim which will explain the lack of supplies. When hearing this news, the crown will immediately send men to patrol the roads and thus, Thrymheim."
"Good," Loki nodded, a pleased smile curling his mouth, "And what's the other?"
"Ah yes," Mim said, "I've meant to ask. Why exactly are you trusting Gleipnir to not stab you in the back? He's an assassin, Loki, that's what they're trained to do."
Loki gave his friend an amused look. "That's been really bothering you, hasn't it?" He continued before Mim could sarcastically quip back. "Well, assassins only stab people when they're paid, and since I am paying Gleipnir, he won't be killing me anytime soon. I suppose you're wondering why I didn't spare Scirner as well. Well, firstly I was going to sentence Gleipnir to the Arena but then out of instinct, perhaps, I knew that I had to spare him. Call it intuition, I don't even know myself."
Mim offered no reply to this, rendered speechless. He didn't know what it was and he didn't know what had triggered it, but there was something different about Loki that he couldn't quite place. But he knew, without a doubt, that he didn't like it.
A/N: Fenrir. That's all I have to say. (Brownie points if you know what he was referring to in his final message.) Also, yes, I know Skadi is a goddess in mythology and Thiazi's daughter but I loved the name and wanted to use it. Also, Fenrir is obviously not Loki's son contrary to canon myth. Anyway, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Leave a comment, review, or what-have-you with your thoughts, predictions, or questions!
